George Booth’s Trousers*

*Not to mention Miss Harriet Hough’s Umbrella.

Yes, you did read that correctly.

What ho, you wonderful people, you! Well, here we all are. Make yourselves at home. Canape? Glass of something cheering? I can heartily recommend the red… cheeky, but hexagonal in the correct places, if you know what I mean. Right, take a seat and I’ll begin.

Today’s offering concerns a subject very dear to my heart. No, not pottery… I’m not completely one dimensional, you know. Nope, this article concerns pubs. And alcohol. And in particular the effects derived from the consumption of the latter. “What’s this?” I hear you cry… “a post about drunkenness? By a man with the sober reputation of good old TCG?” Hmmm… let’s move on.

So, I was reading through the diary of George Booth (discussed further here) the other day, and came across this absolute gem:

Thursday July 25th (1833) Last sunday afternoon [21st July] I went with Harriet Hough, our Mary, James & George Booth to Glossop Church. After service we went to Joshua Shepley’s at the Royal Oak and then returned by way of Bridge End Juncksion, Simondly and we did not forget to call at each place and to my own shame I was quite drunk. fell and broke Miss Hough`s Umbrella and tore my Trowsers.

I say!

So, what are we to make of that startling confession? We could judge Mr Booth harshly, but let’s face it, we’ve all been there (though I don’t recall ever having broken someone’s umbrella). Two things leap out of this entry. Firstly, there are the post-church snifters – seemingly many of them – in what was, for all intents and purposes, a pub crawl of Glossop that starts in the Royal Oak and ends at Bridge End (appropriately enough, where Wetherspoons is now). The amusement here is, I think, the result of a sincere and honest Georgian/Victorian gentleman, getting sozzled after church, staggering home, breaking an umbrella, and ripping his trousers. Quite how this happened I’d love to know (the ripping, not the drunkenness… I’m very aware of how that happens!), but the diary entry is somewhat lacking in details.

Secondly, there is the comment that they returned via “Bridge End Juncksion [junction]”, implying the meeting of a number of roads. My sherdy-sense tingled, and the question was asked: “is there a blog post here?” Well… here we are!

Ok then, let’s examine the route our man and his party took, firstly from the church to the Royal Oak. There are two ways he could have walked. Firstly, down Manor Park Road (then called Hall Street) and left down what was then Cowbrook Lane, but is now the A57/Sheffield Road, and along to the Royal Oak. This would have had a decent road surface on it now – the turnpike road – the Snake Pass – had been open for some 12 years at this point. But this would mean they would have to double back on themselves to get home. No, I think it would make sense to take the more direct, and almost certainly original, route, along the track from Hall Fold (passing the Glacial Erratic) and via Pyegrove, finally popping out at the pub on the road there. This was an established track, rather than the simple footpath it is now, and for many hundreds of years was used by man and beast to get from (Old) Glossop to Hurst, Jumble, and ultimately Whitfield – a not insignificant trackway to be honest. There was also a spur from this track to Mossy Lea farm, and joining Doctor’s Gate.

The Royal Oak was constructed in or just before 1818 as a purpose built alehouse by the Joshua Shepley mentioned in the diary. It sits on the then new Snake Pass, and had stables and a blacksmith, as well as water trough. Shepley clearly knew he had a captive market – the first watering hole you come to after the Snake Pass, and the last as you leave Glossop for the road, meaning a last chance to water or shoe a horse, as well as a pint, too. As a building, it’s a wonderful example of the neo-classical late Georgia/Early Victorian ‘symmetrical with a central doorway’ style that was very common amongst purpose built pubs of the time. Actually, it’s a little off perfect symmetry, as indeed they all are, presumably to accommodate a larger room and a smaller one – here the larger is on the right – but let’s call them symmetrical. The porch covering the front door is a later addition.

I feel that if Booth purposefully went there to see the place, and the man, he would certainly had more than a single drink; at least two is my guess, although potentially more. We’ll say two to be on the safe side.

DRINKS CONSUMED: 2

So then, from here they would have wandered down Cowbrook Lane, and come across what would become the Commercial Inn on the corner there. But whilst the building – or an earlier incarnation – was standing there (a lease for the building was granted in 1828), it didn’t have an alehouse license at this point (that only came about in 1839). However, it might have had a simpler beerhouse license, as almost anyone could obtain a license to sell beer brewed on the premises if they paid a 2 guinea fee. One can imagine the sort of clientele this sort of establishment could attract – cheap and cheerful beer a plenty. I’m not 100% convinced our man Booth would have frequented a beer house, but I could be wrong – especially if he’s on the razz! So, benefit of the doubt, he bent his elbow at the Commercial, or what was there at the time.

