Welcome back gentle reader. In the last episode I had just moved to London to work in Westminster with the Overseas Labour Service, the Government Department responsible for issuing Work Permits to foreign nations to work in UK. My team was the Sports and Entertainment Unit considering applications for any sportsperson or entertainer, that is every musician, band with a gig in the UK or actor playing in the theatre or shooting a movie. As you can imagine is was an amazing job for me with my keen interest in all sport, music, theatre and movies. I knew my stay in London would be limited as the Department intended to relocate to Sheffield in the near future. I was determined to make the most of this opportunity. I quickly settled into my lodgings, a Hotel just 20 minutes walk to the office in Tothill Street Just next to Westminster Abbey. As a regular visitor to the smoke I knew the area well so was surprised that the vast majority of my colleagues knew nest to nothing about the history of the area and none of them had actually visited the Abbey even though it was something they saw every day. I have to say most of them lived on the outskirts of London as our poor salary didn’t allow them to afford accommodation anywhere closer. Most of their money went on travelling into work. As I was deemed to be on “detached duty” I was given a significant allowance which meant I had more spare cash than at any other time. The landlords of Old London Town were delighted. I had been used to being skint after the first week of the month and struggling on for the next 3 weeks until payday. For the first month I did not even touch my salary being able to live comfortably on the allowance. It got to the point where my Bank, in Redcar phoned me at work to check if I was still alive as I had not emptied my bank account in the first few days after payday, So I took to showing my new friends the sights of London, especially the boozers, naturally. It was my civic duty.
I settled into a weekly routine of going to the pub or a gig after work and exploring more widely at the weekend usually with my mate Putney Jim. If Jim was not available I would usually wander to the end of the road and visit the Orange pub. Which has its own brewery. The SW5 bitter was particularly fine then walk on to Sloane Square and the Kings Road, Chelsea with the occasional pint in the Chelsea Potter. I was in my element. Doing a great job, getting paid a reasonable salary and living in my favourite city. It was Boroman, the Golden Years. I have literally hundreds of stories about going to gigs, and the wonderful pubs of London and meetings with famous sportspeople, actors and musicians as a normal part of my job. To give a flavour I will relate a couple of examples.
I had just approved a Work Permit for BB King to perform at the Royal Albert Hall. The promoter knew I was a fan and asked if I would like to go to the gig with a friend as guest. Oh go on then. After a couple of pints in the Feathers we got a cab to Kensington High Street for a couple in the Goat. A boozer I had first encountered in the late 70s. The beer had improved from the war London fog served up on my first visit. It was a short walk to the gig from there. I had been to the Albert previously to see one of Eric Claptons Blues Nights with Robert Cray and Buddie Guy. Tickets were very expensive and I was sat way back in the depths of the Hall. I expected something similar for tonights affair. I picked up the tickets from the Box Office and they were in a presentation wallet. That’s odd I thought. We entered and it was to my surprise/shock that it appeared we were in one of the executive boxes on the first floor. The box seated about 15 but was empty. A table at the back held various items of food plus wine/beer. Result. We got stuck into the freebies like it was the Last Supper as we were joined by two of the promoters. After the support band finished their set we were ushered into a small conference room for cajun food and more free drinks. On returning to the box the goodies had been restocked. Nice. It was more noticeable. However. That the box next door was occupied by none other than the erstwhile guitar god of Led Zeppelin, Mr James Page. “Oy Pagey keep it down, some of us are trying to listen to the music” I suspect his table of goodies include a few white lines, some pills and a groupie or three. Good on yer Jimmy. Anyway listening to BB King with a full orchestra is heaven to me and he did not disappoint. As the last blue notes floated into the rafters of the Albert we were invited to a reception in a large room at the top of the building. There were about 100 people there and we were offered more excellent food, drinks and copies of BB Kings latest cd. The room then went silent as the Blues Master entered the room and proceeded to glad hand the crowd then set up to sign the cds. I stood in line and faced with one of my musical heroes was dumbstruck when he signed the album. When I recovered my equilibrium I thought this is too good an opportunity to miss so I rejoined the queue. As I presented BB my programme for signing he said haven’t I seen you somewhere before, with a massive smile. What a legend.
As well as the Entertainment field we considered applications for Sportspersons to play in the UK. We would meet with each sports Governing bodies to agree the level of player to be allowed to play here. This was often quite contentious as different bodies had different ideas of the appropriate level to allow the best internationals to play whilst still allowing development of home grown talent. A meeting at Twickenham proved to be particularly tricky. At the time to English Rugby Football Union were determined to prepare for a serious tilt at the upcoming World Cup so didn’t want any foreign players in the English League. The Irish, Scots and Welsh were keen to develop their own leagues so wanted foreign internationals to help achieve that. There was a Mexican standoff and things got a bit heated. These were all ex players an some of them were big lads. I genuinely thought it would kick off. Thankfully, after a time out they agreed to compromise and the rules were set. Phew. One of the first permits we issued was to an All Black to play for a London Club. He actually came to the office to pick up his permit and when I handed it to him he was so huge he blocked out the light. What a unit. Anyway 10 minutes into his debut he punched the opposition Number 8, was sent off and never played in UK again.
We were invited to a matinee performance of the Elixir of Love at the Royal Opera House. It was a pre tour show which allowed the press to post reviews before the run started so no paying customers just press and invited guests. So I turned up for work in a rented tux and bow tie. Me and colleagues Remi and Marcus took full advantage of the free drinks and canapes before watching the performance. I’m not a massive fan of Opera but it was impressive to hear the female lead, a tiny Korean lady blast out her songs with a voice that could strip wallpaper from 300 yards. On the way back from the Opera Hose we stopped at a few pubs on the Mall, the Old Shades, the Admiralty and the Red Lion amongst them. We got back to work in our finery just in time to go to the works bar over the road. Not a bad day at work.
After more than two years in London a date was agreed for the Department to move permanently to Sheffield (cradle of the Anglogalician) and leave the smoke. Very few of the Londoners wanted to relocate to the grim North (none of them had actually been North of Watford of course) so we started recruiting Sheffielders for sort terms to allow for a smoother transition. A couple of the lads asked if I wanted to share a flat with them for the couple of months before the move, to save costs on accommodation. Typical Yorkies. I agreed somewhat reluctantly leaving the uptown Sloane Square area for Penge. Yes Penge, full of porcos bravos. Situated next to Crystal Palace on the edge of deepest South London it was, to be honest, a shit hole. The locals didn’t like anyone North of the river Thames so you can imagine what they though of someone from the North East. It was like being an alien so after trying out the local pubs, all warm beer and knuckle scraping neanderthal locals I tended to continue to go into the City for a pint. I could write a book on the pubs I have visited in London but some of them are ones I still visit today like the Museum Tavern, opposite the British Museum, the Princess Lousie, Holburn, the Citte of Yorke and the Porcupine on Charing Cross Road being a few.
On the last day in London one of our friends, a major music promoter, wanted to thank us for our work so brought three boxes of fine wines to the office. Of course our management said we couldn’t accept the gift as Civil Servants were not allowed to do so. That seemed a bit rich being three hundred yards from the House of Parliament Where of course no one accepts any handouts!?! Anyway we simply took the boxes of wine to the bar opposite the office and broke them open. We then moved to a friends flat in North London and I ended the night/morning smashed and playing air guitar to Otis Rush. I prepared to leave then next day nursing an almighty hangover but feeling great which just about summed up my time there. So me my friends Juremi and Marcus wedged into his Citroen tin Lizzy and set off North to the Steel City. More of that in the next instalment.
