Friends and Family Events – Page 15

Rohan Candappa Guest Piece: Teenage Parties Coming Around Full Circle, 5 April 2017

I am very grateful to Rohan Candappa for granting me permission to publish the following text as a guest piece on Ogblog. Rohan circulated the piece originally to a few friends. I think it deserves a wider airing.

It triggered a whole swathe of memories for me, which led to a few “party pieces” of my own – see my introductory/warm up published yesterday – here.

It also triggered a swathe of bants from others on that original circulation. I’ll take soundings on whether those should see the wider circulation light of day or not. Of course, if people want to add their bants to the comments section of this piece here on Ogblog, then bant away.

Something has definitely come full circle.

That’s because today is the morning after the night before. And the night before is when my son – 17 two weeks ago – had a party at home. A party with girls. And alcohol. And a herd of previously hand-reared teenagers released into the wild of almost adulthood to fend for themselves.

Oh yes, and let’s not forget the instruction ‘You’re not staying‘ directed to me and Jan. At which point I came back with the perfectly reasonable point of ‘Actually, it’s my house, I paid for it, so I can stay if I want.’

So obviously we went out.

Out to the pictures to see ‘Moonlight’ – very good. Then on to a groovy pizza restaurant, to eat a groovy (probably artisan) pizza – also very good. The only problem was that by 9.30 we’d seen the film and eaten the pizza. And both were five minutes walk from our house. So we took a circuitous route home and got back at ten.

Walk up to the house – no police cars, no mass of kids trying to get in, no flames coming through the roof – Result!

Open the front door and, for some reason, the music blaring out is ‘Mirror In The Bathroom’ by The Beat. And that’s when it strikes me. That ‘full circle’ moment. This is exactly what I was listening to 40 years ago when I had a party at home when I was 17.

All of which got thinking.

So here are some of the things I can still dredge up from my age-addled brain of those parties of 40 years ago, Please feel free to wallow in nostalgia, add your own memories, or disown me as a sad old geezer who endlessly bangs on about how everything was so much better back in their day…

I remember being the hall of my house, at my party, when someone comes up and says I need to go into the kitchen, and going in to find that all the food was on the floor because Mick Carol had sat on the edge of an antique circular dining table, snapped the central support, and the table at completely tipped over.

I remember being at a party at Nige’s house when the patio door got accidentally pushed out, and Nige’s dad, instead of going mad, was worried about us all getting cold.

I remember that over time, going to parties I graduated from bringing bottles of Merrydown cider, to bringing half bottles of Souther Comfort. Why I brought Southern Comfort I have no idea as it tasted like cough medicine.

I remember Steve’s pair of Rupert The Bear checked trousers.

I remember taking singles to parties with my initials written on the labels so that you could take them home again at the end of the evening.

I remember that going to parties at other people’s houses was one of the few chances you had to see how other people lived. And sometimes that meant you got glimpses of other worlds. Worlds you could aspire to. Lives you could want to live.

I remember the expectation, the excitement, the hopes, the fears, the bravado, the posturing and posing and awkwardness of it all.

I remember a joint 18th birthday party with Steve at The Shirley Poppy.

I remember Nick and Tim’s disco.

I remember the word disco.

I remember dancing.

I remember rooms starting to spin, and lights starting to blur, and the sobering cold shock of the air as you stumbled out into the night and tried to figure out how you were going to get home.

And I remember walking home with John one night when it had snowed heavily and having a deep, meaningful conversation of which even the slightest detail escapes me.

So last night, there I am walking back into my son’s party and The Beat are playing.

Like I said, full circle.

And as my son gets older, I wish him many things.

Like friends as good as the ones I grew up with all those years ago and am lucky enough to still have in my life.

…merely cantankerous now: Rohan Candappa

Introducing Rohan Candappa’s Party Piece, With Links To Three Of My Own Party Pieces Plus Soundtrack, 4 April 2017

When Rohan Candappa circulated his very amusing and charming piece about his 17 year old’s party, I very much enjoyed the read and was thrilled when Rohan agreed to me posting it here on Ogblog as a guest piece.

Here’s a link to Rohan’s wonderful guest piece. It triggered off all sorts of memories for me. I had already written up a couple of Alleyn’s School, after show parties:

You might have detected a theme here; school parties didn’t go so well for me back then. Conversely, the youth club ones rocked. That’s why I threw a couple of those myself. They were seminal moments for me, even if/when things did not go “entirely right”.

