It wasn’t too long before we were both getting a bit fed up with our working routines impinging on the time we had together. I had managed to get a promotion to Head Front Office Cashier which meant I was more often than not working 9 -5, while Tony was still having to work split shifts at the pub. It wasn’t good for us.
One night after a particularly heavy session he admitted he wanted to give it up, but knew he couldn’t because we had started to save for a deposit on a place of our own.
“If you really want to give up we can live off my wages for a while until you find something better,” I offered.
“But it could be ages,” Tony had previously admitted not wanting to live off my wage.
“And we’ll be fine. Whatever comes into the bank account is ours so don’t worry about that.” I pulled him to me as he climbed into bed.
“Do you… ?” he began.
“I want you, and at the moment we see little of each other. If you want to do something different then leave the pub and start looking. We’ll be fine. I’m sure Jack and Ian will understand.”
A few days later Tony handed in his notice. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do but had worked in the civil service previously so checked out the job vacancies there. He found one he thought would be interesting and applied, although he thought he had little chance of getting it.
During the next few weeks he went through the interview process, was vetted as not being a security risk and was eventually offered the job. My man had got himself a job for the MOD working in the SAS! He was their clerical officer and had to sign the Official Secrets Act. I was super-proud.
Tony worked for the MOD up until his illness (TB) meant he had to take medical retirement in 2000. For his long service he received an Imperial Service Medal (ISM) from HM the Queen. Many a time he told me of his visits to Buck House on official business. I have that medal now, and it has pride of place in one of our cabinets.