In the early
eighties I worked behind the bar at a pub in Woking called the Surrey, however
it was not named after the county in which it stood but rather the horse drawn
carriage as featured in the musical “Oklahoma” namely “the Surrey with the
fringe on top”.
The pub was
built in the mid-sixties as a prefabricated temporary structure to service the
fast expanding local area and was meant to be replaced by a permanent
brick-built pub at a later date.
But more than
sixty years later the prefab pub still stands in the same spot and is still in
use as a pub.
The pub was a
typical example of the period, and unlike today you had a wide range of bitters
on offer and a small selection of lagers now of course it’s the other way
round.
The youth of
today take no time to develop the taste for good ales instead choosing
something that’s merely cold and wet.
Anyway as I
said I worked behind the bar, I had been a regular there for a few years before
Phil asked me if I wanted a job and I even played on the darts team for two
seasons and was mentioned in the Woking News and Mail for best start and highest
finish in a 7 – 1 thrashing of the Royal Oak.
It was an
alright pub nothing special but alright and with the usual mix of heroes and
villains, unremarkable's and unforgetable's, the good the bad and the ugly.
In the
unforgettable category came two people of particular distinction firstly was
Old Bob who was eighty three when I knew him who was an ex Coldstream Guard and
a veteran of the Great War and a real character and secondly Ray Robinson
another ex-army man though of younger vintage, Ray was an ex Grenadier turned
social worker, incidentally the only social worker I didn’t want to slap, who
every Christmas gave up his time to dress up as Santa and be flown by
helicopter to various children’s homes, when there was still such a thing,
delivering presents.
He would
always raise at least one glass to the regiment, and he called his
long-suffering wife his Duchess, but he was truly a good man who was sadly
taken to young at the hands of cancer, a great loss.
Ray was the
only person able to get anything resembling a proper smile out of Phil the
landlord.
Phil and his
wife Pat were an odd couple, they were like a pair of miscast actors in a soap
opera and totally unsuited for the profession they found themselves in.
What prompted
them to pursue a career in the pub trade we will never ever know but it was a
bad move.
They had no
concept of hospitality and an inability to foster even an ounce of goodwill
from their customers and there was more than a hint of being inconvenienced
when they had to stop what they were doing in order to serve someone.
They were
indeed an unwelcoming pair but although Phil was not accustomed to smiling, his
wife Pat wore an expression on her face that could stop traffic, but thankfully
she kept away much of the time.
On one Sunday
I was working the lunchtime shift when Pat appeared from the back room, it was
very rare to see her at all on a Sunday but putting in an appearance at lunch
time was totally unheard of, but there she was.
A man put two
glasses on the counter, one pint and a spirit, just as Pat stepped through the
door and he called to her.
“Pint of lager
and a vodka and lime”
Pat hadn’t
seen the man put the glasses on the counter but picked up the pint glass that
stood in front of him and asked.
“Is this the
lager?”
“It’d look
bloody stupid with a vodka and lime in it” he retorted
Pat put the
glass down and turned round and went back upstairs.
It was an
interesting job at times, and it had its perks, for instance I always hate New
Year’s Eve, mainly because it’s such a pointless celebration that now seems to
be another excuse to let off fireworks.
Also I hate it
because if you stay at home there’s nothing on TV if you go out the pubs, clubs
and restaurants are packed and all the organized parties end at 12.15, house
parties never end but then house parties are pants unless you’re sixteen.
The best New
Year’s Eve I ever spent was behind the bar at the Surrey, what a great night,
plenty of room behind the bar, free entertainment, wages, and tips by the
bucket load.
On the same
Sunday that Pat had put in her brief appearance I was also working the evening
shift which, due to heavy snowfall, was the quietest shift I ever worked, we
only had three customers in all night, in fact Phil even went the other side of
the bar to make up a foursome on the dart board.
At the end of
the evening we sent off our three intrepid customers and locked up and after
clearing away, which didn’t take long, I headed off myself, my car was buried
at the wrong end of the car park so I decided to leave the car and walk, I
could have got the car out if I’d wanted to but I like the snow and we don’t
get much of it so I took the chance to walk home in it.
When I got to
within a hundred yards of home, I needed to cross the road just after a
junction, I looked up the road and there was a car heading in my direction but
it was fifty yards away and as I was crossing after the junction and the car
was already indicating left I deemed it safe to cross.
When I was
halfway over, I noticed that although the car was indicating left and the front
wheels were turning to the left the car was not in fact turning left, in fact it
was coming straight for me.
I decided I
would move quicker, but suddenly I was like a cartoon character with my legs going like pistons
and yet I was still in the same spot.
It was a
surreal slow-motion moment with the car getting slowly closer and I could see
the panic in the face of the driver and I was still not moving, but then
simultaneously, the car suddenly veered violently to the left and it slewed
round the corner and my feet at last gained some traction and I found myself on
the pavement were I fell on my backside.
A few months
after my near-death experience I gave up my job at the Surrey in order to run
the Social Club bar where I had my day job, but I still frequented my local on
my free evenings.
No comments:
Post a Comment