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By Dennis Rookard We all have our regular local pubs, Somewhere were we're welcome and feel at home in. Mines the Travellers Rest. Now to be fair, for the first timer it's rather hard to find. being off the beaten track in one of the quieter parts of town., being hidden behind the as yet to be fully occupied sixties style shopping mall. But should you venture down New Road, you'll find the Traveler's Rest just tucked in between the United Reform church and the old Court house, just across the road from the Library. True it's not much to look at from the outside, a bit down at heel in fact, and sadly both inside and out, in need of a lick of paint. You must have heard that old story about the Irishman coming to London to find gold on the streets. Well how about the Irishman who came to Brentwood and found gold. You don't believe me! Well it all started in the Traveler's Rest one evening, there we were sitting leaning up against the bar, as usual just passing the time of day when the light in the bar dimmed as a large lorry screeched and juddered to a halt outside, blotting out the light. "Sounds like Paddy's lorry," moaned Jack our landlord reluctantly switching on the lights. "Every time he parks that dam great thing outside my bloody door. My electricity bill goes up," he moaned again. "Oh come on, you get it back in profits don't you Jack," said Fred as the door bust open, and through it came Paddy, wearing a huge smile on his face. "OK lads, I'm in the chair," he cried, "what will you have. "We needed no second asking and after glasses and jugs were filled, Bert asked, "so what to we owe this largesse too them," Pausing only to down half his pint, Paddy gazed round at the assembled gang, "Just picked up a new job haven't I" he smiled. "Well don't keep it to yourself old son, give," said Pete. "Ah well be-jabbers," said Paddy dropping into his stage Irish act, "you know they're starting work on the new Multi-storey car park round in Crown Street don't you." he said. "Well I had a word with the builders to see if they needed any extra help in dumping all their rubbish and rubble for them," and raising his glass in a toast, cried, "and I got the contract didn't I." Now it should be explained that Paddy at that time operated a one-man haulage business with a Lorry that was his pride and joy. Where most men would be seen outside their homes washing and cleaning he family car every Sunday morning, in Paddy's case it was his lorry he would lovingly wash and clean. But like any businessman work was always hard to find, so any contract to cart rubble off was to be prized. Needless to say the celebrations went on for the rest of the night. Well the gangs like that, always ready with its support. The next day, Paddy and his lorry reported for rubble dumping duties, and for the next couple of weeks the vehicle was constantly occupied on round trips between the multi-story building site and the rubble dumping grounds. Paddy reporting on progress on his evening visits. All went well until one Thursday evening when Paddy reported a major snag round at the building site. "They've got themselves a problem," he finally said after sinking his first pint of the evening." "And what night that be," asked Pete easing him bulky frame onto the bar stool alongside him. "Struck bloody sand haven't they," muttered Paddy gloomily looking down into his empty glass. "Well I don't see where the problem is mate," said Pete, "you still have to cart it away don't you." pushing a full glass in Paddy's direction. "Trouble is where can I dump it, rubbles always useful. But sand?" moaned Paddy. "You must be joking," said Jerry who had by now joined them. "Take it over to the cement works down Grays way, they can always use it." "Do you think so" ask Paddy slight cheering up at the news. "Oh sure," went on Jerry, "and there must be other folk, just dying to get their hands on it" he continued. Throughout the rest of the evening the main topic of conversation revolved around suggestions for the uses that sand could be put too. As I say the gang like to help, and it was a happier Paddy who departed for home that night. He was not to be seen for a couple of nights, until he dropped by to have a word with one of the lads who was looking for work himself. "Can you dive a lorry," he asked. "Of course I can," came the answer. "Well you got yourself a job if you want it," said Paddy, "Start tomorrow." But before we could ask him what was up, he vanished out into the night again. Within days Fred our tame Journalist was able to report the sighting of a second lorry with Paddy's name write large on it, been seen around town. Within weeks it had been joined by a third. The gang in the Traveler's Rest were greatly impressed at this news, and keen to find out from Paddy the reason for his expansion. Our answer was not long in coming for when Paddy at long last appeared in the pub, we got him in the corner to interrogate him. "It's was fantastic lads," he said "Your ideas about the sand, no problem at all in getting rid of the staff, And do you what the best thing is," he went on, "I get paid to take it away from the Multi-story site, and paid again to deliver it." Yes our Paddy was on his way, building up his fleet and being able to take on larger contracts, so in a way you could say that below the streets of our town. There's gold of a sort, and after all when you think of it, sand does have a gold like color to it. Hasn't it ! Ends |
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