RIP Dad

Picked up may Dad's ashes today, yet another reminder that he's gone. It's a strange and horrible yet lovely thing grief because it never goes away. I still grieve my Mum and that was 30 odd years ago. I now grieve my Dad and it's raw, it's intense and it's all the bloody time. My head keeps reminding me to go and check on him, a constant excursion in his last few months and every time the realisation kicks in that he's no longer here it hurts again... and again, and again. Having already been through this with Mum, I know it will never go away. It may become less frequent, I know it will. It may become less of a shock, I know it will. It will also become less intense, less tear jerkingly painful and yet it will never go away. But that's the lovely part, I know that I won't forget him, my memories will stay as vivid as they are today and my love won't subside or fade away and that's a comfort.

I was supposed to read the eulogy below at the funeral but I just couldn't, I definitely don't recommend you trying to either as it's pretty much impossible. I would recommend though, should you find yourself in the same sorry situation, having a stand by plan! I was very fortunate that I had a Stokesy, my best mate for many years and my brother for life. He read it out brilliantly with zero preparation and combined with his music and everyone else's input (My girls were amazing!) it was the best send off I could of hoped for given the current restrictions and covid related regulations.

Here's the eulogy:

Graham, Dad, Grandad... Grandad to many, even down his local... not just his 9 actual grandkids! And of course Great grandad as well.

Where do you start with encapsulating his life and his impact on us all?

I think by trying to sum up the things he loved.

Firstly he loved a bit of politics! He loved his protests, and he loved his freedom, he loved the Labour party. He also loved his cars.

He was shop steward and involved with the unions in his factory, always fighting for workers rights. He stood in the local elections, for Labour obviously! We went round with a bloody great tannoy on the roof of his black Ford Capri, one of his many classic cars! He went round with a tannoy again, with me in 2015, his passion for that campaign was as strong as ever and he was brutal to everyone standing against his son on election night. The Liberal candidate actually detoured outside and around rather than walk past him!! The Tory dare not even glance in his direction!
He was also very active during the miners strike, raising funds and staging protests that got national tv coverage.


He loved monkeys and frogs, he loved animals, he loved a character!

I bet pretty much everyone in this room has bought him a frog or monkey souvineer from somewhere in the world, I know I have! He wrote 'Great uncle salamander', his book. It was based around a group of amphibians struggling with the implications of human progress on the natural world. It was tongue in cheek and funny in places, filled with his humour and his insights into environmental issues that we all now take for granted. It was written nearly 40 years ago though! Hence the frogs... everywhere in his house! I'd always send Cade and Baby off to count them so I could have a chat to him in peace and they never once came back with the same number.
The Monkey thing came about as he loved the the tv show, Monkey world. Me and my kids would go round and cook him a Sunday roast and the poor kids were subjected to hour after hour of monkey world!  Ness took him up see them for a day out and he knew every monkey, its history and its mannerisms. He hated a fuss or to be taken out but this was one day out that Ness absolutely smashed, he loved it.
He had a pet shop in the 70's and once thought his Boa constrictor had eaten a one year old me! He couldn't find it, or me. Luckily my mum had taken me for a stroll but there was a minor panic that I was often reminded of! We always had dogs growing up, he loved one called Ricky in particular. I think because he was a bit nuts! I remember Ricky jumping out of the passenger window of the car one day. Doesn't sound too dramatic but we were doing about 30! He also ate the door of the downstairs toilet once when he got locked in there for bad behaviour! He was a character, Dad loved a character.

He loved The mighty Villa

He was a regular during this time up at Villa park, supporting the mighty villa! His favourite player was Brian Little and he always reminded me of the time he went up in 1976 and stood in the Holte end to watch us put 5 past Liverpool, in the first half! Liverpool were the best team in Europe at the time! His love for the Villa never died despite the highs of the 70's and early 80's never quite being repeated. His lack of mobility led to cutting down his trips up to Villa park and the last game he attended was with me, at Villa park vs Ajax. We were seated about 20 yards from the Ajax support, thousands of them... if you think that would stop him and keep him quiet then well... you didn't know Graham!

He loved pubs, he loved a drink, he loved a joke, he loved socialising, he loved to dance.

He always had a 'local', and everyone knew where to find him if the pubs were open! There was the Lion and the Rum hole in Harlech. The Woodlands and the Royal exchange in Leamington. The Malt Shovel in Bishops, too many to name them all. The various pubs me and Ness have ran over the years. He loved a pint, he loved the banter and the friendships. He loved being made welcome and he loved helping his mates out if they needed it or relying on them if he needed it. He loved to hold court and tell jokes, usually pretty bad ones! When he lived in Bethesda his local was the Bull. He got into a very nasty car crash and broke his pelvis in 3 places, ruining his mobility for ever more. This was all pre social media days though and as the gossip spread about his crash there was a kind of Chinese whispers effect resulting in the rumour going around the Bull was that he'd broken his penis in 3 places! He absolutely loved that rumour and never even tried to correct it!! 
He loved the 60's music scene, and he loved to take my mum for a jive when they were courting, his dancing was pretty unique and if he was ever on the dance floor you needed to stand well clear!
He loved a pint, real ale if it was well kept! He'd soon let you know if it wasn't! He loved a red wine, a port and brandy, the occasional newcy brown! He loved a whisky but we kept him away from that because he also loved an argument!


