Dave Robbins: Farms, Pubs and Starsky and Hutch (full version)
Secondary education was completed at both Teignmouth Secondary School and Teignmouth Grammar School in 1975, with a place secured at Seale-Hayne Agricultural College.
The ‘practical’ year was spent at ‘Shute Farm’, Bishopsteignton, although school holidays had allowed me to work on the farm previously to gain experience. As a school boy at Bishop Primary School I would look out from the playground at Mr Lamboll’s Friesian cows walking from the farm to the fields. A school visit to the farm one day was enough to influence me enough to want to become a Farm Manager.
Part 1
Dave Robbins at Shute Farm c1974
Float pulling, Teignmouth Carnival
So as a 16 year old I took my tractor test at Coles Barn junction in Bishop, with the driving examiner jumping out in front of me to conduct an emergency stop! I then had to show him hand signals, to turn left and right. No indicators! I felt like I was driving a ‘juggernaut’, which I subsequently did in later years!
Milking Ian Lamboll’s cows as my first real job was a great time. I think at the peak there were about 80 cows which were walked up and down Shute Hill to Coles Barn along the main road to the fields, four times daily, single handedly! The other fields were accessed through the narrow Cockhaven Lane to the Metro Motors end to the fields. In the narrow part of Cockhaven, Lou Back would stand outside his house and congratulate me if I managed to get the whole herd passed his house with no mess!
Dave Robbins milking at Shute Farm
Folk Song about ‘Bishopsteignton cows’
The cows became somewhat iconic in the village; indeed a song was written about them, referencing the fact that they would hold up the village bus, the Devon General 2B ‘Albion Nimbus’ and the clay lorries along the main road. I do recall, that most people in the village accepted the cows but it was ‘newcomers’ that sometimes would moan.
The Lamboll family, Ian and Gwyneth Lamboll had six kids: David, Richard, Robert, Ann, Elizabeth and Caroline. The kids all went to the primary school and the three ‘lads’ still live in Bishopsteignton today. We had some great times and I remember other Bishop characters that would visit the farm. Noel ‘Dicky’ Bird the village blacksmith, would talk for hours usually when we were busy!
The cows became somewhat iconic in the village; indeed a song was written about them, referencing the fact that they would hold up the village bus, the Devon General 2B ‘Albion Nimbus’ and the clay lorries along the main road. I do recall, that most people in the village accepted the cows but it was ‘newcomers’ that sometimes would moan.
The Lamboll family, Ian and Gwyneth Lamboll had six kids: David, Richard, Robert, Ann, Elizabeth and Caroline. The kids all went to the primary school and the three ‘lads’ still live in Bishopsteignton today. We had some great times and I remember other Bishop characters that would visit the farm. Noel ‘Dicky’ Bird the village blacksmith, would talk for hours usually when we were busy!
Folk Song about ‘Bishopsteignton cows’
Another was Bob Samson who lived in Cockhaven Lane, a former dairy farmer from Luton, whose herd were wiped out by foot and mouth in the 60s. As a 16 year old I remember Bob could ‘swear for England’ but had a heart of gold. Farming brothers, Edward and Julian Perkin along with their father ‘Old Man Perkin’ who lived next door to Shute Farm, would visit and talk to Ian (Mr Lamboll to me!) about farming matters. Occassionally, Max Freidrich the German herdsman from Dawes Farm at the top of the village would pop in and offer advice to a young keen would be dairy farmer!
Shute Farm
“The pubs in ‘downtown’ Bishop were also a great attraction back then and I hoped that permanently smelling of cow shit didn’t put the girls off too much.”
Manor Inn, Fore Street Bishopsteignton, and opposite is the Butcher Shop that Kit and Jack Ward owned.
Part 2
I’d had my initation to drinking alcohol, as previously mentioned, by the village postmistress, but I pushed my luck in the other pubs with varying degrees of success at the age of about 15 or 16. The failures I endured were landlady Doris Ridd in the Manor Inn kicking me out of the lounge one night as I was ‘not old enough’ to drink!… she was right! I’d go to the off licence at the ‘Manor’ to buy crisps or a pasty (what happened to pasties in pubs), I’d glance longingly into the bar and listen to the laughter, smell the beer and maybe catch a glimpse of a village girl with her ‘Babycham’ and a glacé cherry! I wanted some of that social life.
