My older lad James is recovering from being locked in a Sheffield flat for 6 months by taking bracing walks round the Fens with me.
I’d like to think I was planning trips to Corfu with my mates at his age, but the truth is rather different; I was taking a bus to Peterborough to buy the Pet Shop Boys “Please” on tape at 21.
He was happy to join me in the Padnal Fen beyond Ely, in mysterious Prickwillow.
Here’s where I abruptly stopped the car. “Find me something to blog about” I demanded.
The greatest gift a father can give their child is the ability to extract blogworthy material in a two street village of 440 souls in the middle of nowhere.
With no pub.
“Nothing here” said James.
I reminded him my readers are VERY easily pleased.
“Oh, that’s an ugly house“.
“There’s another one !”
“Oooh, ancient petrol pumps“, I added, warming to the task.
There then followed a heartwarming father and son discussion, just like in the Cat Stevens/Boyzone song, about cars and girls planning policy in East Cambridgeshire.
It seems that anything goes in Prickwillow, which as a tourist strapline could work.
A veritable smorgasbord of housing styles in this old farming village that could be a set for Grand Designs, where people build their dream house for a budget of £130k (actual spend £2.7m).
But it works. There’s nothing worse than a village all in character with itself.
We walked a little bit of the Hereward Way toward Middle Fen Bank, pointing out exciting features like trees and telegraph poles.
“Look” I said, pointing at Wiki. “There’s a museum here”.
James was doubtful, more so because the walk to the Pumping Engine coincided with the arrival of ominous clouds.
But James has an enquiring mind, and warmed to the task of finding redeeming features.
The phone box had decided that books were surplus to requirements, and what was needed was a tribute to key workers with floral hat.
Three churches had become one, the parish church and strict Baptists succumbing to housing or Brunning & Price or whatever.
At the bridge over the River Lark it all gets a bit bucolic.
And the museum turns out to be massive, bigger than Ely’s own.
“Who would possibly come out here ?” said James. Some people tick pubs, son.
Back in the tiny heart of the village we stopped to admire the jets setting off from Mildenhall, and the classic exterior of the only licensed premises (unless someone very shy has opened a micro and not told Ely CAMRA).
It probably serves Draught Bass and Cloudwater DIPA. I may never know.
Anyway, here’s what you could have had;
James and I, satisfied with our morning’s work, headed into Ely for an artisanal ice on the grass outside the cathedral.
Not only are we easily pleased; we are bordering on desperate. The museum however does look like a nice find.
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Dave,
Yes, an Engine Museum. I expect that’s a beer engine museum.
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That will be in the Spoons museum in Wolverhampton, next to the gallery of famous customers they’ve barred.
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“gallery of”
I thought there was only one !
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I shan’t be returning just for you.
Yes, I am desperate. This time tomorrow you’ll have had your first pub report since March, God willing.
Still no-one has worked out where it will be.
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Judging from the list the Pubcurmudgeon posted on Manchester it is going to be hard to know what is and isn’t open.
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They’ll all be open by the time you get here!
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They may never let us in if our trends continue. Can’t say I would blame them.
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I’ll vouch for your character, Dave. Or Joan’s, anyway.
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You’re a brave man to do that!
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I think that’s my favourite post of all time. What a weird place. Great setting for a modern horror movie. And that petrol station photo has to be from an album cover from a 1980s East Anglian country rock band (apart from the car that you artfully photoshopped).
Keep up the good work and don’t get distracted by these new fangled pubs.
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Pubs?
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More like Sleepy Hollow, then?
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Boris says the pubs can open at 6am tomorrow. – so I assume you’ll be making an early start?
Looking forward to your first re-opened pub post by breakfast time…I\ll get up early… 🙂
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Boris was really saying that they can’t open at midnight – so it’s fifteen rather than nine hours to wait now.
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The BrewDog in Manchester planned a midnight opening!
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Mine opens at 8am. Slacker.
Any guesses?
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Ok I’ll have a lie-in then…
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One of Tim’s emporiums…?
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Quite an interesting place there Martin. If I were there and saw some of those houses I’m not sure what I would think as they don’t seem typical for an area like that.
Like yourself, can’t wait for tomorrow to get back to the pubs. Really looking forward to it
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You know you’ll back in 3 years, when the Sports & Social makes the GBG.
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Looks like a nailed on Bass house to me 🔺🔺🔺
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“Prickwillow” really does sound like a village name invented for a TV show, with the intention of mocking villages that are saddled with unfortunate names.
I did smile at this: “I was taking a bus to Peterborough to buy the Pet Shop Boys “Please” on tape at 21.” Me, I wasn’t a big Pet Shop Boys guy I must say, but man the sheer effort we all had to make in those days for a new album or even just a new song. In high school I often walked more than four miles round trip to the nearest record store just to get a new dose of music. You know how it was in those days: a new Depeche Mode song, or some such thing, that you paid good money for without even having *heard* the thing!
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Oh yes buying a record meant biking 4 miles for me too!
Not sure why I’m including all these reminisces, but as it’s a diary I just write what comes to mind.
I really liked early PSB.
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I’ve got happy memories of buying the 12″ of the new Thomas Dolby song, having never heard it before, and being delighted to come home and find that this thing called “She Blinded Me with Science” was a pretty good song. 🙂
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Many thanks for coming to visit!
Forgive the year’s delay in communicating our appreciation, but your blog was a bit too ‘in the middle of nowhere’ to notice before now. 😉
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My dad used to get potatoes from you. He ran Enterprise Nurseries on the A10.
This was a highlight of the Lockdown and 400 people read about Prickwillow, making it one of my most read posts.
And of course, everywhere is in the middle of nowhere, really.
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