He loved working, and working hard gave him a great sense of pride. He loved his poetry. He loved to travel.

He'd sometimes have to walk the 7 miles to and from work when he was at AP, up at 5:45 every morning, do a full day and walk back. They had a blackboard for him at work so he would write a poem on to cheer everyone up, he wrote one most days, he'd then scrub it off and write a new one,  he'd often remind me that he'd deleted more poems than he ever saved! He worked hard to play hard. He loved saving if he had a goal, such as Vanesssas' wedding or his world trip. He travelled the world and loved every second, particularly the time he got to spend with his brother in Australia and his girlfriend Liz in Canada.

He loved a bit of DIY.

He built a conservatory once, in his house, in Bishops Itchington. We got goats and he filled it with hay, he then fell off his stack of hay bales and ended up in hospital! He then rebuilt his house, knocking bits down and installing a lovely fireplace. He was so proud of it that one day he leant on it when showing it off to a friend... not thinking that it'd be hot... he lost a whole layer of hand skin and was back to the hospital again... a recurrent theme in his life!  

He loved his family. He loved his friends. We made him proud.

He Loved his mum, my gran, he cared for her in her later years. We all loved her to be fair, she was a great woman. He spent the last few years of his life doting on her and caring and cleaning for her and he moved into her flat when she passed. He loved his Dad but found it difficult to establish a relationship with him. He loved his wife, Carol, courting her throughout the swinging 60's. He loved his cousins Anthony and Peter. He loved Cess from Wales, his friend Jane Worsdale, Eli from Bethesda and his last big love Liz from Leamington (and Canada!) There was no point in his life that I saw him prouder than when he walked Vanessa down the aisle. He loved that she was happy and he loved Gordon for helping to make her happy. He loved worrying about every single one of us. He even loved my ex wives! He'd always want to know the ins and outs of everyones progress and relished in every little success we had; be it sporting, academic, political or work related. He was immensely proud of everyone in this room and that brings us to the most important thing he loved. He loved you all.

RIP Dad.

The Railway, Edgware, part 2: A smashing time

We're out shopping. There's a nice shopping centre just minutes away and we've walked down. Getting on, laughing and joking and looking from the exterior like the happiest couple around. This a mirage we perfected, especially in later years, but mostly it's real because a lot of recent tension was dissipated last night when we had a few drinks after time with Mike. JJ wanted to experiment with her first and only ever doobie experience! It was funny, we'd obviously all had a few drinks but after we had a smoke JJ just went into a trance like state and started complaining that the floor was coming towards her and back, kind of vibrating but on a massive scale! She asked me to carry her upstairs to bed and I did, in my best gentlemanly way. Put her to bed, kissed her and told her I loved her and committed right there and then to book her a ticket home today. So the mood is good and the moment is real, genuine domestic bliss for a change.

Cade stumbles and I catch him. He's got those reins on, the ones that have a handle for the parent. He looks up at me, dangling in mid air, mischief and adventure in his eyes and I lower him again carefully until he's stable on his chubby little legs to go again. What a perfect encapsulation of parenting these things are! If they wander off course you can correct them and yet there's the freedom to try and go wherever the kid wants. If they fall you have about half a second to react and save them from hitting the concrete. And only by being a good attentive parent do you achieve this face/hand/body injury saving reaction. They get used to it though and they test you by falling on purpose and pushing the boundaries of their movement. There it is in one little piece of strung together harness: catch me if I fall dad, keep me on the right track... always loved those reins!

Christian has been round with some potential buyers. I'm a bit concerned as I'd been promised at least 3-6 months and we're only 2 months into it but it's only a potential sale and he reassures me by saying it will probably be the first of many viewings. Everything has been going great, week on week growth in all 3 of my areas. Bar snacks are now being served too, nothing too flash but I've got a fryer working so I'm offering a few 'with chips' meals and some sandwiches.

The Upstairs bar is flying at weekends, Laco and Romana are both doing a great job of running and promoting it and I'm happy to leave them to it. I pop up and check on them during their busy evenings, make sure they've got everything they need and loosen their reins a bit more! The nights they have up there are fantastic though, everyone seems to have a great time and it's providing a real meeting point for the euro ex pats to get together and enjoy a bit of familiar company. Romana's food is to die for and she feeds me at every opportunity bless her.

Downstairs is where I'm focusing my efforts though and after the shopping trip I do a bar shift and introduce the idea of a pool night. Karaoke has been going well, too well if anything and we're getting rammed at the weekends. Pool would be a midweek distraction, anyone who's ever been in one of my pubs knows I love a pool night! The locals are keen and the head traveler guy Tom says he'll bring a few players in, I propose a warm up event later in the evening and leave the idea in the air. The lovely Marti comes in for her shift I head upstairs for a hard earned break, I'm not there for long though.

