Aardvarks to Planet X (book 1 of the hexology in seven parts)

I went to Halesowen tertiary college. It was a sort of finishing school for the technically minded. Either that, or my high school had already had enough of the students by the age of sixteen. Down the hill from the college was a pub called the Loyal Lodge. A real old world place; consisting of several small rooms to keep the locals from the younger crowd.

The name harks back to the civil war. The Lodge was loyal to the old regime. In the back sat the games room, a haunt of youth Festooned with a jukebox that I knew played hello I love you by the Doors, and Led Zeppelin’s Black Country Woman. Those were the main theme tune to my stay then. Other accouterments were the video games; it even boasted a table video console, so you could have a place to put your beer whilst zapping aliens.

The landlord had an interesting policy on under age drinking. Long before the time of identity cards, he would sum up his clients, and if the youth had stretched it to the limit of what he could call of age. Then he would enquire, “Are you sixteen?” In his embarrassment at being cross-examined by such an impressive figure, the lad would obviously reply in the affirmative. “Then you’re too young to drink, over eighteens only.”

In spite of his policy on age restriction, the landlord still held an annual event called Drink the Lodge Dry. Word always filtered up to the college, and so on the appointed day the more disreputable element descended on its prey, intent on draining the barrels dry. It was a futile effort, as the landlord had previously stocked up in preparation. Despite this obvious breaking of any rules of engagement, we partook until reeling we had to admit defeat. But it wasn’t the winning it was the taking part. You can never drain the ocean, but at least we tried.