I might have inflicted the Dead South on customers in the bar over the past couple of weeks.
I’d wanted to see them when they last toured the UK, but somehow it never happened. Despite a virus that’s been hanging on for weeks, I wasn’t going to miss them last night.
And I’m so glad I made the effort. They were just brilliant.
A few days ago, with a rather nice bunch of people, I spent the day in York, ending with Paul Carrack at the Barbican.
Even though I’ve spent a lot of time in York, often walking past the Barbican, I’d never been there for a gig.
And it was a good one – such a talented guy.
I once worked with a guy called Tom. That was a long time ago, back in 1979. He left after a few months to do a full time degree course at Sunderland Uni. We kept in touch, made easier by a good friend of mine (Ian) attending the same course. I guess you could say we were friends too.
We formed a social group, me, my then wife Gill, Ian, Tom and Louise. Things were great for a couple of years and we were a pretty close bunch. But, as they do, some cracks started to form and the group slowly started to dissolve. In Tom’s case, his mother remarried and moved to Wales. Since he was living at home at the time, he ended up moving too. He held back a little while, though, to finish his degree, occupying Louise’s spare room in Washington.
Following his move, in the early 80s, we lost touch. Remember, this was well before the worldwide web, email and mobile phones. It was a shame, but that’s the way things tend to go. And maybe we were all ready to go our different ways.
Around 15 (I’m really not sure) years later, I bumped into Tom while waiting for a bus home after work. He was in the area to visit his Dad (who he didn’t really get on with) and to see old places. At that time, he had a share in an audio company. Our reunion was interrupted by the arrival of my bus. We vaguely committed to keeping in touch; he still had my landline number. It was an awkward meeting, though, and I didn’t really expect to hear from him again.
Rolling forward to 2016/7, something reminded me of Tom. I don’t remember what, but I put his name into a search engine. His name, I should say, was Tom Whelan.
Unexpectedly, his name appeared in a lot of forum entries relating to a now defunct audio company. The company had been based in Barry, where I knew Tom had moved, so I was pretty confident I’d found the right person. His email address was included, so I gave it a shot. Looking back, I’m not sure why I did that. Maybe it was because there were loose ends after group dissolved. Possibly guilt too, since I’d not made an effort to keep in touch all those years ago.
He quickly replied and many email, then WhatsApp, exchanges later, we’d caught up. He’d married a Doctor, a Russian, and was himself self employed in electronics. He travelled daily from Barry to Bristol for work. Our exchanges continues, sometimes with gaps of weeks, even months, but we’d finally managed to keep in touch. Because of his Dad’s past bad behaviour towards his mother, and him too, he’d adopted his mother’s name, Petherbridge.
Before the Pandemic, he travelled to Russia with his wife to spend time with her family. He posted a bar of Russian chocolate to me. There was talk of him visiting the Northeast and a reunion of sorts with Ian. I’d toyed with the idea of making the trip to Barry. I kept him updated after the occasional lunch with Ian.
During my last lunch meeting with Ian, I mentioned my concern that I’d not heard from Tom for a few months. This wasn’t in itself unusual, since we often had those gaps. But this time was different. I’d sent Tom a picture of the building we’d both worked in, in March, but I’d had no response. Ian convinced me that I was probably worrying about nothing, as I would have done for him. Ian sent him a message, just in case.
As more time passed, my concerns returned. Ian hadn’t had a reply and I’d had no reply to an email I’d sent (in case he’d ended up with a new number.
A few months ago, I’d bought a pallet of beer from a brewery in Wales. This was soon followed by another order. The brewery is based in Barry. I asked the brewery if someone could call at Tom’s house, if anyone was passing nearby. Just to check he was ok.
On Monday, I received an email from the Brewery, asking for my number. Knowing that this wasn’t going to be good news, I quickly replied. They rang straight away.