"Roy... Roy, I need help" is the call up the stairs to where I was just drifting into a comfortable snooze. I sit up, shake it off and head down to see what the commotion is thinking it's probably a barrel that needs changing. It's not though, it's 5 lads from the traveler site, at least that's my theory judging by the accents. They've strolled in and sat down with bottles of bud in hand and attitude turned on to a full 'fuck you'. We don't sell bud... It's a difficult one because I can sense immediately that they are here to cause trouble. I try and placate them, asking them to take the drinks outside and to feel free to use my benches. I offer this with the proviso of being welcome to come back when they want to purchase a beer from the bar. But it’s a no go and they start prowling the bar whilst hurling abuse.

It’s not going to end well so I send Marti away, telling her to call the police from the kitchen and stay out out of sight but she’s worried about me seeing me worry about them and how this was all unfolding. It’s futile calling the police in situations like this, always done and dusted by the time they arrive but Marti doesn’t know this, and hopefully neither do the boys. My relationship with the travelers is on the line now as well. There’s not many places that accept them, let alone welcome them so the whole altercation is full of ramifications.

The head boy is stalking while he’s talking, I can see his hand has gone to his pocket and I’m worried about a blade as he seeks his opening to attack. Liams' bloody comeuppance is fresh in my mind and I really don’t want to add my blood to the these well worn walls. The boys had started off in the lounge but they’re now in the bar, heading for the far end of the staple and presuming an entry point. Luckily there isn’t one but they keep goading me to come out and talk to them, I refuse and continue my tactic of calm discussion, reasonable compromise and constant reminders that the police have been called. I'm usually pretty good in these circumstances, dealing with dickheads and aggro, probably because I've spent time being the dickhead and the aggro!! Could of definitely of done with Cades' reins at certain stages of my life...

The back and forth goes on for what seems like an eternity, adrenaline flows through me and I’m as ready as I can be to react but the lad is lightning quick when his hand finally comes out of his pocket and his aim is, to be fair, outstanding. It’s not a knife though, thank fuck! It’s pepper spray and he gets me with a perfect bullseye (or royseye). The boys erupt into whooping, yelling and laughter as they exit the pub on the rub. I can’t see anything but I’m just about holding it together as the few regulars that were in head towards the windows to watch them go.

SMASH, CRASH!! There’s an explosion of noise as the first of five windows go through. I yell at everyone to get back as a hail of broken windows, beer and shattered Budweiser bottles fill the front bar and cover the pool table with debris. I can’t see shit, my eyes sting like hell, they’ve gone but for how long, and what a mess, the front bar looks like a war zone. Marti helps me wash my eyes out and escorts me up the stairs to a concerned JJ, woken from her rest by the imploding windows. I have a smoke, try to open my screaming eyes and attempt to get my heart rate down and stop shaking as my adrenaline flow disperses through my body. Fuck... looks like the pool comp is off!

I head back downstairs after recovering somewhat, red eyed and still shaky but in need of a pint. The police call back to see if we still need them, cheers guys! My reply was not all too polite as i remind them we called over an hour ago. I settle into my pint as Marti and Romana, who’s come in after hearing about the chaos, finish clearing up the mess.

This is a big setback, nothing that can’t be patched up and it won’t affect the premises operating but all of my hard work with the travelers is in tatters. I can’t let this slide but what can I do. The bottom of my pints fail to provide an answer (they never do...) and so I eventually head to bed and finally rest my red and ruined eyes.

In the cold light of day I resolve to head up to the site on the A44 and find Tom. He’s the head honcho and I know from the time I spent staying on such a site in my youth that the hierarchical system in place would at least offer me hope of settling this mess. Everyone, literally everyone, tries to talk me out of what they consider madness but luckily Tom turns up for a pint before I can put that plan into motion. I pour him up a Guinness and ask him to come sit with me. He’s appalled by what’s gone on and apologises instantly and sincerely. He says he’ll be back later, he says the windows will be fixed and he says that those responsible will be in to apologise personally. He also says I’m ‘off me rocker’ and would of gotten nowhere near him on the site! He gives me a phone number to contact if there’s any future problems and he’s off, dumping a £20 on the bar to buy the staff a drink.

The windows get fixed and the boys come in, tails between legs and apologise, saying they didn’t know where they were and it should never of happened in Toms’ local. They're mostly sincere but I can sense the underlying resentment, they’re only here because the gaffer has told them to be. For me though it’s a great result and I relax into my role once more over the next few weeks with some memorable weekend nights flitting between my bars.

Christian pops by to tell me that the guys who viewed have submitted an offer, not just has it been submitted but it’s being carefully considered. He wants me to start scaling back my growth, he’s effectively telling me to get ready to move on. JJ is off to Korea in 2 weeks and I suddenly start to worry about her having a home to come back to! Christian also wants to start clearing the stockpiles of pub crap from the cellar. I’m not happy and break the news to the guys. It puts us all on a downer but it’s the weekend so we need to buck up our ideas, raise the corners of our mouths into a smile and go again, hospitality 101.

I fire off an email to Pat, my area manager from my stint in Plymouth and he calls me up saying that he's in London next week and he'll pop by for a game of golf ("you do play golf right Roy?") and a chat. It's an encouraging outcome and i'm pretty sure there's a set of clubs down in the cellar, there's literally everything you could ever need there so I'm not surprised when I find a set. I have played golf, but not very much of it, I learnt on what is claimed to be the highest golf course in Britain in a place called Llan Ffestiniog. It was a 9 hole course set up for the workers at the nearby nuclear power station and later opened to the public when the power station was decommissioned. Always rainy, on top of a mountain and sheep with all over the course keeping the greens nibbled nicely... ("yeah, I play golf Pat, see you next week!")

