Driving through Chipping Norton last Wednesday afternoon, as the car radio brought news of Rebekah Brooks’s acquittal on phone-hacking charges, I half expected to see bunting in the streets and hear the church bells chiming approval of the jury’s exculpation of this famous daughter (adopted) of the town.

Celebrations at a private level there had certainly been, I learned the next day on Radio 4’s Today. Reporters told of champagne borne in quantity into the home of Rebekah and husband Charlie Brooks, who was cleared in court, too, of course. Hard behind were other members of the ‘Chipping Norton set’ to help drink it.

The national fame — should that be notoriety? — of Chippy is a marvel to behold for someone with long memories of it. Forty years ago, when I first spent time there, it was a dull Cotswold town known mainly for tweed manufacture and the loutishness of its citizenry. Shortly before, Keith Moon, the wild man drummer of The Who, had owned the Crown and Cushion hotel, perhaps setting the local template for ‘men behaving badly’.

As it happens, Neil Morrissey appeared at The Theatre, Chipping Norton, long before he became the fictional paradigm of one such in the television series of that name. He played Little John in the pantomime Robin Hood.

A real life misbehaving male (in my viewing, at least) was Scottish actor John Malcolm, who co-founded the Chippy theatre in 1974, having already played a key role in setting up Edinburgh’s Traverse.

It was my misfortune that John should have been the one put up for interview with me about the project rather than his wife Tamara Malcolm, who became a byword for good taste and sound judgment during the decades in which, following his departure, she ran the theatre alone.

His foul language on our tour of the derelict building would surely have distressed the folk who had worshipped there in its days as the town’s Salvation Army Citadel. While hardly shocking to a journalist used to the ways of the world, it was slightly embarrassing when his swearing continued, at full volume, on the pub crawl that followed. This seemed to take in most hostelries of the town, where it was clear that the thirsty thespian was a regular, if not entirely welcome, customer.

Prompting a pub theme to my musings today, the photograph above — dug out for possible use with today’s Weekend article on the theatre’s 40th birthday — features two men with whom I have also spent time on licensed premises.

The one-time Goodie Graeme Garden had been in my mind last Wednesday, in fact, just before my thoughts turned to Mrs Brooks. Driving through Enstone I saw signs proclaiming that the Harrow, which has been standing empty for some time, is shortly to reopen.

Thirty years ago, when Morrell’s owned the pub, Graeme lived in the village and was a regular. At the time, he was a big supporter of the Chippy theatre and wrote the script for some of its pantos.

His writing skills were employed when he was invited to perform the opening of a large new lounge at the Harrow in 1984. His speech was couched in poetic form, ending with the quatrain: “And here in this brand new extension/There’s still company, comfort and cheer;/So nothing has changed at the Harrow —/There’s a welcome as warm as the beer!”

A warm welcome, though properly cool beer, is being promised when the Harrow goes back into business in about a month’s time under local lad Paul Hughes. A former pupil of Chipping Norton School, and with family in the village, 30-year-old Paul has been in the pub business for the past decade or so working for a national company.

He tells me: “Once in business, after a complete refurb, we shall be open 11am till 11pm, daily with food served noon till 10pm, 9pm on Sundays. We’ll have traditional pub fayre, free Wi-Fi, Lavazza coffee, large car park and a family- friendly garden. We shall have all the things you would expect from a modern, village pub — and, of course, the warmest of hospitality thrown in.”

With John Hurt I enjoyed an evening of merry larks at the Gloucester Arms, behind Oxford Playhouse, in June 1985. The film star was making a very rare stage appearance, as Trigorin in Anton Chekhov’s Three Sisters and had agree to take part in a charity event at the pub.

I was introduced to John by my pal Bruce Purchase, who had been a close friend of his since their days at Rada together. We all went off for dinner afterwards at Brown’s, where John, a noted boozer at the time, promptly ordered three bottles of Veuve Clicquot — and that was just for starters.