So Rohan’s wonderful piece induced me to write a trilogy of rite of passage club party pieces:

There are some pictures in the pieces, some unintentionally funny scribblings in my juvenile diaries (scanned and there to be seen in glorious technicolour) and also some of the best bits translated from scribble into English.

But one aspect of Rohan’s delightful piece is absent from those stories. The soundtrack of the events.

Rohan focuses on Mirror in the Bathroom by The Beat as the soundscape of his teenager’s party. Why his kid is playing music from our era rather than his is anyone’s guess.

But it got me thinking. Can I name one song that was stuck at the front of my head from each of the three parties I have just written up? Answer: yes.

Ivor’s May 1978 party – Because The Night by The Patti Smith Group;
My November 1978 party – Rat Trap by The Boomtown Rats got stuck in my head that night, although I didn’t much like the song. Down In the Tube Station At Midnight by The Jam was my soundtrack of choice during those weeks of my parent’s absence, so also deserves a mention;
My October 1979 party – Queen of Hearts by Dave Edmunds…no idea why, but that song was utterly stuck in my head that weekend. Fact. At least there’s one that I can play now on my baritone ukulele.

So here they are, for those who have got this far and want to hear/play any/all of those party tracks – five tracks below, they’re crackin’:

Woodchester, Westonbirt and other Walks in Gloucestershire, 19 & 20 March 2017

We had arranged to stay on for a couple of days after Scott and Amy’s wedding. The Egypt Mill and Nailsworth generally sounded like a good place. Neither of us had spent much (or in Janie’s case, any) time in that south-western corner of the Cotswolds, so it seemed like a good idea to check out the area and walk off the wedding.

We didn’t need to walk far to see interesting flora and fauna; the gardens of The Egypt Mill were lovely. Only problem was, the gardens were guarded by a badling of ducks.

The weather forecast for the Monday was less than special, so we thought we’d better get most of our outdoor walking activities done on Sunday. After saying goodbye to everyone, we took some advice from the Egypt Mill folk and from Mr Google. Coaley Peak and Woodchester sounded like a very pleasant walk. Almost everyone recommended the Westonbirt Arboretum. We’d aim to visit both of those.

Coaley Peak was very windy and chilly when we got there. Also, the promised “superb views on a clear day” were not forthcoming as it wasn’t clear. The forecast suggested it might be a bit clearer later, so we left the car at Coaley Point and walked to the entrance to Woodchester Park.

There are several walks of various lengths recommended for Woodchester. We planned to walk more than the shortest circuit but less than the medium-sized circuit, making sure we got to see the start of the lakes and see the mansion, but not walk the extensive lakes.

The early part of the walk has some man-made paraphernalia designed to keep the easily distracted amused.

Still, it was a beautiful walk in the main and the weather did seem to be holding up for us. Also, lower down in the park it felt warmer and far more pleasant than it had felt up on Coaley Peak.

…as we approached the mansion, we encountered strange beasts…

The mansion was guarded by wild beasts, the like of which we had not seen for many moons. Fortunately, I was able to emulate their sound (more “maaaaa” than “baaaaa” in reality) to keep the beasts honest. Unfortunately Daisy’s attempts to emulate the sound initially seemed to have no effect and then seemed to make these beasts nervous, so we stopped doing that.

The old Woodchester Mansion, which was never really used, looks rather Gothic and splendid. The National Trust does open it up for tea house and mini tour purposes, but not as early in the year as March.

So we wandered back to Coaley Point in the hope of a better view; but up there the view had deteriorated since our arrival and the chilly wind had got chillier.

The picture I wanted to take is on the Wikipedia entry for Coaley Peak – here.

We took sanctuary in Dumbo (my Suzuki Jimny) and drove to Westonbirt, arriving there before 16:00. We realised that we didn’t have time to do both spring trails and opted to do the Spring Wood one.

The start of the trail was a bit “school-tripsy”; a walkway explaining what wood is and stuff. But once we got onto the trail itself we were in our element. Or more precisely, in Daisy’s element.

Lots of Japanese trees with varieties of cherry blossom just starting to show. Of course, as residents of Noddyland, we’re rather spoilt for Japanese cherry blossom trees and felt that “we can get all this and more besides at home”. Except for the number of varieties and the beautiful country trail setting of course.