The staff are worried, Laco especially so as he sees all the investment of his time coming to a premature end but we're in the same boat he realises, as we sit and discuss how it will all play out. This is the night the police choose to pay their second visit. Not for Liam, there's no drama, and no initial concern from me. I welcome the visit and invite the officer in from the doorstep where he's standing awaiting my presence. It’s nearly 11 o’clock and I’ve just come down from Laco to close the front bar. He tells me he's the new community officer and that he'd like me to close, now, as he's expecting trouble. I explain my closing routine and tell him that I'm just starting the process and that I've never had any trouble closing but no, he's insistent. "Shut it down, all of it, now". It's the same guy I gave the runaround by not grassing on Liam and my response to the phone call seems to have circulated the local station. I think he sees this as some kind of payback and maybe he's trying to exert his authority. Either way it's gonna be a shitshow....

And so I start the close, but not after asking him to stay around and help me enforce the closure. He says he'll be back shortly and orders me to get started. Absolute chaos ensues, the Europeans come down and spill into the locals, fights kick off, the travelers come out and weigh in. My tables go over creating a barricade that spills into the road, there's a stand off as the locals regroup behind this newly created fortress but then the missiles start coming in over the top. Rocks, bottles anything to hand are flying this way and that as I shepherd the staff inside and lock the doors. It's carnage by the time the police get back, not the one 'community officer' but a full on riot squad and the battle rages into the night. That officer probably went back to the station and told his mates that his gut feeling about trouble had been right! After it all dies down I go out to recover what's left of my tables and manage to salvage most of them. It's all a bit of a reality check and for the first time I think to myself that maybe moving on isn't such a bad idea.

Christian is back. The sale is going through, "wrap it up Roy, start running down your stock". Great... I've done 10 weeks, took the place from zero to hero, conducted diplomacy Kofi Annan would be proud of and had a full on riot initiated by police 'help' and that's it, we're done. He wants me to be ready to go in 2 weeks. I call Pat to sure up our meeting, then break it to the guys that have been working their asses off for me these last few months. It's so sad because it's been such a roller coaster and the end has come before the beginning has even got into full swing. We all vow to make the best of the last few weeks and soldier on.

Pat drags me round the local 9 hole course, you can see he's embarrassed to be playing with such a crap player but in fairness he keeps offering me tips and advice. I think the tension in my shoulders is affecting my swing but then I don't really have a swing so who the fuck am I kidding! He absolutely destroys me with his golf and his Irish banter but I do have a couple of slightly better than mediocre shots and a lot of tips to ponder so I feel like I've improved. It was definitely fun.

More importantly we discuss this pub he's got in Colwyn Bay called the Prince Madoc. He's not happy with the current manager there and given my stellar performance in the big city he thinks I will go down well up there. I mention the time frame factors, JJ will be away from next week and I should be leaving after 2 but have a little bit of wiggle room. The Prince Madoc is another 3-6 monther, they're looking to sell it on and just want the trading figures to pick up a bit. we agree the basics and he agrees to get me a moving truck for my stuff and it's all set.

And so, 12 weeks after I rolled into London and with JJ in Korea with Cade I roll back out again and off up the motorway to North Wales. I have a lot of sadness to be leaving the great little team so recently formed. I'm definitely gonna miss the money as well, it was coming at me from all angles but what can you do, sometimes you just have to roll with the blows and me being me I was already planning for the next adventure. I just hope Colwyn Bay will be better for me than the last time i was there*...



*I was in care as a child in Colwyn bay, click The Park story links below if you wanna read about that chaos!
The Park part 1
The Park part 2

The Railway, Edgware part 1: Blood, sweat and tears.

There was a time when I was actually considered to be pretty good at running pubs. To be fair I'd generally been sent into chaos and done pretty well. I'd be sent to pubs that were either for sale or struggling or both. Sometimes they'd been closed when I got there and sometimes they'd been run into the ground. Always though... always, they were a challenge, usually a fun one but a challenge none the less. The theory was that I was pretty good at rectifying problem pubs, not a reputation I ever wanted and not one I'd recommend. I was good at diplomacy and talking shit, talents I've still got! I'd walked into some shitholes and some chaos but this place was pretty spectacular.

The Railway Hotel, Station r'd, Edgware. 

The place was huge, as you walked through the front door there was a bar room to the right and a lounge to the left with the bar itself forming the shape of a long unused staple bridging the two rooms. There was a huge kitchen central and set back between the rooms. The massive car park was located around the back, you could drive through and between ourselves and next door by turning left just after the bus stop and going through the tunnel. Some nice picnic tables and seating were out front. A function room which was accessible up stairs on the left of the building as we look here which took up half of the second floor, another kitchen there too and 4 lodging rooms that the staff had been using. Then there was a 3rd floor with the management accommodation. The cellars were like a rabbit warren, with 2 separate areas for the upstairs and downstairs bars, tunnels, storage rooms and so much space it was crazy. The restaurant next door (later an off license) which is the building on the right of the picture belonged to George Michaels' dad. Sounds lovely doesn't it?! There's a YouTube video made recently highlighting its current plight, I'm guessing when he mentions 2007 and closing, that was when I left, click on the link if you want a look The Railway Hotel, Edgware road

The only part of the pub that was trading when I rolled into London was the front bar. I'd got a van load of my stuff, a baby Cade and an unhappy Mrs Freer. The car park was overgrown and hardly usable but I found a spot and looked over my seemingly impressive new domain. However, it was far from idyllic. There was unused furniture and crap clogging up the lounge area, the kitchen was full of cooking equipment, fridges, freezers, and black bags full of rubbish blocking the room and causing chaos with access to the first flight of stairs up to the staff lodgings.

