Goodbye, and listen out for Jimmy Young

Few people owe as much as I do to Jimmy Young, the BBC's youngest septuagenarian disc jockey.

It is said that Margaret Thatcher was told by Saatchi and Saatchi that if she wanted to ensure an election victory she should appear on the Jimmy Young show. She did, and she won. Jimmy Young has enormous influence with his listeners who are all 40 to 80 years old in the A/B market. The kind of people who come to the Angel Inn.

A few weeks ago, the Angel won the Publican magazine's Catering Pub of the Year award. My partner, John Topham, collected the prize at a big dinner at Grosvenor House. A few days later, Jimmy Young was interviewing someone on his radio show who went into eulogies about the Angel and the awards it has won. Jimmy commented that now everyone for miles around would be heading for Skipton and the Angel.

I did not actually hear the programme, but people keep ringing to tell me they did, as though it is the ultimate achievement. It certainly won't be bad for business.

The other occasion on which Jimmy Young helped me was entirely different, but without him I probably would not be writing this diary today. I was driving south with Juliet and was listening to Jimmy Young, who was interviewing a medical expert on the problems of prostate cancer in men. The expert described the symptoms and how it was most prevalent in older men.

He described how the "flow of wee" begins to slow down.

"I think my wee is slowing down," I said to Juliet.

"Yes it is," said Juliet.

"How do you know?" said I, in astonishment.

"Because when you come in late at night, I can hear you in the bathroom," she replied.

That's because, having drunk three bottles of wine, I try to direct the flow down the side of the bowl so as not to disturb you, I thought, but did not say.

Jimmy Young went on to describe how easy it is to test for prostate cancer these days by use of a simple blood test and how, if caught early, it is very easy to cure.

I went for a test and it proved positive. After further examination it was decided to remove the prostate. When they operated, they found the tumour was larger than expected and, as a result, I was given a seven-week course of radiotherapy.

I recovered from the operation very quickly - I was actually back on the stoves within two weeks. Also, I felt no after-effects at all of the much-feared radiotherapy. I am still being watched fairly carefully. I go for six-monthly check-ups, and so far all looks to be well and I feel extremely fit.

Thanks to Jimmy Young, I am still here. Without him I would not have gone to the doctor when I did.

If just one person reads this and reflects that perhaps he, even after three bottles of wine or a bellyful of beer, is weeing slowly, goes for a test and his life is saved, this last of my diaries will have been of far greater value than all those I have written before.

The sudden death of our gardener Joan and my impending 40th birthday are weighing on my mind. This, together with the advertising campaign about teachers that have influenced your life, has got me thinking about the people that have changed my life.

My first serious boss, Jim Gunn, who founded the employment agency Plan Personnel, was a strong influence. During the 10 years I worked for him he taught me everything I needed to know about running a business successfully, from painting offices to avoid decorating costs (I cannot look at woodchip wallpaper or blue carpet tiles without thinking of the Plan years.) to sophisticated management techniques.

He was an exacting man to work for, but if you could think on your feet, do 10 things at once and give him absolute and complete loyalty he was a prince among bosses.

I think many of his lady employees were a little in love with him - I certainly was - such was the devotion he inspired. Leaving Plan was harder than leaving my first husband.

But I had been sold on the "glamour" of the hotel and catering industry through the friendship we'd formed with Tim and Fiona Lamming and the exposure, through their work, to the luxury end of the market. We so loved their erstwhile hotel, Bailiffs court, in Sussex, that we were determined to buy a hotel ourselves. It is entirely their fault that we found and bought the Lodge. From the security of subsequent paid employment they have chivvied and advised from the sidelines.

Naturally, my husband Simon changed my life. If I have given you the impression that he is a demented chef prone to violent mood swings with a lack of customer-relation skills, I have been economical with the truth. If you have sensed that he's a strikingly intelligent chap with a magnificent sense of humour then you have the other side of the coin. Working and living together is not easy, but we manage pretty well and laugh an awful lot.

Since reading Alfred Challoner Chadwick's column in this magazine some 20 years ago, I have aspired to follow in his footsteps. So to have had the opportunity to write in Caterer has been an ambition realised. With the co-operation and support of customers, staff and friends it has been an immense privilege and one I shall miss very much.

I hope that you have enjoyed reading the tales of Tal-y-Bont, and have sensed the joy I get from contribution to this industry of ours, the pride I have in my adopted homeland of Wales and the affection we have for our magnificent, much-loved "family" of staff. Thanks - it's been a ball.