CHAPTER 12
Warning / Rhybudd
Don’t eat while you are reading this story
You have been warned.
THE ANGEL AND THE PINT
Late 70s
There was/is a pub in Bridgend town called The ANGEL.
It has gone through a number of names changes over the years, now I believe it is called ( THE WICKED LADY ), I dare say it is a pun on the original name.
To me it will always be the ANGEL.
Well, in the late 70s, the Angel was on our regular Saturday night pub crawl, the route would take us through a number of pubs in Bridgend town and the Angel was around halfway through our normal night out.
It was a basic type of pub for the time period, nothing fancy, a varied mix of table and chairs from different decades, they had been around for a long time, the pub furniture had been in the pub for a very long time and showed their age by all the scratches and dents that accumulated over the years from all the visitors to the pub.
Old fashion small round tables with black wrote iron legs decorated with some 1930s art castings.
All of the tables had wooden tops that showed the scars of many years of use, this was all to common place in this time period, nobody took any notice of the furniture in a pub.
It was basically the same in every pub you visited, nobody who went there was remotely interested in the pub decor, there were no theme pubs back in the day, they were there for drinking and for everyone to enjoying themselves with their friends and to enjoy the atmosphere of the pub, nobody, cared what they sat on, all the pubs were the same no-one expected anything different.
There would be some other larger longer tables that looked more like garden furniture, these would have been more modern maybe only 20 years old or so.
Like I say nobody cared what we sat on, we were only there for the beer and to meet friends and to have a good time.
A jukebox sat in an out-of-the-way corner for its own safety, because sometimes things can get a little too boisterous in the pub and the jukebox and more notably the records inside the jukebox would end up having the worst end of whatever was disrupting the evening.
The jukebox was always on, there was some kind of music always playing in the background, you could put your money in and pick a song at the beginning of the night and not hear it until a couple of hours later, there would be so many selections already chosen by other pub goers that it would take that long before your selection was picked.
The music was never to loud that it would drown out anyone talking, just loud enough for you sing along to while you sipped your pint.
There would be one or two mirrors on the wall with wooded framed surrounds like a picture portrait with a name of a brewery embossed on to the glass showing what they brewed or advertising a selection of whiskeys with some encouraging words declaring that their drinks were the best in the world.
The bar would be finished off with an odd selection of wall lamps dotted around the room some working some not, all different types of bulbs, whatever could be found to replace one that had failed and topped of with glass flower shaped or lantern decorations to cover the bulbs or even just a naked bulb, the wall paper was an embossed type that had been painted over with a gloss paint, most likely to hid the beer stains and the blood, the ceiling may have started off as white, but the tobacco smoke from the chain-smoking customers, smoking woodbine or capstan cigarettes had turned it yellow over the years.
I think the walls of the angel were painted a royal red or sea green colour at different time over the years.
In the bar the Angel had a long bench that ran completely across one wall, it was upholstered in a light green plastic type material that could be wiped clean, this kind of seat was very typical in workingman’s clubs and some pubs, hard wearing and long-lasting, any rips or cuts in the materials would be repaired with grey duct tape, many of the pubs looked like this one on the inside.
All you needed was somewhere to sit and good music to listen too, back in the day nobody needed theme pubs, a pub was a pub not a fantasy escape.
( Photo 1 ) . The Angel pub Bridgend, the photo was taken in the late 70s, the pub is still running, but keeps changing its name and hopefully they have up-graded the decor and the furniture.
On this occasion when we visited the Angel, there was about 5 of us doing the rounds of the Bridgend pubs this weekend, two of us went there to have a pint and to meet up with another 3 of the guys.
We meet them in the bar, they already had pints in front of them, after I ordered my pint at the bar I sat down against the back wall facing the bar on the green bench.
We pushed two of the tables together because of the number of people in our group, so we could enjoy each other's company without shouting across the room to each other, on the table a little further down along on my left, also sitting on the green bench was a guy called Roger.
Roger was not a biker, he must have been around 10 years older than us, he was not a big guy about average height whatever that is, he was slim in build, and he wore black thick rimmed glasses with even thicker lenses, he was a nice guy with a funny sense of humor, very chatty and funny.
We got on with him, he was a good laugh and was never any trouble.
You could always find him in the pub, he was a regular at the Angel, he never seemed to miss a day, in fact he was always there before we arrived whatever time we got to the pub, and he was always there after we left.
On this day he looked if he had been there extra early, it was around 20:00, and he already looked worse for ware because of the drink he had consumed.
As we settled down in the pub, Roger said out load ” right, time for another couple of pints ” then in one motion Roger downed the reminder of his pint he had in front of him and then got up and went to the bar where he bought two more pints, as he came back with them to the table, he spilled a few drops of cider as he placed them down on the round table, making the table-top very wet.
