The New Marksman Newsletter

The Online Version of the New Marksman ~ Spring Summer Issue

Tranquillity of Summer

St Botolph's Church Boston
Photograph by David Lowe

This magazine aims to give news and information about the Baily Thomas Provident fund and the existing Sports and Social activities of ex Mansfield Brewery personnel.

The Baily Thomas Provident Trust funds the magazine but comments and articles of interest from you the beneficiaries will be most welcome.

Closing date for information to be included in the next issue: 18th July 2010

Many thanks to everyone who contributed to this publication
and remember to send in your favourite photo for the front cover.

Denis Hales

Denis has been a member of the Mansfield & District male voice choir for over 8 years. The choir has over 50 members and presents over 18 concerts each year in the U.K. and has travelled as far as Germany to perform. The choir was invited to sing at the Albert Hall with the Joint Festival Welsh Massed Male Voices. Over 1000 singers were on stage in front of an audience of 6000.

Dennis is middle row third from the right

In February they visited and sang at No 10 Downing Street where Mrs. Alistair Darling served tea. The choir has sung for the charity Help for Heroes, the practical and direct support for our wounded soldiers and they raised over £700. They also sang at the celebration for Rebecca Adlington, the twice Olympic gold swimming medalist.

Denis’s wife Jean is secretary to the choir. They were married in 1964 when Denis was working for R.L Jones. He then moved to the haulage company Harvey Johnson and later joined Mansfield Brewery as a dray driver in 1984. He retired early after falling from a lorry in 2000.

Denis remembers accidentally shutting the brewery down when Mike Parson was head brewer. He was loading spent grain into a lorry from an overhead conveyor in the old brew house. On returning the pitchfork he was using to its storage place, one of the fork’s prongs connected with an exposed cable which burnt off the prong and caused the electrics to short and cut power to the whole brewery. This ended the practice of storing the fork behind the conduit!

The Mansfield & District Male Voice Choir will be performing on 6th June at the Newark Showground in aid of the Air Ambulance charity.

Diamond Celebration

Congratulation to Eric and Anita Jackson on their 60th wedding anniversary. Eric and Anita were married at St Peter’s parish church in Mansfield.

Eric retired in 1989 as Bulk Beer transport supervisor. The couple were very active with the Mansfield Brewery Retired Members Association until recently.

A Salute to Ryan Keeton - Royal Marine Green Beret

Ken and Gwen Kinch were invited to very special and proud occasion at the Royal Marine Commando Training Centre at Lympstone in Devon to see their grandson Ryan Keeton’s passing out parade with 982 Troop.

Earning the Royal Marine Green Beret is an accolade that is only possible for the ultra fit and fully determined who become part of this elite team within the British military services. It is one of the longest and toughest basic infantry training courses in the world.

Ryan faced some tough challenges during the 32 weeks intensive training required to achieve this ultimate prize but being a Royal Marine is not a vocation - it is a state of mind.

The Royal Marines are a highly specialized and manoeuvrable branch of the Royal Navy’s amphibious infantry force and are capable of deployment at short notice to any part of the world. They are a core ingredient in the UK`s Joint Rapid Reaction Force.

A Complete Change of Career and Profession - Colin Brooks

Hi everyone. I worked for Mansfield Brewery for 8 years and have now changed my career and profession completely, thanks to assistance from the Trust Fund.

I began working for the Brewery in June 1994 as second chef and then head chef at the White Post, Farnsfield. The first managers I worked for were Malcolm & Linda Vitch. I moved in August 1995 to be head chef at the concept bar called Brown’s in Hockley in Nottingham city centre. Whilst there I started to work on menus for the company within the pubs that were operated by Area Manager Brian Hedley and Regional Manager Ian Tomlinson. As a result I helped on the menu for the first Lloyds No1 bar that opened and was the head chef there. I continued to develop menus and went on to help open 10 Lloyds No1s around the country with Brian Hedley and later the Catering Development Manager Sue Walsh.

Eventually I was interviewed and given the job at Head Office in Mansfield as Catering Training Officer. I really enjoyed my time there and focused on food hygiene training for staff and managers as well as being involved in many openings including Trading Posts, Lock, Stock and Barrels and TP Woods. I worked alongside some great friends such as Wayne Chapman, Louise Waterhouse, Nicky Middleton and Mike Freedman.

When the Brewery was taken over by W & D I continued to work on training for 12 months before moving to other breweries including Hardy & Hansons. I enjoyed my time at other breweries but Mansfield was a great place for me and a place where hard work was rewarded and my career progressed.

