What is a barmaid?

Just a question. Are there any real barmaids left? I mean the type who was very well-endowed who could carefully dispose of the bounteous nature of her assets to allow the pulling of a full pint, whilst mysteriously a third hand would bat away any lecherous advances whilst; smiling genially and discussing Irish literature with a fourth patron? She would also be able to drink any bloke under the table, cheer up anyone who had been dumped by a would-be date, without seeming to want to be a stand-in? I thought not. Kate, from the early 70s Lamb in Lamb's Conduit Street, must be a granny now, but by the gods us young blokes lusted after her, would have defended her and in no small measure revered her as the epitome of the barmaid. Her counterpart, was the urbane, well-dressed but often fractious and very gay, Ray. He catered for the Bloomsbury crowd and their antecedents with real style and panache. So camp and so courageous in those less understanding times that even us straight blokes wanted to give him a big hug.

About then, I made it a point of honour on a Monday (a regular day off, in lieu of Saturday) to set off from Loughton, in Essex, and then travel only by bus and foot to the Lamb, having lunch there with a very good friend and a quick spag bol at the resto in the Sicilian Parade, which is still there! I then got back on the buses to travel all the way to Staines. This was a very, very long journey by the then London Transport.  This plan only failed once, when the driver and conductor of the 117, thinking that there was no-one on board, turned round and went back to Hammersmith with one sterterously snoring drunkard on the top deck. But Kate and her impossible talents, and sunny good humour remain in my memory forever...   There is something really quite magical about a good barmaid.