They’d called that morning, but there was no answer at Tom’s house. So the tried a neighbour’s house. The neighbour told them that Tom had fallen ill a few months ago. Just a pee infection, but he’d developed sepsis and passed away.
Both Tom and I knew that we’d never re-establish that friendship from all those years ago. We’d become different people and everything we’d had in common had been left behind. Still, I’ve been feeling pretty sad since that phone call.
Anyway, goodbye Mr Petherbridge. If the pub we used to frequent on a Friday lunchtime still existed, I’d go there and raise a glass to you.
Tom Whelan, New Year, 1982.
It’s already fading away into the past, although it was only a couple of weeks ago.
The van coped really well with the distance, and the travelling between towns. Only a couple of things broke.
Our first stop, at Banham, involved a most pleasant afternoon with old friends (from the northeast).
Our stay in Banham was something of an accident; we’d not realised that we’d stayed at the same place a decade or so earlier. After a couple of days, we moved on.
I’d never been to Great Yarmouth before; I found, as I’d been advised, that it resembles Blackpool.
Gorleston was much nicer, although the dog enjoyed the beach at both places. We did manage to find some pretty cool bars, particularly the Tombstone brewery and Thirsty Crow.
On the return trip, there was the compulsory stay in Peterborough.
I’d never been to Bakewell before, or (until a couple of years ago) know about the Peakender beer festival. I really wanted to go last year, but knew it wouldn’t be wise to leave the bar for four days in our first year (I’d already done that for Glastonbury).
So, this year, we made the decision to go as a team and close the bar. We didn’t regret it for a second.
The festival was more than a beer thing, there was music and a lovely vibe about the place. It was dog friendly and we even found a nearby stream for the hound.
The Thornbridge brewery tap room was a must at the close of the festival, as was some time in the town itself.
And we were so pleased that the van only smoked a little bit and just one bit fell off.
So, last week, it was Fat Freddy’s Drop. In Durham.
And, the week before, Belle & Sebastian. Wonderful.
So I learned an important lesson today.
The pub keys don’t open my front door.
I’ve been a CAMRA member for a few years now, since before I became involved in bars, but I’d never taken part in activities or excursions.
Working in the current bar has changed that; a lot of guys who’re members come into the bar and we know a lot of them by name.
When an email popped up, mentioning a trip to Whitby, we agreed a team Microbus outing. This happened on Saturday and we all had a great day. The trip was so well organised, but, after a visit to Whitby Brewery, there wasn’t an agenda. The opposite was the case, since some of the bars couldn’t accommodate everyone at the same time.
This was the first time all of us have have had a day out together since opening the bar – we’re all rarely in the same place at the same time.
We realised that we can do more to promote future events. We’ve some ideas. We’ll certainly take part in another.
A little late, but we made a return (after a couple of years) visit to the Mighty Dubfest, in Alnwick.
We called off at Alnwick Brewery on the way, we had one of their empties in the bar. Their place is pretty cool, with a great tap room and beer garden. Lovely people too.
We knew what to expect with the festival; local bands and a limited choice of beer. But the weather was great and we bumped into a few people we knew, mostly through the bar (we don’t know many campervan people).
The hound seemed to have a good time too.
Another week, another gig. I’ve not been to many in recent times; Covid, then the bar, got in the way. In the last year, I’ve even felt the need to miss a couple of gigs because I was too busy.
Now that the bar’s stable, and I’m working less hours, there’s more time to fit things in.
The other day, I saw the Beat at the Boilershop. Of course, there are two versions of the band. I did see the Ranking Roger-led version a decade or so ago. They were pretty good, but lacked the original lead vocal sound.
This time, Dave Wakeling led this version of the band. While he was the only original band member this time around, and his Birmingham accent is no more, the band worked really well.
One of my favourite bands of the early 80s, I never actually got to see them at the time. And their time together was relatively short.
A good night though, with Bow Wow Wow, another 80s band that disappeared a long time ago.
