Edited
from Facebook Archives
14 May
2022 at 1202
In a Zoom
meeting this morning a local politician mentioned how shocked she was about the
MP who was seen to be viewing porn in Parliament.
"He's
such a nice polite family man, I couldn't believe it of him."
Which
reminded me of something which happened in my youth.
After graduating
from university in 1978 I had a year doing not much. I went home and worked for a while as a
barmaid in a local pub/restaurant. Most
of the profits came from the restaurant but the bar was also important.
It was the village local and the landlord knew
it was an important part of the community.
One
of the regulars was Dad's oldest best friend, a poacher, who I'd only heard
stories about.
The Poacher and Dad grew up in the 1920s when some families were very
poor:
he caught rabbits and duck 'for
the pot'.
Dad reckoned “he was as good
as a dog, he could smell a duck and run it down."
Grandma disapproved of him “That boy’s sitting
on the gate waiting for you again.”
Dad joined the RAF in 1934 (he was 18) his friend joined the Army at the outbreak of War. Chatting
at the bar one evening the Poacher told me he'd been posted to a camp right
next to a big country estate
"Well, I mean, I couldn't help myself. Of course they found out and do you know what
they did? The buggers made me a forager
and sent me out to the Far East."
He was a
rogue, naughty but nice, and his lovely tidy wife worked as a silver service
waitress in the restaurant. She always looked neat and polished, nicely made up and proper. If he came drinking at lunchtime Mrs Poacher would pop her head through
the hatch into the service corridor and give him 'the look':
"Cold tongue for tea
tonight boys."
One of their
sons was the same age as me and very like his dad; full of banter; we used to
fight for the back seat of the secondary school bus. There was another son older than us who was
blading, bespectacled and hardly ever spoke.
After a
while I got a temporary job working for PGL Adventure holidays as a kitchen
assistant in the Ardeche. It was
initially only for a fortnight over Easter so I was soon back at the Plough.
One of
Dad's postmen friend's wives, Ethel, was really glad to see me back.
"Well,
that one that replaced you was no better than she ought to have been!"
"What
did she do?"
"Flirting
- and her a married woman - I went out to the carpark after closing time one
night and there she was - snogging Poacher's older son."
I was
astonished
"Poacher's
son! Are you sure? I mean he's so ... quiet!"
She
looked at me very wisely and said
"Quiet
dogs bite Ben."
A piece
of cautionary advice I've remembered ever since...
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Dad, Mum and me at Henffrind's wedding 1980 |
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