MY BIOGRAPHY. |
CHAPTER 39. Characters. |
1. I keep mentioning characters and believe me we came across many and from all areas and relating to all sorts of occupations and backgrounds. 2. The guy, immaculate in his fisherman's smock, sea boots and coloured sweat rag tied round his neck, who would spend his evenings, round the bar, entertaining visitors with stories about his fishing fleet and the good and the bad times. He had never been to sea in his life and during the day drove a wagon for a local builder. But it got him most of his beer bought. The same with the ginger haired guy, who having lost an arm in the first world war and who had medals to prove it, and who had since been reduced to working as a 'dressed up pirate' in a local amusement park, and who was only too pleased to accept free drinks from those who felt sorry for him, while telling the story of his exploits against the Hun, had in actual fact lost his arm, only a few years back, after having staggered out of a pub and getting knocked down in Scarborough. Although why he and many of his colleagues, felt the need to do that when they would all brag of the hundreds of pounds they regularly and consistently robbed from the local authority that employed them to run the amusements etc. The drivers of the Open Topped Buses, that daily plied the sea front, during the summer were just as bad and would ask us to change and relieve them of unbelievable amounts of loose change which they made no bones about where it had come from or where it was going. 3. One character that I admired immensely, lived locally, and made his living, again during the summer, from selling newspapers seven days a week. He would be up at the newspaper office and be waiting for the first additions. Then dressed in his long brown coat, with the newspaper logo on the back, he would trail for miles and miles, going round and round, calling, as news-vendors tend to do, in a continuous and monotonous voice. When he sold up he would either be back at the newspaper office for more or a delivery van would drop them off and he would keep going until well into the evening. When finished for the day he would come into the pub and have one drink before going for fish and chips and then round the corner, to a Snack Bar, for coffee and to collect his bedroll, which was stored there for him. He then had his favourite spot, in a shelter on the Castle Headland, where he would sleep for the night. The following morning he would return to the Snack Bar to leave his bedroll and to purchase his breakfast and to use their toilet facilities. Once a week he would visit his sister, who lived in the town, for a bath and a change of clothing. At the end of every season he would come in and say goodbye as he headed off to spend the winter in Spain. He retired permanently to Spain, while we were still in the pub and achieved all that through selling Newspapers and a little thrift. 4. A youth came in and bragged that he had managed to obtain some Cannabis Resin and encouraged by myself and several others around the bar, produced this tin foil twist with a few grams wrapped in it. Later and after he had left, a girl who had been seated close by, placed a guitar case, which she used as part of her busking trade in York, on the bar and opening it, produced a block about the size of half a kilogram of butter. Dropping it back in, she closed the lid and got up to leave and as she did so muttered, 'That's bloody Cannabis.' 5. Con Don as the locals eventually called him. A smart, well dressed and well spoken character who drew a lot of attention when he made it known that he was investigating a local company for fraud and worked mainly nights when all the employees and staff were absent. This naturally caused problems for him and one was that of getting to the banks for cash so if anyone could lend him a tenner, for his round, he would nip out to the nearest cash point and be back shortly, and so he would and the tenner would be returned. Shortly after, catastrophe, the machine had gobbled up his card and he could not get into the bank to sort it out. Please cash my cheque, no don't; just hold the cheque and it will be redeemed the following day and it was or it was taken back and a slightly larger one issued in its place. But then that was fine, as others had been redeemed earlier. Then one night; party night! He had just received a bonus cheque for a previous assignment and so on the strength of it the drinks flew in every direction. The following night no Don! A few days later and still no Don and where one of the guys had even been to the place where he claimed to have been working and they knew nothing of him. What was he going to do about the bonus cheque he had cashed and all the others that suddenly appeared, from just about everyone, and were all for differing amounts and drawn on several banks? If they did as well as I did with the one I had, mind you only one, the rest having been redeemed as promised, probably to allay any suspicions I might have had, then no one got anything. 6. At one time there was a healthy commercial trade in and around the harbour and vessels would arrive regularly laden with potatoes, from Egypt, destined for the local frozen food factory or with cargoes of grain or timber. This was good for local, casual employment but some of the others that they attracted were quite remarkable. One woman, nicknamed Timber Boat Annie, who plied her trade and entertained visiting merchant seamen suddenly died and it was rumoured that she had fallen in bits following an infestation of woodworm. Another, a small, black haired, female character, was covered in tattoos and literally had graffiti tattooed all over her body and all of which she would willingly show to anyone. Those that fascinated me the most were the spider's webs over her breasts, the hinges in her elbow joints and the backs of her knees, the dotted line round her neck with the instruction 'cut here' and the sign that said, 'This way to it,' tattooed on her upper inside leg. 7. Some of the boats that came in from the Baltic States had women on board and there was little to differentiate them from ours, although most of theirs did tend to have hairy faces and colossal boobs. 