Harp Scratchings 10 - Want To Make A Bet?

Mum was a hot shot at skittles and a member of the Harp's team. Here she is concentrating hard during a game at an opposing team's pub.

Long before the popularity of pub quizzes, entertainment at the Harp took many forms. There were the devotees of dominoes, skittles, coits, whist and darts – all played in good fun - although it did bring out the competitive spirit at times when teams were engaged from other pubs in the area in a “friendly”.

This was good for business of course and trade would be brisk when a tournament was underway. Mum and Dad would enter into the spirit of things, making free snacks to serve the combatants – bread, cheese and home-made pickled onions. The prize for the winning team was generally a free round of drinks from the host pub.

Every March a friendly competition would take place amongst the locals around the running of the Grand National at Aintree racecourse. This famous horse race had its beginnings in 1836 and involved horses and jockeys having to successfully jump 30 fences with legendary names like the Chair, Beecher’s Brook and Valentines. The Chair was the tallest and broadest fence on the course – over five feet tall with a six foot wide ditch on the take-off side.

Mum and I agreed that it seemed like a cruel race. Often there would be catastrophes when horses collided and fell. I wondered what it would be like to be in the midst of all that confusion, the noise of pounding hooves and flying mud.

In 1960 the Grand National was televised for the first time and Dad brought our old black and white TV into the bar so that everyone could follow the proceedings.

In 1961 I officially became a gambler. In the Harp’s Grand National pool every participant drew the name of one of the runners and hoped for the best. The odds were a factor but so were the tribulations of those mountainous fences. My name had been drawn against a 28 to 1 long shot called "Nicholas Silver".

I remember this vividly because he stood out as the only grey horse, and this somehow made me feel he was going to be special. Nicholas Silver turned out to be only the second grey horse to ever win the National. I don’t remember what I did with my meagre winnings.

Before the proliferation of betting shops, a “flutter on the gee gees” by the Harp’s locals took place usually with the first drink of the day just after the pub had opened. The racing form would be studied in the sports section of the National daily. Bets would be written on a piece of paper. The wager – usually a few coins – would be wrapped up tightly in the paper and handed to Dad for pick up by whoever it was that managed these things. I don’t remember too many paydays, but when they came, the winnings would appear in similar wrappings.

Moving with the times, I remember the installation of a one-armed bandit in the top bar. It didn’t really fit into the homey surroundings of the Harp but it was placed well away from the grandfather clock and lovely old wooden chair that belonged to my grandfather. Installed on the other side of the fireplace next to the notice board, this gleaming icon of modern gambling soon became a fixture.

Mum was particularly taken with it and on her daily cleaning activities would often be seen polishing the machine’s chrome handle, perhaps willing it to produce three cherries the next time she engaged it.

The company who had installed the machine would come by periodically to empty it of its cache of coins. The technician would always leave my mother a small supply of coins that she would keep in a half pint mug behind the bar. These coins were mainly used to break down larger denominations that didn’t fit in the machine but now and again, the polishing led to a trial run funded from the half pint mug in search of the illusive trilogy of cherries.

Duster still in hand, Mum would be heard to mutter, “They don’t call it a one-armed bandit for nothing, bloody thing.”