Not fully sated, we decided we had time to take on the start of the Old Arboretum trail, which promised camellias, rhododendrons, magnolias and (Daisy assured me) pterodactyls.

Daisy got to see all the things she was looking for on the first four stages of the Old Arboretum trail, but we ran out of energy before spotting any of my pterosaurs. No matter.

That evening we had dinner with Tony and Liz, who ventured once again from their glamorous caravan site and dogs (it’s extraordinary how the other half live) to the relatively austere surroundings of The Egypt Mill. We had a very enjoyable evening.

20 March 2017

As promised it rained. Proper, wet rain. We enjoyed our breakfast. I spent some time mucking about with the blog and the pictures we had taken and my baritone ukulele. Daisy read and mucked about with her iPad (other brands of tablet are available).

But later, again as promised, the rain cleared and we were able to plan the local walk for late afternoon; Nailsworth to Stroud.

Perhaps 10-15 minutes out of Nailsworth along the walking/cycle track…

The first part of the walk was lovely, following the Nailsworth stream pretty much. Very pleasant scenery.

Soon enough, we reached a tunnel under the road (A46 I should imagine) which has loads of graffiti art, which we rather liked. Very colourful and some rather good.

I knocked up a quick portrait of Daisy (wink).

We continued to follow the track most of the way to Stroud, but then the track seemed to take us to the A46 itself, unless we wanted to loop. So we took to the road, but soon saw a sign which read “public footpath” leading down some steps and back to a rather attractive looking trail by the side of a garden. So we then took that.

…which Daisy admired, as the trail led back to the road again.

Just as we were about to emerge back onto the road, a rather strange-looking, frumpy woman accosted us and asked us what we were doing in her garden. I explained that we had followed the “public footpath” sign and stuck to the trail, but she was adamant that we had encroached on her garden.

I pointed in the direction of the sign we had followed and suggested that she report its ambiguity (or indeed its manifest error) to the council, as there was really no choice other than the trail path after following that sign, apart from really walking through the garden. The woman didn’t seem to like my idea of alerting the authorities, she told us that she was in a hurry as she had to rescue her cats. She merely wanted us to know that:

“there’s a cycle and walking track up the top there for people like you”.

I wondered what category of people the weird woman had put “people like us” into. Gentle folk out for an afternoon stroll? Anarcho-ramblers? Pikeys? People whose in-laws stay on caravan sites?

Janie was quite peeved by this woman. We followed a later sign back to the cycle/walking track, but it soon became clear that we would do a big loop round to Stroud that way, so we returned to the A46 and did the last mile/mile-and-a-half by road. Not the most salubrious surroundings for a ramble. Nor is Stroud a particularly interesting or pleasing town to visit, it transpires.

With the benefit of hindsight, we’d have done better to have walked half way from Nailsworth to Stroud and then back again, perhaps a slightly different way.

Still, we’d done some great walking over those two days. The full collection of pictures from those walks can be found here.

Scott & Ami’s Wedding, The Egypt Mill, Nailsworth, 18 March 2017

A quick one or two for Dutch courage before the wedding ceremony

Let’s not talk about the five hour marathon packing session and dusky drive to Gloucestershire the day before. Nor is there much to report on the very enjoyable dinner with Tony, Liz, Chris (Escamillo Escapillo) and Charlotte (Lavender) on the Friday evening at the Egypt Mill.

No, let’s get straight to the wedding day itself, before the ceremony. I chatted with the groom, Scott, (Manolete) on the right and his best man brother Paul (Belmonte) with baby Jack, centre.

I wasn’t drinking two glasses; I was holding Daisy’s glass while she took the pictures. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Daisy’s big sister, Hilary (Ermintrude) came round looking for Chris (Carlos Aruzza), who was chatting with his brothers and sisters, more or less in front of our eyes.

“I think he’s on his fifth or sixth glass of wine, underneath that table over there”, I said, pointing the other way.

“Oh God, he isn’t, is he?”, said Hilary, in max-stress mode. Perhaps I’d chosen the wrong moment and the wrong person for that particular joke.

After that, we were soon ushered in for the wedding itself.

Hilary and Chris, reunited, also with Paul and baby Jack

The registrar told us that we could take pictures as we pleased, but that the pictures should not be posted on social media until after the celebrations. This statement caused some confusion among some of the more senior guests, unfamiliar with the term “social media”.

Scott decided to explain in simple terms what social media is.

