by Dr. Iain
Corness
The
lady who told her husband she wanted to do a couple of hours of work a day
or else it was time to return to the UK is Pat Jantarasittipol (nee
Rigby), the “Pat” in Pat’s Pies. She is a woman who has had some of
life’s tragedies fall heavily upon her, but has managed to get back up
each time.
Pat was born in Belfast, Northern Ireland. She says she
is “British” even though she considers herself “Irish”, but with
Northern Ireland under UK rule, she is happy enough to adopt the Brit
nametag.
The middle child in five, she went to convent schools
and finished up at 17 years of age unsure of where to go from there. “At
one point I wanted to be a nun - you were indoctrinated as a child - but I
don’t think I would have made a good one!” said Pat, laughing at the
thought.
She went to work as a wages clerk and met a young
British Army paratrooper, and by the time she was 20 she was married in
England. “It was a culture shock,” said Pat. “It was the time of the
‘troubles’ and I wasn’t used to the fact that I could walk into a
shop without being searched, and you didn’t jump into doorways every
time a car backfired. It was freedom.”
Being married to a paratrooper, they dropped into many
army bases over the following 14 years, including a stint in Germany. In
that time she had two daughters, but the second baby died aged three
months. The diagnosis was the inconclusive ‘cot death’ syndrome and
this nearly shattered Pat, and her husband took it very badly. “You
don’t ever get over it. I needed to know ‘why’. She was in the cot
next to my bed and I dreamed that she had died, and when I checked, she
had. I joined a support group and we would meet every week and talk about
it.” Any mother reading this will understand the life-long anguish.
Her husband was demobbed and they went to live in York
in England, with her surviving daughter, but unfortunately, the marriage
did not survive. They divorced, but remained friends.
Pat had been working in various personnel departments
and at that stage in her life needed a break from responsibility. “I’d
had enough. I just wanted a 9-5 job. I went to work for Tesco, and
that’s where I met him,” said Pat, pointing at her second husband
Chart Jantarasittipol. “He was my boss!”
Chart had been in the UK for 14 years and wanted to
return to Thailand, and they arranged to come to the Kingdom. “I was
terrified,” said Pat. “I had this idea in my head of little wooden
houses on stilts. No electricity. I didn’t think I could cope with it.
When I saw electric light poles on the freeway from the airport I was so
relieved. When we arrived at Chart’s family’s house, they had TV,
fridges and freezers. I thought it’s not going to be too primitive after
all!” This event was of such a momentous impact that Pat remembers every
detail. “It was 26th February 1989 at 4.26 in the afternoon!”
However, despite ample supplies of electricity and
white goods, Pat found it very difficult at first. They were living in
Bangkok and Pat admits that, “The only thing that kept me going were the
trips home to the UK each year.” To break the tension cycles, she and
Chart would come down to Pattaya every second weekend. They also adopted a
baby boy, Jake, whom they had from the age of four days. This gave Pat
other interests and work, as all mothers of young children fully realise.
After seven and a half years in Bangkok, it was time to
move and Pattaya was their destination. But time began to hang heavily for
Pat, who had always been an active woman. “I said to Chart, one of two
things will happen. I will stay and do some work each day, or we’ll pack
up and go home to the UK.”
On her previous trips back to York, she used to spend
time with some friends who had a pub and restaurant, and Pat used to help
out in the kitchen. So the idea of Pat’s Pies was born. They opened a
take-away on Third Road. “I thought it would give me a couple of hours a
day. How wrong was I?”
Pat’s Pies was certainly a run-away success,
expanding into a sit-down restaurant, then a separate take-away, The
Chippy, and then another full-blown restaurant. With the expansion came
the realization that the business was controlling them, not the other way
around. It was at this time the second momentous event happened, an
occurrence that Pat calls, “My head popping incident.”
It was December 2001 and was the rupture of an aneurysm
of a blood vessel in the brain, otherwise known as a stroke. “It was a
real eye-opener,” said Pat. “It made me stand back and take stock. I
was paralysed down one side, I’ve still got a gammy leg. I had always
been a confident person but this really knocked me.” This is, of course,
a normal reaction when we are confronted with our own human frailties.
It was time to put her own house in order, and after
what was for Pat, an agonizingly slow one year convalescence, they sold
the restaurant and consolidated the business. Pat takes her time these
days. “It’s made me relax a little more, and not bother (so much)
about things that haven’t happened yet.”
So where to now, I asked Pat? “Nowhere, love,” was
the reply. “Just here. The aspirations are over now.” Her ‘head
popping’ has not stopped her, however. “It makes you stronger. Live
life the best you can. The people you meet on the way up the ladder, you
meet again on the way down.” Wise words from a wise lady.