Three of the 4 rooms there were empty of people but still full of the crap they'd created and left. Mike, my one member of live in staff was in the fourth, There was a door through to the function room kitchen which was again full of unused equipment, so much of it, and barely navigable through to the function room itself. The function room was not quite so choked up as it was huge but it was still adorned with unused bits and bobs of pub furnishings and random general waste. I fought through the mountains of pub rubble and finally got to the upstairs accommodation and the first thing I noticed was dried blood splattered up the wall! Great... I felt the piercing stare from behind me of a now very unhappy and rightly concerned Mrs Freer. She didn't want to come here, didn't like it and wanted to go home. It certainly was going to be a challenge but my optimism was in full flow so I sent a somewhat reassured JJ back downstairs and out to get some essentials. I finished my grand tour by looking around the rest of our rooms, thankfully they weren't as bad and were at least empty and large, everything about the place was off the scale in size. I sat on the stairs, fag in hand and thought to myself: 'right then Royston, let's clean the blood away and we've got some work to do here'. I was absolutely buzzing, the place was so big, so full of history and had so many stories, I just wanted to make sure my story there involved giving it 100%.

The Sheer magnitude of the task was daunting. I knew it was down to me but everywhere you turned there was work to do. Every room was not just a challenge but in need of a miracle. Even the bar that was open was disgusting. It was one of those pubs that you wipe your feet on the way out! The carpet was so bad that if you stood still for 30 seconds you were in danger of staying there forever. I'd never seen anything so bad and Immediately got onto my area manager guy and ordered a skip with an estimation of 4 to 5 loads to be cleared.

It was overwhelming to be fair. I tried to prioritise and figured if I start in the car park then at least customers could park outside and get into the pub. Stage one, so to speak. But even this job was a ridiculous undertaking by myself. I vowed to get myself some help and did what I could, clearing roughly 15 spaces out of the available 30ish and piling junk high and ready for collection when my first skip arrived.

I'd met with Mike, lovely chap and a bit of a stoner. So much so that he had the whole floor emanating a discernible fragrance! He was worried about his job, understandably so but I couldn't exactly offer him many reassurances. I explained that I'd been sent down to tidy the place up and make it salable. He seemed genuinely amazed that the brewery thought it would sell and told me he thought they were closer to having it condemned (turns out it was a listed building and cant be demolished). His bar hours though were safe as I needed cover while I continued to try and get the place back to something like a pub of its size and history should be, or at least one that was slightly less distressed! There was no record of him living there so I agreed he could continue as long as he paid a bit of rent. I also gave him the option of switching rooms to any of the others but he was happy where he was for now. My other member of staff was Romana, a lovely warm and kind Slovak girl and she had a big muscly boyfriend called Laco. I had the same meeting again and assured her of continued part time hours but emphasized the lack of job security going forward. Just as importantly though, I got her to help me recruit Laco for some of the backbreaking work I had planned. early days but Things were progressing nicely.

The living accommodation was looking a lot better after a good clean and I'd been authorized to get professional cleaners in for the carpets (and walls). I'd been asking the regulars if anyone knew why there was blood splatter but so far got nowhere with that mystery. Cade was happy but me and JJ weren't in the best of ways and were looking into sending her home for a month as we did on a regular basis when she felt down with homesickness. There were arguments and tears but I was so distracted by the work that needed doing we didn't really spend that much time together. London was at least offering up potential new activities for her and we'd found out about a place called New Marldon that was supposed to be a mini Korea town. We planned a visit and tried to make things work.

My next mission was to get the lounge open. I figured with that available to use I could at least move the customers out of the bar and get it somewhere near decent. I'd enlisted Laco and between us we'd cleared most of the junk. The first skip was gone and we were well into filling number 2. My area manager, Christian I think he was called, had been dumping stuff here from other closed or sold pubs for a while so I'd been onto him and got some of the stuff taken away by him as well. we shuffled the odd bits of furniture around, made a cozy corner with some random sofas and chairs and it actually looked quite decent. I was only a week or so into the job but real progress was being made.

The carpet had to go, me and Laco ripped it out. It stank, it was rotten in places and stubborn to move in others. I guess it had been there for at least 50 years so it wasn't impressed by me rocking up and trying to dispose of it. I left the barely worn lounge side and cut it off just after the left side of the entrance, skip 2 was now good to go. There were bigger problems ahead though as it seemed to have been nailed down. There were literally thousands of small sharp protruding nails sticking up from the floorboards all over the bar floor. They took us forever to get out but with a claw hammer, pliers and sheer determination we strived and sweated through. I've never seen so many poxy nails but we cleared them and once the floor was clean and clear the whole place took on a whole new feel (and smell!)

