In my twenties I worked at a somewhat, I suppose "posh" country club. It was a character filled place. And of course as with such establishments there were definite social areas - the sporting pavillion (only deserving of a mention because it once burnt down in spectacular fashion), the MEN'S bar ... dark, masculine, smoky and testosterone driven. And to counter balance the pretty, floral light and airy LADIES bar - everything carefully placed, gentle and soft so as not to offend its more shall we say, refined, inhabitants.
And the members ....
There was the father and son duo, the latter a rougish, devilish man who I think tried to charm everything in a skirt, and by all accounts didn't do too badly, and father who we were all convinced was only still in the bar because of two things - he was smoked (60 odd camel a day) and pickled (one or two bottles of Jack, I think it was, a day).
Then there was the chef, a Yorkshire man who never could refuse one last pint before retiring ... usually with the rougish son above mentioned.
There was the "Bold & Beautiful" male star who jetted in and out, but who I have to say was probably one of the nicest and most down to earth men I had ever met at that stage of my life.
There were the ladies - always beautifully groomed, in designer outfits, make up perfect and oh so very aloof ...
Ah ... Captain N ... the oh so charming, and sinfully beautiful man, posted here by the British Navy - who had the staff (women) from 20 right thru to 65 in a swoon the minute he smiled as he breezed thru those front doors ...
And then of course, perhaps one of our most colourful - our resident American Archeologist ... tho' we weren't sure where his digs were ...
And so as it goes when you are young, and oh so eager to please, and I suppose prove yourself, you take on new responsibilties ... in my case this ended up being the weekly running of a cocktail hour in the ladies bar - and for one hour a week, those men would leave their traditional hideout, put aside their macho, cigar toting struts and siddle into bar stools in amongst the fair sex ensconced in the ladies bar ...
It was always such a fun hour, both for the members (hell, how many free drinks makes an hour fun?) and for us staff (how many free drinks does it take to make usually reserved people act out). One of the easiest cocktails and seemingly the most pleasing to the members was a Martini - we soon abandoned mixing glasses for a 1.2 litre pitcher, and swizzle sticks - well forget it - these guys just guzzled!
Anyhow one evening proved rather more taxing than the others ... the geyser burst, coupled with the mother of all Gauteng storms, you know the ones - where you think the lightening has actually hit you!, the power tripped so candles were lit, while our once beautiful, floral, serene ladies bar threatened to become a swampland of floating lily wallpaper, added to which our ever entertaining club manager decided to strip down to his paler than pale underwear to save his Carducci (suit) - hmmm - you know, no 20 something should be faced with that when she is only serving and not drinking the Martinis ... and the water level rose and rose ...
Now our Archeologist, Dr M we will call him, had been (very) merrily positioned on his bar stool, drinking Martini's for a good while, seemingly and amazingly completely oblivious to the surrounding mayhem ... and at a certain point he grabbed the club managers arm as he streaked past (yep the underwear was no longer working ...ugh!), stood up in a foot of water and proclaimed somewhat loudly and in an extremely puzzled tone "Well, hell, Chris ... is it rainin' in here or what? ...."
What the heck had I put in that Martini pitcher ...
Please feel free to download the Fall Down Martini Recipe in the Recipes Category
And the members ....
There was the father and son duo, the latter a rougish, devilish man who I think tried to charm everything in a skirt, and by all accounts didn't do too badly, and father who we were all convinced was only still in the bar because of two things - he was smoked (60 odd camel a day) and pickled (one or two bottles of Jack, I think it was, a day).
Then there was the chef, a Yorkshire man who never could refuse one last pint before retiring ... usually with the rougish son above mentioned.
There was the "Bold & Beautiful" male star who jetted in and out, but who I have to say was probably one of the nicest and most down to earth men I had ever met at that stage of my life.
There were the ladies - always beautifully groomed, in designer outfits, make up perfect and oh so very aloof ...
Ah ... Captain N ... the oh so charming, and sinfully beautiful man, posted here by the British Navy - who had the staff (women) from 20 right thru to 65 in a swoon the minute he smiled as he breezed thru those front doors ...
And then of course, perhaps one of our most colourful - our resident American Archeologist ... tho' we weren't sure where his digs were ...
And so as it goes when you are young, and oh so eager to please, and I suppose prove yourself, you take on new responsibilties ... in my case this ended up being the weekly running of a cocktail hour in the ladies bar - and for one hour a week, those men would leave their traditional hideout, put aside their macho, cigar toting struts and siddle into bar stools in amongst the fair sex ensconced in the ladies bar ...
It was always such a fun hour, both for the members (hell, how many free drinks makes an hour fun?) and for us staff (how many free drinks does it take to make usually reserved people act out). One of the easiest cocktails and seemingly the most pleasing to the members was a Martini - we soon abandoned mixing glasses for a 1.2 litre pitcher, and swizzle sticks - well forget it - these guys just guzzled!
Anyhow one evening proved rather more taxing than the others ... the geyser burst, coupled with the mother of all Gauteng storms, you know the ones - where you think the lightening has actually hit you!, the power tripped so candles were lit, while our once beautiful, floral, serene ladies bar threatened to become a swampland of floating lily wallpaper, added to which our ever entertaining club manager decided to strip down to his paler than pale underwear to save his Carducci (suit) - hmmm - you know, no 20 something should be faced with that when she is only serving and not drinking the Martinis ... and the water level rose and rose ...
Now our Archeologist, Dr M we will call him, had been (very) merrily positioned on his bar stool, drinking Martini's for a good while, seemingly and amazingly completely oblivious to the surrounding mayhem ... and at a certain point he grabbed the club managers arm as he streaked past (yep the underwear was no longer working ...ugh!), stood up in a foot of water and proclaimed somewhat loudly and in an extremely puzzled tone "Well, hell, Chris ... is it rainin' in here or what? ...."
What the heck had I put in that Martini pitcher ...
Please feel free to download the Fall Down Martini Recipe in the Recipes Category
