Thomas Cook Dublin

A couple of weeks ago, I was directed to a story in the Irish Times and elsewhere about the sad end of the Thomas Cook branch in Grafton Street, Dublin. Actually, from what I can gather,it was he end of that company in that country completely, but it was that main branch closure that was of particular interest to me.

Recent economic difficulties had pushed the company to bring forward the already planned closure. They just shut the place down with virtually no notice. The staff, understandably, were not amused and locked themselves in. The dispute seems to have mostly boiled down to one over redundancy payments - how much they should get for each year of service. They put video clips up on Yoochoob and were eventually arrested by the Garda (Irish police) who turned up in seemingly excessive numbers to evict the staff.

None of that is what this post is about.

I'm not going to try to go into the rights and wrongs; I'm too far removed and it's really none of my business. I just wish them all well.

I just found the whole episode extremely sad. You see (many may already know), I had some of the best, and some of the toughest, days of my working life in that office.

This is the story of the 1976 Irish Bank Strike.

I had heard stories of the previous bank strike in Ireland six years earlier but by the time of the 1976 one, I was working in London as part of a small group of Foreign Exchange Cashiers who, in between developing and installing primitive (though, then, state of the art) computer systems, were sometimes made available as "emergency reliefs". We'd covered a flu epidemic in Glasgow, a mass suspension of staff at the London flagship branch (all but one later vindicated), and so on.

When the bank staff went home in Ireland, early in the Summer, they caused enormous disruption to everyday life; no way to get money out, nobody would take a check, nowhere for people like the bus company to get or deposit the vast amounts of small change they handled, no way to pay wages.....you can imagine, I'm sure.

One of the, truth be told, minor disruptions was that, at the start of the summer vacation season, there was nowhere, nowhere in the whole country, to change money. Well, there was ONE place. Under the law at the time, only the banks were allowed to sell foreign currency. There was ONE exception. You've guessed; the FE Dept of Thomas Cook, Grafton Street, Dublin.

If you were visiting Ireland and needed to change money, there were, in theory, a few other places you could go. Trouble was, there was nowhere THEY could go. This handful of jewellers shops,exchange bureaux etc. were in the habit of taking all the currency they bought to their bank. Oops. We got all that too.

Well, the four staff in the little FE cage were, as you can imagine, swamped. Two more staff from the Traveller's Cheque distribution centre upstairs were available to help (their customers were all banks!) and three of us Brits from London went over to try and help out.

7 to 9 people in a box built for 4, in Summer with no air conditioning. Sacks of money on the floor behind us because there was nowhere else to put them. Customers started arriving early in the morning and lining up outside. When the manager's wife Maeve (bless her) let the first ones in at 9am, the queue was already 4 hours long and never got any shorter.

Maeve would manage the queue all day, spelled from time to time by one of the travel agency staff whose customers couldn't get to them anyway. We could hope to serve the last one about 9.30pm, having blocked the end of the queue at 5pm. More business transacted in August alone than in the whole of the previous year - and that had been a record.

Besides the "real" FE stuff, we had to do other things just to "oil the wheels" - ours and everybody elses. CIE, the bus company, would send trucks round with all the change they had taken in bus fares - 100 Pounds per bag, mixed silver. We needed that for the tills but somebody needed to break it down into manageable bags and count it all. Bring on the travel staff again - they'd do this all evening. In exchange for the coin, we would pay the wages to the bus drivers and conductors. They would come in with their pay slips, we'd stamp them and pay them out of all the money people were spending on Spanish Pesetas et al.

Farmers and all sorts from the other end of the country would send their family members to Dublin on the train - an overnight trip for many - just to line up at Cook's all day, change the money for their family trip and go back again. For some, it was their first ever trip to Dublin.

It went on for about 10 weeks. I was lucky; I rotated in and out, doing three spells of two weeks, then back home to London to recuperate. The "regulars" were just stuck there. But for all the sweat and crazy conditions, I remember it as one of the happiest times of my working life - a real high spot.

I went back to Dublin to work, in more regular circumstances, several times and always loved it. From 1979 to the mid 80's, I considered it my second home. I doubt it would have been the same were it not for the experiences and friends made through adversity of the '76 bank strike.

So it was sad to see the old place shut down in such an ugly fashion.I could have just said that. I suppose, but then I like to tell stories.

If anyone knows where any of the following folks are - please let me know, or point them at this blog. I always think dedications are a bit hokey, but this entry is dedicated to:
Tommy Tobin (deceased),Maeve Tobin,Dave Adams,David Lalor, Paul O'Malley, Bob Beatty, Richard Brennan, Pat Byrne, Brian Latham and Malcolm Wing. Oh yes, and to Derry Troddyn (deceased) who sent me.

OK, OK, I know I'm VERY late this time.

