BALL BUSTER & RAGGY DUSTER - A RETAIL MEMORY

I joined British Home Stores, Belfast in 1973, was transferred to Manchester in 1976 and then to Romford, Essex in 1977, where this piece is set......

In British Home Stores in the 70s, we in the lower ranks seemed to find common ground and team spirit in our collective fear and dread of our store managers who were tough, sometimes uncompromising authoritarians, “old school” status-conscious bullies at times, you might say.  The most fearsome of them all, Mr Robinson, (for these were the days when we were definitely not on chummy first name terms) would rule his store and his team with an iron fist and a terrifying scowl.  He controlled everything and if you crossed or displeased him in any way, you were subjected to the fiercest bollocking you can imagine and you left his presence shaking.  He had the sinister knack of arriving on the sales floor and, somehow, exuding an aura of terror amongst the managers.  We did not even have to look up.  We knew he was there.  On the occasions when I did look up, he would be standing a good hundred feet away staring back at me before wagging his come-hither finger.  In a terrified Uriah Heep, ever so humble way, I would approach him knowing that he had spotted at least three things on my department that needed attention.  “Use your eyes, son.  Make sure you see these things before I see them.”  I would nod silently and he would march away to terrify the next department manager.

If you wanted a new duster for your department, you had to take your old one to his office, knock the door, await his barking instruction to enter and then request a replacement cloth.  He would be reclining back in his chair, stone-faced and, I swear, not blinking.  He would grab the old rag dangling from your trembling fingers, hold it up to the light, peer at you through the holes in the fabric and then thrust it back at you.  “There’s at least half a dozen more cleans in that, boy,” he would shout.  This was one of my first groundings in cost control, albeit a trifle extreme but a good lesson in watching the pennies.  I wasn’t rational enough in those days to understand it but when I became a store manager myself, I often used this true tale as a benchmark against waste.  My team members looked at me with the same quizzical expression I had used a couple of decades before.  But, no one can deny the principle of not wasting a business’s money unnecessarily.

On reflection, seeing how standards of service and *staff appearance are these days in a lot of shops, I think retailing could use some of the Robinson bark and bite to restore a wee bit of discipline.  I have obviously lived and learned - a graduate of the old school.

*And don't get me started on that!

EAVESDROPPINGS - 3

Over a long period of time, I have jotted down snatches of conversations overheard in the streets, in queues, in waiting rooms and barber shops, on trains, in cafes, pubs and restaurants and all manner of places.

They are all true moments. I have no idea what the conversations were before and after the bits I overheard. Here's a few examples to add to Eavesdroppings 1 - https://droppedthemoon.blogspot.com/2018/05/eavesdroppings-1.html

and Eavesdroppings 2 - https://droppedthemoon.blogspot.com/2018/05/eavesdroppings-1.html

“I know it’s only a pound more

but I begrudge giving it to them.”

“No, no, no. That’s not what

you said this morning.’

“I was so sure

his middle name was Charles.”

“How many more times?

No. No. No. No. No.

Same answer to the next five questions.”

“I’m fed up backing losers.”

“Just tell him. Let him know.

Draw a line.”

“That dog’s disgusting.”

“He can walk alright

but it hurts when he turns left.”

“You need to bring a packed lunch

to that Post Office.”

“Not if I win 

the lottery first.”

“Most of the time

she’s in her jim-jams all day.”

“Come four o’clock,

the big light goes on.”

“I couldn’t care less

about my wobbly fat on a beach.”

“I had a big lunch

and a big dinner

every day last week.”

“He cut his hand

on a tin of salmon

and the laugh is 

he doesn’t eat fish.”

“My shoes have

memory foam.”

“Be careful.

Nothing too spicy.”

“I need a hobby. 

Nothing expensive.”

“Been to the doctor

but he’s too young to understand.”

“That school is like a prison.

Too many stupid rules.”

“No way can I drink coffee

without sugar. Loads of it. 

The sugar police can fuck off.”

I’ve off TV for Lent,

except for the odd catch-up.”

RIP GEORGE - WE KNEW YOU BUT WE DIDN'T KNOW YOU

From as far back as I remember I have always absorbed the credits at the end of films and television programmes. I have built up a store of knowledge that is useful occasionally but otherwise useless, but it's a bit of an obsession. In fact, if I don't see the opening credits to a film, it spoils the whole thing for me. Similarly, if I don't see the end the credits, I feel shortchanged. These days, TV does that very irritating thing of reducing the size of closing credits in order to advertise what is coming next. A load of names of skilled and talented people are reduced to tiny letters that even the sharpest of eyeballs would fail to decipher. It's insulting really. After the names of the big stars, co-stars, familiar writers and directors, most names on movie reels are of people we may never hear of again, but they have been involved in what we have just experienced. In their own ways, they are important ingredients. They deserve a nod at the very least.

