I recently received news that an old friend of mine, Barrie Jones, had passed away on 17th August. I hadn’t seen Barrie in over 40 years, but for nearly 2 years (1972-74) he, David Owen and myself were virtually inseparable on weekends.
We must have hit practically every night club in South Wales. Our favorite haunts were usually Stoneleigh’s in Porthcawl on a Friday night and Jack Mason’s in Gorseinon on a Sunday night. I asked a girl to dance there once and she replied that she was “sweating a bit so ask me later when I’ve cooled off.”
David was a weightlifter and had represented Wales while Barry was a body builder. To say I looked puny in comparison would have been an understatement!!! We went on a fortnight’s holiday to Yugoslavia together in the summer of ’73 accompanied by another macho man Les Hale. Les was in his forties and was totally crestfallen when a young girl asked him if we were his three sons.
We stepped off the plane and walked down the stair case onto the blazing hot runway. The three amigos were wearing matching blazers while I was wearing my much maligned salmon pink denim suit with flared trousers and wide lapels. I should have worn a sign around my neck proclaiming: “I’m not gay, I just look pretty in pink!!!”
My memories of that trip were taking a hydro foil across to Venice for the day, and eating fabulous kebabs at a local restaurant. Oh, and the Germans nabbing all the deckchairs around the hotel pool first thing in the morning. I was later to discover that that they weren’t Germans but Danes.
Barrie didn’t say much; he was the strong and silent type. He had a fabulous sense of humor whenever he lowered his shield. He use to chauffeur us around in his ford Cortina to all the night spots in South Wales without a murmor of complaint.
I was with Barrie one Sunday night when he met his wife at one of our favorite haunts, Jack Mason’s. David had broken the band of brothers by going on a date that evening and was not with us on that momentous occasion. Barry’s wife took an instant dislike to me probably because Barry and I were like chalk and cheese. I might also have been wearing the pants from my infamous suit which would have been sufficient to put off any self respecting female.
Barrie had an unusual technique for a chat up line. He zoned in on a girl he was attracted to, and proceeded to stare at her in Rasputian fashion. Invariably the girl would stomp across the floor towards him and demand: “Who do you think you looking at?” He would calmly reply: “You!!!” The bait was cast and the prey was caught.
Not to be outdone, I attempted the same method one night and began staring across the dance floor at girl I thought reasonably attractive. Next thing I know, a great brute of man is snarling in my face: ” If you don’t stop staring at my girlfriend I’m going to punch your lights out.”
Barrie had a blazing smile and a wicked laugh and once he realized there was more to me than that damn pink suit we became great friends. Inevitably, it was not long before we were all seriously dating girls, and the band of brothers quickly disintegrated. But it was a fun period in my life, even for such a short time, and I was grateful to have known Barrie and proud to have called him a friend.
Hello,
You wouldn’t by any chance have known a man called Raymond who called in jack masons and worked in trostre steelworks around 1971 as I am trying to trace hi