Ambridge Ahoy !
Byline: JULIET CLOUGH
AROUND THE bar the discussion grew heated. Why did Jean-Paul name a pudding after Clarrie Grundy? How did cub reporter Elizabeth Archer manage to miss the exploding marrow scoop at Darrington flower show? In what year did Doughy Hood fall down a well?
This was no ordinary pub quiz. Like my fellow contestants, I had escaped from reality to deepest Borsetshire, to the lounge of Grey Gables, no less.
The title Brain of Borchester hung on this
Bert Fry, where were you?
The weekend was aimed strictly at Archers addicts. Dum di dim di dum . . .
If you don't have that theme tune ingrained on your brain - not to mention your anorak badge this is not for you.
We gathered at Grey Gables, alias Wood Norton Hall, near Evesham, Worcestershire, for a weekend immersed in Archerdom.
A fine Victorian pile, it does a fair impersonation of Grey Gables, fluffy bathrobes and all.
After a tremendous dinner on the first night, the next day we piled into a coach for a detailed exploration of Borsetshire. Broadway and Chipping Camden, it seemed, had somehow recast themselves as Ambridge satellites.
The Old Bull at Ink-berrow, where we stopped for a ploughman's, did duty for the umpteenth time as the one and only Bull. …