Nino

Back in 1986 I was working as a Commercial Mortgage consultant for Security Pacific Trust in their Reading branch having transferred from the Collections Team as I wanted a “Jam Jar” (Company car!). The branch consisted of the Manager, Big Mike Taylor, three sales guys, Julian Cook, Little Mike Taylor, and myself. There were two office admin clerks, Louise and Caroline, or as I called them Lettuce and Cabbage. Big Mike was a larger than life character who originated from Birmingham, but loved to speak in Cockney rhyming slang whenever possible, and interesting concept when twinned with his strong Brummie accent. In truth, I was the world’s worst Commercial Mortgage salesman, but I had one heck of a year working with Big Mike before I transferred back to my real home as a debt collector. Mike knew probably every scam going to make life easier for ourselves, he was also a cracking salesman who would usually have his annual target in the bag by September, meaning Christmas started at the beginning of October. I first came across Mike when we played the annual Branches vs Head Office cricket match. It was played at Old Bath Road, in the days when Redingensians RFC still had a cricket square. Mike had played for Warwickshire CC in his youth, and was still a fairly handy cricketer in the local leagues. I still fancied myself as a pace bowler, but Mike took great delight in smacking me all over the ground, including one 6 that cleared the old club house and landed on the A4 Dual Carriageway, to the sound of screaming brakes!

Back at the old branch office on the Kings Road in Reading I shared an office with Julian Cook who was the Consumer Finance manager. We both smoked and in those days you could still smoke in the office. It wasn’t strange for me to come back into our small office to not be able to see if Julian was there or not through the smog of fag smoke hanging around. We must have stank.

One of the traditions in the office was the monthly sales meeting, always held in either a local pub or local restaurant. Why we didn’t hold it in the office I’ve no idea, other than we couldn’t really indulge in our speciality of getting outrageously drunk if we were stuck with Cabbage and Lettuce.

It was on one of these “Sales Meetings” that I first went to a restaurant that would become a favourite of Carol, Anna, Max and I for the next 30+ years. Mike dragged us into the old Market Place area of Reading with the promise of going to the best Italian restaurant this side of Milan and duly opened the door for my first ever visit to Nino’s.

I remember little of that first visit, probably due to the copious bottles of Peroni and Vino Rosso which were no doubt necked. However the place must have made some sort of subliminal impact on my brain as Carol and I were soon visiting three or four times a month (this was pre Anna and Max days!). It got to the stage when we arrived that Nino would remove the normal wine glassed from our table and replace them with the large bowl like glasses that he serves Amarone in, we didn’t even get to look at the wine list. Once the kids were born our visits became less regular, until Anna was about seven and Max four when we decided to risk a lunchtime visit. The kids thought they’d arrived in heaven, especially Max who was made such a fuss of by the waitress who used to work in the restaurant. The kids have always been pretty good at trying new types of food, especially seafood and I can vividly remember the look of surprise on Nino’s face when they both ordered seafood pancakes, “You do realise they contain mussels, squid and prawns don’t you?” he asked. Two perfectly clean plates later and he didn’t bother asking again. Every birthday, anniversary, other excuse for going out, was then spent in Nino’s, until it closed down due to the massive increase in business rates in the centre of Reading. We were devastated.

I guess it was a couple of years later that we heard of a new restaurant opening up in Pangbourne, about 4 miles from where we live, Nino’s had phoenixed and the Clark family visited on mass. Old Man Nino had been joined by his Young Nino in a far more compact location. The new restaurant has only around 25 covers maximum, but the ambience, menu and wine list was just the same as the old place. We probably visit only 6 or 7 times a year but we’re always greeted as old friends, which I hope to a degree we have become.

In September 2016 just before Anna returned to University we had a Father and Daughter lunch one Friday at Nino’s. It was a warm late summer and we sat outside enjoying a lite bite and a couple of glasses of wine. As was his want, Old Man Nino came out to chat with us after we’d finished. I noticed then that his voice was pretty weak and he was struggling to speak. He sounded and looked just like I did back in late 2015 when my family and friends were trying to persuade me to go and see the doctor. We chatted for a while, Nino knew I’d been ill, but wasn’t aware that it was throat cancer. I took the bull by the horns and quite bluntly suggested he get himself checked out. I think between Anna and I we shocked him and before we left for the afternoon he came out with the bill and confirmed he’d booked an appointment the next day to see his doctor. 

I was next in the restaurant about three weeks later when they held their annual coffee morning in aid on MacMillan Cancer Research. Whilst choosing my cakes and drinking my coffee Young Nino mentioned that his dad had followed through on his promise, seen his doctor and was waiting to be treated for throat cancer. I felt so sorry for the family, but in a way I was glad I’d been firm with him earlier in the month. We chatted about the likely effects that Nino would face and the challenges for the family. I spoke openly about how hard I’d found things and that writing a blog and the book had helped. Nino kindly downloaded the book and published the links on the restaurant webpage. Whilst I was at the Royal Berks one afternoon waiting for an appointment with Scary I bumped into once of the Radiographers who’d looked after me when I was being zapped. She mentioned that she’d recently read my book on the recommendation of a certain Old Nino who she was looking after, and without breaking any patients confidences she said he was doing really well. Later that same afternoon as I was leaving the clinic I bumped into the man himself as he was coming in for his Consultants meeting. He still insisted on calling me Mr Clark, as does Young Nino, despite the many requests to call me Paul 😊

We’ve eaten at the restaurant a number of times since Nino finished his treatment, and whilst you can tell he’s tired, he was still on duty most nights making sure everything was running smoothly. We visited them the Friday before I went under the knife in June but didn’t mention anything about the Big C coming back for another play, it didn’t seem appropriate. Carol and Max popped in for a meal one evening on the way back from visiting me in Oxford and let slip I was ill again. That evening I received a message on FB from the Nino’s wishing me the best for my recovery and advising they’d sent Carol and Max home with a decent bottle of red for me to quaff once I was well enough.

We were next at Nino’s at the beginning of October, the first time since I’d had my operation, and for the first time neither of them were working on a Friday night. The service was great, but it was obvious that something wasn’t quite right. As usual I left a Trip Advisor report, and as usual it was in a tongue in cheek manner. 9 times out of 10 Nino would reply to my reviews and any others with his own quippy comments, but this review went unanswered as did all the others.

Fast forward to February of this year and we were back at the restaurant again. We’d heard that Nino Snr had had a spell at the Sue Ryder Hospice, more for respite than anything else. Young Nino confirmed that his dad was now in a nursing home, but still going into the restaurant when he could to help out. As always it was a special meal, made more so, perhaps as it was the first time Carol and I had been out to Nino’s without one of the pesky kids for quite some time.  

On Tuesday of this week I was walking Neville on the beach at Rock in Cornwall when I saw a Facebook post on Nino’s Restaurant Page that Nino Snr had sadly passed away. It was windy on that beach and sand blew up into my eyes. That evening Carol and I had a table booked at Rick Stein’s, we deliberately ordered a bottle of Italian Red and drank a toast to a man we had both been proud to call a friend.

We’ll be back at the restaurant as soon as possible and by drinking a bottle of Amarone in his honour, I suspect it’ll be blowing a bit of sand in the eyes that night too.

Ciao Nino, you’ll not be forgotten.

To be continued...............