Social media…right…it’s, like…Twitter and Facebook and Instagram and stuff…

It was probably just as well that Scott explained it, otherwise several senior folk who didn’t even know what the term social media means, mostly probably would have, inadvertently, posted lots of stuff to social media during the embargo period.

Meanwhile I, who had not given the idea of live Ogblogging the wedding a moment’s thought until that announcement, suddenly felt an almost insatiable urge to post stuff to social media that very second. But I resisted.

Scott was clearly in contemplative, nay perhaps even deep meditative mood during the official ceremony itself.

Stay awake, Scott, this is your wedding ceremony

The wedding ceremony itself went pretty much entirely according to plan. There was a short round of applause when we got through the “does anyone know of any reason why this wedding should not take place” bit.

The registrar asked Scott to confirm Amy’s name at one point, claiming that Scott might not have said it absolutely right the first time. Daisy, I and everyone we spoke to afterwards were convinced that Scott got it right first time; we agreed that the matter should have gone to the TV umpire rather than Scott having to replay the point.

Little Penny, Paul and Mish’s first child, was the flower girl for this wedding, sitting up front with the maids of honour. Penny asked lots of questions during the ceremony which was rather sweet.

Reception after the ceremony; no further questions from the flower girl…

Then, a reception and of course the official photo shoot. Has to be done, but not my favourite bit at weddings. In any case, that day in Nailsworth, it was quite chilly standing around waiting for your slot.

Penny treated the photo shoot with due respect…

After the shoot, the very tasty wedding breakfast, served after some short but sweet speeches, including a very succinct and eloquent best man jobbie from Belmonte Paul:

There was just about enough time between the meal and the dancing for Daisy and I to dash back to our room and change into our dancing outfits.

Like many good sports matches, the dance was a game of two halves. First up was a live band, Men@Ease, fronted by Jerry (Ami’s dad) and his partner Christine. They performed mostly 60’s and 70’s covers and were very good indeed.

I thought it was a really nice touch from Ami’s dad, doing an hour or more’s set on her wedding day. From Ami’s point of view, of course, it eliminated the possibility of “dad dancing misery”.

Realising that someone needed to do embarrassing dad-type dancing (otherwise the whole event wouldn’t have been a proper wedding), I picked up that baton, so Daisy and I danced like crazy for most of that set.

Mercifully (or sadly) we have no photos from that part of the evening…yet. The official pictures, we are assured, will be ready soon and will no doubt have caught me and Daisy in the act.

After the live music, a DJ picked up the mantle with some more up to date sounds. Daisy and I continued to dance for quite some while, teaching the youngsters a thing or two about stamina and modern dance moves…some moves so modern that the youngsters had probably never seen anything quite like it before.

Anyway, the whole event was super.

It’s a shame we don’t (yet) have any pictures of Daisy (Janie) to show you from the wedding. But we do have, from 2013, a rare bit of selfie-style-video from the very first time that Ged and Daisy met Ami, when we went down to Bristol almost exactly four years before the wedding. Someone had shown Janie how to use the video feature of her smart phone and the rest is history.

Ultimate Love and Happy Tories, Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner, Café Rouge Holborn, 3 March 2017

NewsRevue’s 2004 Guinness World Record for being the World’s Longest Running Live Comedy Show – Gerry Goddin far left, Barry Grossman back left, a wide-eyed me front right

NewsRevue goes back all the way to 1979. When the show turned 25, in 2004, it was awarded the Guinness World Record for being the World’s Longest Running Live Comedy Show. I was there. I’d been there since 1992. This year my involvement with the show turns 25.

Those of us who wrote for the show in the 1990s still gather a few times a year for Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinners.

Earlier this week, coincidentally, I played real tennis with Chris Stanton (another NewsRevue alum, in his case a performer) at Lord’s. Chris was reminiscing with me about the show, not least because he was rummaging through his old files and found many complete runs of scripts from “our era”, which he was planning to shred. I think John Random might rescue them for posterity.

Chris then gave me a pretty-much word perfect rendering of Brian Jordan’s wonderful Arthur Scargill song, to the tune of My Guy. As John Random later reminisced:

He may not be to everyone’s liking/But as a union leader, he’s striking.

Hearing about Brian Jordan reminded me of my first big hit; The Ultimate Love Song, which Brian made his own for a while and took to Edinburgh (my material’s debut there) in his show “Whoops Vicar Is That Your Dick?” I am so proud to have had my Edinburgh debut in a show with that name.

