A million secrets and stale beer

As I relaxed this evening, after my 17 hr shift, I took to old forums to catch up on how my previous projects are running. Firstly I should take this opportunity to say a well done to the boys and girls that are bringing many years of hard graft to life in the excellent 345 it is great to see the cream rising to the top once again, keep it up.

The internet got me a wandering in the way that it does and before I knew it I was looking at some of the huge infrastructure projects that I have been part of over the years. I looked at the new roof garden being installed at Canary Wharf and happened upon ‘pre-public’ videos of the latest addition to a site that I remember being born and have spent months of my life in meetings at.

Those of you who read my ramblings may recall that I have a fascination with restricted access areas and even empty public areas. I have always loved being somewhere the public cannot be or even somewhere they can at a time that they cannot. There is something about jumping off a train platform, wandering a tunnel or opening that ‘no entry’ door that has always given me a smile, after all I can do something that you can’t.

I still get a smile when I walk through the closed pub. The smell of stale beer is a nectar to me and the fact that I get to smell that with my morning cup of tea remains a privilege because that is what I do while you are off doing normal things in the real world. Anyway, having watched these videos, I was once again struck by the fact that I no longer operate in a world where things are measured in millions of pounds or hundreds of tonnes, that world really is behind me.

I thank Robbo for occasional updates and thoroughly enjoy recollecting the insanity of first in class testing (please don’t stop) but it is viewed from a distance now. So where does this leave me? It leaves me where I am meant to be, in a fantastic pub surrounded by great people.

It was great today to see two tourists who were last here in October 2015. Repeat custom is one thing but these guys remembered meeting me (there were no other staff here then) and remembered my name. The passion that I have for this pub is that infectious that people remember it and comeback because they are part of it, could there be a better endorsement of what we are doing here?

So we had some tough days last week as we worked to manage the dichotomy that is ‘old’ and ‘new’ Plough but that is what we do. There is no ‘old’ Plough, there is the Plough and she looks after her own. Watching my lot rally around those who are having tough times is heartwarming, even for my shrunken black heart.

Again this week I have been challenged on the hours I work or the absence of a ‘life’. This is my explanation, this is the reason why (and how) I do this, quite simply it is my passion for this wonderful old pub that drives me forward. This is where the Plough is, and will always be, different for better or worse if you drink here you drink with me in my front room. There are many reasons why the television has not found its way back into my lounge after the building works but they all come down to the fact that I sleep upstairs, I live downstairs. Every second of my life is consumed by the Plough and I am so proud of what we have achieved so far as I am excited about what is to come.

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The weight and those doors

So this goes out to all of those who think that any of this is easy. To those who see a, relatively, calm persona and presume that they see all. To the people who think that there are two doors to unlock every day (not you Tel I know you know better) and to those who think I sleep well at night.

We are approaching my second Easter bank holiday, by the time that you read this we will be in it, and it is no less stressful than the first. Two tons of beer are arriving for this week, take a moment to consider that, 2 whole tons of beer. I have awoken every morning for the last week with stock on my mind, my first waking thought is quite literally beer. I am determined to have enough beer but also have to consider stock on hand, dates and impact on next deliveries. The principle that you can’t sell it if you don’t have it (thanks Andrew) does not sit well against sell by dates.

I awake every day with the Plough on my mind. Some random thought that is bothering me will invade my first attempt at consciousness. That is the thing with this trade it is nothing less than all-pervasive, it owns every part of you. So how do you think my progression from career to pub went? Do you think, because I only open two doors, that it was easy? It was, in short, the most,  scariest thing that I have ever done in my life. It is a privilege to be a name on the roll call that is the Plough but it is not one that was easily earned.

Obviously I started writing this before the bank holiday, then things went crazy and here we are. Was it a good bank holiday? well yes and no , it was good by my standards because we had limited crazy periods and that is what I want for the Plough. The eighties are gone and manic pub life should have followed  them, we are not the society that we were then and those days are, sadly, gone. So we did ok we did a bit more than we could have and a bit less than we could have. Weather was good which drives trade to the front but also was not so good that they could stay there all day, I will take that any day.

