Paphos People

The Irish Nectar

The middle of March 1988, I was delivering Italian lounge bar furniture to the West Cork Hotel, Skibereen, County Cork, Ireland. The furniture had been imported by a company in the UK, collected by us and delivered by me to Ireland. This was on behalf of Louis Calleja, an outrageously flamboyant gay interior designer in the UK who was refurbishing the hotel interior.
It was the first time I had been to Ireland and I was really looking forward to the adventure. Louis was on the same boat, and promised to deal with all the customs procedure at Swansea and Cork. All went well at the Swansea end and I parked the lorry on the boat and went to my cabin. It was a shared berth with a couple of other drivers, both English. They had done the journey many times and guided me through the routine. It was an overnight crossing, dinner and breakfast was provided, and there was a bar. This sounded ideal.
After having a shower and a shave I went to explore the boat. It was a standard car/lorry ferry very comfortable all you would need for an overnight journey. I had a dinner ticket and on arriving in the dining room was directed to the trade area, not so posh. I spotted Louis as he came into the diner, tight trousers, an orange flouncy blouse and a patent leather ‘manbag’. He looked around for me and came over.
“Why are you sat in here?” he asked “You are my guest and will dine a la carte with me.”
I was whisked into the lounge and Louis, as a respected regular passenger, spoke to the head waiter. We were ushered to a table for two, and seated. A superb meal was served with whatever I wanted to drink. I chose a small beer (or two).
“Do you mind sitting with a poof, only some people do” said Louis with a simpering smile on his face. He was trying to make me feel awkward.
“No I don’t care what road you take, we all end up in the same graveyard in the end.” That seemed to satisfy him.
“Is your cabin alright?”
“Yes I’m sharing with two other drivers, its comfortable and I’m meeting them in the bar later for a drink.”
“Ooh lucky you” was his reply.
We discussed what the next couple of days had in store for us, once we were through the customs in Cork, he showed me the route to the hotel, it was about a hundred miles, no motorways in those days. He said that he had some items to return to the UK so we would pick them up after the hotel furniture was delivered.
The other guys were waiting in the bar for me, and I apologized for not being at dinner but Louis had insisted that I ate with him.
“We’ve seen him on the boat before, often wondered who he was. He teams up with one of the young waiters later on they seem to have a relationship going on if you know what I mean.”
I was quick to explain that I was just working for him and it was a strictly business arrangement.
It was a calm crossing, and I had a good night’s sleep, rising early for a not so healthy, but delicious, fried breakfast ready to disembark.
Through passport control and I parked up in the customs area. All the drivers went into the office with their documents Louis appeared with a folder full of paperwork.
“Stay here and I’ll get clearance.” He said and minced his way into the customs building.
About ten minutes later he reappeared with a uniformed officer.
“Can you open up the lorry for me?” he said.
I took the padlock off the back doors and opened them up. A wall of removal blankets was all he could see. The smell of the lacquer was overpowering.
He took a long sniff “Ah I love the smell of new furniture. OK Off you go.”
It was as easy as that, in pre European Union days.
Louis made sure I knew the route, then got into his Range Rover, with a cry of ‘See you there’ he was gone.
It was like stepping back in time driving the hundred miles to Skibereen, no by-passes, you drove through every town, down every high street. Because I had the company name and address on the van, that being CHELTENHAM I was greeted with waves and cheers because back home the Gold Cup festival was on at the moment.
Finally arriving at the hotel, I walked into reception.
“Hello Michael, you got here all right then” said the pretty receptionist with a gorgeous smile.
Slightly taken aback by the friendly greeting, I asked where I should park the lorry.
“Oh leave it there, it will be alright, the chef’s got a meal waiting for you.”
I was ushered through to the kitchen the staff table was set ready for me with a grinning Louis stood by it.
“I ordered you steak and chips with all the trimmings. Is that all right?”
After a few minutes a delicious meal was put in front of me which I ate with relish.
After I had finished, the staff, a very friendly bunch of people chatted generally and asked what I was doing over there when the Festival was on in Cheltenham.
I told them that I had never been to the races and that it was a relief to get out of the town for a few days as it was full of Irishmen. They all laughed, I’m glad to say.
That afternoon we unloaded the lorry into the lounge area, newly decorated to Louis specification. The owner of the hotel, John Murphy (I’m not kidding he was an absolute diamond) sat us all down on the new furniture and a buffet was served.
“What do you want to drink Michael, a beer I suspect after all that hard work, what do you normally drink?” He had a typical Irish lilt as if he was singing to you.
“Bitter please” I replied.
“Then you’ll love a pint of Guinness.”
I smiled, but inside I was thinking ‘Oh no, I can’t stand Guinness’ That went back to when I was a youth and had tried a pint of the stuff. I vowed I would never drink it again.
I stood and watched as the barmaid poured and scraped, topped up and scraped again.
“Give Michael a Jameson while he’s waiting” sang John.
At last the Guinness was ready and I really enjoyed it, in fact I had a couple more!

That is how I discovered the delights of Ireland and the Irish Nectar.

HAPPY ST PATRICKS DAY