Anyway, June Buggy reckons there’s
no monument to this episode in the
town and points out Pat’s house a bit
down the hill.
Pat’s with the local historical society
and takes me up to their rooms in the
community hall and we go through
their great collection. In it’s a photo
of Rolly Kennedy with the Tottenham
Brass Band. Generations of interested
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doubt accompanied by a sound track of,
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almost unrecognisable.
I head back up to the pub where Rick
the boss is on duty for a quick cleanser.
He bought the place in 1979 after a
(yep you guessed it) motorcycle prang
meant he could no longer work. There’s
Tooheys and XXXX Gold on tap plus
a decent range of stubbies. Wine comes
in those small glass and a half bottles.
There’s no restaurant as such but
Rick’s wife Debbie who helps run
the joint, cooks dinner when there’s a
demand. If you’re headed here with a
group, ring ahead!
There’s no gambling or pool table in
the bar. This is a talking place!
I head upstairs and to check in to a
forty buck balcony room. Two sharing
will set you back sixty.
Like ten of the other dozen rooms this
is a twin with two singles and the door
opens straight out onto the ‘randah. (the
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in the common room plus cereal and
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fridge has a freezer to take all camelbak
bladders. Comfortable!
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the three woodsheds at the end of the
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myself dragging all the unlockable crap
off it and upstairs.
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sundry detritus on bar and head out for
a chat with Richard, a few doors the
street. He’s the grandson of the bloke
Joe Hill gunshot wounds /
Ricky at Tottenham Hotel