A Swan Dive, If You Reaaally Wanna Know

As a graduate student in London 1984: that was the first time I went to the Swan in Cosmo place.  At that pub you could meet locals, lawyers from nearby Lincoln's Inn, people who had children in the nearby children's hospital, and who not?  Of an evening, tables and people would spill onto the pavement on both sides of Cosmo Place, just leaving a path wide enough for families on their evening walk, parents slowly drifting by with their kids in strollers and jammies.

One warm evening in summer, two men invited me to bring my pint and sit at a table on the pavement with them.  They both treated me kindly and to pints -- sternly refusing to let me take my turn at buying a round ("yoo're a stoodent and need yur mooney" said one),   So I learned pubs: it's about people, a "public house" in the real sense.  It's not an American bar.  Even dogs are welcome (every type), but they all -- canine or human -- must behave.

The Swan, flowered on a Sunday
first to the left on Cosmo Place.
The Queen's Larder, further on, by the phoneboxes

One man was from Glasgow, the other from Exeter, in the south.  A true Scot, the man from Glasgow was, and Glaswegian [link] is a language far from Edinburgh's smoother notes even if these towns are but a wee hop apart by train. In short, Exeter had to translate almost everything Glasgow said to me, and what things those two lads taught me.

Exeter's job: he sold camping gear for Lowe and asked if I'd seen Lowe bags in the states.  Saying that, "yeah--in the states they sell anything from large frame packs to fanny-packs," I saw them both suddenly wince, look round at the crowd and shush me.  Glasgow said, as I recall, "ghrthpuntichlock, ween abrightlightkitinyourattic," which Exeter gave me to understand was Scots for "we dinna say that in polite company here, laddie: 'fanny-pack' is impolite slang for the most intimate part of the female anatomy."  And so the two traveling salesmen, one from north, one from south, and a green student from America met up and spent a long evening talking about America and Britain, comparing expressions of each country, philosophizing about wives and jobs (neither of which I had as a student), and trying to imbibe yet another pint.

At a late point, a woman hovered by us who, to all indications of decimation and fogginess, was working on a habit more heroin than ale.  A seat was open at the table and, wishing to sit, in her perpetual movement of slow and relative motion, she asked, "D'yamoind if I siddown 'eere?"

They guys had already noted her lolling and swaying to the cosmic forces.  It was not a warm "Yeah--awroight."  She sat -- immediately bummed a cigarette from Glasgow, and announced "I'm nawt from round 'eere, if ya reaaaly wanna know."  No one took notice.  She repeated this a number of times before Exeter shot back in the middle of a story he was telling: "well, we didn't ask, did we, so we really don't want to know -- if you really wanna know." The slight seemed to bounce off her.  She only waited silently a bit, smoking, until Glasgow rose to get another round for us all.  She was on again: "well a girl could really fancy a pint 'ereself, if ya reaaaaly wanna know."  Exeter said "get yer own pint, eh?"  Glasgow came back with three pints and a half-pint for her.  She said "Well I would've loiked a full poynt, if you reaally wanna know," which set not only Exeter into a remark, but made Glasgow smolder a bit as well.

By the end of the evening (perhaps it was the ale), the two men took occasional and then more frequent glances at her.  They delayed their departures -- the game of "whocanstaylongestandgetthegirl?" had begun.  I was the first to rise to take my leave.  There were hand shakes all round and many thanks from me and wishes of good luck from them.  Glasgow looked to be leaving as well.  I don't know when or if alone Exeter left.  But I've often wondered what happened to the other human there, the woman whose life had wound down to a thin thread of "if you reaaaaly wanna know." In the decades since, her phrase has remained a regular linguistic feature at my home -- used to offer information that a listener didn't ask for, as in "Yes, it was I, indeed, who cleaned the fireplace this morning, if you reaaaally wanna know...."

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Saturday, one of the group -- having a severely injured back -- could stand no more walking and needed to rest her back (and endured a trip to the hospital on Sunday).  So she and I made our way (slowly) back to the flats from the group outing to Notting Hill market.  While she rested, I went to Greenwich to catch up to the group, missed them by minutes, and then trudged back to Bedford Place to check on the patient, who, as it was now around 6:00 p.m., would need food.  To the grocery store, then back to the flat.  "Do you want curry chicken salad I can make here and you can continue to rest, or do you want to go to the pub round the corner for fish and chips?"

So...at the Swan over fish and chips we sat and talked of England, Bloomsbury, books, and everything.  She is a bright soul, an astute being, and she listened kindly to a few tales of my student days while sipping her cider.

And one evening, a few of us went to The Queen's Larder, another pub at the end of Cosmo Place, and enjoyed a pint -- but more: talk with an elderly couple from Newcastle on Tyne, down to London for a short holiday.  With them there was much delightful talk about England in the 60s, and Newcastle, and Sting (who is from Newcastle).  Sting was highly admired by the couple because he goes back to his "Local" (pub) occasionally to see his working-class mates in the northern town. The couple cared not at all about the Beatles who, unlike Sting, stayed in the posh south -- London -- and do not go back to visit their old mates in Liverpool.  A lovely couple in their autumn, they are, and the old guy gave me a thumbs-up when they left, saying "it war very nice ta meet ya."  And so to meet them also!

It's a public house, not a bar.  And everyone petted the little dog who courteously nosed round and greeted newcomers.  If you reaaaaaaly wanna know.