St Annes Castle Chelmsford Essex

david hobbs · St Annes Castle Chelmsford Essex

Here is an investigation that I was involved in some time ago at the St Annes Castle.
A friend was contacted by the new landlord of the pub who was distressed to say the least. He had been approached by the brewery in the form of an unexpected visit from two campany reps (his pub was in Basildon)they asked how how would fancy running a nice country pub.
This was a bit odd especialy when they said he would need to start straight away. What about a stock check here he had asked. Don't worry about that he was told,we will sort that out. This was unprecidented in his career. There was always a stock check before you left a pub for a new one.
He didn't argue as this was a chance to good to miss, so the next morning having picked up the keys he left for the St Annes Castle. When he had asked about the existing landlord he was just told that "!he had gone" so when he arrived at the pub he had to let himself in. He didn't have a wife but he did have his loyal dog to keep him company.
He looked around the place and just couldn't believe his good fortune. This was the place he had always wanted. A country pub.
He went downstairs to the kitchen and checked out all of the drawers and cupboards. In the centre of the kitchen was a large empty wooden table. To his dissmay thier was not a kitchen knife to be found anywhere and he made a mental note to get some ASAP. He left the kitchen and popped back upstairs to look around. A copper pot flew past his head and he decided that it must have fallen from somewhere even though he could not think where. He went back down to the kitchen and could not believe his eyes. On the previously empty table neatly laid out in rows was a full set of knives and other implements. Now he was asking himself if he was losing his marbles. He went back upstairs and carried on getting things ready telling himself that perhaps he had just not looked properly. Although he new that he had.
Later that evening he was in the back bar (the pub was still closed)when a gruff voice called the name Mathew Hopkins. He looked around the empty bar who the hell had called out and who was Mathew Hopkins.
He spent the night, together with his dog, sleeping in the car park in his car. No way was he going to sleep in the pub that night.

To be continued.