I had a visit from Essex and my frustration at early visits (when you may be the only one here) was overcome on Sunday when friends returned to a bar that was, on average, 5 deep. I know what my old lady can do and sometimes its nice to share that, to stand sweating on a cold deck admiring the wonder that is the Plough. It is also nice to look back at a packed pub and see my staff working well, to see Nick behind the bar is to see me he owns the bar in the only style that we know #ploughlife

So I am racing towards the second trading anniversary, I know only two years why does it feel like so much more? So what does it feel like? The frustration remains that I am operating in less than a third of the property, I ache to solve the problems and finish the build. It drives me mad that I cannot open the garden or hold a function I genuinely feel that I am letting the pub down by not moving faster. I pour every minute of my life into the Plough but still collapse into bed feeling guilty and running the task list through my mind.

Do I like the Plough and the life that it brings? Wholeheartedly yes. I still regularly turn down well paid fantastic opportunities because this is my life. For those of you who think that this is a job, think on. I feel privileged beyond belief to be here, I remain immensely proud of my past career and follow every wheel that turns on steel eagerly but I really couldn’t be anything other than the person I am, I adore the Plough and #ploughlife (thanks for the tag Nick). I was asked tonight “what do you do” and even I can feel the pride that comes with “I own the Plough”, not so bad for an uneducated chancer.

I will leave you with the thought that for all you say I still wander around the Plough seeing the filthy shell that I spent every penny that I could find on. She is an amazing pub and will continue to grow because I will look after her but no matter how great she looks she will always be my list of jobs.

Jealous Christmas bottles

I am starting to write this as we creep into Boxing day because I have just sat down in the office for the first time all day. I wanted to share with you what Christmas day was for me this year, hey we are in this together after all! So I started the day a little late because I was shattered the day before and arose around 09:30, I know its idle but hey we all need a break. After bottling up, sorting the cellar and readying the bar I swung the doors open to a steady lunch time trade which I ended at three with the last one out just before four. After cleaning and restocking I made a brew and luxuriated in that most amazing time in a pub, closed during normal trading. This happens rarely but its a time when people walking past look wistfully at the comfort of your home and you remember how it feels not to live in a pub.

I dragged myself upstairs to make a sandwich at 5 and before I’d eaten half of it I spotted some of my regulars heading my way, doors open by 5.20 and we started again. This afternoons trading was under the title of ‘friends and regulars’ and was a genuinely lovely afternoon. It was steady right through and people really seemed to appreciate the pub being open. For me these are the sessions that I love, everybody is friendly and the atmosphere is amazing. I had serious misgivings about trading late on Christmas day as I knew that I was the only pub open, but the old girl’s personality shone through and every one had a great time. I had to refuse a couple of people but nothing like the crowds I expected and I am so proud of the pub for pulling off a happy and fun Christmas day, but then I should have realised that this is not just a pub though this is the Plough.

It struck me earlier that this is one of the better Christmas days that I have had, clearly this is not my favourite time of year, I got nearly an hour off and other than that I was thanked by people for going to work! I then got to bottling up and started thinking how much I genuinely love being here and being the landlord of this lovely old pub. I write a lot about the stress and difficulty and all of that is true but I am also immensely proud of my pub and how well she is doing. As I walk around with odd bottles to restock shelves I am reminded that I did this when I was a nipper and I loved it then so this is not so much a business as an indication of my abject failure to mature. I discuss Engineering issues with great interest with colleagues and friends, I review legal arguments with an authority unheard of from this side of the bar but I love bottling up and cleaning the floor.