It's been over a year and I've just read my last post - amazing what can happen in 14 months.

I'm going to try to pick up the threads of the last posts and update my ever-smaller gaggle of readers on developments since.

First , the DOGS. When last I wrote, we were excited about the arrival of Mokey, then 8 months old. She DID arrive on time, dressed up to the nines by the joker-breeder with ribbons and pearls. She was nervous after the flight but took an immediate liking to Bu (who is, after all, her half-brother) and, after a quick pee on the grass at the cargo terminal, came back to Hubbards with us.

She's been here 14 months now and is a delight. Smaller and MUCH lighter on her feet than Bu, I call her the VTD. Some of my ex-colleagues will immediately say "Virtual Trading Desk?????" but no. This time, it stands for "Vertical Take-Off Dog".

She has many indiosyncracies which I'm sure will come up in future posts. For now, let's just say she's an expert bed and couch hog, VERY attached to all of us, especially Bu, plays well with the cats. She currently has one of my old socks (of which there is no shortage) bandaged to her foot after getting a toe nail clipped a bit too close this afternoon but, otherwise, she's fine.

I'm back - thanks to Kevin O who links to here from his site. When I can remember how, I'll return the favour.

More soon (yeah, I know, you don't believe me).

Mokey Pending

Yes, I know, it never rains but it pours.

A month between updates, now here I am back on two concecutive days!

This time, a brief word about the impending excitement in our household. There's quite a lot really; a few big things in the works, any one of which would normally dominate.

Tonight, we are expecting Unicyclists. There is a big world-wide event passing through Hubbards today. 34 teams of Unicyclists, from 13 countries are taking part in the "Ride the Lobster 800k International Unicycle Race" and the time trial phase brings them right through our little town. It's the first event of it's kind anywhere anywhen and they are spending the night RIGHT HERE! Two of them are even going to sleep in OUR HOUSE! How exciting is THAT? Pretty cool huh? Major excitement what? Yep.

Then there's Friday night/Saturday morning. We are booked to play at the "Relay For Life" event in nearby Chester - at three in the morning. That's exciting too - only our second real gig here and part of a seriously cool event that should be a lot of fun. (Shame I have to work all day Saturday but hey, see previous post for why I hope that'll be OK, the guys'll keep me awake). Enough excitement for one week right? Wrong!

It is all overshadowed by what's supposed to be happening on Thursday afternoon. Regular readers will know that we lost our beloved L'Uther to bone cancer back in February. That left us with one dog (B'U the Standard Poodle, L'Uther's uncle and nephew (don't try, trust me, it works)) and two cats, Ricardo (aka Tardo) and Yoda The Ragdoll (aka Yoyo). We always knew this mix was uneven. Bu misses Lu, tries to get the cats to play all his giraffe-dog games which they really don't get and generally has a lonely time of it.

We also always knew there would be another dog in the house at some point but were not ready. THEN, last week, the breeder and friend from whom both dogs came, told us she had three 8 month old apricot bitches who had not been sold when they should have been because of other stuff that was going on at the time and, if we wanted one, she was ours.

We deliberated for about 1.07 nanoseconds and said yes. So, WestJet permitting, she arrives on Thursday afternoon. There was much hilarity for a couple of days - including all through wife's birthday/Fathers' Day dinner with daughters - trying to name said pup.

At one point, we had a less-than-original comedy sketch worked out around the line "Hi, this is my dog Bu and this is my OTHER dog Bu". We even wrote a song called "Me And You And Two Dogs Named Bu" but apparently something very similar has already been done!

Finally, we did what all serious minded people do when they have a serious problem of this sort. We reverted to childhood and mined the caverns of kids' TV. I never saw "Fraggle Rock" - wrong age, wrong continent - but it seems there was a hippy-like, female Fraggle (not even really sure what a Fraggle is/was, truth be told) called "Mokey". Suddenly, there was unanimity, consensus, agreement and a modicum of regret that the naming hilarity was over.

So, "Mokey" it is. She'll be a handful, no doubt, but cute as a button and a playmate for Bu and she might just even up the feline/canine balance a bit. Today was "Buying Of Stuff", a huge tug rope that Bu has already claimed and a couple of harnessy things that make it easy (sayth the label) to walk two dogs that a) can't agree on which way to drag you or b) CAN agree on which way to drag you or c) don't want to go ANYWHERE, even though you need to AND d) weigh more than you do. Not bad for $8.99 each if they work.

Don't forget to tune in for next week's exciting episode.

Good Thing I Said Nice Things About Them!

No famous people this time, just what this blog is SUPPOSED to be all about, a sorta kinda dyary thing.


Lots has happened since my last update so I hope there'll be a few in quick succession now.


