Harp Scratchings 9 - The Jug and Bottle

Tending the dolls on the Harp's top bar doorstep, the Jug and Bottle behind the open door.

In my world, growing up, the Harp Inn seemed like the village meeting point – a welcoming place for the locals to gossip with neighbours and play a game of skittles or dominoes while enjoying a drink. The problem with that was that there were no secrets – everyone knew what the other was up to and perhaps rather more than the odd person would have liked.

Despite the joviality of the welcoming setting around the coal fire, there were those who preferred to keep their drinking habits private. Hence the “Jug and Bottle” – a small, frosted sliding glass window accessible from the pub entrance with a “direct line” to the innkeeper behind the bar and unseen from customers on the other side of the counter.

The air of secrecy created by the squeaking window always intrigued me and when I helped Dad in my teenage years behind the bar I would feel a mild anticipation when summoned by that knowing tap to serve an unknown shadow behind the glass.

Those who frequented the Jug and Bottle often made their own personal statement when announcing their presence. For instance a couple of soft rat-a-tat-tats on the window and Dad knew that would be Auntie Lil wanting a couple of bottled Guinness to take home. She didn’t want her son to know even though he was already holding court in the bar.

The school teacher often kept half a bottle of whisky at home for medicinal purposes but kept her replenishing missions private from prying eyes via the Jug and Bottle. Those who had given up smoking used the Jug and Bottle as an emergency means to purchase a packet of Woodbines when they had fallen off the wagon.

Village kids would bang noisily on the window in their quest for crisps and vimto, or bored, would knock, then run away once the window was opened.

Errant husbands were sometimes summoned by proxy – “Bill, you tell him he’d better come home soon or else ..." Dad would obligingly pass the message on from exasperated wife to a husband full of cheer up until that precise moment.

One Christmas a group of carollers knocked on the frosted window and began their repertoire once it slid open. They were immediately welcomed into the top bar so that everyone could see as well as hear their singing. Some of the younger members of the troupe were very nervous by all the attention they were receiving and the pressure of the performance in front of a festive audience. I vowed never to join their choir unless we could sing in the secrecy of the Jug and Bottle.