Chest, floor and blue bags

I am sure that there are some readers of this blog who remember when there was such a thing as choice in ones ready salted potato crisps. Remember the little blue packet that came with simple, plain crisps and allowed you to carefully add your personal choice of amount of salt (by which I mean tip the whole packet in) and shake.

Well since I am a little unsure regarding the use of profanities on this platform this post is going to run a little something like those crisps. Let me introduce you to the opposite of a swear box, this is the profanity chest:

Whereas the ‘traditional’ swear box is little more than a means of taxation, requiring a cash deposit for every swear word used, the chest is a much more literal interpretation. The chest is brimming with profanities and you can sprinkle as many, or as few, as you feel the dialogue deserves completely free of charge or guilt. Much like the little blue packet of salt I would suggest that you tip them all in, for reference I am currently running at 2 wpp (words per profanity).

Now that we have got that out of the way let me tell you about the still deteriorating (through no fault of my own) relationship with Henry.

Things started badly on Wednesday when I released the ‘active’ end of Henry mid task which left him somewhat to his own devices. Normally I can trust Henry to snake off and find an immovable object to attach himself to until I have the opportunity to kill the power, apparently this is more trust than he deserves. As per usual the hose snaked away looking for something to eat, I have no idea why an unattended Henry acts like a drunkard hunting kebabs but that is how it is.

The noise, and the fact that his eyes are clearly larger than his stomach, gave him away and I turned to find him attempting to devour Gav duck. Luckily Gav duck’s larger proportions meant he was no easy snack and he was retrieved without harm. Henry spent the night in the porch behind closed doors to reflect upon his actions.

The following day a new floor tool arrived for Henry and after much deliberation I decided this could be an olive branch to bring some peace between us and set about changing it over. This task involves, as many of you will know, slipping the tube out of the old head and into the new one, if only it were that simple.

The initial round left me with the fitting at the end still firmly attached but no cleaning head. Several different methods of beating the plastic off of the end of the tube had no discernible effect and I had to resort to removing the last part with a hacksaw. Quite how the head of a vacuum could become so welded to its partner is beyond me. I cannot recall ever using the tool to bludgeon an Elephant or for any deep excavation, it simply (and easily) rolls around the floor.

At some point after this major Engineering exercise I decided to vacuum the stairs and hallway and things took a turn. I should point out that there is ample length on the cord to reach the length of the upstairs hall when it is plugged in downstairs as, indeed, it was. Having made relatively short work of the stairs I headed along the hall and Henry refused to accompany me, instead choosing to repeatedly head-but a plug socket.

Now this particular plug socket is loose to say the least since it is secured, somewhat tentatively, to old lathe and plaster. Giving the little red fella a couple more yanks I did point out, at some volume, that whilst the loss of the plug socket would be inconvenient for me it would be far worse for the little electric guzzling fella (remember the profanity chest never empties).

On this occasion Henry was saved from a good boot back down the stairs by sheer good fortune when I spotted the lead tangled up on the stairs (doubtless knitted out of spite while in the porch the other night).

On a more serious note does anybody know who thought it was a good idea to put a fixed smile on such an awkward device. Since Henry goes out of his way to be a nuisance a smile must be some sort of sick joke. It is like every time he drags glass over your wooden floor, ties himself in his own cord or hides behind something and ignores you he is bloody grinning. He is like some idiot child who, when you confront him in a rage he just grins like he finds it bloody funny! I have sat him in the corner staring at the wall whilst me and the ducks enjoy a Saturday night beer.

I am going to sign off now with the following dilemma. I have noticed something written on the whiteboard, where all my reminder end up, it is two words circled (that makes it a reminder). The words are ‘cling film’ and ‘nuts’ and the dilemma is to work out if that was a shopping list or an activity?

 

A speck and a duck huddle

So the last couple of days have not been the happiest of lock down. I am not sure why although the prospect of not reopening this year, as touted by some of the press today, obviously didn’t help.