I had always had a keen interest in social aspects and in 2002 began working as a volunteer in Social Care and found it was something I wanted to pursue. In 2005 I approached the Brewery Trust Fund and they kindly agreed to help fund me so I could go to university to gain a degree in Social Work. I am pleased to say that I have managed to do just that and graduated (see attached photo) in November 2009.

A long way form my catering and hospitality days, but days I will never forget especially at Mansfield Brewery.
The photo shows me with my wife Jennifer, who works for Lloyd’s pharmacy group and my two children Rebecca (19) and Eleanor (13). We live in Hucknall and Jennifer and I have been married for 22 years.

Many Thanks
Colin Brooks

Raylan Lee Browne
Assistant Manager
The Swan, Mansfield

Lee originated from Danesmoor and began his career working part time in Chesterfield bars. During this time he was studying computer programming and eventually secured a job with Enterprise Software Systems in Mansfield. Missing the pub atmosphere, Lee started working part time at weekends at the Swan and became full time in 2003.

Now as assistant manager he is also called upon as a relief manager at other outlets including the Griffin Loughborough, The Travellers Rest, Sutton and other outlets. Lee is studying for the National Examination Board of Safety and Health certificate (NEBOSH) which covers health and safety management, risk assessment, accident investigation, and physical and psychological health hazards.

M.B.R.M.A. 2010 A.G.M

In March, 60 members attended the A.G.M of the Mansfield Brewery Retired Members Association which was opened by Mr Tony Scruby, president of the
association.

Jack Revill retired after 22 years service on the committee and was presented with a bottle of malt whisky by the chairman, Dennis Tasker who thanked him for his work on the committee. Graham Cooling was elected to serve in his place and was warmly welcomed onto the committee.

Members of the Mansfield Brewery Retired Members Association meet on the first Wednesday in the month from 10.00am to 1.00 pm at the Debdale Park Sports Club on Debdale Lane in Mansfield Woodhouse. The association is open to anyone who has retired from any of the Brewery group companies. Why not come along and meet old friends or make new ones? Drinks are complimentary. For further information contact Secretary George Powell 01623 624478

Robert Brocklehurst - Entrepreneur

Rob Brocklehurst joined Mansfield Brewery in 1983, working in the Cellar Services refurbishing and installing bulk beer tanks. He was promoted in 1986 to Cellar Service Engineer.

During the nineties he and his wife Sally embarked on various enterprises in the brewing trade. One which Rob still runs (sadly, Sally died recently) is the outside bars C.R.C.Leisure. He designed and built the interior of the trailer pictured above. C.R.C Leisure can be hired for any occasion.

In his limited leisure time Rob enjoys driving his Ferrari F355 Spider convertible sports car. It is a mid-engine, rear wheel drive V8-powered 2-seat coupe with manual transmission. The engine features a 5-valve per cylinder head and that is powerful, producing 375hp at 8500 rpm.

The retractable roof is affixed to the body of the car and is hinged and folds away into a recess behind the rear seats. Behind the engine cover are enzo-like tail lights and rounded bumper curvatures.

The fin-like lines along the side connect to a larger more open single air inlet on the doors, improving its air intake functionality. The design of the side fins on the 355 make this model Ferrari the most recognisable of its generation.

AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR by Noman Proctor

Last year I was invited to enter a writing competition for the whole of Lincolnshire. The competition was in two parts - first a local one, and in my sector that was the Lindsey section. There were three other sectors from all over Lincolnshire with the top three entries from each reaching a place in the grand final.

In May I was informed that my entry had won third place in the Lindsey section and would I go to receive my award in June after when it would be submitted into the Lincolnshire final. In September another letter arrived informing me that my story, AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR, was in the grand final and had been awarded second place out of all the 1,600 entries in Lincolnshire.

The judge for the competition was the well respected and best selling author Karen Maitland (author of 'Company of Liars' and 'The Owl Killers'). The photograph shows me receiving the prize from Karen. My winning entry follows:-

AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR by Noman Proctor

It had been a harsh, severe and long winter. In fact one of the worst that I could ever remember. Days and weeks stretching into months of bleak dark hours with each day seemingly bringing even more snow and ice. Several times the height and sheer depth of the snow had made leaving the house impossible. In effect, just like everyone else of course, I was almost isolated.

There simply wasn’t anything to do so, apart from reading books and the occasional television programme, my main source of entertainment came from watching the, not so much slightly amusing as often hilarious, attempts of the little rockhopper penguins to skate around on the tiles of my kitchen playing ice hockey.

