20A-Manor House
Coventry
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78 of 81
Sun 17th May 2026 9:55pm
On 12th Sep 2011 5:51pm, PhiliPamInCoventry said:
I received years of orthopaedic surgery at the Paybody Hospital in Allesley as an infant, child & teenager. One of the entertainers who came to visit us was Mr. Pastry. I think 1956. This is a library picture of him from Flickr, it is not my picture. If you will pardon the pun, he had everyone in stitches. 
Richard Hearne 'Mr Pastry', Broadgate:
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PhiliPamInCoventry
Holbrooks
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80 of 81
Mon 18th May 2026 8:48am
On 17th May 2026 9:55pm, 20A-Manor House said:
Richard Hearne 'Mr Pastry', Broadgate:
Hey,
Outside my favourite cafe at the time. Who mentioned food! |
Slim
Another Coventry kid
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81 of 81
Mon 18th May 2026 11:30am
Interesting. Mr Pastry was my favourite comedy. All slapstick. And do you remember Miss Print, the mature spinster, prim and proper, a paragon of moral rectitude, honest as the day is long, wearing spectacles, never smiling, always serious and frowning at the antics or even the spoken words of Mr Pastry, who was always stuck behind the post office counter? Even as a 5 or 6 yo, I appreciated the contrast of personalities.
Now here's a funny thing that happened in Lyon's café. I was only about 4. After shopping, my mum and I would go into the café. My mum loved a cuppa (tea, of course - only rich people could afford coffee back in them [sic] olden days) and a fag (cigarette!). We sat next to each other on one side of a table. An old tramp fellow came in. His face and clothes were filthy. Unkempt. He bought a cup of tea then, spotting us, sat down at our table facing us. I was fascinated and kept staring at him. My mum was obviously embarrassed and tried her best to ignore him and not get eye contact. He completely ignored my stare, and all the while stared at my mum. In later years I realised he was leering at her. I was amazed at what he did next. Without taking his eyes off my mum, he picked up the sugar jar, unscrewed the chromed lid, then tipped half the jar of sugar into his saucer. Worse, he poured a load of tea onto it and gave it a stir like he were mixing concrete.
Next, he picked up the saucer and slurped the sticky mess down his throat so loudly that the whole café could hear him.
It was like a scene from a comedy programme. Truth is often stranger, and more interesting than fiction. I repeat, I've never done fiction. As the late, great Jeffrey Bernard said, "I can only write about what I know about. Fiction is for novelists."
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