The current building is also of the ‘symmetrical’ style, although this example has the central doorway on both the turnpike road and on Manor Park Road (then Hall Street), which make good commercial sense, although the Sheffield Road doorway has been bricked up. I’ve said it before: objects (in this case a building) acquire a biography, and throughout their ‘lives’, like ours, they constantly change, and often carry the scars of their history. A bricked up doorway prompts so many questions, some of which are easily answered, others not so much. Was this an entrance to a separate room? The Smoking Room? Taproom? Lounge? Vault? Or was it an entrance to the private quarters?

DRINKS CONSUMED: 3

Onwards and upwards. From here, the next establishment he might have come across is the Mechanic’s Arms at 99 High Street East. Built in 1831 by Jordan Hampson, who is listed as a beer seller in the 1841 census, and who would have been the landlord in 1833. The building ceased to be a pub in 1933 because of its “structural unsuitability”, and the building was demolished in 1971. Regency Court now stands in its place.

So we might assume an eyeball straightener here, then.

DRINKS CONSUMED: 4

Next up and a little further down we have The Peartree Inn. Built in 1818, it was originally known as the Kings Arms.

It was here that in 1830 that the officers of a detachment of the 10th Hussars and 4th Regiment of Foot were stationed, being given the task of putting down a potential riot of spinners who were demonstrating in favour of a standard rate of pay. In 1832 it would have been owned by a John Woolley, himself an old soldier. We might safely assume they took one drink in the Peartree, although the chance of a chat with an old soldier… let’s say 2. It is a Grade ii listed building, with the official listing thus:

House, now offices and attached wall. Early C19 with late C19 and C20 additions. Coursed millstone grit with tooled dressings and stone slate roof. 2 stone end stacks. EXTERIOR: 2 storey and attic. Street front rendered. Almost symmetrical 2 window range. Off-centre doorway with C20 door in flush ashlar surround flanked by single plain sashes, above 2 plain sashes, all in flush ashlar surrounds. Left return has blocked tall opening at first floor level and above single plain sash. Right return has ground floor with elongated C20 window opening. Rear has C19 parallel extension with end stack. INTERIOR: not inspected. SUBSIDIARY FEATURES: adjoining wall to left has doorway in flush ashlar surround with plank door.

The Peartree ceased being a pub in 1926, and is now the offices of Glossop Tyres – make sure you check out the building the next time you are getting new tyres.

DRINKS CONSUMED: 6

Swaying slightly (we’ve all been there) they would have set off – it’s thirsty work, all this walking… Next up, the Howard Arms, for at least one.

Named after the Howard family, the Dukes of Norfolk, it was built in 1800. It is superbly situated for passing trade, being at the crossroads of the old Woodhead Road (now Ellison Street) and the turnpike road running east-west, later expanded into the Snake Pass. Indeed, the trustees of this road building committee held their first planning meeting here, on 4 June 1818, and celebrated its opening four years later with a slap-up meal in the pub. A very nice establishment (possibly), I feel certain that more than one was consumed here. For one, he was already 6 drinks into this adventure, and at this point, the genie is hard to push back into the bottle, and trouser-ripping and umbrella-breaking are all but inevitable. But I also get the impression that he is having a good time, despite the shame he felt the next day, and the diary makes it very clear “we did not forget to call at each place“.

DRINKS CONSUMED: 8

From here, the party would have headed further down, and into the Norfolk Arms. Built in 1823, there is quite a bit that can be said about the pub, but I feel here is not the place – this is Mr Booth’s time to shine – so I’ll keep it brief. Built in 1823 as part of the monumental shakeup of this area, and the creation of Howard Town, The Norfolk Arms has been much altered and expanded over the years, especially in the late 19th century, but at its core it is another example of that neo-classical ‘symmetrical with a central door’ that define so many purpose built pubs of the late Georgian/Early Victorian period (the front porch is a later addition).

It is also slightly grander than many of the other examples – larger and more formal, it was also used as the town’s post office in the 19th century, as well as the coaching inn, where stage coaches between Sheffield and Manchester would stop. The Norfolk Arms is a Grade ii listed building, with the official listing reading thus:

Coaching Inn, now public house. 1823, altered late C19 and C20. Coursed millstone grit with ashlar dressings and hipped Welsh slate roofs. 4 ridge stacks and 3 wall stone stacks plus 2 louvred vents to left.
PLAN: double-depth.
EXTERIOR: 2 storey. High Street front has 7 windows arranged 2:3:2. Slightly projecting 3 window centre has central stone, flat roofed single storey porch with blocking course, plain square columns and C20 margin light glazing. Flanked by single plain horned sashes, above 3 similar windows. Wings have 2 similar sashes to each floor. All windows have painted ashlar lintels and sills. Left return has doorway in flush ashlar surround with overlight and to left single small then 2 large casement windows, above 3 plain horned sashes. Right return to Norfolk Street has central doorway under single storey flat roof porch with dentilled cornice supported on square Tuscan Doric columns, moulded round arches with moulded imposts and stressed keystones. To left single plain horned sash and to right large former shop window with former doorway to left and 3 round headed lights to right within plain pilaster surround with moulded fascia board. Above 3 plain horned sashes and small inserted casement window.

