my parents were confused as to what they wanted me to be when i grew up. my dad, ever the practical one, thought i should enter the pub and club game. be a publican just like he was. it was all about the gift of the gab he would say (something that both my parents had in abundance), it was all about being friendly to the customer, and it was all about having a good time. my dad painted a great picture of being in the booze trade. to be sure both mum and dad seemingly enjoyed their time in the trade.
in his years of being in the game my dad met some interesting people the krays (who visited his pub in the east end – i am sure it wasn’t for a chitchat more for the protection money, but they visited it) then there was frank sinatra (oops i can see a gangster theme growing here … so lets move on), the bishop of london and even for one brief moment deep purple came to drink in one of his pubs (my mum made them sandwiches and i got to see them rehearse).
the downside? the hours – long and hard, the customers – mainly drunk and boring and of course the killer: it made you an alcoholic (i am sure it has changed since then but at the time everyone i knew who worked in a pub had a drink problem). both my parents could drink and drink and drink, both my parents denied they had a problem.
so as much as the pub game may have been attractive i just knew it was not for me. i had seen what it had done to my parents.
my mum she had her heart set on my becoming a priest. i suppose it is the dream of every catholic mum – to see her boy standing there giving mass. now what was odd about this was my mum was from a large irish family who when they got together would tell stories of the brutal punishments they received at the hands of priests and nuns while they were at school. (the worst the nuns ever did to me was making me eat my greens or i would have no pudding and make me stand in the corner when i arsed about playing ring-a-ring-a-roses…so no tearful chartbusting biography from me then, i suppose i could make it all up though.)
while they would never say it to me i think both of them were slightly disappointed in me when at first i wanted to be a copper (i couldn’t be because i was colour blind) and then i went off to polytechnic to get a degree. from the moment i went into academia they thought i was lost.
so what you say, what is this all about?
this is what it’s about priests and beermats. the catholic church is seeing the number of priests it has declined; this is especially true in london, so in the way of any great organisation it is going to launch a recruitment campaign. the campaign will appear on billboards, in london underground stations and on beermats.
yes you read that right beermats.
now trust me on this i have met a few priests in my time and while i can’t swear that they all like the choir boys i do know that they liked to drink a few drinks of the strong stuff. and to be fair who can blame them as boring as most of your regular customers are going to be in a pub they are going to be even worse in a church – at least as a publican you are not trying to save their immortal soul.
the last priests i met where to do with my mum. firstly there was the irish priest in the hospital she was in for tests on her heart. she was very nervous (as was i) and this grand old fellah of a priest came round to set everyone’s minds at rest. well if his breath was not a give away then his nose sure was – it would not have looked out of place on rudolph. all my mum could think of was could she have some of what he was having…
the next priest i was a few weeks later and he was saying mass at my mum’s funeral and frankly he looked like he could have done with a drink or three himself. he seemed to have tremendous trouble with the service. his discomfort at the whole thing made it a little easier for me to get through it without breaking down. frankly if he had asked me to join him in a glass of the hard stuff i would have joined him.
so perhaps i can at last please both my parents by joining the priesthood but doing so via a link with the brewing industry.
1 comment:
My father worked in the wine industry all his life - from working as a runner for Harvey's Bristol Cream in the docks, to Vivian Leigh's wine advisor/buyer, to managing a large depot in Oxford. Although booze was everywhere in the house (I even had one of those old round-cornered Kelvinator US fridges in my room as a teen, always stocked with beer) he never pressured me into 'the business'.
He was, however, overjoyed when I got a part-time job in an off-licence.
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