It splashed right across the table soaking all the beer mats.
He sat down and reached out for a damp beer mat off the table and then proceeded to run it across the table to push the liquid on its edge, he then picked up his pint and used the beer mat to refill the pint with what he had spilled on the table, there was a mixture of beer and cider including cigarette ash he didn’t seem to care.
While he was gathering up the remaining drops, he said “ I’m not wasting a drop, i paid good money for this ”.
Back in the day, smoking was still allowed inside pubs and cafés, this was a time before the liberal snowflakes started waving their big multicoloured stick around and imposing their ( you can't do that, someone maybe offended approach to life ) on everyone.
So it was common place to have large ash trays with the logo of a brewery or a tobacco firm printed around their sides sitting in the middle of the table, by the end of the night it would be full to the brim with a little mound of burnt out fag ends, nobody ever came to empty the ash trays and nobody seemed to mind, it was normal in those days and no-one thought about emptying them, the smell of cigarette ash and stale beer was the norm.
The ash trays were the size of an average dinner plate normally made out of some hard wearing plastic or tin metal, sometimes they would be made of glass with a thick rim display with a name of a popular cigarette or brewery name printed on the outer rim.
I am personally quite happy that people don't smoke in pubs, as I never smoked myself.
Well, not tobacco anyway.
But back in the day nobody even Noticed if you were smoking, it was a normal thing to do.
How times have changed.
Just a last note on this indoor smoking law, I have no argument with it really, as it didn't affect me, well I was exposed to passive smoking I suppose, which was not my choice, but as I say it was the norm back then.
More about ash trays later.
( Photo 2 ) . An upholstered bench like this one, but in green.
It was a normal thing for Roger to get two pints at a time, he would drink one pint has soon he sat down and this would be done in one go until it was an empty glass, and then he would sip the second pint until he needed another two pints.
He would do this all night and to be honest he never looked or acted pissed, but on this occasion, he must have been in the pub very early or not gone home the night before, which has happened before, locks-ins were and most likely still are a common occurrence.
I used to work with a guy at SONY`S Electronics in Bridgend, called John the Alky his real name was John Jones, and he was Neath, not where he was from matters, its just something I remember about him,
he was called by this nickname because he would book a week off from work has a holiday and then go straight to his regular pub and give his wages to the landlord and then drink all day and all night and sleep on one of the benches or the floor in the pub and in the morning start all over again until his money ran out.
When this his money had all gone, the landlord would tell him he has run out of money and with that information he would simply drink his last pint, and then he would go home and eventually back to work.
He lived in Neath, so I suppose you can't blame him really, I think if I lived there I would have turned into an alky too, there’s is nothing else to do there but get drunk.
I can remember he would hide four cans of strong lager in one of the water cisterns in the toilets in work and then drink them quietly throughout the day every time he went to the toilet.
So Roger was not the only one that could drink all day and all night and still function for a days work the next morning, to be fair John the alky always pulled his weight and did his job with no complaints, we just had to ignore his beer breath.
Ok, back to the Angel.
I can actually remember what track was playing on the jukebox on this night, it was called ” SEASONS IN THE SUN “ by someone called Terry Jacks whoever he was, all I can say there is no accounting for taste, not my kind of music.
I remember all this quite vividly because of what happened next will be ingrained into my subconscious for the rest of eternity or until I snuff it which ever comes first.
Roger went over the same routine, he would order his two pints at the bar, he would then sit down and then sink the first pint in one go, but this time he struggled drinking the first pint, one of his mates sitting by him said ” what’s the matter Rog, slowing down in your old age “ this comment created a ripple of laughter among his friends.
Roger put his now empty pint down on the round table next to his other full one and then lent right back on the green bench and promptly started to make blowing noise’s.
One of his mates said ” hey Rog, you looking a bit off colour “ this started everyone laughing again.
Another of his mates said ” Come on Rog, get another one down you, your lagging behind “, this comment again created another period of laughing.
Roger was about 3-4 foot away from where I was sitting on the green bench, I had one other person between myself and Roger, a good-looking girl with long dyed blonde hair, her name was called Seren.
Which believe me she was a god send, a star in her own right ” Welsh joke “ .
( Seren is a girls name and the Welsh word for star ).
( Photo 3 ) . A jukebox very similar to this one was in the angel, this type of jukebox was common in every pub for many years.
I was looking in Rogers direction because of the noises he was making, he never made sounds like this and never acted in such a way, some concern was showing on everyone faces around him.
Then one of the women in the pub who was also a regular and knew Roger very well said “ Rog you OK, you not looking well “.
Roger then kind of brought himself upright in the seat and then suddenly his eyes widened and promptly projected vomit all over the table in front of him.
