16) The Green Room - Ormskirk. It's Over, The End

Well chums, it's the end of The Scone Ranger.  It's been great while it lasted, but last night something happened which means this is likely to be my final entry.  I feel like Captain Scott writing in his diary at the end of the ill-fated trip to the South Pole.

It's the Tuesday after Easter.  Mrs R bought me a Cadbury's Mini-Egg for Easter. On Sunday  night I ate the mini-eggs. Last night (Monday) I thought I'd eat the egg.  But I could not find it, I searched the entire house with no joy.  But then I found that Mrs R had put it back in its box in the dining room.  So I took it out and devoured it.   Fab.  Just as I was about to throw away the box I realised it felt a bit heavy.  It did not take long to figure that there was another small bag of mini-eggs in the bottom of the box.  Huzzah!  A bonus pack. What an unexpected surprise.  I opened the pack and ate a couple of mini eggs and then it hit me.  This was not my Easter Egg. I was eating someone else's egg.  It was an egg bought by Mrs R for someone else, probably a child because it was mini-eggs.  That's when the hyper-ventilating started.  Followed by the panic attack.  I was in trouble.  Mrs R would be very unhappy with me.  Worse.

What could I do?  Should I immediately tell Mrs R what I had done, and be completely honest.    No, I did what most men would have done in my position.  The first thing I did was dispose of the evidence - I ate the rest of the mini-eggs.  Then the plan,  I could blame it on Trento.  That would be good.  Or I could say we had been broken into and whoever it was had stolen just the Mini Egg box.   Then I hit on another plan.  I would scour the shops of West Lancs looking for a replacement egg.   Well I did that today, and could not find a single egg.  I bought a packet of mini-eggs but on its own that would not be enough.  Mrs R is a fair woman, but she will not be happy with me.  I'd eaten a child's Easter egg and cannot get a replacement.  Someone was going to be disappointed. But someone closer to home was going to be up the creek without a chocolate paddle.  I've truly chocolate dropped myself in it.

There's nothing I can do except go for one final cake and cup of tea.   A sort of hearty breakfast for a condemned man.   At the very least I am going to be grounded.  I have chosen as the destination for my final trip The Green Room in Ormskirk, with my friend Miss Victoria.  The Green Room has been open a couple of years. It sells coffee and the like during the day, but is more of a bar during the night.  The choice of cakes was poor and not home made.   I had a Millionaire Shortbread (£1.80) and a pot of tea (2.5 cups)  Total price - £3.35.  With a matching teapot, cup and saucer. There were newspapers inside to read  but we sat outside in the sun as we had Trento with us.  It was pleasant.

Well, that's it my last entry as The Scone Ranger.  Thank you for your messages of support, you have been wonderful.  Especially all you readers in Mother Russia.

The Green Room

39 Moor Street
Ormskirk
L39 2AA

15) The Old Post Office - Newburgh. A Scone Alone

Mrs R and Miss Victoria have gone away for a pamper day.  So I have been left, " A Scone Alone."  Mrs R has left me a list of tasks to do while she gets royally treated.  So in true man fashion I find that if I cut corners there's still time enough for me to pop out and get a little cake.  By the time they return I'll be home and they will be none the wiser.   Of course it helps if I take Trento with me. 

I've had my sights set on the Old Post Office in Newburgh for some time as it also doubles as a cafe.   I took a brief walk around the village and it's pleasant conservation area.  The church has a lovely garden next to the Old Post Office.   The tea room was OK.  The best thing about it was that the woman in the Post Office cubicle also served in the cafe and had to come from her box to attend to me.  Quirky, in a niceway.  I ordered an okay Passion Cake (there was no passion there - £1.95) that was not home baked and a small pot of tea (£1.30).  Earl Grey was 10p extra.  Not worth 1p extra in my opinion. There were no papers to read but there were some useful booklets on places to visit in Lancashire.

Now, down to more delicate matters.  I have been contacted by a Mrs L who has come to me with a serious problem.  She tells me that she has been baking a Coffee and Walnut cake for her husband once a week for their entire married life.  However, she is a bit concerned that he does not appear to be interested in this any more.  He seems to have lost his appetite for her Coffee and Walnut cake, and she is worried that he might be seeking his baked goods from elsewhere.   She has asked my advice.

I have suggested think she needs to spice things up a bit, to try a few different recipes and to be a bit more spontaneous. I recommended surprising him one night when he comes home from work with a chocolate sponge or even a a fruit loaf.  Once things are a little more interesting perhaps she might tempt him with the offer of a little "Upside Down Cake," although this is not to everyone's taste.    Suggest to him it might be fun if they baked together and that he might like to try his hand a baking for himself.  My advice to her is that if his cake does not rise sufficiently, or if he has problems with his Swiss Roll, try not to draw attention to it too much and reassure him that it can happen to anyone.  Perhaps with a little experimentation together they could try to make a Victoria sandwich, however, under no circumstances should they attempt a "Rum Baba" as I think this takes years of careful practice.  I think this should improve things.  Either way it will be a Rocky Road.

