Six doughty travellers converged upon the Eel and Pie House in Clacton-on-Sea on 9th May for a meeting without precedent in the Pie and Mash Club's history: [1] pies beyond the city walls of Londinium and [2] on a Saturday. It was especially gratifying that the three founders of the club – Tanner (jr), Lucas and Evans – were on hand for this auspicious occasion.

Messrs Leader and Lucas braved the vagaries of weekend public transport, which for them included a rail replacement service from Colchester (see above).

Business was bustling within, despite wonderful weekend weather without. We enjoyed the prestige of eating with Roy 'Roscoe' Tanner who, despite advancing years, is still setting the tennis lawns of Frinton ablaze. (With his power game, not petrol and matches). His secret: a 14lb wrought iron training racket strung with high tensile steel, lead-filled balls and a steady diet of pie and mash. If you find yourself sitting next to him, watch out for his lethal tennis elbows.

Richard Lucas. I believe the jacket stayed on.

James Edward Tanner, aka Jet-whoosh! I've heard about wearing your heart on your sleeve but he's wearing his breakfast on his chest.

Tom Leader's pudding basin. Would you "have a basin" of that I ask you? Though common parlance in my family, I have found no other trace of this enthusiastic utterance, save in 'Of Robin Hood's Death and Burial':
Nay then," quoth Lord Newbery,
Sith we may not do thee die,
Yet we'll have a basin of thy blood
Or ever we pass hereby!"
The verse is by Sebastian Evans, so maybe it's all in the family.

On the far right is the dark and mysterious underside of the Clacton pie.It resembled a steamed pudding, forming a delicious contrast to the well baked lid.

The ladle of civilisation. Our super-genial hostess served every possible configuratioon of the ambrosial tuck with dignity, humour . . . and asbestos fingertips hardened from 24 years of prising piping hot pies from baking tins.

The lady's luncheon was somewhat lighter.

I was afforded a quick peek at the cauldrons before being shooed back to my seat by our dynamic waitress; not someone you'd want to cross damp dishcloths with.

Laughter was never far away as we were regaled with tales wrought from a life in iron fixtures and fittings courtesy of Tanner Senior. From the parapet of Big Ben down to the smallest of rodent cages, if you've a 'national railing enquiry', Roy's your man.

I left the Pie Shop with liquory digits, but luckily for me Rich Lucas was on hand to pop up a 'Wet One'. Clearly an essential for any man-bag.

Monte Carlo has its Casino, Clacton the Gaiety Arcade. For these visitors it was a mash-n-grab daytrip, but a weekend 's gambling in Clacton is easily facilitated by an ample array of breezy seaside accommodation. With golden sands and a delightful pier to promenade along, what more could one ask for?

St@

P.S. In case you were wondering how Mister Ruello scored, here's a top-notch notandum from the keen-as-mustard man himself:
"As per my earlier correspondence I did manage to attend Duncan's of Green Street on the same date as the scheduled P&M event on Saturday. My tally was a very modest double double with liquor as I had foolishly misinterpreted the kick off time to be 3pm instead of the scheduled 5:30. This schoolboy error meant I had indulged in a small, yet ill timed lunchtime snack which prevented me reaching my potential at Duncan's when I dined at approximately 3:30pm. Match day had not affected Duncan's, their pies were still crisp, light and tasty, despite the queue of hungry punters tailing round the corner off Green Street. My opinion is they are the best I've sampled this season. I have managed to acquire a written receipt for my purchase and consumption much to the amusement of dear Sue (I think that was her name) of Duncan's."