I appreciate that the press and the government spend a lot of time briefing in opposite directions in order to deal with public expectations and to be honest I believe little, if anything, in the press. The one thing that we can take from the today is that we are in for the long haul but I think we kinda knew that.

I woke up this morning thoroughly motivated, the day has not progressed as it should have done though. To hear all day long that your business will stay closed longer than any other takes it toll and really makes you think about the seismic change this will have on the whole trade. I have long disagreed with the negativity espoused by many in the licensed trade and I blame that for the hard push back that we are seeing.

As I recall the last that I saw said that 40 pubs a week closed in the UK but, at last count 41 opened. So the aggregate growth in the pub estate was 1 a week, see how easy it is to use numbers to support whatever position you want? So if you shut the entire trade for 12 weeks 480 pubs will be struggling and 492 opportunities to open will not have happened. These pubs won’t all shut immediately because, despite the naysayers, the situation has thrown a lifeline to some who were about to leave the trade.

I heard the other day that we expect 10% of the over eighties to pass away each year and that is about where we we are with the pandemic. Both points are just statistical facts and the pandemic has done nothing but move the numbers around but this doesn’t make losing uncle Tom or your local pub any easier.

All this aside today has certainly been one of those days where the weight weighs heavier. There is still a lot going on but sometimes you are struck by the seeming futility of it all. This is not something that taps you on the shoulder and whispers, it hits you like a truck. We have a way of dealing with these days, it is tried and tested and has come into play more often lately.

A moment (could be minutes or hours) sat on the floor in the corner. It is important that its a corner, some would say this is defensive and some would say that it is about connecting, I would go with hiding but whatever. Just sitting there as a tiny person in this big pub and its massive history, a mere speck on its timeline but responsible for continuing that timeline is very grounding.

I am not sure that grounding is a good thing right now but the ducks are forming a huddle and I think they want help to drink that wine. I am going to wipe the paint off my hands (it can stay on my face) and go join the ducks for a large glass, honestly my work is never done.

 

Sinks, bombs, demons and family

Apologies somehow this one didn’t get published but remained in draft state. Sorry for the delay but please enjoy some bank holiday thoughts.

Let me be clear, before this starts, I am not a people person I simply don’t like people. Now many will wonder why I do what I do if I am not a people person and for those there is a wealth of reasoning in this blog. If I were to paraphrase I would say that I believe that, in the main, publicans are introverts confronting their demons.

So it is a bank holiday weekend here and we are doing a bit. It is fairly hectic and we are all getting a work out but its nice people and a great showcase of a great pub. Whilst you may look at me during these times and see how easy my chosen career is most of you know it’s not all like this. The low point of today was clearing up after a sink vomit or possibly a menstrual bomb* I am not sure which. Thankfully only I got both tasks although my barmaid did tell me earlier that ‘sometimes I am ashamed to be part of them’ when she discovered her own menstrual bomb* in the toilet.

There were other low points, there always will be. but all in a great day in a great pub and with a great team.

Now you cannot have a low without a high so let me share not just tonight’s but the last few. Last night I was visited by the pubs own puppy Luna, a sweetheart as ever, and owner Deborah. That Debs worries so much about this old man is testament to the fact that she is part of the Plough family, she is the Plough’s girl and knows that whatever time in the morning and whatever state we will always look after her.

So tonight I had a conversation with Ellie, who is on a seasonal contract (and appears to have read it), about a finish date and I explained that its academic because we just extend contracts. At this point our Princess went on to explain how she loves working here because it’s a family and we are all here for each other. Apparently the Plough is the best bar that she works in because we always have her back.

When Ellie talks of family she talks of her mum’s pub in the same reverence that I hold the Phoenix. It doesn’t happen often but when it does a pub can form the biggest family of your life. I am so moved by the love that these people have for my pub, what a family!