It wasn’t as if most of them weren’t any good at it....they were, and some were positively brilliant but others were, at best, ungainly. What made it not only funny to watch, and which in itself, made compulsive viewing, was that they often misjudged where the other skating penguins were, so collisions became inevitable and frequent.....not just with each other either! Table and chair legs were by no means exempt.

Then, of course, there were the younger ones with not the same experience. They hadn’t, as yet, learned to turn corners, with the result that they skated straight across the kitchen tiles and ricocheted off the cupboards on the other side of the room. However, despite all these ‘mishaps,’ and it never ceased to fascinate me, none of the penguins ever seemed to hurt themselves in the slightest. They simply got back up onto their skates and carried on as normal and as if nothing untoward had ever happened.

The score of the ice hockey game never seemed to bother them either; they didn’t have a care in the world...just the joy of skating itself. They always had a referee, of course, and I suspect that, even on different occasions, he was one and the same penguin because he always seemed far more concerned with admiring himself in the reflection of the glass fronted oven as he skated by than the game itself. However, it was difficult to really be certain because one Rock-hopper penguin appeared to be almost the same as any other.

And it was in that manner I suppose, I passed those dreary months, but NOW it was different. Winter had given way to spring. The sun was shining brightly and it was so very much warmer. The penguins, who didn’t really relish the rise in temperature, had returned, as they always did about this time of year, to the place of refuge that I had bought for them..... which was an old fridge at the back of my garage. There, they felt safe to hide away during the much warmer months of spring and summer.

I felt somewhat saddened with the thought that I wouldn’t see the rockhoppers again, resplendent in their red and white striped woolly hats and scarves, until the late autumn when, once again, they would entertain me with their antics upon the floor of my kitchen.

Buzz......buzz and then, even before I could rise from my chair, another, but this time much more insistent and protracted buzzzzzz on the door bell. ‘Okay! Okay,! I’m coming’ I muttered under my breath. Upon opening the door there was nothing....well nothing until I bent my head and looked down.

Dropping onto my haunches I reached out a hand. ‘Hello little fella and where did you come......?’, I never completed the question because with a sudden surge he pushed past me and rushed down the hallway and into the lounge knocking me off my crouched position, rolling me unceremoniously onto my back in the process.

Oh no!...‘the sheep!’ I muttered as I scrambled to my feet and tottered after him. I actually need not have worried because there he was, stood calmly amongst the sheep, who seemed totally unphased by his sudden appearance.

Unconcerned, they were continuing to chew down the overgrown nap on my lounge carpet which they did, and very efficiently too, on a regular basis. There were three sheep that carried out this duty and, in a moment of devilment and ischievousness I suppose, I had named them Stheno, Euryale and Medusa after the three Gorgon sisters from Greek mythology. They didn’t actually seem to be offended in the slightest by the origins of their names but then again, perhaps their knowledge of Greek mythology was slightly limited!

I did say that the sheep undertook their responsibility for the upkeep of my lounge carpet very seriously and sometimes too diligently because there had been an occasion earlier when one of them, and I suspect it would have been Medusa, who always seemed to be somewhat more over enthusiastic in her efforts than the other two, that would have been the culprit, had been slightly keen... and a threadbare patch of the corner of the carpet bore the evidence of that. Anyway, our visitor stood equally unabashed, but perhaps with, what I thought at the time, an almost vague, bewildered and slightly puzzled look on his face.

Now that I had a chance to look at him closely I could see that he wasn’t a little fella at all and next to the sheep, was actually quite a big chap. He was unmistakably a fairly large goat with big expressive eyes. I was to learn later that he had, when he wanted, a rather large repertoire of expressions. The sheep had all but finished their task so I led them back to their field at the back of my house fully intending that the goat should join them but he was having none of that and when we reached the field, dug his heels in the ground refusing to move, so I was left with no other option than to return to the house with the goat in tow.

Over the next few days and weeks, I contacted everyone that I could think of.....farms, smallholdings, even zoos and animal sanctuaries, anyone that may have lost a goat but the search proved fruitless. I should have contacted the RSPCA of course but I didn’t because, by then, I had got quite fond of this shaggy haired, if not somewhat slightly smelly, goat.