My regulars were a fresh blast of multiculturalism. I had the old school geezer London lads, a fair few travellers came in from the nearby site on the A44, then there were the Europeans with friends of Romana and Laco coming in, originating from all over Europe. The London lads were hilarious and would always be very respectful, they called me 'Guvnor' which I must admit I quite liked, it felt like I was in Eastenders! One lad, Liam,  came running in one day and asked me to hide a bag behind the bar. I just did it, thinking maybe he'd got his girlfriend a surprise or something. Then though, 5 minutes later two coppers strolled in, questioned and searched him, and then asked me if I'd seen any 'suspicious behaviour' from him! I said I hadn't so they thanked me and went on their way and he was instantly my new best mate, even promising to tell me the tale of the upstairs walls, after he'd been to see a man about a dog... now could he have his bag back please guv!

He came back later and explained that he'd had a fall out with a local gangster and had tried to hide from him in my accommodation one day. He got tracked down and grassed up (why he was so impressed I didn't grass I think) and the gangster guy had come upstairs with a knife and slashed him with it. It wasn't meant to be fatal but it was meant to convey a message that he wasn't to be messed with! Proper Krays style stuff going on and this was 2007! Mystery solved and my mind reassured a little that at least no one had been murdered upstairs!

I wanted to get the kitchen open, at least for bar snacks but Laco had a better plan. He convinced me that if we could get the function room operational he could fill it with the massive local community of Slovaks, Czechs, Polish and Romanians that just didn't have anywhere else to socialise together. We could offer bottled beers and cooked food from each country, alleviating homesickness for many (which i knew all about) and providing decent income as well. Seemed like a good plan but he also wanted to use the kitchen up there and so we had a mammoth task ahead.

I got the labrynth of cellars cleared as my next step because that was basically full of burnable or skippable rubbish. We pretty much filled skip 3 and burnt a million cardboard boxes and then got the link up to the function room working for the draft ales. there was a 5 and a half pint run up to there, meaning it took 5 and a half pints of liquid to fill the pipe from the cellar before it got to the pump in the bar of the function room, massive in pub terms. Everything was ship shape down there and we then sorted the spare staff lodging rooms out a bit. I knew Laco would lose interest in helping me when he had his part of the project completed so tried to get all the heavy work done before we started to focus on getting the function room open.

The downstairs bars were getting busier. I was putting a karaoke night on on Fridays and the travellers loved it. They were turning up in ever increasing numbers and filling the lounge on weekend nights. Blanket on the ground by Billie Jo Spears and Kenny Rogers and Dolly Partons' Islands in the stream were my new go to songs and things were going well! I needed more staff and when Romana came in with a friend who was absolutely stunning I tried everything in my power to get her on board. Martina joined our expanding team and was an instant draw for the European crowd (She was Czech) as well as being pretty enough to instantly win over the locals as well.

JJ was better but still not great. We'd done a bit of London tourism and been down for a Korean meal and some Korean shopping which helped but things were far from good. She was busy with a young Cade and I was busy investing myself with the constant improvements required by the pub. Money was coming in well, I was salaried and the bonus structure that had been set was based on the takings before I got there so I was smashing the bonuses as well with the lounge doubling our take, and the upstairs was taking shape and ready to improve things further.

We finally got upstairs finished, the kitchen operational and stocked it from shops all over london that Laco knew. The entrance was literally falling to pieces around the doorway but we bodged it and cleaned and tidied and moved the remaining unused bits and bobs down to the newly spacious cellar. We had a grand opening night, DJ and euro dance music, Slovakian sauerkraut (which was delicious) and a menagerie of continental beverages. It was amazing, It was busy, it was successful... Not Roy like at all! I staggered the closing times to keep my different clientele leaving at 30 minute intervals. 11 o'clock was the bar, 11;30 the upstairs and the travellers from the lounge at 12, mostly because there was no way they'd leave until last no matter which way round I planned it and this gave them a good 30 minutes of drinking up time to enjoy.

What, you might ask, could go wrong? I guess you need to pop back for part 2 to find out...

Korea take 2: Exit strategy

“Wake up kids, we gotta go”
“Go where Daddy?” Baby; yawning, stretching from her cramped little bunk bed in her shared little bedroom.
“What’s happening Daddy?” Cade; brave, instantly alert to my tension from the other bunk. He scans his room, packed suitcase, a hundred questions in his eyes.
“We’re going home guys, gonna go back to England for a bit”.
Smiles, actual smiles and happiness and excitement despite all the chaos, despite it being nearly 2am on a school night. If I didn’t believe 100% that I was making this decision for the right reasons before I woke them, I do now.
Determination and resolve are given fresh impetus from the 2 confused but excited little faces peering at me hopefully as they climb out of bed and chatter and giggle with each other about this massive development that’s surely rocked their world.
“There’s your cases guys, I’ve packed your clothes but get your favourite toys and anything else you want to take and pack them”
“Where’s mummy?” Cade, so bright and clever hits the crunch point straight away. Where is his mum? If I knew that then this probably wouldn’t be happening. Definitely wouldn’t be happening like this anyway.
“She’s not coming with us Cade, not yet anyway, let’s just get our stuff together and go”.
Confusion and concern now combine with the excitement and my heart strings pull.
“Come here you 2, big hug and then let’s go see the planes at the airport!”