I cannot even begin to explain the love that I have for my small Plough team. I am so incredibly lucky to have them and so are you, all of you, because without them we wouldn’t have a Plough. The people who work here don’t just help out they rescue precious hours for overdue tasks and allow me to be a publican they are essential to what we do.

I have literally the best team in the world and even some who have moved on (little legs) will always be part of the family. I will though add a special mention to Lennie at this point, a man who has stood against pikeys with me and one of the few men that I can laugh with when it transpires that we are both being played by the same girl, nips you are family.

*what happens when a women throws all of the associated detritus in a manner that looks like a small hand grenade exploded in her knickers

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

Dust, DNA and Empathy – I need a pint

Before I start I would like to just reassure everyone that I am not having a crisis of confidence or any such silliness. This post is not a continuation on a theme, well maybe it is but it isn’t supposed to be it’s just the way the timing goes.

I happened to have 5 minutes to kill before an appointment yesterday when I was stood at a demolition site, an old sorting office I believe. The machines had removed a large part of the building and this opened a view into several offices on the top floor as well as a services room on the ground floor. Where many would see dust, noise and nuisance I saw history being dismantled.. I see this all of the time in old buildings, I don’t just see empty offices but I see generations of staff progressing through their career. I see the young man proud to have made that step from blue to white collar but still never truly feeling like he belongs ‘upstairs’. I can see the congratulations as people move on and families grow, all of the stuff that happens everywhere but will never again happen here.

In the services room I can see the education of young sparkies learning their trade, including the sweat, bruises and frustration. The big office on the left hand side with a view of the park will have been a senior one inhabited previously by both the beloved and the reviled, it comes with the territory. The building has echoes of retirees fondly recounting new plans but also those who quietly mourned their own loss of purpose. The building will have seen shifts spent wishing to be anywhere else but also shifts spent gratefully in the solace of work. The toil within this building will have funded generations of households as they struggled through lean times and enjoyed the more bountiful.

I can see the dozens of times that the “writing was on the wall” as new systems, machines or routines were introduced, each new introduction eventually becoming the favoured tradition only to be displaced by the next great idea. I know that the inevitability of closure will have led to a perverse confidence that it wouldn’t happen ensuring that there was no real preparation for the end. At the end I can see the shock and the distasteful picking over of the building and its contents. There will have been a palpable sense of loss as other parts of the business identify what they will salvage and transplant into other sites assisted by staff that are seeing out their notice.

All of this I see in a building and perhaps that is where my empathy lies although I am not sure why. It could be that as a young railwayman during privatisation, and long after, I watched the decimation of a great industrial heritage but I don’t think so. I like to think it is an Engineer’s trait, we are more tied to the buildings that we inhabit than other people because we share a physical bond. Those dirty workshop floors are not just stained with grease they are stained with the sweat and blood of us and our predecessors, we can honestly say that our DNA is in a building. The further you go back in the history of our trade the more blood, sweat, limbs and even lives were lost achieving what needed to be achieved.

It is in these buildings and their services that asbestos quietly crept into lungs before claiming years of life like some natural tax inspector. Too many substances, processes and activities to name have reduced the length or quality of the lives of those of us that just have to make and repair things, new ones keep appearing at a regular rate. So for me it is the inherent tie between Industrial Engineers and their environment, going back through the generations that breeds my empathy with old buildings.

This is not solely the plight of Engineers though, it is also the plight of many modern day publicans. There is no glamour or wealth in the licensed trade anymore, it has long since departed, but there is history in these buildings. Not text book history, not always tangible history but a history of life lived, of young becoming old, christenings and wakes and hey all of those parties had to happen somewhere. Just knowing that a building has been a social hub for generations makes it call out to me to protect it and hey if we don’t keep traditional pubs alive then one day your grandchildren will be asking what they used to be like.

Hey that could be my new pub slogan “From wetting your head to sprinkling your ashes and every event in between, we are here for you”