I reasoned, to the point of convincing myself, that it didn’t much matter because the goat seemed quite happy and anyway I already had Diana. Oh!, I know that I didn’t see much of her because being a barn owl she slept most of the day and went out at night through a fanlight window which I left permanently open. There were, however, problems with that because just recently she had, instead of hunting as any self respecting barn owl would, found a liking for the night clubs in the town. No!! of course she didn’t actually go in but I got to learn that the bar staff took delight in supplying her with the beer left-overs. I always knew because on returning home in the early hours it would take her five or even six attempts at flying in through the fanlight window.

A small, but often noisy, inconvenience. However the real problem, it would turn out, was the goat.‘Well I suppose, if you’re going to live here, you best have a name’ I uttered almost to myself but loud enough for the goat to hear. Now it might have been my imagination but I could swear that the goat twitched and nodded his head in agreement.‘Right then....I’ll call you George’ I stated in what I hoped would be a commanding voice. Somehow the goat seemed to understand that and rested his head against my knee as if in his acceptance and approval of that name.

After about a week things, much to my surprise, seemed to be working out quite well although I was learning about goats, or at least this one........and fast!!. Food was, without doubt, the very highest priority on his agenda. George, for instance, seemed very adept at emptying anything with food in it. He soon learned and understood that the kitchen fridge was, in goat terms anyway, the ‘Gateway to Paradise.’ After the second time that he hooked it open with his horns and devoured all and everything within, and I do mean everything....food, wrappers, packaging, everything !! I was forced to take the hitherto unnecessary measure of securing the door with a large buckled strap.

In spite of his goatish naughtiness he was, nevertheless a very lovable old thing and I decided, when not scoffing anything that was available, that it was only fair that he should be exercised and so, having first bought a collar and expanding lead together with a metal name tag proudly displaying his name, I took him for his first walk along the promenade. After all what harm could that do, I reasoned to myself?

In my life, I have to confess, I do have a history of ‘getting it wrong,’ and never more so than in this case. I took George to see the ducks on the local park pond thinking that he might enjoy that..... and yes he did......too much!
It all started well. George was an instant attraction particularly with the little lads and lasses who almost fell over themselves to pet and stroke him. George loved all of that and lapped up every minute of the attention. ‘Milking it,’ I believe, is the phrase that springs to mind.

At the duck pond, he seemed somewhat bemused, looking first at the ducks and then up at me as if to say, ‘What sort of creatures are they floating about on that water?’ In the time that I’d had him, I had become quite used to talking to him, so I gently explained that they were birds that lived on the water and had a different life from that which he knew and then proceeded to feed the ducks with some bread that I had brought with me.
Taking my eye off George was my initial mistake. Busy feeding the ducks I failed to realise that George had decided that a better view of them was further around the pond which unfortunately had a railing. A frantic and very loud bleating sound was the first time that I realised that George, in his eagerness to see the ducks from, what he had considered a better angle had, somehow, managed to wedge his head through the railings and was now entirely stuck.

Well what a performance followed. Someone called the police who in turn called the fire brigade and with an ever increasing crowd of incredulous spectators gathering, eventually George was freed from his self imposed incarceration, and it has to be said, to a rousing and warm round of applause from the onlooking crowd.

We both slunk off home in various degrees of shame and embarrassment. George, who I am still certain believed that he, in spite of his recent ordeal, was the star attraction of the afternoon, with his usual strident and confident manner. Myself?.. well less so, but then again I was the one to receive the bill for the repairs to the railings from the authorities later. However, even after that first debacle of an outing, after a few days I decided to try again. Our trip, on this occasion, would prove altogether entirely different. I decided that the beach might be the best option. The moment George saw the sea defences, very large granite rocks and boulders, his eyes seemed to light up and he became very animated, bucking and kicking in his excitement.

With no-one else around I took a chance and let him loose from his lead. The transformation in George was amazing. From the clumsy almost oafish goat that he was around the house he became almost gazelle like, skipping and leaping the huge sharp rocks that edged the sea that lapped against them. This was almost, it seemed, what he’d been waiting for. I guessed that somewhere in his distant past his ancestors must have been a breed of mountain goats. Certainly George took to it like...well dare I say, after our last outing........a duck to water?

George and I walked home along the beach and I was so very conscious of him looking up at me with those large and expressive eyes as if in a thank you for his moment of absolute glory upon the rocks. I awoke the next morning and the first and immediate thing that I noticed was that for once I wasn’t paralysed from the waist down. No weight across my legs. George, full of good, though misguided intentions, always took the opportunity to wriggle onto the bed when I was asleep thus pinning my lower half firmly onto the bed when I woke up. But today was different. I laid there waiting for sounds of movement or sound......there were none, not from the lounge, kitchen....nothing!

