In reply to blackmountainbiker:
I grew up near the Roaches, and used to use the farmers field opposite the tearoom.
That felt pretty wild on a rough night. Pay your 40 p per night and you can walk down the road again for a crap if you want.
Rarely anyone on the sight and you could practically do what you wanted as a teenager, including shooting each other with air pistols
As we grew up, haha, we used to get served in the Three Horeshies aged 15, as we wore ex army clobber. My mate, had 5 pints of cider and puked in the tent. Next day I put my arm in my camouflage Barbour jacket and it was sticky. I had to wear this coat for the next 3 days with a bin bag on the arm for protection. Every step caused a waft of Palmers cider puke to envelop me.
Got to Buxton in the pissing rain and realised we weren’t going to Edale that day. Saw a big lawn at the bottom of the road into Buxton after the Macc turn off and asked nicely to pitch up. No worries, we could even use the crumbling caravan to cook! Sustained we went to the nearest pub down the road and we’re told halves only. 4 halves each, 4 mars bars, 4 packs of cheese and onion and a result of a holiday.
The Barbour still lives 40 years on, and still has a pink hue of vomit to the lining and a waft of cider sick.