Of course, if he still shows no interest there's no reason why she could n't pursue her own interest in a little Jamaican Ginger Cake for herself.
The centre of the village is a conservation area. It has  more than 40 listed buildings and many historic houses.   Newburgh has a long history  and the most significant date is 1304 when the village was granted a Market Charter. Every June there is a big bash – it’s called Newburgh Fair and has its roots in the fourteenth century. Processions, bands, fete and lots of family fun. And in November the Lions have a magnificent bonfire and fireworks

It also has  14 footpaths and a heritage trail to see some outstanding houses. There are more than 500 trees in the village

Newburgh is a nice place.  The bus 3 calls here on its way between Ormskirk and Skelmersdale.  But even better a bus I had never heard of, the 337 between Ormskirk and Chorley, also comes through here.  Parbold station on the Southport to Wigan line is not far away.

14) The Ecumenical Centre and Russian Roulade

What can I say about the Ecu(menical Centre)?  I could tell you that its so good that I have found people sleeping outside in winter mornings desperate to get in.  I went in and had cake and a cup of tea for just £1.20.  I am on a roll,  both the tea and the cake are fine.  What a bargain.   I could come here four times instead of going to the Boatman's and still have change.

The downside, I asked Jerry who served me what type of cake it was and he did not know.  He said that "Mavis" who makes them does so, cuts them up and them wraps them in cling film without labelling them, so he does not know what cake it is he is selling.  But he thinks its a mild ginger.  How fabulous is this?  We are playing a sort of russian roulade with cake.  It's like picking Revels without looking, with the danger of pulling the coffee one out.   Of course "Mavis" is not her real name, I have called her this to avoid the danger of her being poached, grilled or roasted by another cafe.

Now as you know I regard having something to read as an essential part of a good cup of tea and a nice piece of cake.  And the Ecu knocks the spots of absolutely everywhere else I have been to in West Lancs.  It has hundreds of books and all are free to borrow to the visitor.   There's also a lot of care given to the visitor.  

As we are deepening our relationship reader I can admit to you that I suffer from OCD, Obsessive Cake-Eating Disorder.  It's because of this that I indulge in another obsessive habit each time I visit The Ecu.  Every single time I go there I have a piece of "Mavis'"cake and I read just one page from a chosen book.   Why do I do this dear reader?  Well I estimate that there will be two benefits to this approach:

1)  By the end of three years I should have finished a very sizeable book
2) I should have figured out what bloody cake it is that "Mavis" has been making all these years.

13) Cafe West - At last , a bargain.

Dear Chums

I feel I can call you that now, as we are getting on so well (thanks for all your messages of support) I feel a degree of intimacy is deserved.  Oh, and to all my American readers, howdy - I am grateful for your support.  You must be reading these pages with envy considering your cakes.  If at any point I refer to our "Special Relationship," don't worry you may not be aware of it but it's all above board.

Chums, I went to Cafe West because I heard reports of reasonably priced tea and cake.   After my trip to the Boatman's Brasserie I have to be more careful, Mrs R has been threatening to ground me.   All because I splashed the cash she claims that Scone Junior had to live for a week in school on nothing but cheese triangles that had become stuck frozen to the back of the fridge.   I have form in this area.  The coffee cake was fair although not home-baked.   The tea was good.  The place was very comfortable but had nothing to read.    However, it was a mere £1.95. Woohoo.  The sun came out and shone brightly.    A fair deal I say and it is open to all.   But I am suspicious.  It's clearly too good for students.    I must try the training restaurant. There's also a hairdressers and a theatre and apparently some people even attend in order to get an education here.

Now a number of you have asked, how did it come to this?   How did I a successful Hollywood star like myself  end up writing about West Lancashire.   You are all aware of my glittering film career where I rode into town, arrested the bad guy, restored law and order and made the girls fall in love with me before leaving town shouting, "Hi Ho Silver Lining."  Well, westerns became less popular, roles became harder to come by and I was typecast.  It's not easy to appear in a war/musical/science fiction/romcom/anything while wearing a mask and a large white hat, riding a white horse and with a native american clinging on to me.    (I feel that I can share this with you now as we have established a rapport - but all that "Kemo Sabe" bit was a bit creepy;  I just did n't get it). 

Of course these days all I would have to do is to admit to a strange sexual appetite/practice and I would be offered my own series on Channel 4.    And if I'd indulge in it on air I'd be presenting the news on Channel 5.  There would be a book deal each Christmas, a DVD and Loose Women would get their hands on me.  (Or is that just me day-dreaming/having a nightmare - have you seen them!).  I would certainly be offered a reality television show or two, and at the very least one series of, "Dancing on Ice or Strictly". (Although slightly difficult with Silver in tow - but Anton du Beke managed with Ann Widdecombe so anything is possible).  I'd have to avoid "Cowboy Builders," otherwise I'd be typecast again.