There were around 8 to 10 of us around the tables that we were sitting close by.
I have never seen so many people move so quickly in one motion, it could not have be choreographed any better, they moved has one person.
As soon as the sick hit the table it bounces up, propelled by an invisible force, it hit the table and created a wave that fanned out hitting everyone near and far.
This psychedelic shower seemed to moved faster than light, there was no way anyone in its range could escape.
There were chairs flying in all directions.
People were screaming.
The chairs ended up yards away from where they started, tables were knocked over in the rush to escape, some people moved so fast they ended up on the floor, people were falling over themselves in their vain attempt of avoiding the oncoming wave of vomit.
Roger was sharing it with everyone, if you were within 6 – 8 foot of this shower from hell, you would end up with some part on your clothes or you body somewhere.
It was chaos for a short time.
If you didn't know any better you would have thought that a bomb had gone off in the pub.
Roger seemed to have a never ending supply of vomit, he was still throwing up after all the screaming and shouting had stopped.
And then there was silence, nobody made a sound.
The whole pub was stunned by the sudden event, the only thing that could be heard was terry jacks singing “ too much wine and too much song, wonder how I got along “, the jukebox was soon drowned out with the realization had what just happened.
I could see the faces of people, the disbelief of the situation they found themselves in.
Some of the pub goers were looking down at their clothes with their arms spread out wide, there was a woman sitting on the floor crying, there was a large quantity of Rogers last meal in her hair.
Two of Rogers friends were sitting directly opposite him they took the full force of this wave of horror, they both ended up on the floor covered in the stuff, when they both tried to get up they slipped back down because the floor was wet with sick.
One was on his hands and knees, he was throwing up himself, which didn’t help the situation.
People in the room who were out of range and were not hit by Rogers eagerness to share his dinner just sat there staring, maybe not has horrified as the people who took the full-frontal assault of the multi coloured wave but stunned all the same.
What happened to me during all this chaos, you ask, ok I will tell you, I thought you would never ask.
I was one of the lucky ones, I had missed most of the contents of Rogers psychedelic experience mainly because of where I was sitting and the girl Seren on my left took most of the spray off the table, which was very good of her, and believe me she was not happy.
The stunned silence was coming to an end and the shouting and swearing was about to start.
Seasons in the sun was still playing on the jukebox, you could not hear it anymore, because everything had started to kick off.
Roger was safe, no one was going to go near him, the whole area around him was completely awash with vomit, including Roger himself, the sick had splashed back on to him, he didn’t seem to mind, he just wiped his mouth with a dry part of his sleeve of his jumper, and he could be heard saying ” AAHH that feels better “.
The table in front of him was still upright and all the glasses remained where they were before the vomit tsunami hit.
The empty pint that Roger had just sunk looked a little different.
It was now full of vomit right to the brim, all kinds of coloured things were floating around in it.
The large ash tray no longer had cigarette butts filling it's center instead there was a small steaming soup of vomit replacing the spent fags and ash, it is an image I will always remember.
( Photo 4 ) . A typical pub ash tray, this one is made out of glass, advertising Worthington E beer.
Of course this was the end of the night for everyone in the pub, the landlord had to shut the room off for cleaning, it took the landlord 3 days to remove the odour of sick and to be honest not many people wanted to stay for another pint that night.
Roger walked home on his own, people were not happy with him, and he was called a few choice names, but he was untouchable, no-one wanted to chance another second roger experience.
But there again, he gave us a very memorable night, maybe for the wrong reasons, but very memorable.
The whole scene looked surreal, the music playing in the background, numerous people standing around still looking at the state of their clothes, looking very bemused at what had just happened, some still too afraid to touch anything.
The light from the wall lamp above Rogers head was illuminating the psychedelic pint, it brought out it's new-found form, the light from the wall lamp gave the whole round table in front of Roger a kind of iridescent glow.
The vomit that dripped quietly off the table seemed to be powered by its very own energy, large lumps, very very slowly, almost in slow motion made their own way to the edge of the table under their own power.
Salvador Dali and Pablo Picasso would have been proud of Rogers creation.
I was just lucky, I missed the full force of Rogers unplanned display with the unwilling help of Seren and I can only remember the event with a smile on my face and not vomit.
( Photo 5 ) . The angel pub in 2018, notice the odd shape of the building, over the century’s different bits have been added on, to give it this random look.
Just an historical note.
The Angel tavern was on the pilgrim route, hundreds of years ago pilgrims would stay for a night before they traveled the medieval town route on their way to the shrine of saint David in Pembrokeshire in mid-Wales.
The pilgrims would travel through many medieval towns and villages on their journey and stop at a tavern / inn each night, so basically they were on a massive pub crawl that could take years to complete.
Visiting holy shrines my arse, these pilgrims were on a year-long piss up.