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Great Writing - Home > Short S. > People,and Places -A Tent just off Clerkenwell Rd.
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| People,and Places -A Tent just off Clerkenwell Rd. | |
| By BrianRobertNeal | ||||
| 22 September 2005 | ||||
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The first of a number of anecdotal tales. the only common point being that the people or the places were come across however the pasting curse strikes again! PEOPLE, PLACES AND PROCESSES I left the LSE in 1969 and joined Her Majesty's Factory Inspectorate. In the subsequent 36 years I have held many jobs but none required my soul to be fettered to an office stool. I have probably visited 3 thousand or more places of work. It would be easier to list those types of work place that I have never visited than those that I have. So I have never been to a Coal mine or a Brothel. My visits would have involved meeting and spending at least two hours with probably over 6 thousand people. Whilst inspecting the premises I must have spoken to or joked with a further 18 thousand. I wonder if any, and if so, how many of them, remember me. I certainly remember many of them. The following is a collection of thumb nail sketches covering the characters I can remember, the places I visited and the odd things that I found them doing. (HMFI) A TENT JUST OFF -CLERKENWELL ROAD. The file described the business as being dressmaking. My first shock came when I was met by a high society receptionist dressed in haute couture. She made a phone call, and then gestured to a man who was dressed in the uniform of the Corps of Commissionaires. She told him to show the Inspector up to the board room. I was let into a small lift. It was operated by pulling a rope. The rope controlled the rate of ascent/descent; it being connected to the controls of the artesian well operated hydraulic system. It would have been quicker to have hopped up the stairs. To my guide's horror when we arrived at the top floor of the building I checked the lifts safety devices and found that they were defective. There was something odd about the man but I could not work out what it was. We walked along what had been a plain Victorian brick lined corridor, but it had been painted a light blue and there were tromp d'oeil murals of an excessively explicit sexual nature. Once again something was odd but the penny never dropped. I was shown into the boardroom. When one entered one found oneself to be in the interior of a large Moorish tent. There was no office equipment. One sat on an ottoman and the phones were stood on elegant stands. There were drawing boards. The lighting shone through the tent's roof and was sort of honey coloured. Incense was burning in several of the bowls that were dotted about the interior of the tent. There were 3 directors, one of whom was dressed in a business suit, which strangely had a front zippered fly. The oldest of the three looked like the archetypical maiden aunt i.e. twin set and pearls. The youngest was dressed in a manner that evoked Scheherazade. She was exquisite. I was not asked to sit down and the three women just stared at me. To their horror I removed a number of items from one of the Ottomans and sat down. I explained who I was and the purpose of my visit.
Suit said to me, we are not a factory, we are a fashion house!
Pearls interrupted saying, no dear we are a studio that is used by fashion houses none of the "models" we have made are of our design. The two then started rowing. I looked at the young woman who got up and asked me if I should like to go round the studio with her. I shan't go into details but the equipment was ancient and unsafe. However a further shock was in store when I asked do you have a staff canteen the woman replied no but we have a staff restaurant.
There was a "high table" sat on a dais, around which were 10 tables at floor level. I picked up the day's menu. It offered a 3 course cordon bleu meal with wine! Prices were not shown and when I asked, the woman looked at me with contempt; and said we don't charge our staff or our guests!
I impishly asked if I could visit the kitchen and meet the head cook.
She said to me don't you dare call him a cook, he is a chef and other than at lunch times here, he is in great demand at all the top restaurants. However I still managed to upset him. I criticised the kitchen's hygiene standards and mentally noted that I would tip off the local health Inspector. My last port of call was the Despatch department where I was left to my own devices my lady friend having walked off in a huff. Its sole employee said to me I can only give you 5 minutes cos its lunch time and I've got to be off. I said don't you eat at the restaurant it's free! No, he said, it's all that foreign muck. I have a real dinner down the Pub, sausage, mash, onions and oodles of gravy- handsome. I made my way with great difficulty back to the Board Room and walked straight in. The suit said that it was customary to knock and wait to be invited to enter.
I replied it was customary to comply with the Factories Act. I then harangued them with a list of the offences that I had noted during my visit. I informed them that they would receive a letter within 5 working days and they would have a month from the receipt of the letter to comply with my requirements. I added that the lift should be taken out of use immediately or I would get a court to order the closing of the premises. As I stormed out, I let off a Parthian Shot telling them, that that the office was a fire trap and in breach of the building's Fire Certificate as the tent blocked access to an emergency exit.
I actually gave them 2 months. On my return I found that reception was manned by a now plainly dressed Scheherazade, who locked the front door and then took me round. The restaurant was closed. The lift was locked. The machinery was unattended. She and I seemed to be the only persons in the building. We ended up in the board room. The tent was gone and there was a desk, 2 chairs, a filing cabinet and nothing else bar a phone. We sat either side of the desk.
I asked what's happened.
She replied; we've closed down for my partners are not going to be told what to do by a man. So in a fit of pique they sacked everybody however we have got 2 months left on the lease so I have to come in and keep an eye on things. I'm quite glad really because they always squabbled over me and they were both too old for my liking, I prefer women of my own age!
My comment that I certainly preferred women of her age fell on stony ground. Today I would have probably ended up in front of a tribunal! She showed me out and as I passed them, I looked again at the Murals. She smiled they're copies of Greek originals all dedicated to the works of Sappho. The penny finally dropped. Worse still it suddenly struck me that the Commissionaire had not had an Adam's apple!
All the factory machine workers, cutters and pressers had been women but the chef and the despatch worker had been men.
I'm sure of that or am I?
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