After seeing Chris, I looked at my file and realised that The Ultimate Love Song turns 25 this week; I copyrighted it 29 February 1992…so perhaps it turns six-and-a-quarter. Anyway, it seemed right to mention it at the Ivan Shakespeare and I was badgered into giving a quick rendering, as much as I could remember.

I have now upped The Ultimate Love Song in its entirety – together with the tale of its early use – here’s the link again.

Here is a link to Ben Murphy’s rendering of The Ultimate Love Song from 1993.

Mark Keagan was at the Ivan Shakespeare dinner; he’s one of the more regular attendees. He mentioned that his father-in-law and former home secretary, David Waddington, sadly passed away last week. Which reminded me that I did once write a song with a verse about Waddington; again nearly 25 years ago. We all (Mark included) agreed that the song might come in handy for him over the coming weeks…well you never know…so I have upped that one too. Happy Tories it is called – also about Maggie Thatcher and Chris Patten – click here.

Below is a picture of John Random and Mark Keagan from the previous Ivan Shakespeare dinner.

Mark was awarded the 2016 trophy, but should he have been? Rumour has it that John might have been handed the wrong envelope…

Gerry Goddin and John both produced quizzes. Gerry’s was infernal as usual; I did well at first but tailed off at the end, letting Barry Grossman take the honours at the line. John’s was suitably silly and superficial for my mood – a small collection of “shock and awe” pun headlines to unfathom. Perhaps naturally, I won that quiz.

As always it was good to see the gang – a slightly depleted gathering this time but at least when that happens you get a chance to have a proper chat with everyone.

Dinner At The Flat With Andrea, 2 February 2017

Several of us had agreed a get together for the first weekend in February, although most of us for one “busy life” reason or another didn’t much fancy that weekend.

In the end, we bowed to the inevitable and rescheduled for early April instead. I sensed Andrea’s mild frustration with this change of plan and in any case she and I hadn’t had a proper catch up for ages, so I suggested that she and I meet up for dinner early February anyway, but midweek.

So that’s what we did.

In the end I thought that a meal at Chez Ged would be the best place for a proper catch up, much like a similar catch up I had with John White at mine in December.

Again, it was Alastair “Big Al DeLarge” Little who did most of the work, not least an amazing borscht and then his signature veal ragout.

Al also had some Radicchio Rosso di Treviso (Il Tardivo, obviously), which Janie loves in her salads and which I thought would add a little something to the salad I made to accompany this meal. I’m glad I did that; I had forgotten that Andrea lived in Italy for a while, so she recognised the special radicchio straight away and said she thought that she hadn’t tried it since her days in Italy.

I was out of Italian red that evening (tut tut) but had a very jolly Spanish red that could do a similar job.

Anyway, the homely-yet-cheffy meal did the trick; it gave us a chance to catch up on each other’s news and prepare psychologically for the slightly bigger gathering to come in April.

Andrea sent me a note the next day saying that she was going to attempt to cook a borscht for her and Amy at the next available opportunity. I might have to wait until April to find out how that went. Messy business, making borscht, in my view. Best left to the experts like Big Al.

Zaha Hadid Early Paintings and Drawings, Serpentine Sackler Gallery, Followed By Dinner At 35 New Cavendish, 27 January 2017

London Aquatics Centre
Photo by Bert Seghers – Own work – Creative Commons CC0

Unusually, it was me who spotted this exhibition, in The Week, suggesting to Janie (who loves Zaha Hadid’s designs) that we should find time to see this exhibition before it comes off.

As we’d arranged to meet Lavender (Charlie) and Escamillo Escapillo (Chris) for dinner in Marylebone on the Friday, it seemed sensible for us to finish a bit early and take in the exhibition ahead of dinner.

The plan worked brilliantly. We arranged for Janie to get to mine at 16:00, which meant that she actually arrived just before 17:00, which in truth still gave us bags of time to see the small exhibition at leisure, wend our way gently to Marylebone on foot and still be a bit early for dinner.

Here is a link to the Serpentine Galleries resource on the exhibition.

We both loved it. There is a book to accompany the exhibition specifically on these early works – click here or the image below for the Amazon link:

I bought Janie the above book and also the Taschen one – click here for Amazon link – which covers the later works well.

Janie was originally a bit reluctant to walk all the way from the Serpentine to Marylebone, as it was a chilly evening, but once we got walking, she realised that it is a pleasing walk through Bayswater and Marylebone; worth it.