Back when this whole blog idea was new and shiny, I did a brief series on "Shopping In Hubbards", one of the main parts of which was about my experiences in and impressions of the local liquor store, the NSLC (Nova Scotia Liquor Corporation) (see the entry on on December 13th 2007).

It's there for rereading by anyone who feels so inclined but, in a nutshell, I expressed the opinion that it was probably the nicest retail outlet in this small town and waxed lyrical about how impressed I was by the service, the selection and, incidentally, Nova Scotian wine.

I have also mentioned at least once that I have been job-hunting, albeit half-heartedly most of the time because of all the distractions and upheavals we've had since arriving here.

Well, here's the thing see. About a month ago, I went in the NSLC and noticed a sign on the door advertizing for a "Casual Clerk". I asked what that meant and came away with an application form. A very nice (unstressful) interview a week later and, Abracadabra, I now work there!

I've done a few short training stints, some on-line courses and, last Saturday, did my first full day. One of the training modules quite naturally and understandably goes into the need for confidentiality and so on and, since I only read it a few days ago and have no grounds whatsoever for claiming to have forgotten, I can't say too much about the details. I don't think anyone's going to mind, though, if I say a few nice things about the place an the people in general terms.

Before I do, I'd like to point out that I would not be doing this if it were not genuinely felt; I'd just shut up! This is not a place where I want to slag people. Neither is it a place for "brown-nosing". I work by the principle of "If ye cannot say owt good, say nowt".

So, although it's busy (very busy sometimes), sometimes strenuous (when the new stock comes in) and, frankly, highly repetitive, it has not ceased to be fun and neither do I expect it to. I've worked in enough different environments to be able to tell the difference between the novelty factor and a genuinely good place to be, and this is the latter.

As with every job I've ever had, from the most modest egg-delivery round to the biggest management responsibilities, the thing that makes the difference between enthusiasm and drudgery has ALWAYS been the people. If the job is "retail" in nature and involves the public, then they will naturally figure large in that equation. I've said before that this is a very frendly town with some of the nicest, straightest and most genuine folks it's ever been my pleasure to meet so there's no problem there. In any job where you have co-workers (A horrible word, try it without the hyphen for full effect. Brits should read "colleagues" or "work-mates" instead, much nicer), they, of course, make up the rest of it.

I've already commented on the staff's service skills and general professionalism but I now have a much deeper respect for them. The way they have accepted me, my idiosyncracies (I can see many readers nodding sagely about now!) and my too frequent confusions has been beyond any expectation I might have had. I feel at home there already and look forward to going in to work (I go in about 30 minutes for a four hour evening stint today).

They work hard, they work together, they help each other (especially me!) and they have fun. They crack jokes with the customers and each other, they do it right, but not "stiffly right", they know their stuff and are not backwards in sharing their experience. There are the usual grumbles about the sillyness (usually, as elsewhere, directed at the systems which, I have to say, are pretty good but have the usual nonsensical bits) but none of the cynicism I've grown used to in recent years. It really is a breath of fresh air.

OK, I have 30 minutes to proof-read this (you reading this, folks who write the training modules?), post it, get changed into my brand-new, freshly laundered NSLC uniform and
drive the six minutes to work.

So, to close, I say thank you, NSLC Hubbards people, all of you, good bunch one-and-all, for taking this Old World dinosaur into your midst and for all your help in getting me started. I'm Lovin' It, and it ain't even McDonald's.

After a long absence, MORE FAMOUS PEOPLE

The apologies for my long neglect of this blog are, I know, wearing thin. I am therefore not going to make any more - so there.

Before the two posts about poor L'Uther, I was boring everyone with my encounters with famous people as suggested (sort of) by Nellie Of Vancouver.

We were in 1967, I believe, and had just met Tony Blackburn. Oh wow, how could you all have waited so long to see who's next???

Wait no longer, gentle readers, for, with a new simplified format, here is the continuation.

1968. Les Gray and the rest of MUD. "Who?" I hear the non Brits in the audience asking. Well, some years later, about 1971, I think, Mud became quite the pop sensation. They were part of the same Chinn & Chapman stable that gave the world The Sweet, to name but three. Hits like "Tiger Feet", "The Cat Crept In", "Lonely This Christmas" and "L'L'L'Lucy" abounded for several years. Back in '67, though, they were a struggling local group, playing, among other things, school dances. That's how I met them. They were a wannabe psychedelic group back then; they ALL were. Their first single for CBS was even called "Flower Power" ! It was pretty poor and sold both its copies at Thorpe's Record Bar (qv). I was a wannabe too at the time (we all were), but I was a wannabe drummer. I had the sense of rhythm (still do) but not the dexterity (still don't). Anyway, one sad, best forgotten night, I actually got to play their kit for a while, in front of about 20 people in our school hall. We were the "support" act (mostly to make them feel important I think, for we served no other purpose). Our school dances were odd affairs, mostly because we were a boys only school and, although the girls' school were invited, only about six usually showed up and the whole point was to hear the band (note the singular) and get to the pub before it closed. The only converstation I remember was with the drummer (natch, although his name escapes me) and it wasn't so much a conversation as it was a warning concerning what would happen to me if I hurt his drums. I didn't. That was the only success that night.

