Thursday night at eleven thirty. There was just a handful of regulars in "The Banner Cross Hotel". It was almost time to leave. Little did we know that in less than twenty four hours all British pubs, cafes and restaurants would be shut down by order of Her Majesty's government. Nothing like this happened in the twentieth century. Even in the dark days of the two world wars our pubs remained open.
The friendly barman, Birmingham Jack had been playing requests via his i-phone connected to the pub's sound system.
As my friend 83 year old Bert donned his overcoat he began to sing as he often does, "We'll Meet Again" made famous by wartime songstress Vera Lynn. Bert was twirling his walking stick and as he sang Birmingham Jack found the song on his phone. In an instant it was playing through the speakers.
Supporting Bert's performance and painfully aware of the historical moment we are living in, we all joined in with the singing. Intermittently, Steve and I were crooning at full volume. We were all laughing and connecting with each other via eye contact. And there was smiley, kind-hearted, fun-loving, gregarious Bert leaning on the bar, in his element. Singing his favourite song at closing time. It is an image that will stay with me.
With his rheumy eyes sparkling he often says, half-singing "You'll miss me when I'm gone!" and I know I will. It occurs to me that I might not see him again what with the virus and the fact that though we are good friends we don't even have each other's phone numbers. We have been pub friends for thirty years. "We'll meet again", sang Vera Lynn but maybe we won't.
Seems like everyone (except young people on spring break) is now only too aware of their mortality. I can't help thinking, every time I talk by phone to someone I don't see often, or email a friend with whom I have only sporadic contact, if that will be the last time. It's so strange having that heightened consciousness.
ReplyDeleteAt first I included my mom in that group along with young folks on spring break, but actually it's her very awareness of her own mortality that drives her to keep socializing. She realizes that in ordinary circumstances she has few years left; these are not ordinary circumstances and she doesn't want to waste a day. I'm so thankful for technology. I just wished my mother had embraced it when she was younger so she could use it now.
Technology will ease the pain of our imprisonment. This morning when I first awoke I had no consciousness of The Virus - and then it came flooding back and I thought, "Oh no!" Good luck corralling your feisty mother!
DeleteThis made me sad. I hope you all meet again, and soon.
ReplyDeleteThe Virus might take him...or me!
DeleteYour evening with pub friends sounds like a very special one that will live forever in all of your memories. The pub will open again, we just don't know when. The bars and restaurants have been closed for over a week here and everyday we hear of more businesses closing. Today it was the barbers and hair stylists, no telling what it will be tomorrow.
ReplyDeleteWe went to buy groceries yesterday and could only get part of what I had on our list. The stores open an hour early just for us over 60's and still many shelves are bare.
It almost doesn't seem real does it?
It's like we are extras in a disturbing film about an imagined dystopian future.
DeleteKay (Georgia Girl with an English Heart, who also regularly comments on your blog) posted about Vera Lynn yesterday. Vera turned 103 just recently, and published a video message to everyone affected by the current situation (and that IS everyone, I believe). I've not watched/listened to the message, but I find it touching.
ReplyDeleteYour account is also very touching. I think I would have dissolved in tears. Music can do that to me much easier than anything else.
Yes. 103. She was always a couple of years older than my mother who died thirteen years ago. They called her "the nation's sweetheart" - not my mother, Vera! The name "Vera" means truth.
Delete"Even in the dark days of the two world wars our pubs remained open."
ReplyDeleteYou sum up the situation perfectly YP. There must be some very lonely people out there who never see anyone now the pubs and cafes are closed.
I fear that the suicide graph will rise Dave.
DeleteThis is the second blog today to have posted this song, YP.
ReplyDeleteMy parents had the record, and used to play it long after the war finished. It meant a great deal to everyone during the dark days of WWII. Apparently it always made me cry, as a child, and I must confess to feeling teary even now.
I hope that before too long, we all wherever we are, will be able to meet again under much happier circumstances.
Take care.
In wartime you could actually see your enemy. This one is more cunning.
DeleteKeep smiling through
Just like you always do
'Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away
Thanks for being a blog supporter all this long time CG.