I guess that when I was a nipper the thing that I was jealous of in publicans was the, relative, simplicity of it all. Don’t misunderstand me this is a hard game and way harder than what I did previously* but its all here, there is no commute, no logistics as such, I wake up at work and go to sleep there to in fact work and life have finally shed their last weak boundaries and merged. For me this is great and today is a good example, its Christmas day and nobody can stop me going to work, better than that they expect me to go to work its obligatory!

 

*For the BT readers: this makes that job look like a paper round, seriously this is the only job with the real potential to beat me

Cheese, deodorant and sheds without doors

Human curiosity is a wonderful thing and I have now discovered that it rates above security in some of our emotional checklists. This discovery was made whilst walking through St Pancreas station in London, or more accurately this is when I personally made the discovery. A new ‘installation’ has been placed on the concourse which is essentially a small garden shed with no doors. On each side of this box there are small holes with ‘view’, ‘look’ or some such statement emblazoned on them. From each of these openings what I presume is termed an ‘inviting’ light beckons.

As I approached this today there was a man bent over enjoying whatever view there is inside the object. This was a demonstration of human curiosity at its best. Two factors combined to help the second observation: that you had to bend over to view the object and apple’s sleek design. One of the ‘features’ of the Apple phone is that its form is soft and rounded, this means it is not particularly good at being constrained in one’s pocket. Well actually its rubbish. Especially when bending over to view an “installation”, hence this viewer’s prized phone seemed to have grasped the opportunity to escape and was almost free.

Now at this moment my good nature kicks in and I want to assist but I am in a quandary. If I tap him on the shoulder it is likely to surprise him and as he jumps so his little apple friend will leap to the floor and, since apple haven’t produced a parachute app, it will self destruct. I seriously considered this option since I have a hatred of all things apple but in the end I was too nice. The logical option was to push the phone back into his pocket but would that be wise. I am a tattooed, ponytailed man and the natural assumption that is jumped to is rarely the friendly one. Having weighed up the options I considered it better to leave him to his observations. I am sure that he will remain undisturbed when somebody pockets his phone.

I have actually seen a number of these devices at work in public places and on reflection I wonder if they are installed by modern day thieves. Since this is ‘installation art’ nobody knows what it is supposed to be and the ever curios bend down to observe. To a thief this is the perfect presentation of your expensive possessions. Is there some roaming band of thieves using a shed and a torch as an elaborate plot perhaps?

Not that it would work on me of course because my anti advertisement feature prevents it. I am physically incapable of following suggestion in this manner. If it ‘just has to be done’ then I don’t. If you ‘just need to look’ then I don’t. Quite simply if you want me to do it or encourage me to do it then don’t expect success. If you left me alone with the small shed and the light and the encouraging labels I would not view it. In case there is somebody watching and waiting to say “Ha we made you do it” I avoid any such guided curiosity.

A final question of these ‘installation’ pieces is how do they survive in the modern security mad world full of unattended luggage stazi? If I want to fly on an aeroplane then I have to empty my worldly possessions onto a conveyor belt so that some civil servant can play the generation game. I then have to secrete anything that could ever attain a liquid state into a plastic bag that will inevitably split and empty itself on sight. Having done all of this I have to strip and take several doses of radiation to check that my bones are not made of smuggled rare Dutch edam. The repeated warnings to watch out for unattended luggage mean that frequent travellers are now finding that their luggage smells of urine on account of having to take it to awful public toilets with them.

I presume that the authorities have approved these installations but nonetheless where are all the ‘good citizens’ reporting them. They don’t know it’s a piece of ‘art’, they don’t know it’s authorised. To all intents and purposes it is a big box that you can’t see inside, surely more of a risk than my deodorant? Now here’s a thought for the security services, not that I am an expert of course. But if* I was to plant a bomb in a public place I would put it in a shed with no doors and a little light in the window to attract people. Why smuggle two 50ml toothpaste tubes when I can put 2 ton of semtex in a shed and attract a crowd!

*To those at GCHQ, the author has no intention of carrying out any terrorist acts so please return your attention to the other 6 million email accounts that you monitor.