gon2seed
(and me! - Ed)
Wow loads of memories! Nearly too many to mention, my mind is abuzz!
Reynolds!
, 
, 
. I am sure it shut down due to continuing problems for the Police trying to keep tabs on the place. They objected to the late licence, which was then refused, and that put the mockers on it. Shame, but it had got out of control, particularly the Thursday nights, which put the wind up the coppers.
Top of the World (The Grot), ah! Yes! Fire was before my time as a water squirter, but we have some piccies at the Station of the aftermath. My mate, who ran an aquarist shop at the time, and had friends in the fireservice, was called in to rescue some of the fish who had miraculously survived. They lived in large tanks in the nightspot, and somehow avoided being boiled in the conflagration. They then resided for a while in his shop on Crooked Bridge Road, and if memory serves me, he ended up selling them to customers!
If you are younger than me (44, though look 20 yrs younger!), you probably won't realise that this hole was once one of the West Midlands premier nights out! Coaches used to come from all over Staffordshire and the Black Country in the 70's to sample the delights. Strict dress codes were applied, and even went as far as hair and sideburns. Circa 1970 My trendy Uncle from London attempted to gain entry, but after having them measured was told his sideburns were too long! Undetered he allowed the bouncer to trim them, and enjoyed an otherwise pleasant evening!
Back to The Reynolds! After completing our 18 week training course for water squirting, the entire course and instructors, let off steam at this lugubrious establishment. Entertainment for the evening, as well as the ubiquitous scantily clad dancers, was a Limbo Competition. A number of our party entered, and one of them, Junior Cassius (yes genuine name) brought home the crate of Stella with a consumate victory. The victory was never in doubt really, and it wasn't even Cass's Carribean roots that saw him through. Cass is 5'1" in his stocking feet! Priceless! The organisers wouldn't believe he was a fireman, with his baby face he looked more like one of our kids. In fact when a primary school visited the station once, one of the taller kids donned his firekit, and it was a bit short on the arms!
Reynolds!
, , . I am sure it shut down due to continuing problems for the Police trying to keep tabs on the place. They objected to the late licence, which was then refused, and that put the mockers on it. Shame, but it had got out of control, particularly the Thursday nights, which put the wind up the coppers.Top of the World (The Grot), ah! Yes! Fire was before my time as a water squirter, but we have some piccies at the Station of the aftermath. My mate, who ran an aquarist shop at the time, and had friends in the fireservice, was called in to rescue some of the fish who had miraculously survived. They lived in large tanks in the nightspot, and somehow avoided being boiled in the conflagration. They then resided for a while in his shop on Crooked Bridge Road, and if memory serves me, he ended up selling them to customers!
If you are younger than me (44, though look 20 yrs younger!), you probably won't realise that this hole was once one of the West Midlands premier nights out! Coaches used to come from all over Staffordshire and the Black Country in the 70's to sample the delights. Strict dress codes were applied, and even went as far as hair and sideburns. Circa 1970 My trendy Uncle from London attempted to gain entry, but after having them measured was told his sideburns were too long! Undetered he allowed the bouncer to trim them, and enjoyed an otherwise pleasant evening!
Back to The Reynolds! After completing our 18 week training course for water squirting, the entire course and instructors, let off steam at this lugubrious establishment. Entertainment for the evening, as well as the ubiquitous scantily clad dancers, was a Limbo Competition. A number of our party entered, and one of them, Junior Cassius (yes genuine name) brought home the crate of Stella with a consumate victory. The victory was never in doubt really, and it wasn't even Cass's Carribean roots that saw him through. Cass is 5'1" in his stocking feet! Priceless! The organisers wouldn't believe he was a fireman, with his baby face he looked more like one of our kids. In fact when a primary school visited the station once, one of the taller kids donned his firekit, and it was a bit short on the arms!
