''the Grapevine'' And Others!

A Memory of Meare.

My uncle, the late William John Wilcox, was the proprietor of the 'Grapevine' from the mid 1930s through to the early 1960s. I remember it as a truly old fashioned 'pub' complete with a 'games room' with darts, shove ha'penny board and bar skittles. A game with the skittles placed on dots on the board, a wooden ball was suspended by a cord on a vertical pole. The player had to swing the ball in an arc to knock the skittles over. Painted on the Transom over the front door was the 'Legend' W. J. Wilcox, for the most part easy letters to paint, even from the inside, as they were, the J however was
reversed - must have been a good brew!
My eldest sister was sent to my uncle's to help recuperation from an appendix operation. She met the man who was to become her husband there. He was living with his widowed mother in one of a pair of cottages named 'Porter's Hatch' directly opposite the old Fish House. As children my siblings and I were always playing around the area. I recall the Eel Trap within the Fish House, this was fed by the River Brue very close by. Next to 'Porter's Hatch' lived a wonderful gent and his family. He was blessed with the name of Adolphus Gooding, more widely known as 'Dolph' or 'Doff'. There was a tale that from the Fish House to the Abbey in Glastonbury, some miles distant, a tunnel ran. When I was in my early 'teens' he showed my nephew and myself a hole that had appeared in his orchard. With the aid of a torch, and tied safely to a tree, we looked into this hole. It led off in the direction of Glastonbury, and was lined with bricks. I have never known if this was ever examined, nor the findings, it would be interesting to know.
As regards 'The Ring O Bells' I believe this was run by a Mr. Lamb. The Vicarage was an attractive draw to us, being as a Walnut tree grew there. I can vouch that they were very tasty. The last property owned by my sister and brother - in - law was the last house in Oxenpill, named 'The Vineries' opposite 'Munday's Farm' occupied by the Wall family. One son, Ray, was nicknamed 'Chiddy' [potato]. My brother - in - law worked for Powell's Dairy, a short distance away. I was always impressed at the ease he rolled the churns from the truck onto the concrete platforms, practise I know, but I struggled with the empty ones! Other memories were of the walk to Ashcott Station, carrying a small case and on a few occassions a deceased duck! I also recall wandering around the area where peat was cut, long straight canals filled with filthy water and duckweed. These were crossed via a railway sleeper [or similar] my nephew and myself navigated these successfully, then as always happens, the one where I slipped and fell into the mess below. Getting out was not too much of a problem, the walk back home to my sister was. By the time we arrived I was almost dry but quite stiff from the duckweed. She was not best pleased. Until the 1950s the water was drawn from a well and I was doused with several bucketfuls before being stripped and washed. Electricity arrived around the same time, prior to that Kerosene lamps and candles were used. Plus the outside 'Thunderbox.' Primitive? Maybe, but looking back - wonderful times spent in a delightful area of Somerset.