Andy Richardson: There are those of us who simply love telling stories

We ummed and aahed about whether to run the review. We’re never less than avowedly pro-business and in the dark times of Covid, we don’t want to put people or businesses to the wall.

By the same token, we don’t want to provide airy fairy reviews that make false promises and let you down.

So we stuck to our guns, made fair criticisms and the review duly appeared.

A week or so later, the phone rang. It was the venue manager. There are times when such calls are nothing more than a hairdryer, a rant about why we don’t know our pommes anna from our pommes dauphine, or that tell us we ought to have been out of a job years ago.

The best was some years ago after a review reported on a waitress who’d dropped a scallop on the floor, picked it up and asked us if we still wanted to eat it.

Later, service was described as a car crash. Which was ironic, and unfortunate, because the owner of that particular venue had, by sheer coincidence, been involved in a car crash on that very day. In a foreign country. And ended up in a ditch.

True stories are always better than fake.

This phone call was different.

The manager of Cote had read the review and was grateful for it. It had helped them to focus on areas that were under-performing, it was fair and reasonable and she was sorry that lunch hadn’t been an enjoyable experience.

She talked through the criticisms, made justifications where they were merited, but accepted standards might have been higher.

We laughed about the freezer-full of Cote stuff that I’d bought during lockdown and I offered further compliments on her own standards, which had been included in our review.

As the call ended, she said wanted to make amends, to encourage a further visit, to put right the wrongs, to make good the reasonable criticism. Would we like to eat there again?

We declined the invitation, gracious though it was, and wished her well. She’d been a standout performer when we visited and was providing peerless service again, after the event. Good manners and humility are just the best. If ever a lesson were needed in providing exceptional customer service, that was it.

The phone rang again, two hours later. A guy I’d met eight years ago had read an interview with Matt O’Connor, the Fathers 4 Justice founder, and wanted to reach out. He’d been affected by the issues discussed – as, incidentally, have tens of thousands across our region – and a lengthy, personal conservation was mutually cathartic. Conversation, listening, the ability to understand another person’s perspective – ain’t those things wonderful?

He’d formed a support group to help alienated dads who’d become victims in the misandrist family courts. He’d probably saved a few lives. He also knew a few guys whose children would now grow up to learn that their dads had taken their own lives because of the fall out of separation. Life is hard. He wanted to thank us for raising issues that frequently go under-reported, for having the courage to tell the truth and for shining a light on one of society’s darker corners.

There are those of us who don’t write for the money, who aren’t that interested in a career but who do love telling stories and fashioning well-written sentences – I know, we’re talking about the others who contribute to Weekend there. There are some of us who simply find joy in the beauty of words.

And when we connect, when we cut through, when we prompt you to email, write or call; we know we’ve done our job. From time to time, such exchanges are negative: for a while, I had my very own trolls who’d fill message boards with venom and spite about something or other. Ahh, those were the days. How I miss Porthillboy and whatever the other one was called. But mostly, people are generous. My favourite was the lady who decided to hand knit a pair of socks after a column in which, presumably, I’d described a pair with holes in.

Information is more easily available than ever before. In the digital economy, finding news, comment or opinion is as easy as breathing. So to those who stay the course and are entertained, informed or amused; to those who get in touch to respond to our whimsy, we have two words to say:

Thank you.