I hope we get to hear that Bert comes through this when the madness is all over. Please remember to let us know.
ReplyDeleteI certainly will JayCee. He is a sunny guy and I am honoured that he likes and respects me even though I am not naturally sunny.
DeleteIt's all so strange, so hard. Let's look to the best. Whatever that may be.
ReplyDeleteYes, let's look to the best.
DeleteI saw something this morning that said it was Vera Lynn's birthday today. She's 103. Now I didn't check this out so maybe I should,'t pass it on. Anyway, your comparison is
ReplyDeleteinteresting.
She is indeed 103 today Red. I am glad you found my comparison interesting.
DeleteYesterday I saw a gaggle of youngsters, probably 14-16 year olds, bumping along outside the corner shop. No doubt celebrating the end of school for the foreseeable future. There was no self distancing going on there and they all went into the shop at the same time.
ReplyDeleteIt made me wonder why we oldies are bothering to self distance when the young aren't fussed and are no doubt spreading it around.
Some of the young are very aware of what is going on here and the need to be socially responsible but I agree with you that for many others the penny has not dropped yet.
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ReplyDeleteI have just read a very shocking statistic about France Lily. 112 victims died in France today but of the 1525 patients currently in intensive care 50% are under sixty!
DeleteMy daughter - a hospital doctor - is planning to move out into emergency hospital accommodation provided in a hotel to protect me in case she brings the virus home (as she certainly will as she is in the front line). The reason the over 60s are being told to stay indoors is precisely so the younger (and fitter) members of the community get the virus first, get the urgent hospital beds, build up resistance and then free up urgent beds for the older generation, ata point when they do get allowed to go out again and catch the virus. It's a way of staggering the few intensive care beds for different age groups. I definitely feel a Blitz spirit at the moment and jokes and funny video clips abound on social media to get us through a difficult time.
ReplyDeleteYou can Skype or Facetime each other. How awful to contemplate the idea that your brave daughter, working at the frontline, might bring The Virus back to her mother. I think it is indeed best that she stays in the hotel for a few weeks.
DeleteWhy didn't you get Bert's phone number?
ReplyDeleteAt that moment we did not know that we wouldn't be visiting the pub for a good long while. Besides, alpha male men like us don't chitchat on the phone like teenage girls.
DeleteI played your recording, and recalled my parents, waltzing in the dining room. Bert doesn't have many years on me.
ReplyDeleteUntil you said that, I wasn't aware that Americans were familiar with that song Joanne.
DeleteOh yeah, that song was big in America too. I've heard it all my life.
DeleteI think pubs in towns like yours, with long-established clientele, are different from pubs in my area, where people are much more transient. The idea of being "pub friends" for 30 years is mind-blowing to me. When I go to a pub, I see different people every time. The big city, I guess. (And obviously I'm not going to any pubs now!)
ReplyDeleteBert is not the only human I have known for many years through visiting local pubs. Sometimes visiting my local can be like seeing family in my living room. I know everybody - but occasionally it does not work out that way.
DeleteWell, YP, that post was you at your best (so to speak) in terms of emotional communication. That's why you're a good writer. My favourite line in the post up to now is "It's like we are extras in a disturbing film about an imagined dystopian future." That's exactly what it's like.
ReplyDeleteDoes Bert have a wife? If he doesn't perhaps he would have appreciated a call from a pub mate of 30 years. You may live in a world where "alpha male men like us don't chitchat on the phone like teenage girls." but as the world closes down around us as it did in the times of war people do need people - even alpha males.
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I will let you into a little secret Graham. I am not really an alpha male, I am not even a beta male. In fact, I am probably an omega male and for that reason I will take some bottles of beer to Bert's house. He will be missing his trips to the pub so much.
DeleteThat's made my day. Thank you.
DeleteI met a couple of old friends today when out on my solitary walk. We chatted for a while, keeping a respectful distance between us - and I remarked that half the time now I feel like I'm acting in a parody...
ReplyDeleteWe are not acting in a parody DT, it's a pandemic tragedy called "Could This Be The End?"
Delete