And it’s difficult to argue with that! The landlord in 1833 was a Joseph Oates, and I think they had single drink in here, as they decide to call it a night and head home.

DRINKS CONSUMED: 9

The diary states that they went via “Bridge End“, which means they would have crossed what was then a new bridge, but not yet Victoria Bridge. This whole area was in flux at that time, with new road layouts and buildings going up, and it may well have resembled a building site. However, there was one shining beacon on this dark and lonely road out of Glossop, one place of refuge and light. And beer; The Albion Hotel (also known as The Trap, The Last Orders, and now The Brook Tavern), which in 1833 was brand new, being built the previous year. Maybe just one more…

Set back from the modern road now because it sat on the original line of the road and bridge (and lines up with Smithy Fold and Ellison Street), it would have been a magnet for the party – to celebrate crossing the bridge, and one for the road. The last. No more… “Ah, go on then, let’s have another…” The landlord at the time would have been a Charles Calvert, who by this point would probably have been glad to see them go!

TOTAL DRINKS CONSUMED: 11

And so, singing hymns – and other, less saintly songs – our party staggers into the night, and into infamy. Blimey… 11 drinks! Not bad for a Sunday session, and certainly more than I could do anymore. The ‘pub crawl’ is a brilliant piece of social history, a glimpse into the personal life of a person whose public life was probably very different, possibly very austere and proper – so the idea of him getting squiffy on a Sunday is amazing if, as he notes, shameful, as the sobering up starts, and he fits back into his public persona.

Now, here is also something of a question mark. His diary records that they went via “Bridge End Juncksion, Simondly“, but that is an odd way of putting it. Bridge End is Victoria Bridge, but it is not in Simmondley. Whitfield or Glossop, depending on which side you are standing (I get the feeling Bridge End proper is on the Glossop side of the brook), certainly, but not Simmondley – that’s over the water of Long Clough Brook. There is Bridge Field, which is just in Simmondley, but it is much further away. No, I suspect he may simply be confused: a bridge over water from Glossop… that’s Simmondley. Plus, he’s a Chisworth/Charlesworth man out of his territory, he may not have understood the finer points of local geography. And let’s not forget he was also somewhat impaired, mentally, by the time he arrived there!

So then, the ‘Juncksion’? A junction, or a meeting of roads. But from where? This is where Glossop’s history gets murky… and interesting. It is a dispersed settlement, with farmsteads all over, all of which feed into the centre – Old Glossop. Because of this, trackways spread spiderweb-like all over, connecting all of these places and people. A crossing point like Victoria Bridge – or rather the bridges that were there before – were naturally targets, focal points attracting all the tracks, as ways to cross Glossop Brook, would not have been common. Here on the map is shown the tracks. It should be stated that not all would have been in use simultaneously, they would have been introduced as needed; a new farmhouse built, perhaps means new tracks are made – but all heading for the single focus of the crossing point, the bridge.

This article owes a huge debt to the book History in a Pint pot by David Field – a brilliantly detailed look at all of Glossop’s pubs, past and present, now sadly out of print and ridiculously difficult to get hold of. The library has a copy, so go there and read it. I’d also like to thank George Booth, especially as this is the second article inspired by his diary. I also feel slightly bad about lampooning him, however good natured it might be; after all, the shame he felt at being drunk was real enough to write about it in his personal diary. By way of an apology, I might raise a glass of the stuff that cheers his way tonight… although I’m not sure he’d approve.

However, I’m genuinely half tempted to recreate this monumental pub crawl – starting at the Royal Oak, and finishing in the Brook Tavern… and celebrate the end by tearing a pair of trousers and breaking an umbrella? Who’s with me? 21st of July this year is, coincidentally, a Sunday, but I feel that we live in less civilised times, and those of us who work will not appreciate waking up Monday morning. We could do it the day before – Saturday 20th. Just a thought… let me know what you think.

In other news, Where / When issue 2 is selling like hot cakes, which is great as it means that I can publish Where / When 3 relatively quickly. I also have some archaeological/historical walks planned for the summer – essentially me doing a Where / When live, with a bunch of you, if you fancy. And perhaps incorporating the inaugural George Booth Historical Stagger? But honestly, watch this space as lots is being planned…

Until the next time then, good people of Glossop – and beyond – please look after yourselves and each other.

And I remain, your humble servant.

TCG