Another one from our questionnaire:

Did you have any regular customers? Describe them.

There were lots of regular customers who were friendly, sweet, kind. I had a lot of nice friendships with people who came in and, crucially, where you did a favour for them, they did one back. One pizza salesmen who frequently came in occasionally brought a pizza with him for us. That was nice. But, to be honest, the more memorable regulars were weirdoes. One bloked asked for warm Jack Daniels and Coke and we’d have to keep a can on a radiator for him. Another woman would drink half a pint of lime juice with rum. No sugar or anything. It was bitter as hell and must have given her terrible indigestion. Another bloke was allergic to everything on the planet but wanted to taste everything on the menu and wouldn’t take no for an answer. ‘All your gin cocktails, I am allergic to juniper, but do not skimp on the gin’ and so on. I’ll never forget there was one guy, looked about 70 but must have been younger and was such a heavy drinker. He would bar-hop, drinking a pint in every bar in the city and you couldn’t understand a word he said. He wore a navy jacket, almost nautical in style and he would just point at the Cruzcampo and I’d pour him a pint. He didn’t need to point. Same every time. He would give the money in exact change and sit with the pint, at the bar. He was bright white haired and his face was PUCE. From the booze, I suppose. He would take a tiny sip from the pint and it would continue to sit there, almost full for five or ten minutes. Then, you’d turn your back to restock the shelf or serve someone else and when you turned back to him – the pint and he would be gone. On to the next place. I don’t know how his liver took it. If I lived my life like that, I’d be dead in six months, no question.