After some minutes I arose and went in search of George. It wasn’t like him to go missing but there was no sign of George. Sure enough Diana had returned home, presumably the worse for wear during the early hours and was now asleep in the nesting box that I had built for her and the sheep were still safely in their field and, as eager as ever, had made an early start on the grass..... but still no sign of George.

During the days that followed I began thinking that perhaps George never existed at all. Maybe, just maybe, he was a character from one of my vivid dreams but it surely couldn’t be that...could it? It was all too real. George and the railings, George and the rocks, No it couldn’t have possibly been a dream. He was far too much of a reality than that.....well in my mind anyway.

With the continued absence of George I was forced to think differently. ‘Silly old devil’ I told myself repeatedly in the days to come. ‘Fancy believing in a goat that never really existed,’ but in spite of myself I had to laugh at the absurdity of it all. How stupid could that be?

I was eventually forced to accept that the episode with George was simply that...a silly fantasy...until........!

I am, well sort of anyway, ashamed to say that it was a few weeks later that I decided to clean the house and it was, with vacuum cleaner in hand, that I first saw it.... A metal disc glinting in the rays shining through the window in the spring sunlight..... it was the name disc that I had bought for George.

So, apparently, it hadn’t been a figment of my imagination after all. George had really existed. A fact further endorsed when later I opened my post and found a bill for the repairs to the park railings.

A whole year passed by and if I’m honest there weren’t too many days when I didn’t think about George,.... where he was now and what had become of him until,.... exactly a year to the day that he first rang on my doorbell, I heard that distinctive, familiar and ever insistent buzz....buzzzzz, once more..........

Mansfield Brewery Dinner Dance
Saturday 6th March 2010 at the Mansfield Civic Centre

Obituaries

	David Rhodes 1924 -2010 A very likable and talented craftsman, David was born in Skegby on 1st November 1924. After leaving Healdswood School he had a five year apprenticeship in painting and decorating with the local Sutton in Ashfield firm of Thomas Muck. In 1953 David’s career changed when he secured employment with Mansfield Brewery. Over the years the job changed to general plant maintenance with duties which included pipe insulation. He was later promoted to the position of supervisor. He retired in 1990. His wife Mona died in the late nineties. David took pleasure from decorating and getting involved in various projects. He leaves sons Peter, Philip and daughter Christine, their respective spouses and grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
	John Alec Hurt 1928-2010 John Alec Hurt, known as Alec, was born at Alfreton Road, Sutton, and educated at the local National School, and lived locally all his life. Alec worked at the Brewery and retired in 1985 due to ill health. Alec enjoyed cooking, socializing, eating out and spending time with his family. He leaves two sons, Michael and Clifford and a daughter Shirley, three grandchildren, Katy, Caroline and Sarah, and one great-grandson Martin.
	Bernice Jefferson 1934-2010 Bernice worked at the Mansfield Brewery Enterprise centre as a secretary. She was very well respected and retired from the Brewery in the 1980s.
	Thomas Leonard Musgrove 1924 -2009 Len was born in Rainworth and educated at the local Python Hill School. He lived locally and worked at Rufford Colliery for 30 years, was a pub landlord in Lincoln for eight years and finally worked at Mansfield Brewery for 11 year. He retired at the age of 65. He enjoyed football, cricket and bowls. Len leaves his wife, Irene, sons Philip and Stephen, daughter Valerie and seven grandchildren.

Notice Board.

Mansfield Brewery Golfing Society

Duncan Henderson is willing to arrange a nostalgic golf match.
Anyone interested please contact Duncan on 01623 467617 / 07932 258118

Mansfield Brewery Walking Group

Walks - Second Sunday every month.
For information contact Barbara Brown 01623 481488

Pensioners Group

For information please contact Secretary George Powell 01623 624478
To book your places on any of the outings contact Denis Tasker 01623 623590

Six monthly re-union

Kevin Hall is organising the re-union at the Margarita’s Italian restaurant
in Mansfield Woodhouse on Friday 15th October 2010.
Contact Kevin on 07739 989626

If you have any photos, information, stories or tales about
W.G.Boalers and Son, Bellamys (Drinks) Ltd, Hull Brewery, R L Jones, Mansfield Brewery, Mandora Soft Drinks, T.W.Beach, Frampton Village Cider Company.

Please send to
Ian F P Boucher
34 Haddon Road
Mansfield
Notts
NG19 7BS
Telephone 01623 644798

All photographs etc will be returned if requested.

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Newsletter Sponsored by Baily Thomas Provident Fund