There are probably more in between but the next one that comes to mind is......

1976. Rolf Harris. This is one of the biggies. Both because Rolf is genuinely famous just about everywhere and because I actually did meet meet the man, FOUR times, and had a conversation with him each time. Wow, so close to greatness.
I was staying in a hotel in Newcastle-Upon Tyne where I was working for the week. Rolf and his TV crew were staying there too, while shooting an episode of a TV show where Rolf went to primary schools and sang and painted with/for the kids. I never got to see the Geordie episode, though I deliberately watched the show when I could in the hope that I would.
Our meetings took place over breakfast. The first morning, Monday, I went into the restaurant of the hotel to see that a long table had been put together down he middle of it and about 16 or so people were all having brekkie together. I paid no real attention. The waitress warned me, though, in her best Geordie, that my "Full English" might "tek a mite langer" because they were "Jest afta tekkin a big orda y'see pet",and she pointed knowingly at the big table. When I looked where she pointed, I saw a very familiar face - Rolf - smiling back at me, presumably having heard the waitress. I smiled back, like you do, and stuck my head in my book.
Some while later, the crowd at the big table had thinned to just Rolf and a couple of producer types, everybody esle having gone off to set up the day's shoot. I could hear the jokes passing back and forth and laughed at something I'd heard. Rolf shouted over something like, "Bring yer coffee over'ere sport, no good sittin' over there on y'r own". So I did. Sat there with them for another 20 minutes or so before we all trotted off to work. Same thing the next three days.
Now, Rolf has taken some flak down the years for things like "Two Little Boys", "Stairway To Heaven" (yes, he covered it) et al but let me go on record as saying he was the nicest, funniest, humblest and definitely friendliest celebrity I could ever wish to meet. I'm sure he doesn't remember me from Jan '76 in Newcastle but, if I should ever run into him again, he's the ONLY one on all this list whose memory I would feel comfortable enough to jog. Fair play to you Rolf, you're a true star.

More soon
Dyve out.

L'Uther

Very quick today. No wisdom, no stories.
L'Uther, as I type, has about 75 minutes.
He has an appointment at 3pm, and it will be his last.
Back to happy stuff next time, promise.
Won't even see February out, damn leap years!

There ain't no justice

Just a quick, diary type, note today.
Just a year to the day since my wife's father died of bone cancer, we have just come back from the vet having learned, as near to surely as makes no difference, that our beloved L'Uther, the less-than-two-year-old red standard poodle who has been in charge of everything since the day we got him, has bone cancer too.

He's been limping, losing weight, resting and generally not being quite right for a while now and we've been waiting for the radiology lab to catch up after yet another series of bad weather days and give us their thoughts on the Xrays taken early last week. It's not QUITE conclusive but, in part because there's nothing else that could plausibly cause his problems, we are told to expect the worst. Morphine and a few months (if we're lucky) of being spoiled rottten. That's all there is for him.

He deserves a whole lot better. My wife, who loves him more than anybody BUT him deserves, also deserves better; our girls, who love him much too much too, deserve better; his uncle/nephew (yes, both!) Bu deserves better too. He's losing his playmate, allbeit slowly, and won't even know why. That shouldn't happen to a dog. Come to that, "I" deserve better too. I love him too, damn it. Much as I always curse when he has to inspect ALL the new snow before performing his ballet entitled (if I'm translating this right from the original poodle) "L'Uther Poohs In The Snow Very Slowly But With Great Style", when he just stares at me from the couch when he knows full well what's needed of him. Oh he can be a pain sometimes but we ALL love him and, for the last time I say, he deserves MUCH better.

Well, my role in all this now, I suppose, is to not get too morose; stiff upper lip and all that bull. Hold the fort, be there (wherever the hell that might be) and just DO whatever it is that has to be done.

So this is my little rant about injustice, and it stops right here. I'll keep my loyal (and frustrated) readers, many of whom are L'Uther's friends too, updated as time goes on but you won't hear THIS theme again. Done. Just dealing with reality after this. Good luck L'Uther. As I put in my Facebook profile a few minutes ago, I hope you have some good times coming. You're a trooper, a star, a very special dog (I know they all say that but even other dog owners admit, this guy's unique) and you deserve SO MUCH more than this (Oh OK, so it wasn't QUITE the last time just now, but THIS is).
Thanks for reading, folks, typing this has helped.
I'm glad I have a blog. I ignore it most of the time but, today, I'm very glad it's here.