Howardsson

Great memories of driving out to the bulls head, in deep snow in the 60s, Barry, I think I would have asked to join in on those kinds of trips. It was that kind of place, wasn't it? (And the '60s was the time when nothing seemed too mad, anyway.) When I told a couple of friends about The Old Bulls Head...one of them handed it the highest accolade we would award such places in the San Francisco Bay area: "It was the kind of place where you could go and hang your shield on the wall"

Cheers to you as well, Oscar. And thank you for the kind words. Not sure that I have it in me to look at its ruin via the Google capabilities. For the time being, at least, I expect I'll continue to keep the rosy glow of that particular memory intact...veering away from anything that might dim it any more. If I am able to cut out some time, and get back to your area for a visit, a pilgrimage to LIttle Hucklow would certainly be in order. I could lift an ale up to the old building...one derelict to another, so to speak...toasting it in silence and bowing my head. Then I could run my head into any low doorway that might still remain to really catch that Old Bulls Head mystique again, yeah? And, as thanks for everyone's contribution on this thread, if you visit the West Coast I would be pleased to point you to some of the Brew Pubs or Craft Breweries that have sprouted up in the last decade or two...or, if near San Diego...you might get me as the designated driver who likes to collect stories... Best Wishes to Everyone.

What a pleasure to read the accumulated contributions from all of you who remembered and enjoyed The Old Bulls Head. As that person who sparked off the discussion by asking my friend about it, I little suspected such an active (and immediate) set of responses. Learning Bernard's name and the history he apparently brought with him to his wonderful establishment in Little Hucklow has put a brighter glow to the memory I have of my one visit there. He projected the perfect aura for the place...complementing the cozy rooms which were adorned with such an interesting, eclectic assortment of knicks and knacks. In my single visit there, I wandered up to the the bar to buy a round for the people who had brought me and immediately felt welcome by Bernard's quick wit and encompassing warmth. It was while he was drawing some ale that I noticed the handles on the ale spigots. They were a light colored wood and unusually long compared to most of the pouring handles I'd ever seen in pubs. Then I noticed the figures carved into the wood and mentioned that they were not the ordinary handles. He smiled and assured me that they weren't. Topping off some of the glasses, he said that the figures were after Shakesperean characters. (He pointed out Falstaff...intuiting by telepathy or the amount of drink I'd already consumed...my favorite Shakespeare character.) And, he added, they were originally the handles of the bells that old timey night watchmen would carry and ring..."All is well", etc. It struck me then as one of the more clever, brilliant, utilitarian and even artistic conversions of an old object that I've ever run across. I mean, if I were an old night watchman's bell handle and having been made redundant by various modern advances...what better place would there be for me in my dotage? In the decades since visiting The Old Bulls Head, and because I waste a lot of time thinking about trivial things, I've thought about Bernard (and much gratitude to you for providing his name) and those ale pump handles. Did they originally come as a set? If they did, my thoughts will often wander down the path towards more questions...If they were a set, were they made for one town? How many night watchmen would a town need that a set of carved Shakesperean handles would be made? Or, was there some woodworker's factory someplace where the handles were all crafted and then sold around the region? By the time I get to this point in my thinking, I'm usually brought back down to reality by the two to twenty cars behind me whose livid drivers are leaning on their horns to alert me that the traffic light changed a minute earlier and to move my daydreaming self along. In sum, I did want to contribute what I could to this thread which was started on my behalf by a kind and dear friend. Also, my very sincere thanks to everyone for volunteering their memories. It is the kind of response that I will always remember and identify in my heart with the enthusiasm and warmth shown by our friend Bernard Saunders and the way it was reflected in his cozy and remarkable pub. A Proper Pub for sure. Many thanks and regards to all.