Close to where I worked in Nottingham was a public house. Maurice, the landlord, believed in the personal touch. He wore always a towel over his arm and it was waiter service in the lounge bar. You pressed a bell-push and Maurice would appear.
Maurice was interested in aquariums and dotted about the lounge bar were a number of tanks. I was intrigued by the fish that sucked its young into its mouth whenever danger threatened. Maurice would travel far and wide in the UK to exhibitions of exotic fish, tanks and so forth. The hobby came to an abrupt end when his wife discovered that he had an interest in an exotic bird of the non-feathered variety. Retribution took the form of Maurice and wife's emigration to Australia to live with son and daughter-in-law.
Many a happy hour was spent in the pub plotting and scheming against our dreaded head of department. One colleague who attended from time to time was Rex. One day Rex disappeared into the gloom of the gents lavatory and was followed in from the tap room by two enormous men. After what seemed an age, Rex and the two men re-appeared to much back-slapping, glad-handing and bonhomie. Rex had been in the SAS and wore a tie which indicated to those in the know as much. The two heavies were former SAS and were checking Rex's credentials to wear the tie.
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