It’s done, the toughest bit is done, and we’re ok. There’s worries and there’s uncertainty but overall the adventure aspect is taking hold and as my phone rings I leave them packing. It’s a call I’ve got to take, one of about 25 things involving 2 friends and 2 family members that need to come together for this exit strategy to work.

It’s Keith, the first person out of the 4, he's my best mate out here just now. He's seen the writing on the wall, it's been pretty transparent. Some of our fights have lasted days on end and I've been on his sofa (literally and figuratively) plenty in recent weeks. I need his help, I need money. I’ve got what amounts to about £50 and that ain’t getting me home. He's step one on a list of things and people that need to come together and I know he'll do what he can. He lives in the same block as us and he knows my situation. I’ve been boring him with it for long enough and my threats to leave are old hat to him now. The story is a little different tonight though, it’s not at the bottom of a pint glass for one. It’s a sober, calculated decision and it’s happening, right now at just after 2am!

Keith helps, but it’s not gonna be enough. I can get to the airport now though, and that’s the start I wanted. Get to the airport and get some tickets, old school, like you see on the movies. Just walk up to the counter, buy 3 tickets and get on the plane... simples right?!

The kids are in the car and we're packed. I haven't got much in the way of belongings but i'm taking minimal my stuff and maximum kids stuff in the one big suitcase I have. I was once stopped in Singapore airport for having only a book with me. No other luggage checked in and no hand luggage. It was deemed unusual by airport security and I got taken into a little side room and questioned for nearly an hour, that's a different story but it shines a light on my general theory of travel: take as little as possible because you can always get new stuff at your destination, I think I've read too many Jack Reacher novels over the years!

Step two, or person 2 is Mckeown. He's from way back and been in Seoul forever now but back in the day he needed a place to stay and he needed money and I helped on both counts. He lived at mine for months and whilst he's helped me back and paid me back over the years I hope I still have enough equity with him for the required favour. I call him and he's more that happy to help, absolute legend! The problem is that it's now about 4am and I haven't woke him, he's still up. So by my calculations, I can get to him for around 5 and I'm more than a little concerned that he'll have passed out somewhere by then!
Mckeown is my wing man, I need him for the unpredictable. I've told him I need money which I probably will but it's more than that. I don't know what I need, we need. That's why I've got him on stand by. Stay awake Mckeown, stay awake... On a wing and a prayer I rumble on towards Seoul.

The transport is my car. Well it's my sister in laws car officially as registering it to me was too complicated apparently. This though will be helpful as my intention is to leave it in the short stay car park and by the time the notification goes out to its official owner we'll be long gone but the car can go back for JJ to sell or use or whatever, no longer my problem.

Person 3 is Dad, he's paying for the flights. His is the easiest part of the plan, he's told me to call him when I need the tickets and he'll make the payment for them. No questions, no doubts. He's got too much faith in me sometimes and if I tell him I need something he'll do everything in his power to get it to me. I've not really had to give any details, he doesn't care, he's just there for me. I love him for this and right now it's exactly the faith we need to get home.

By the time I hit Seoul it's just gone 5, the kids are snoozing in the back, catching up on lost sleep despite the commotion. I love how the magic of motion can still even the most hyper kids. The first glitch kicks in as my call to Mckeown goes unanswered. I've no time to go on a search for him and only have his last known whereabouts as 'somewhere in Songtan'. Seoul is huge, 13million people in an ever expanding metropolis. I know bits of it but a lot of my knowledge is nearly 10 years old, a lifetime in this city that loves to reinvent itself every 5 minutes. It's hopeless trying to find him so I keep on motoring,  it's another 30-40 minutes to Itaewon and the airport, I don't want to wake the kids again and so I leave my wing man and try to figure out the next step. Maybe I won't need him, maybe it will be fine.

I roll into the airport, dump the car in the farthest corner of the underground parking leaving it open with the keys in the glove box. I've never really experienced crime in Korea, it's a whole different world and the idea that someone would steal my car doesn't even enter my head. My main concern is that it will get reported before I'm gone so after some thought I double back and stick a 4 hour parking ticket on it just to be sure.

Glitch number 2 comes at the ticket office when I discover there's no flight for 12 hours and the flight in 12 hours only has 15 seats left on it. The 15 seat thing didn't become an issue until glitch number 3. As I'm asking about the flight the ticket guy wants to see passports so I hand them over. After about 4 seconds and a rudimentary scan of the kids passports he shakes his head in typical Korean guy fashion and says what appears to be his only proficient word in English, 'No'!
I try to push him but my Korean, whilst being better than his English, is just not up to the complexity of travel, passports and visa talk which I'm presuming is the issue. He's not interested in my pleas and the only word I can glean from him is 'bulganenhay' which from my disjointed and limited knowledge is either a type of food or the word for 'impossible'... great.
He's about as useful as a chocolate tea pot but thankfully there's an assistant and she's at least trying to help and sends me off on an excursion to the other side of the airport to the visa office. Time to adjust and adapt, again.

