…yeez can take the boy out of Docklands Govan in Glasgow, but…

…another wee story from half a century ago, relating to my early months as a Trainee Master of the Financial Universe… as the youngest member of the staff at the Govan Cross Branch in Glasgow of the redoubtable Clydesdale & North of Scotland Bank Limited… my position translated as ‘principal dogsbody’, ‘prime-errands-runner-for-the-senior-colleagues’, ‘get-the coffees-in-organiser’, and ‘sum’time learner of the banking craft’… however, as I’ve mentioned before, the Bank Manager, dyed-in-the-wool,-bowler-hatted, pinstriped-pyjamas-wearer par excellence, Mister George Galloway was a joy to WURK with… no more especially than for my first ever Staff Christmas Dinner, paid for from the boss’s own wallet… now understand at the outset, the callow yoof, Master Gallacher, came from an ‘umble WURKING-class background, where ‘lunch’ was called ‘dinner’ and ‘dinner’ was called ‘tea’… comes then the ultra-posh evening dinner at the former Malmaison Restaurant in the city’s gourmands’ supreme hallowed ground in the Grand Central Hotel

…it was the first time this lad had ever been in any restaurant, let alone one as high-class as this one… an evening with the promise of multiple Faux Pas opportunities beckoned… and in that respect, it did not disappoint… Faux Pas #1… a gentleman called a sommelier (a wine buff, Mabel, a wine buff) whom I thought was the barman, asked each of us at the table ‘what kind of kind of aperitif Sir would like to start his meal’... this young Sir requested a pint of lager with lime… a far cry from the dainty glasses of hooch that arrived for each of my dining companions…

…Faux Pas #2… the hor d’oeuvres trolley was brought to the table… a veritable mountain of food on offer… unhappily, I didn’t understand that hor d’oeuvres are intended as small ‘starters’, and promptly loaded my plate with enuff grub to feed a legion… resulting in the ensuing main courses being merely nibbled at…

…Faux Pas #3… at a break in proceedings Mister Galloway and myself had repaired to the mens’ room for bit of a bladder-emptying (the pint of lager, remember?)… some lavatory attendant fellow began to brush down the back of Mister Galloway‘s jacket, then started on mine… I was resisting the urge to punch the man for his forwardness, but luckily the boss stepped in and slipped the guy a couple of shillings’ tip and ushered me back out into the restaurant and the relative safety of the dining table… the balance of the evening has lapsed into rather muddier recollection in the intervening 50 years or so, but I believe at least another pint of lager or more may well have been involved… it just proves yet again, yeez can take the boy out of Docklands Govan in Glasgow, but...

…I can assure the epicureans amongst yeez that I have never again asked for a pint of lager and lime as an aperitif… see yeez later… LUV YEEZ!



Filed under Blether, Scribbling & Stuff

6 responses to “…yeez can take the boy out of Docklands Govan in Glasgow, but…

  1. Brilliant tale, Mr Gallacher, brilliant! … I too would’ve been guilty of such fox-poos as well. 🙂 … and still manage the occasional one here in the 21st century. 😀

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh, those genteel times…:)

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Great story, Seumas. When in doubt I wait and watch someone else who seems to know what to do. I was told by a much older cousin when she took me we to a more expensive restaurant than I was used to going, to start on the outside of a number of pieces of silverware and work in. The old saying about living and learning is certainly true. 🙂 — Suzanne

    Liked by 1 person

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