I don't mind saying things got a bit tough for a while.   But more about that another time when I can be sure my confidences will not go any further.

No trains go anywhere near West Lancashire College (the train line was closed in the early sixties), the buses 311, 375, 385 and 3 go to the Concourse which is not far away. Skelmersdale surprised me, and there are some pleasant walking paths around town.

Cafe West
West Lancashire College
Skelmersdale Campus
College Way
Skelmersdale
WN8 6DX

12) Pimbo Garden Centre, Pimbo

Thank you very much for all your kind comments.  I understand that it's natural to want to know more about me and for me to be an inspiration to you.  But as I have said before, please do not attempt to copy my work, its dangerous.  Please focus your energies in more postive ways.

While I am enjoing my home made Victoria Sponge and tea from the  Pimbo Garden Centre - £2.50.  I know it's home made because she told me so.  And it tastes it too.  She says that she did not make it otherwise the Fire Service would have attended the scene.  There's nothing to read but the Lancashire Life.  Now I always think that this is a bit of an odd magazine. There's not that much life in Lancashire, surely that it needs a whole magazine.    Most of it is filled with adverts  for fabulous houses in Lancashire, obviously occupied by the sort of person who can afford cake in the Boatman's Brasserie.  But the other strange bit is the social pages where estate agents and other 'professionals' are photographed in the middle of some function or other.  There's even a picture of a group of toffs at a masquerade ball.  I mean, what sort of twerp would go around with a mask on.   Don't they know how ridiculous they look.

Anyway the cake is good and so is the tea. The place is bright and airy.  

You can't get here by bus so don't even bother. You can get the train to Pimbo, it's the line between Kirkby and Wigan.

11) The Boatman's Brasserie - An Outrage

Dear Reader, an outrage has occurred.   I am almost too upset to recount the story.   But as you know that's not the way The Scone Ranger is built.     Today I travelled to the Boatman's Brasserie in Rufford by the No 2a bus that travels between Ormskirk and Preston, although I could have taken the train to Rufford Station from Ormskirk.  The Boatman's Brasserie overlooks St Mary's Marina. The views are lovely on a summers day and there are nice walks to Rufford Old Hall along the Rufford Extension of the Leeds Liverpool Canal.  I particularly like the walk along the River Douglas to Croston. That also starts from here. 

I arrived at lunchtime.  It was getting busy.  They have a fabulous selection of cakes.  Some of them are so big that they clearly are defying gravity the way the cream is piled high.  I wanted to ask the woman behind the counter if they were homemade but she looks a bit stern and I thought better of it.  Its not that I was intimidated (oh no, not me) but The Scone Ranger has learnt over the years when to leave well alone.  Besides it seems obvious that this much cream could only have been piled on this high by a patissier who is skilled in the construction of scaffolding and perhaps less in cake making.

The cakes were of various prices.  I had the Rocky Road and a small pot of tea.  It was £5 and the place was busy.   £5. (Five pounds)  I did not realise it but clearly I had run into a secret society where every other customer (other than yours truly) was a lottery winner because who else could afford cake at that price. 

I now realised I must have misread the price tag on one of the cakes, it was not MIllionaire's Shortbread, it was Billionaire shortbread.

It was like the scene at the beginning of Blade where the young guy in the night club suddenly realises that everyone else is a vampire.   Was there a mirror in the bathroom I thought?   Am I the only one who finds this strange.  I suddenly felt out of place and it was not because I was sitting in a West Lancashire Tea Room wearing a white ten gallon hat.   I could not afford £5 for tea and cake.

What would I tell Mrs R, I'd spent my week's lunch money on one slice of cake?
I decided to  risk all and savour the moment.  While I may have been there a bit longer than normal, it was strictly necessary while I took my time over the cake that had cost me £3.25 for a single slice.  £3.25.  And dear reader I was also feeling a bit low at this time.  A dear friend of mine has met a tragic early end in very distressing circumstances.    While he was walking on Blackpool Beach a huge piece of concrete fell and crushed him.   He had been warned of the dangers and told not to, but despite this his friends urged him on to the beach.  The police say he died because of pier pressure.

All of a sudden the moment was shattered.  The woman from behind the counter suddenly appeared at the table and told me that I'd been there long enough and they needed the table for other people.  I was being thrown out.  I had paid the ransom and yet I was being asked to leave.   I was tempted, Dear Reader, to rip off my mask and say "Do you know who I am, I am The Scone Ranger," and to denounce the place.  But that would have been the end of my mission in West Lancashire.  I would have gone the same way as Kendo Nagasaki after he was unmasked.  The mystery would have gone.  Kendo seemed just a normal man without his secret identity.  Therefore, I took the humiliation so that I could continue to serve you.  

The next time I bring a posse through the Rufford area I may have to think about whether we would come to the Boatman's Brasserie.