The airport is starting to come to life. It was quiet when we came in, the early morning calm before the storm. But things are opening up now and travellers are striding purposefully to check ins and gates. I get us about half way between the ticket office and the visa office and we set up camp. Twelve hours is a long time at their age but Cade and Baby are actually having a ball, they will be tired but they can sleep on the plane... if we ever get on the bloody plane. I stake claim to a practical little corner of airport benches and crack out some colouring books and toys. I explain to Cade where I need to go and show him the route between the 2 offices and tell him to stay with Baby. I still have no doubts that leaving is the right thing to do but it's not proving easy, I head off to try and find out what the hell is going on with their passports.

The visa office staff have better English than my mate down the hallway but not that much better. the main guy shows me the page in the kids passports that has a kind of visa printed on. The problem is that it basically gives the kids legal Koreanness. It also means that they can't leave the country. I keep asking questions but they're seemingly the wrong ones and it's only when I venture the word 'cancel' that things take a step forward. I've had to keep popping back to the kids and time is ticking on, I also went to check with the girl at the ticket office and there's 4 more been sold on my flight, 11 left. Not good Royston, not good at all. 'Cancel' however has at least been met with a less negative response, especially when combined with the action of making a cross with my arms in front of me, definite progress! The guys ask me to come back in 30 minutes, apparently there's a shift change at 9am and the day shift might be able to help.

Mckeown finally resurfaces and answers his phone. I give him an update on events transpiring and he agrees that I should be able to buy my way out of the problem by cancelling the kids visas. The three of us get a bit of breakfast down by the ticket office and the helpful girl waves at me as she's hanging up her phone. I look across and she arranges her hands to show me 9 fingers... fuck.

I get back to the visa office just after 9 and the whole crew has changed. Not just changed but apparently abandoned and re staffed. No one knows what I'm talking about and it takes another half an hour to get close to the stage I'd been at an hour earlier. Finally it seems like I can cancel the visas but the new guys in the office don't want me to. They are trying to explain that once the cancellation is done then the kids won't be considered as Korean any more and therefore would only be able to come back into the country as tourists. This is an action they can't even comprehend so it's painfully slow progress but eventually they accept that this is what I want and they just need payment. I call Mckeown so he can pay over the phone, no answer...

I have to leave the office after 3 failed calls, there's a queue of people backing up behind me. It costs about £400 to cancel the visas, I've got about £280. I've also got about 10% battery left on my phone. I've also got to feed the kids again soon, and again before the plane is due to leave. Money is tight, time is tight, I'm happy to leave penniless but I've got to have enough pennies to get me to the plane. I walk back towards the ticket office trying to call Mckown and trying to get a pen and paper in case I have to revert to payphones. I ignore Mr useless and signal with an imaginary pen on imaginary paper to the girl, she obliges and signals back with 7 fingers and an 'i'm sorry' expression on her face. Everything is getting tight...

I start the stroll back, trying to convey confidence and surety as I pass the kids despite increasingly feeling the opposite. Mckeown answers, tired and fed up of being disturbed by the sound of him but ready to help, thank fuck! I keep him on the phone despite the drain on my charge, I'm not losing him again. It takes a few minutes to get back to the guy I was dealing with but at just after 10am after nearly 4 hours of airport chaos I get back to him. He pays the fee over the phone and as I'm thanking him my phone dies. Cheers Mckeown, life saved and the balance of power forever in your favour. The office guy takes a permanent marker and scrawls a big black cross on the offending pages and that's it, done! I'm too relieved to even begin to compute the fact that I could of done that, and for nothing! Obviously there's more to it as computers and statuses are updated and we're good to go. It's not set yet though and those 7 pretty fingers and my lack of phone are now foremost in my mind.

I run, all the way the length of the departure lounge but not towards the ticket office. I run to the payphones, waving at my bemused kids as i pass them. I can't waste the time it would take to see how many seats there are on the plane. I call Dad, just after 6pm in England, no issue, and jot down his credit card details. The call is as brief as possible and I tell him I'll call him back with the flight details if I can get us on it. I run again.

My mate is nowhere to be seen and as I start to worry about more fresh faces and shift changes my helpful little saviour appears. I hand over the passports complete with 'amended' pages and after readjusting the other passengers she seats us all together and books us on the last 3 seats that day to England! My mate makes a reappearance just as we're finishing up and as I take ownership of my tickets home I can't resist and wave them at him with a cheery 'an bulganenhay' (not impossible)!

We're set and the kids are even more excited now that the tickets are real and the journey is progressing. We move out of our basecamp, head for lunch in burger king and then check in. I'm concerned that the cars' ticket has run its course and it may be getting reported at any moment. Thankfully now, my phone is dead and JJ obviously hadn't been home up until the point it died so I've had no calls. Once we're checked in and based in the departure lounge I'm pretty confident we're safe and the homeward bound journey can gather wings.

It's a long old flight back to Heathrow but my Dad's there waiting when we land and he transports us across the country to Somerset and the final person of the four I needed: My sister, she welcomes us with open arms and we rest and explore and plan out a new life back in England. It's not going to be easy, it never is but we're home and the green grass and church spires and crappy weather and sarcasm and everything England have never felt so wonderful.