8. Before we leave the characters we must include one little noisy guy, who sadly is no longer with us, but who everyone knew and whose passing filled the church to capacity for his funeral. He originally worked, as a drayman, for one of the breweries and also played in the Comic Band. He would do anything, pub cellar wise, for anyone, for cash and thank you very much or for a few pints of beer. One day he was assisting a driver, of a large, fully laden dray wagon, to back out of a confined space, and as he was walking backwards he tripped and the back wheels went over his leg. For a short time it was touch and go as to whether he would live but typical of him, at the first opportunity he took a wheel chair, without knowledge and permission, and propelled himself well over a mile or so to the pub. He would insist on drinking and his mates bought it and it, in turn, would make him ill and then someone would have to send for an ambulance to come along and collect him. No end of admonishment and complaints about he costs involved deterred him and in the end I am sure he was discharged before they really wanted him to be. It was either that or come daily to collect him. After months and months he eventually got back on his feet and staggered everyone by getting about on only one crutch. But sadly he deteriorated, probably from the excess drink, which he claimed was the only painkiller, which he needed and which worked for him. He loved pub music and pub entertainment and had developed, following his accident and convalescence, the silly and annoying habit of picking up a tin tray and beating time with it on his own head until he was obliged to stop when he claimed it had made him dizzy. One night he did it until he collapsed and someone sent for an ambulance. Days later we all attended his funeral. 9. Just one more and then that is it. Visitors, during the summer, were always good for a laugh and especially if they could be ripped off in a fairly harmless way. Imagine, if you can, a group of locals, good humouredly, badgering a group of visitors over the amount they thought they could all drink. It would start out by seeing who could drink a pint the quickest and the looser paying for the beer and the visitors would win more than they lost. Then the 'Yard of Ale' glass would come out. A large glass bulb with a long narrow tube, opening out into a funnel, that is overall a yard tall (three feet, or just short of a meter) and holds four and a half pints of ale and which is usually kept hung at the back of the bar for decoration and fun use. Various attempts would be made using this glass and anyone aware of the situation would have noticed that our lot would have been steadily loosing and the prize money, on the other side, gradually building up. In the end it would be suggested that in order to recoup their losses or loose even more they would challenge the opposition to perform two feats and that a good sized side bet should be added. Cash on the table, the first challenge would be for the fastest to drink, without hesitation, the Yard of Ale and the second to drink, in one go, a biscuit tin full of beer, the tin somehow just being handy from under the bar. The Yard of Ale would go first and the visitors would win, be delighted and willing to accept a second challenge at double the stake and this could amount to several pounds at this stage. Then a girl, who had been with the group all the time, but who had only 'played' with her beer and stayed in the background, would take up the challenge for a suggested additional amount and seeing a girl they would inevitably accept. But then and before that challenge in would come the biscuit tin. To start with how much would they wager that it could not be done and secondly how much would they wager that both could not be done? Even more money would end up on the bar and by this time a large group of onlookers would have gathered round and be encouraged to wager. Taking the Yard of Ale the girl would offer it to the challenger and watch, disinterested, despite how long it took. Then taking her turn and the refilled glass she would lift it and using a developed technique, pour it at an incredible rate and without swallowing, straight down her neck. Lowering the empty glass she would burp and mutter, 'Men, I've shit 'em,' and picking up her money walk away. Then the hero, or idiot, depending on your point of view, who had also been very steady on the drink, would pick up the filled biscuit tin and using the corner as a pourer, copy the girl and pour it down his neck at a tremendous speed and then while his colleagues collected all the cash he would dash off to the toilet and bring it all back up. He would then have a conventional pint to clear his mouth. Inevitably the visitors, having been amazed would swear to return the following night for another challenge. Our lot would be in another pub that night and not be back for a day or two when I would then learn how much they had made on top of all the beer that had been bought and it was always quite a substantial amount. The feat would then be attempted the following week when a new lot would be in town with pockets full of cash and unable to handle the local beer. I never objected as we sold vast volumes of beer and the mess in the toilet got cleaned up with the rest. By the way, the guy who could drink the tin full of beer was also a Comic Bander. |
MY BIOGRAPHY. |
