FROM 1954 to 1956 my maternal aunt and uncle, Olive and Arthur Emmett, ran one of Maldon’s pubs.

Located at 37 Market Hill, the Ship is now long gone.

It finally closed its doors to customers back in 1961, but the building is still there and has since been converted into flats.

Although I find it instantly recognisable, many people pass the old place by and don’t even give it a second glance.

After starting life in the medieval period as a private dwelling house known as Cottingham’s, it became an inn in about 1620.

It was renowned as the haunt of so-called ‘strangers’ – wayfaring travellers passing through, either on foot or on one of the many visiting vessels that would have been temporarily moored at nearby Fullbridge.

By the 18th century, the Ship was recognised for its hospitality, but also its entertainment and, according to one contemporary account, it was a place where “men went to smoke their pipes and play at cards”.

It’s an interesting description because, then as now, a pub’s economic success relied on a combination of good management, well-kept ales, food, but also a variety of diversions and amusements.

Cards were clearly the order of the day at the Ship in the 1700s, but there were plenty of other games available.

Legislation in the 17th century regulated certain activities in public (or common) houses, including “Dice, Tables, Cards, Bowles, Coyts, Cailes, Logats, Shove Groat and Casting the Stone”.

By the early 1800s, the White Horse, at the top end of Maldon’s High Street, boasted its own ‘skittle ground’.

Just down the road, at the King’s Head in the 1750s, there was a cockpit (an arena for the barbaric blood sport of cock-fighting) and, later on, a billiard table.

“Good Billiard Rooms” were likewise advertised at the Blue Boar, in Silver Street, in the 19th century and I remember playing pool in the billiard room at the old Chequers (on the site of today’s Barclays bank).

Most pubs had a strategically placed dartboard and many had their own darts team.

I used to enjoy the odd game of darts at the Queen Victoria, the Blue Boar and Carpenters Arms.

The Hythe pubs, the Queen’s Head and Jolly Sailor, wouldn’t have functioned without their sets of dominoes and the distinctive click of the tiles could be heard across smoky public bars, being played by blue-Guernseyed fisherman, racked in concentration.

Returning to the Ship, the pub had its own shove ha’penny board.

It’s a very ancient game that has probably been played in taverns since the 15th century when, as we know from that previously mentioned legislation, it was known as ‘shove groat’ (after the long-defunct silver fourpence).

Other versions were ‘slype groat’ and ‘slide thrift’.

Shove ha’penny, as such, came into being around 1840, but the rules have been pretty much the same throughout its history.

Players take it in turns to ‘shove’ (with the heel or palm of the hand) halfpenny coins up the board, trying to get them to stop in ‘beds’ between horizontal lines.

A coin needs to land in each bed three times to win the game and a tally is kept in chalk along either side of the board.

That resident board from the Ship must have been there since early Victorian times, but was still in active use when my aunt and uncle were behind the bar.

When they eventually left, the board somehow ended up in my Nan’s pantry at 22 Church Street.

The family often got it out and played with it at Christmas time, and it was taken so seriously that the board had to be polished within an inch of its life and then sprinkled with, of all things, talcum powder.

When Nan died and the house was sold, I inherited the board but I gave it to a friend who is an expert in the evolution of pub games (he even has a PhD on the subject).

Feeling nostalgic, I recently asked him if he still had it and, if so, did he still want it, or could I have it back?

He kindly agreed that it could come home and I must admit it felt like meeting up with an old friend.

After giving it a good feed of linseed oil, a polish with beeswax and the obligatory powdering, I like to think it looks like it did in its heyday at the Ship.

Another friend sourced ten halfpennies for me, all dating to the war years of the 1940s.

Coins of that era must surely have been used on it at the time, maybe even by visiting military personnel keen to drink and enjoy a game or two while they could.

We now play it in our Maldon home, but as far as I am concerned it will forever be a part of that lost pub, the Ship, and a reminder of the days when fun could be had from simple pleasures without having to put up with piped music, fruit machines and patrons constantly tied to the demands of their mo