Following one T/H dining in, one of the younger members appeared in the mess with his leg in plaster. His bleat went something along the lines of: "I didn't break my leg when I fell off the mantlepiece, it was when old &^*%$ ran over me with his motorbike".
Another recollection was when the now departed Brian D&^%$r set up a watchman's hut outside the front door of the mess, complete with coke burner, and then diverted all the traffic from the westbound A41 up the station drive, along past the rugby pitch, then a right turn past the mess, before a left turn back onto the '41'. This went well until Shropshire's finest turned up and stopped it. At this point we adjourned to 'Jack's Cafe' further up the A41 for breakfast still dressed in our mess kit. Unfortunately, interviews without coffee followed and Jack's was placed out of bounds. This of course in the days when stations were relatively 'open'.
O-D