The Drunken Duck – The Lake District, England.


Somewhere in the Lake District, England, there is an old hostelry in what seems like the middle of nowhere called the Drunken Duck.  It sits by the side of a mill-pond into which flows a crystal clear river.  In winter it can get snowed in and roaring open fires keep its tenants and guests alike warm and toasty until the ploughs dig a way through.    Four poster beds, low thick oak beams, copper utensils, mahogany wooden chests, sideboards, tables and chairs all reek of old times and ancient history.  Royalists and round heads,  postal horses and carriages,  secrets and treason call come to mind when visiting this establishment.

The Inn’s name dates back to Victorian years when a landlady found her ducks lying stretched out in the road and concluded that they were dead. Thriftily she began to pluck and prepare them for dinner. The ducks however, were  actually drunk.  Down in the cellar a barrel had slipped its hoops and beer had gradually drained from the floor into the duck’s customary feeding ditch.  The landlady, full of remorse for the rough treatment, provided the cold  birds with knitted waistcoats until their feathers grew back again.   Maybe they should have had the sign above up as well to alert horse-drawn carriages to staggering, reeling duckies crossing the road to get to the pond!

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