The Landlord at the ‘Ring of Bells’ in my teens was Alf Caine.
As school kids, whilst we waited for the school bus, we would shelter from the rain under the awning of his pub. We would invariably make a row and at about 8.15 am, the gaunt, spectre like figure, after presumably a busy night in the pub, Alfie would shout at us kids to keep the noise down!… so I never tried getting a drink in the ‘Ringers’ until I was old enough.
The Ring of Bells Fore Street, Bishopsteignton.
However, the ‘Commercial’ was a push over! As kids, Gaynor – my sister – if out on a day trip with our parents, as I’m sure happened to many kids, would be told to sit in the car and be given a packet of crisps and a coke, as your parents went into the pub.
This was the norm but at about 16, myself and school friend Stephen Arthur Blinkhorn who were at the Teignmouth Grammar School at the time, ventured into the lounge of the Commercial and ordered two pints of lager and lime. I remember, landlady Dot served us and we sat like two old men in the corner of the lounge. In our minds our credibility was enhanced as 16 year old ‘Blinky’ lit up his pipe!
To top it all, our maths teacher from school, Roger Ford came in, took one look at us, shook his head in disbelief and promptly ordered a drink with Dot.
This was a seminal moment in my own social shenanigans in and around downtown Bishopsteignton.
Dot and Bella at the door of the Bishop John de Gandisson
So in the years of around 1975/1976, the halcyon days came by and my word how we village lads embraced them! The drinking establishments then were the ‘Bishop John de Grandisson’ (renamed from the ‘Commercial Inn’, now renamed again the ‘Old Commercial Inn’), the Ring of Bells, known as the ‘Ringers’, the Cockhaven Manor Hotel, Moors Park Hotel and our own night club – ‘The Murley Grange’!
Village characters were in abundance: landlord and landlady of the Bishop John were Cyril Stanley Perkins, known as Mick and Dot his wife. Staff working behind the bar, back then were Matthew Shadbolt, Christine Coleman, June Pick, Edna Longmore and local characters were Bill Bird, who would come in 10 mins before last orders, George Passmore, Joe Renton, Steve (Joe) Cummings who drove royal blue coaches and lived at 13 Clanage Street. The lounge at the Bishop John was not for us youngsters and I remember Dot perched on her ‘tree trunk’ stool, fag in one hand, goblet of whisky in the other, socialising with John Watts and Norman and Elsa Paine.
They seemed to view us ‘youngsters’ with disdain…. I don’t blame them one bit! Ron Hurdley and Roger Gallagher would also work behind the bar along with Mike Collins, and Sam and Doris Ridd.
We youngsters would play drinking games sat in the corner, myself, Nigel Davey, Clifford Harris, Michael ‘Gus’ Harris (of which a separate article could be written!), Steve Bowden, Alex Bowden, Craig Bowden (lads from South Shields), Stuart Robinson (father was governor at Huntly), Blinky, and a cast of many more that would come and go. I think we were annoying entertainment, albeit noisy, for the older, more mature clients. The ‘old boys’ from Huntly, the retired officers establishment in the village, (who had no doubt, ‘been there and done it’) would laugh and sometimes join in. Two of those guys I remember well, Ken Dunn and Gerry Golledge – Gerry was an ex WWII fighter pilot and would sometimes tell me stories of his exploits in the war. Ken would join in on the dance floor at Murley Grange Club as we village lads and girls would dance to ‘One step beyond’ by Madness. Ken would have been well into his late 80s I guess!
Part 3
Pam Dowden, Stuart Pearce, Dave Robbins and Sandra Milverton
Fun times in the Pub. Steve Bowden, Nigel Davey, Craig Bowden.
