Let's get quizzical

Mention of the Queen’s Head pub at the bottom of Tardebigge by Bruce of Sanity got me started on a nostalgic wander through my adolescent boating years. The QH was a veritable beacon on two trips up/down the W&B after very long days and I can recall piling in for a pint and a......long stint on the quiz machine. Yes, for some reason, we never got round to eating as dad and I had developed this unhealthy obsession with Trivial Pursuit, not to mention a worrying intimacy with one-armed bandits. Some nights (all overnight stops were carefully planned by yours truly to coincide with a pub – dad liked his ale and was a rubbish cook) we did dine before we started digging out the pounds and fifty pence pieces. But the food part was but a short prelude to the main event, the marathon session that would sometimes last until closing time. I can remember being in The Vine, I think, at Kinver and getting the whole pub round the machine trying to help. I can recall a three hour stint at the Shroppie Fly which gave me the most tortuous cramp in the early hours of the morning. I can definitely call up those sweet moments when I would count the snaffled booty at the end of the trip – yes, the winnings always went into my pocket and topped £100 on one occasion. I think I bought a squash racquet from the proceeds – I know, what a stupid waste of money...

From memory, the QH used to be extremely popular because it appeared to offer a permanent running carvery-style buffet. That great dining game – just how high a food mountain can I build on this plate – was much in evidence as was the pudding puzzle – how do I cram four different puddings in one small bowl. When I recount these tales, A goes all misty eyed as he dreams about what might have been if he’d been my childhood sweetheart and canal companion. The dogs meanwhile have gone online and are tapping the postcode into the AA route planner...