I started working here, aged 15, clearing tables. Me and my friend Paula worked every Saturday from 8.15 am to 6.30 pm with only half an hour break, for £7.50. I worked a couple of week days after school, from 4pm till 6.30 for 2 quid.
We entered Mario's (it will always be Mario's to me) via the chippy, still with the wood panelling I remember so well, albeit is slightly grubbier than when I used to stand behind the counter. The same hatch in front of me, from which I used to regale Tracey Dodson with tales from the previous night’s pub crawls. To my left, behind the take away counter, proudly displayed, is a framed photo of Robson Green with a couple of be-tabbarded girls. We exited the chippy stage right , through to the café. I chose the table with the most leg room, having remembered where it was. The tables are the ones I cleared and wiped as a teenager, the seats re-upholstered and the wood panelling has been tickled with cream paint. Danny went up to the counter and ordered curry and chips and a coffee for me, tea for himself; which he reported was decent (all for less than 3 pounds). For the duration, I was a crashing bore, reminiscing about this and that. There was the wall me and Paula used to clean. The number of times I have mopped/ swept this floor, and other such scintillating anecdotes. To our right sat a table full of women, having a right laugh. In front of us a tubby family tucking into a plate of fish and peas each.
Mario’s is bedraggled and tatty, the staff are sad. The waitress ignored me when I sent my compliments to the chef, preferring to eye up Danny. Calling this place a hidden gem would be a cliché, but Mario's serves the very best chips for miles. Topped with Dinaclass curry -you don’t need to win the lottery.
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