tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5445569787371915337.post5427837694067052710..comments2024-03-28T13:20:29.156-07:00Comments on Shut up about Barclay Perkins: A landlord’s week in the 1950’s (part one)Ron Pattinsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03095189986589865751noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5445569787371915337.post-3859474627925078792016-12-31T05:02:20.432-08:002016-12-31T05:02:20.432-08:00My maternal grandfather (born 1890, worked as a ca...My maternal grandfather (born 1890, worked as a carpenter and joiner until he was 70, read the Daily Worker/Morning Star) always put his suit on for his dinner. Always. He couldn't understand why his grandchildren wore denim jeans all the time: to him, they were work clothes, to be taken off when you got home.Martyn Cornellhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16843357962176591317noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5445569787371915337.post-18296843590741350312016-12-27T02:18:47.225-08:002016-12-27T02:18:47.225-08:00I have a vivid memory of arriving at the Lime Kiln...I have a vivid memory of arriving at the Lime Kiln pub at ten minuted to twelve one Sunday moening. On the stroke of noon we heard the bolts being withdrawn and the doors opened. Followed by cigarette smoke billowing out and the sight of a half full pub with people drinking half full glasses! You could always drink out of hours if you knew where to go.<br /> And yes, we did dress up to go to the pub on a Sunday. Suits and jackets reserved for weddings, funerals and Sunday evenings at the pub.People seem to have lost their self respect and wear just anything these days.Marquisnoreply@blogger.com