And so to life. We grow up with key people in our lives taking centre stage - parents, teachers, employers, etc. - and in the company of 'extras', people we see from time to time during the course of every day life. In my terms, I am talking about bus conductors, shop assistants, checkout operators, postmen and women, local trades people and so on. People I know but really don't know in terms of friendships, people who become part of a sort of tapestry illustrating my existence.

For thirty years, we have had annual holidays in Portugal, the Algarve to be precise, Oura in Albufeira to be more so. We know the area very well and it takes next to no time to get our bearings once we unpack at the apartment. We have our preferred restaurants and the one we go to most often is Paulu's Pizzeria. It is a typical pasta/pizza place with a signature starter dish of garlic mushrooms, unlike any I have eaten anywhere else. Once I taste those mushrooms, I know for sure I am on holiday. The service is efficient, sometimes, amongst the waiting staff, a smile-free zone, but that's the way it is.

Over the years, we got to know the owner of the restaurant, George (we never knew his surname), a charming host always ready with a smile, a wave, a handshake or a chat. In our lives, he has indeed been an 'extra' but without seeing George, the Paulu's experience is a diminished one, slightly.

We have just returned from a week in that part of Portugal and we ate twice at Paulu's, as great as ever. The first night, the Sunday, no George. We thought it must be a night off. The second time was Saturday when my wife enquired about him only to be told that he had died. It was a shock. We don't know the cause of death but, estimating George's age at around 50, and seeing his face in my head now, he looked a healthy, energetic man. It makes no sense.

We knew him but didn't know him. He was and always will be part of our holiday memories. He is a name on the list of credits in our family's life story, deserving of not just a nod but a salute.

We'll miss him very much, all the more so when we are sitting in his restaurant on future holidays.

RIP and thank you, George.

EAVESDROPPINGS - 2

Over a long period of time, I have jotted down snatches of conversations overheard in the streets, in queues, in waiting rooms and barber shops, on trains, in cafes, pubs and restaurants and all manner of places.

They are all true moments. I have no idea what the conversations were before and after the bits I overheard. Here's a few examples. 

"I’ll see you on the 5^th

unless it changes to the 7^th."

"I told him I wanted

all them presents wrapped

by the time I get home." 

"It’s all pins and pisswords, 

I mean passwords, these days." 

"I only need a small one

but if he gives me the large one

at the same price as a small one,

I’ll take it." 

"Don’t feed the wrong bread to birds.

It sticks to their beaks." 

"I’d phone but I can’t remember the number.

Anyway, I haven’t got my phone with me." 

"That man playing the accordion

obviously hasn’t had his second lesson yet."

“If it’s not working, it’ll be 

the snow on the satellite dish.” 

“I don’t like onions

but I love onion rings.” 

“You can tell by the way he stands

that he’s about to hit somebody.” 

“I had £90 cash in my wallet this morning.

Not even lunchtime and I’ve got zip.” 

“I’m going to Greece. 

He can come if he likes.” 

“I’d had a few drinks 

but I was stone-cold sober.” 

“Are you going to walk

the same speed as me,

or what?” 

“I could murder

a sausage sandwich.” 

“I’ll grin and bear it for a while longer

before bothering the doctor.” 

“I’m gagging. I’m gagging.” 

“I’ve been at this stall for four hours

and I haven’t even made a quid.” 

“You can pick and mix

off the Valentine’s love menu.” 

“Shopping trolleys are handy

but they do get heavy.” 

“To get the benefit

you have to exercise as well.” 

“I’ll wait here for you.

Don’t come out the wrong door.” 

“You carry this bag 

and I’ll carry that bag

And we’ll swap halfway.” 

“He bought a brown suit.

He bought a brown suit.”

EAVESDROPPINGS - 1

Over a long period of time, I have jotted down snatches of conversations overheard in the streets, in queues, in waiting rooms and barber shops, on trains, in cafes, pubs and restaurants and all manner of places.

They are all true moments. I have no idea what the conversations were before and after the bits I overheard. Here's a few examples.

‘Every Christmas
I send him a long letter.
I think he appreciates it.
He’s in prison, like.
Nothing serious.’

‘He’s had his final last chance.
Every frigging time
he thinks he can waltz back
as if nothing has changed.
No more. No fucking way.’

‘You have rice with it.
Everybody does.
You don’t have chips
with Chicken a la King.’

‘You’ll have to come down yourself.
They won’t let me in the bookies
with a baby.’

