Waiting tables and the Quiet American. . . . . . . . . .
She was busy taking orders, placing them with the kitchen, carrying trays piled with plates, and her feet hurt. Working two jobs was hard going but when you're eighteen you should be able to do it. Youth, good health, boundless energy, and of course your dreams, are all on your side. She had worked on Saturdays in a dairy shop on the main street while in secretarial college. She loved that job as many tourists popped in to order the real Devon Clotted Cream to mail back home to family and friends. She enjoyed hearing where they were from and why they had picked the west country for their holiday. She longed to see the world for herself. For a short time she served in a small tea room on Sunday afternoons. There she had to dress like a real waitress in a black dress, stockings with the required 'sensible shoes', and a white frilly apron, the clientele were often uppity and the tips not great. She even served 'American' hot dogs from a tiny 'hole in the wall' on the harbor for a few weekends, and hated riding home on the bus her clothes and hair smelling of grease. She needed the money to follow her dream.
Anstey's Cove, Torquay, Devon - Painted for me many years ago from a post card by a friend in Maine.
Her last job waiting tables was in a small restaurant near the top of the main street. Away from the busy seafront and beaches, but popular with holidaymakers staying in nearby large hotels. She recalls him well. Tall, slim, with an American accent. He ordered the big plate of spaghetti with meatballs. She told him waitressing was not her real job, she worked as a shorthand-typist in the office of an insurance company down by the harbor. She was making plans to go to Washington, D.C. to work for a year then come back with money and marry her boyfriend. He smiled, wished her luck, told her she'd enjoy working in America. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .and tucked a ten pound note into her hand as he left the restaurant. It was the biggest tip she ever received.
The beginning of a short story?
Perhaps an entire book?
Or one of many memoirs for family in the years ahead when
she is no longer here to share oral history. . . . . .
Now and then I hope to bring you more memoirs of growing up
in Devon, England during the 1940's, '50's and early 60's before I emigrated
to the USA
Now and then I hope to bring you more memoirs of growing up
in Devon, England during the 1940's, '50's and early 60's before I emigrated
to the USA
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I loved this glimpse into your past, Mary! It does indeed sound like the start of a book.
ReplyDeleteSadly, think perhaps my days of writing a book may have passed, though I think about it often. I do plan more short memoirs though as I love to write. I will print the posts, perhaps them into a little book - maybe that will be of interest to my family later.
DeleteAh, Mary, what an interesting post. Was the man who left the $10 tip your now husband? This could be an enthralling story, and I would love to hear more of your memoirs.
ReplyDeleteNo, he was just a pleasant and generous customer - back in 1962 that was a huge tip.
DeleteI met Bob while working in D.C. (both of us in the insurance business). My planned year here has somehow turned into 56 years!!!
Dear Mary - I had wondered how you came to go to the States - but whatever happened to the boyfriend?
ReplyDeleteHe lives in Wales and we are in touch. Have met up over the years when visiting home. . . . . and he and Bob get along well, haha!!!
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DeleteThat was an interesting read and, of course, I’d love to read future installments.
ReplyDeleteI love the painting and I want to hear more of this story. Your writing has captured me.
ReplyDeleteI love this peek into your past Mary xo!
ReplyDeleteSOunds like it could make a good story for a book. There was a lad I knew in the village here who was a thatcher but he gave it up which was a shame
ReplyDeleteHow wonderful Mary. Please share more. I have a special, if tenuous bong, with Devon. My dad lived in Plymouth during the late 50s and early 60s. He had won a scholarship from the Royal Navy and was studying towards becoming an engine fitter. He always talks of those days, and of Devon, with much affection. I have been lucky to visit the area twice. It's very beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThat's so interesting Loree. You never know, your dad and I may have passed one another on a Plymouth street!!! I used to go there often in the late 50's - we then teenagers loved to shop there as they had more shops than my small town. When I was much younger I would go for the day by bus with my grandma on a warm summer's day. We would sit high up on Plymouth Hoe above the water and watch the ships coming and going into port.
DeleteGlad you have visited - and yes, it's a beautiful rural county and will always remain my true home.
I'm going to write more memoirs when times permits - and I'll be heading back there for a visit in May.
Oh fabulous Mary, keep writing, I can't wait for the next instalment, I love it!
ReplyDeleteI was on the edge of my seat when reading "tall slim with an American accent" and thought this is where Bob comes in to the picture, such intrigue! You caught me out!
You're such a natural story teller and you have probably got more than one book in you dear Mary!
Happy days
Much love
Shane 😘🎈💕
I love this story. Thanks for beginning to share it. I was intrigued by the tall American and a boyfriend at home. Was he heart broken in the end?
ReplyDeleteOh, what a wonderful glimpse into your past, Mary. Even if you don't write a complete book, these stories will bring such joy to whomever reads them. I know that I'm charmed by the young waitress and her adventurous spirit.
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