The Club Pub Run
A Nativity An
Activity Story for Christmas
"Always
remember that I have taken more out of alcohol than alcohol has taken
out of
me."
Winston Churchill
“He was a wise man who
invented beer.”
Plato
“Beer is proof that God loves
us and wants us to be happy.”
Benjamin Franklin
Beauty lies in the hands of the beer holder I’ve often
thought, and the beauty of this run seemed to have a greater appeal this year
as we had a record turnout of some twenty of the Carnethy faithful out
in search of aromatic ales, balanced beers, beautiful Barmaids, convivial,
comfortable, craik, drinkable … erm … drink … as well as enervating
exercise.
) The Braidburn |
) Liberton Rugby Club |
) the Robin's Nest |
) the Northfield |
The two mile run from my house to the Braidburn—is downhill all the way—although it does mean that I miss the actual start at KB but can get the round up before the others arrive. As I stood at the bar in Santa Hat, flashing lights and lycra with a vast array of drinks in front of me I was getting some strange looks from the other customers until the others arrived; then we all got strange looks as 20 people wearing various Santa Hats, bow ties, tinsel, flashing lights and even Christmas trees filled the bar! As the beers were quaffed we also got some good advice—why not make our next stop at the Liberton Rugby Club just up the road. So whilst the cyclists got lost, we runners invaded the almost empty club. It was only when we got inside that the memories of being there, hmm, almost 40 years before came back to me and I read the names of some of my old school pals from the members’ and captains’ boards.
) Fraser |
) Kate Jenkins |
) in The Robins Nest |
) The Marmion |
But no time for memories, off down Double Hedges Road and on to the Robin’s Nest where its fair to say no one paid us any notice. The same can‘t be said for the Northfield House Hotel, our next stop, however, as one of the drinkers there tried to stomp out my red flashing shoes. That was until he stood up and realised I was a lot bigger than he was! I didn’t have to click my heels three times to send him home. “The problem with the world is that everyone is a few drinks behind,” as Humphrey Bogart once said. Trouble is that occasionally some people just get too far ahead. So up through Gracemount to the Marmion,—scene of a fatal shooting earlier in the year—where we ignored the tasteless joke that perhaps in there we should all have shots and ordered up some more beers. I also ignored the dubious and somewhat slurred suggestion from a woman at the bar that we should all do Carol? Instead I talked to a chap, in an electric wheelchair, who recognised the name of the club straight away. “You’ll be named after Carnethy in the Pentlands”, he said, the second highest hill”…
) The Marmion |
) The Marmion |
) All the way from Livingston |
) The Christmas House |
Just over a minute later we were in the deserted Waverley. Even Jack—who we thought was welded to the end of the bar, for he’s in exactly the same spot every time we visit—obviously had better things to do. Perhaps they knew we were coming. Perhaps—as we began to think in each sparsely populated bar—they all prefer to smoke at home. Then down through the park and by the Christmas Houses, one the most elaborately decorated house you’re ever likely to see. Neon signs, lights, Santa and his sleigh on the roof, Santa, snowmen and reindeer in the front garden and all consuming more electricity then the rest of the street! The fame of this house is such that we talked to a family who had driven through from Livingston just to see it! For some our next haunt seems a little surreal as we ran on to the Old Bordeaux. Surreal because it burnt down about 5 years ago and we stood drinking old Bordeaux—appropriately mulled and hot of course—in the shelter of its last remaining wall. Thanks to Willie who carried the wine there in a couple of flasks. Then it was over the fields by Broomhill Farm and by way of farm tracks and bridleways to the Fairmyle where alas—perhaps appropriate for this time of year—there was no room at the inn, for it was closed. So an extra ¾ of a mile to the Steadingwhere the oppressive heat speeded up the drinking and we quickly headed out into the night and up the hill to the Pavilion. Throughout the night we hold a Best Barmaid competition and with great political correctness, Willie took photos of the two guys that served us but with a predominately male assembly would they win the vote?
) The Marmion |
) The Waverley |
) The Steading |
) The Pavillion |
Having run by my house earlier, we now ran by Stuart Whittlie’s as he shepherded us to the Stable bar. Although this shepherd had minded his flock by night, there was no babe in a manger to meet our arrival and I’m not sure if by this time there were even three wise men. But there were some wise enough to realise that we only had 10 minutes to reach the Balmwell in what would be a frantic dash. There is a Buddhist saying that “if you really understand the question you already know the answer and both Willie and Adam proved this by posing the question “Do you want to run on in the vain hope that we get to the Balmwell or just have another beer here”. We pondered our enlightenment over another beer and some over a pleasant dram. Sometimes, as I’ve noted before, you only have to ask the right question.
) Kate Jenkins |
) Clancy and Pal in the Pavillion |
) Dawn and John in The Stable |
) The Stable |
Then, for some it was off homewards, and for the rest it was out and down the farm tracks and across the park to my house for some food—provided by Moi—and a Clynelish to greet the new day.
As usual, a fine time was had by all but is it healthy I hear the sceptics ask? Ah well, “A moderate use of beer will aid digestion, quicken the powers of life and give elasticity to the body and mind." a United States Department of Agriculture report once proclaimed. Come and join us next year and you’ll find that out.
Bingle Jells…
Nick Macdonald