Lovely jubilee! Folk were always in good spirits at social clubs... even if the beer served was mild and fizzy
Bygones reader Philip Sharp recalls the good times he enjoyed at Qualcast Social Club and Chaddesden Jubilee Club
MY daily (or every other day unless I have an injury then it is often every, every other day) exercise regime during lockdown had taken me through Darley Abbey Mills, along Haslam’s Lane and into Darley Park.
It is very pleasant and I count myself very lucky to live in such a wonderful place.
This extraordinary period has given us all time to reflect, no doubt.
I was thinking about something Colston Crawford had written about the vital nature of pubs and how they are more than a place to drink.
They are often hubs for a community, a gathering place and a place to feel a part of. Anton Ripon’s recent musings also followed a similar theme.
As a young boy in the 1970s, my dad would often take my mum and I to the Qualcast Social Club which was situated on Haslam’s Lane, where the Rugby Club now stands.
It was like a long pavilion and not as grand as the building that stands there now, but I always looked forward to going as it always seemed to be sunny and full of laughter. My dad was at the heart of Qualcast in many ways, working hard for his colleagues and the company.
As a result he was very well respected and the men would always be pleased to see him.
Likewise, I was accepted as Stan’s son in a time when children n were seldom seen or allowed in pubs.
Whilst I was never aware of the various conversations taking place, e, I suspect a lot of issues were aired that were then presumably addressed back at work as a part of my dad’s duties and responsibilities.
Local 1960s and 70s pubs, I suspect, were largely for the benefit fit of the working man. The Working Man’s Club enhanced this by providing the same downtime as the pub, but also the ability to offload to someone who genuinely empathised. More than that, they brought the man’s family into the club too.
Public holidays were often celebrated by events. Santa came many times to Qualcast and could be
seen enjoying a pint after his formal duties were complete.
In the early nineties, I had a part-time job with Severn Trent. On one particular day I was asked to go and get a final water meter reading from a premises on Haslam’s Lane.
Of course, it was the Qualcast Social Club, by then long gone but the foundations were still there and it gave me the chance to wander around one last time without fear of getting arrested by a representative from a security company.
Mark Catherines’ illustrations of Chaddesden Lane also brought back memories. As I grew older, I would often go to the Chaddesden Jubilee with my dad, which remains a working men’s club today, situated on Chaddesden Lane.
In the early eighties, “the Jube” was one of the most popular clubs in Derby and membership was limited.
My friend Paul and I had our names down early and eventually, having attended a formal inauguration with members of the committee, became signed up members. Mostly we played snooker or a form of it, anyway.
One evening, the sense of community that we probably would not have enjoyed in the city took the form of being politely told that once the lights went out above the table we had to let someone else on.
We apologised and retired with our tails between our legs to the bar.
I suspect the explanation would have been a little shorter in the city snooker rooms.
The early eighties saw the beginnings of the CAMRA movement. My older brothers were active members in so far as they’d go miles into the Peaks in search of a pub selling good cask beer.
The Jube, like many pubs and clubs though, continued to serve very fizzy, mass-produced kegs.
I asked the steward one time why
Santa came many times to Qualcast and could be seen enjoying a pint after his formal duties were complete.
this was. “Most of these men are set in their ways. Creatures of habit,” he replied. “Mild and fizzy bitter are the most popular drinks. I once put a barrel of Timothy Taylors on. Ended up throwing most of it away.”
Curiously, one of my memories along with the buzz of conversation and laughter was the whine of the electric beer pump.
Both clubs were happy places though. Never a hint of trouble and almost an extension of the apprenticeship system most of the young men were engaged in. If they became too loud or stepped out of line (such as over staying their welcome on the snooker table), the rules were explained, accepted and everyone moved on.
I also learned drinking did not have to involve excess or rowdiness.
More fun was had from a few beers, a good chat and lots of laughter. I’m not sure from reading the Derby Telegraph whether that’s the case in the city anymore.
I certainly would be reticent to challenge anyone. “Lads. Can I have a word? You see those lights? Well...”