I do recollect amongst many boozy evenings that if I saw Dot, the landlady passing the window on her way to the bar, to hold court with her punters, I would loudly announce ‘Ladies and Gentleman ….our very own Gloria Estafan lookalike …. Dot Perkins!’. The bar would applaud as Dot shuffled in with a fag hanging out of her mouth, coughing like a barking seal holding her goblet of scotch. She would love the attention, quite rightly so and Gus would ‘back announce’ ‘Mrs Perkins Diesel!’ Gus’s random word association activities were frankly …..baffling and legendary!
The walls of the pub were stained yellow with the nicotine from the cigarettes and when you got home you would stink of fag smoke. If a picture on the wall was moved, a white square would emerge behind it having escaped the smoke.
For many years, which I naively thought was the norm, Mick would pour the slops tray into a glass of beer if he thought no one was looking.
Although I wasn’t a darts fan, I can remember some of the players… Mike Henley, Tony Georgio, Mike Milverton, Bill Baston (who lived in Rose Cottage) Alan Pearson, Jack Aldridge, Juan (chef from Murley). Pete Bull, Fred Honeywell, Gary Aldridge, Ron Hurdley, Ken Beale, Chris Humphrey.
One particular evening, I became proud, to be the first of many, as the pioneer of ‘Bishop John’ window travel! A tiny fanlight window, still there today, was a challenge to be embraced! ‘Can you get through the window Robbins?’ Encouraged by drunken cheering I squeezed through and landed in the street, looking and feeling like a calf being born. All of the lads would have gone through, and many girls…. jeans or skirts it didn’t matter! I have undertaken this pagan ritual on many occasions. Pagan ritual? Silly, drunken, harmless fun!
P.S. I re-enacted it New Years Eve 2015 and cut my chest and ruined a shirt, truly believing the latch had been moved and the window frame had shrunk! That particular night many punters went through raising money for the Andy Gunn Foundation! The publicans at that time were Yvonne Barnes and her quiet, reserved, understated, cockney, mild mannered, husband Tom.
Dave Robbins
Part 4
Gus would enter the pub every night (not just once!) with his ‘Spotty Dog’ (from the wooden tops childrens tv programme) impression, along with his own random, bizarre and at times bloody annoying, but endearing humour. When Michael (Gus) passed away recently, I was priviledged to be asked by his two brothers Cliff and Nigel to be present when his ashes were scattered at ‘Red Rock’ in Bishopsteignton by the river Teign. I hope Gus would be proud, when three grown men, all over 60, did our own ‘Spotty Dog’ impressions simultaneously on top of ‘Red Rock’ dancing, growling and barking in his remembrance.
“So as I reached the ripe old age of 17 the need to pass my driving test and buy my first car was a strong calling”
My first car, I bought from a garage in Shaldon, a Hillman Hunter 1725 KFH 769E… Nigel Davey, who lived, and still lives at Wear Farm, would have bought his first car at roughly the same time. We kind of, well I did, modelled ourselves on the T.V. programme Starsky and Hutch (yeah, really!) Starsky and Hutch were streetwise New York cops; that would slide across the bonnet of their cool cars to get in quickly and also would pull the girls.
I tried to emulate that only once and made a hole in a decent pair of trousers and slightly dented the bonnet of the Hillman Hunter!
Nigel and I would wear ‘cool’ sunglasses and I had a leather coat, like David Soul and we would carouse the pubs of Bishop before venturing off to the clubs of Torquay or Exeter. Occassionally, we would take Blinky, in the backseat. I always imagined he was ‘Huggy Bear’ (despite the pipe).
I would go to Wear Farm (the caravan site in Bishop) to pick up Nigel about 10 in the morning. Marie (pronouned Marry), Nigel’s mum, would answer the door and tell me to go up to Nigel’s room where he would invariably still be in bed.
“Lets go then” I’d say.
“I can’t go till I’ve checked the sheep – my Dad says so…” he replied.
So, imagining a long delay in Starsky and Hutch getting on the road, I was really surprised when Nigel pulled back the curtains, leant towards the glass, squinted his eyes looking across the fields towards the river and said:
“Yep I can see the sheep… Let’s go!”
Wear Farm, Bishopsteignton