Not the same grandfather who went down on HMS Monmouth, the other ’un. He used to drive a dray for the Arnold Perrett Brewery and he needed three horses to get it up over the steep village hill from the brewery at the bottom. The dray was always piled high with big barrels that he could lift on his own, because he was a very strong man as well as being burly. Once over the hill, he’d let one of the horses go off the chains and it would find its own way back down to the brewery – then he’d be gone for days, delivering to all the pubs for miles around. He got free beer at every stop and he could drink a great quantity of pints. One day he was going up a steep incline called Anchor Hill and another drayman was coming down. They crashed into each other, with barrels rolling everywhere and horses neighing and rearing in the shafts and the two men cursing and blaming each other. More than likely they was both pissed. My grandfather had to go to court and the magistrate said, ‘Were you drunk, Tovey?’ ‘Impossible, your worship.
What do You think about The Last English Poachers?
