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One of my first recollections growing up was that there was always something going on – whether it was eating a meal in shifts because someone had to be in the Bar or invasions into our living quarters when one of the regulars had to use the phone – the only one in the village apparently. Some of "the regulars" - Pricey Hughes, Mrs. Meale, Auntie Lil and Uncle Eric
Christmas Day was a big day at the Harp. Not so much because of its religious significance – more because Dad gave the regulars free drinks. A feeling of goodwill would abound through both bars until the locals gradually dispersed to their Christmas dinners. Christmas dinner for the Price family however was a little different every year, depending on opening hours and very often we did eat in shifts.
As for the telephone – I hated that thing. It was big, black and ugly and had been installed on an awkwardly constructed shelf next to the television set in our living room. And it had a ring tone that would raise the dead. It seemed to vibrate when it rang and we would rush to pick up the heavy receiver and uncoil the unwieldy cord that snaked to the back of the phone and into the wall.
There was no direct dialing when I was a kid – Dolly Morgan who ran the local village switchboard had to be raised so that a call could be connected. Dolly knew everything that was going on in the village – small wonder.
As the bonhomie in the bars went into the evening, so would the phone make its presence felt. An anxious wife calling to find out where her husband was, the local garage wanting to know whether we could put up a long distance lorry driver because his truck had broken down - or worse – word that our sheep had broken out of the meadow and were last seen scurrying down the road towards Hay, the next community. When one sheep makes a decision, it’s truly amazing how the whole flock follow without question.
Evidently they didn't need Dolly to communicate with one another.
As for the telephone – I hated that thing. It was big, black and ugly and had been installed on an awkwardly constructed shelf next to the television set in our living room. And it had a ring tone that would raise the dead. It seemed to vibrate when it rang and we would rush to pick up the heavy receiver and uncoil the unwieldy cord that snaked to the back of the phone and into the wall.
There was no direct dialing when I was a kid – Dolly Morgan who ran the local village switchboard had to be raised so that a call could be connected. Dolly knew everything that was going on in the village – small wonder.
As the bonhomie in the bars went into the evening, so would the phone make its presence felt. An anxious wife calling to find out where her husband was, the local garage wanting to know whether we could put up a long distance lorry driver because his truck had broken down - or worse – word that our sheep had broken out of the meadow and were last seen scurrying down the road towards Hay, the next community. When one sheep makes a decision, it’s truly amazing how the whole flock follow without question.
Evidently they didn't need Dolly to communicate with one another.
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