The Road to no Return
Part III
By Angie Dobney
At last we were on the road to Great Yarmouth. It seemed a bit sad to be leaving
Southend and our old house, but nothing ventured, nothing gained. Trevor came with
Michael and me to Yarmouth to settle us in, and then doubled back to Southend to
lead the removal guys back to us the next day. He did quite a lot of this travelling back
and forth to bring our three classic cars to Yarmouth. Little did we know, due to later
circumstances, that he would later be commuting every week.
I think the removal guys quite enjoyed moving us, as it was a bit different
from their usual jobs, especially when we supplied them with plate-foils of bacon
sandwiches and lots of mugs of tea. There was a lot of really heavy stuff to move, and
I remember we played a few jokes on them, such as asking them if they would put our
Wurlitzer jukebox down in the basement (our sleeping area). The look on their faces
said it all, and there were a few choice words ending in ... .. .. .. off! But they were
generally very interested in our new venture, and believe it or not, were very happy to
move us back to Essex when unfortunately we had to make that decision.
We moved in around June time, and there were already a few guests booked in
for the coming weeks, so we had to quickly get all the machines in place ready for the
grand opening. I remember the first couple that arrived. They were apparently
regulars, and it struck us as comical that they resembled Andy Capp and his wife.
Those of you of more mature years will know what I mean. They hardly said a word to
us or each other all week, but when they went they remarked on the machines and
asked if we collected them. Trevor was so hard pushed not to say " no, when we pick
up the milk each day, we find one on the doorstep."
We had decided that as quests were staying, we would just leave a few pennies
around and they could use the machines when they wanted. That was our first mistake
because unfortunately we found that especially the younger guests gave the machines
such a bashing we had to start charging for the pennies to control their enthusiasm. (I
am being polite here, as often families that seemed quite nice at the door, had their
kids turn into monsters once they entered)! Often though, the machines did work to
our advantage because generally Norfolk weather can change quickly to damp and
miserable, so at least the guests could play the machines or listen to the jukebox whilst
having a few drinks.
We set up a website with the help of another hotel owner, and soon found that
our guests consisted of people who were genuinely interested in our machines and
their era, so we became reasonably busy. Surprisi ngly enough, although there were a
lot of other guest houses in our road, everyone was supportive of each other, so we
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