‘Hey big bollocks,
how’s it hanging?’

‘He has to take it easy.
They found a kink
in his small intestine.'

‘I don’t think I will
but I know I could.
Maybe I should.
What’s the worst than can happen?’

‘Her birthday present will be a surprise.
It’s not what she wants
but it’s what she’s getting.
She’ll get the hump
but she’ll have to lump it.’

‘Ach, I do miss him.
He used to kill all the spiders.’

‘Some nights I think I wear
all the clothes I’ve got,
layers and layers.
I can’t afford the heating.’

‘At the funeral somebody said
that for all his faults
he had lovely handwriting.’

‘I can’t get used to a Great Dane
in the living room.’

‘Can’t believe the number
of orange trees in Seville.”

‘He slammed the door
and cracked the glass
with that temper of his.’

‘Every time you come shopping with me
you turn into an idiot. Go and sit
on that bench over there until I’m finished.’

‘Some days I need the stick
and some days I don’t.
It depends on what my leg tells me.’

‘It’s against the law to call them Cornish.
They’re meat and vegetable pasties now.’

‘Watch out. That puddle’s wet.’

BOBBLE HAT

In the mid-60s, my mother knitted me an almost exact replica of this hat.

Bobble Hat

Mother’s skillset expanded out of necessity,

Back in the tight money days, post-Elvis, pre-Beatles.

Alongside kitchen and other housewifery talents,

She knitted in what seemed like every spare moment,

Aran jumpers a speciality, but also

Scarves, gloves and non-military balaclavas, hats,

Especially one unforgettable hat for me,

A bobble hat, green, an almost exact replica

Of a Mike Nesmith Monkees hat, cool woolly number. 

Should have seen my face! I was a believer. Still am.

NEW MUSIC - GOING HOME BY JANET HENRY

Going Home

by

Janet Henry

2018

coachhouse1@hotmail.com

www.facebook.com/janethenrymusic

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_yPOmO1SBA

Track Listing:

Hello Radio

Scared

Angel

Hardest Place To Fall

1999

Lonesome Me

Bluebird And The Roses

Sonny Boy

Then There’s You

River Is Rising

Slow Down

Going Home

Is there no end to the talent pouring out of Northern Ireland, no end to the excellence in literature and the performing arts, no end to the creativity in every artistic endeavour?

No, thank God and just to emphasise that point, I have been listening to a brand new CD from singer/songwriter Janet Henry, Going Home.

To start from the outside, as it were, it is designed and packaged beautifully and it comes with a lyrics booklet. The cover opens out and there’s Janet on the left, guitar in hand, sitting in front of a car bumper and her Dad on the right, guitar in hand, sitting in front of a car bumper. The connection is very powerful especially when considering the decades between the two photographs.

‘Recently I came across an old photograph of my late father in the early 1950s, sitting in front of a Humber car, playing his guitar and singing. As I looked at it I realised that this was where my journey began, even before I was born, and that now I had taken over a part of what he started and what he loved.’

I have listened to the CD three times. Its superb, flawless production is a joy to behold. The musicians simply cannot be any better. And Janet’s voice is (and I know a lot of hard work goes into these projects) effortless, calm, confident and often stunning. In this era of screeching divas – all genders – from TV talent shows, (you know the ones who think they’re in a lung-busting contest to see who can hit the highest note), well, you’ll not get any of that here. This is classy. The mood is easy and the songs are excellent.

The opener, Hello Radio, is a natural for much airplay and I hope it gets a fair crack on the wireless across the UK and beyond. (Are you listening Nashville?) The tracks evolve into reflections on life, falling in and out of love, memories, getting away from things and, of course, going home. Here are a few extracts:

Scared: 

‘Driving in my car a hundred miles an hour

To get away from you, away from you.

Switching off my phone so I can be alone

Away from you, away from you’ 

Angel:

‘She’ll wrap her wings around you

Walk the miles beside you,

Protect your world around with her light,

She must be right’

I thought of my mother.

1999

‘The shadows of that August sun still haunt like some old ghost

and the things best forgotten are the things remembered most’

I love that. 

Then There’s You:

‘Doesn’t matter how I’m feeling

if my heart is black and blue,

when I think there is no reason

then there’s you’

Going Home:

‘Why are the colours grey instead of green or blue?

Why does the falling snow make me think of you?

Why is my beating heart beating on its own?

I really think it’s time that I was home’

This is an exceptional album in so many ways, musically and lyrically. Janet Henry has a showcase collection here that deserves much attention from broadcasters, audiences and the record buying public. It is impossible not to like it and it is a match for any album of its genre, bar none, an outstanding achievement. 

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