CFPL TV Chronicles: My Intro to the "Liquid Lunch"

 

Title: "CFPL TV Chronicles: Liquid Laughter at Lunch – A Tale from the Taverns"

Welcome back to CFPL TV Chronicles, where we embark on a spirited journey down the lanes of nostalgia. Today, let's pull up a stool at the watering holes that became our daytime haunts, as we indulge in the merriment of long lunches that transcended the clock.

In the heyday of the day shift, lunch breaks were not just a pause in the day; they were a boisterous adventure into the heart of London's favorite taverns. Now, for a 19-year-old like myself, a couple of years shy of the legal drinking age, these escapades were an extra dash of forbidden fun. Picture this: The sun shining on the pavement, a group of mischievous grins, and the prospect of a few cold ones at lunch. The allure of sharing a drink with a director, a key player in the intricate dance of television production, meant our lunch breaks could stretch a bit longer. After all, what's a production without its director?

Out with The Cat (John M.), or Zome (John S.), and an entourage of crew members like Cookie, Ted, Fred Gracey, The Spoiler (John G.), Sudsy (Jim S.), or the Professor (Paul E.), every lunch promised a merry escapade. The venue, often a tough choice among the El Morocco Tavern on Wharncliffe Rd., the Ridout Tavern on Ridout, or the Wellington House at Bathurst and Wellington Sts.

Let's paint a vivid scene at the El Morocco Tavern: The air buzzing with laughter, pints clinking, and the hum of camaraderie echoing through the pub. The director, unfazed by the ticking clock, engaged in animated discussions with the crew. Cookie, the master storyteller, spun tales that sent us into fits of laughter. The Spoiler, living up to his name, dropped hints of upcoming episodes with a sly grin.

The Ridout Tavern 2003 just before it was torn down 2004.

As the pints emptied and stories flowed, the tavern transformed into a haven of laughter and inside jokes. Perhaps a few extra minutes were spent strategizing the next shot, but who's counting when creativity is on tap?

And so, these liquid lunches became the stuff of legend—more than just a break, they were a vibrant interlude in the rhythm of our workday. Join me in the next chapter of CFPL TV Chronicles, where we'll explore more tales from the taverns, each sip a memory, and every laugh a testament to the bond that turned colleagues into comrades during the golden era of CFPL television.

I'll try to post a new story every Tuesday morning.