We had bags of time, so took in some shop windows and even open shops along the way. Neals Yard for some posh smellies and a bizarre tea shop with fancy tea pots, where Janie was finally able to replace a little glass pot in the style she likes to serve to her clients…jees she spoils them.

Still early, we decided to retire to 35 New Cavendish, aka The Cavendish – click here and wait for the others with a glass of wine in our hands.

As we walked in, we saw, sitting very prominently at a table in the bar downstairs, Mark Carney, the Governor of the Bank of England, holding court with some other besuited gentleman. I’m pretty sure he was spouting some very large numbers, but through the buzz of the downstairs bar I couldn’t tell if he was saying, “twelve billion” or “twelve trillion”. Nor could I tell whether that was pounds, dollars, euros or Indonesian Rupiah. Nor did I hear what the massive number referred to. Still, it’s always good to have heard it straight from the horse’s mouth.

Janie and I were grateful to be shown straight to our table upstairs, which was a large one and upstairs was much quieter at that hour. Soon enough the other two arrived.

Here’s a link to the menu – not sure how often it changes of course.

Janie started with foie gras, I started with tuna three ways and the youngsters started with scallops. Janie and I both had the signature 100 layers lasagne, while Lavender had the lobster tagliolini and Escamillo Escapillo the sea bass. The food was all very good indeed.

Neither of the youngsters were drinking much; Lavender not at all (tut-tut; dry January hadn’t been invented when we were her age) and Escamillo Escapillo just one glass ahead of driving home from the station. Janie and I felt like lushes by downing a couple of glasses each over the evening.

Everyone was on good form, so we had a good chat about life, the universe and everything without letting much family-sh*t enter the conversation. Quite right on a Friday evening out too.

Kindly, the young couple absolutely insisted on picking up the bill, citing the “our turn” protocol, despite torrents of protest, in particular from Janie, who knows how to dole out generosity far better than she knows how to receive it. At one point I thought we might need the Governor of the Bank of England to arbitrate, but Janie eventually caved in and in any case Mark Carney had probably long-since left the place.

It was a very enjoyable late afternoon and evening all round.

Dinner In Noddyland With Caroline and Alan Curtis, 21 January 2017, Followed By A Lazy Sunday, 22 January 2017

Daisy’s Magical Garden In Noddyland, As It Looked On Saturday Evening

We’ve been in Noddyland for more than five years now, would you believe, but this weekend was the very first time we have been visited by a pair from this charming species…

A Charming Different Species Visiting Noddyland For The First Time

…but enough about the charming pair of blackbirds that turned up on Sunday morning, tweeting more vociferously than Trump. I’m getting ahead of myself.

As it happens, Saturday evening was also Caroline and Alan’s first visit to Noddyland. Let’s not talk about blame here for so many years passing without us getting together; at our age most of us are equally rubbish at keeping in touch.

Caroline and I have known each other since our youth; Janie met Caroline soon after Janie and I got together nearly 25 years ago. We’ve known Alan only since he and Caroline got together a mere 16-17 years ago. Yet strangely, in recent years, I have seen more of Alan (through cricket at Lord’s and slightly tangential business connections) than I have of Caroline. Janie had seen neither of them for years.

It was about time we put this matter right, so when Caroline got in touch a couple of months ago on matters unrelated to pleasant Saturday evenings, I responded by suggesting a pleasant Saturday evening in Noddyland instead.

So that’s what happened.

Janie pushed the boat out with:

mini open sandwiches based on Helga’s exceptional Irish smoked salmon from her local smokehouse in Kilcolman, West Cork – which we sampled with delight when we visited Helga a couple of years ago – click here . Subsequently, Helga has generously treated us to packages of same periodically – e.g. this Christmas. If you are reading this – thank you once again Helga – it was lovely to share some of your present with good friends;
additional nibbles of goose rillettes on black oat crackers, together with carrot sticks and tomatoes so we didn’t feel quite so indulgent;
Janie’s classic roast fillet of beef served with wasabi mayonnaise, roasted potato slices and salad;
apple strudel with cream and/or custard (most of us went for the latter).

Not ridiculously boozy, but we started with Prosecco (for three) and decent white wine (for me), followed by an Aussie Cabernet Sauvignon named cover drive (well we all like cricket) and then a rather special Argentinian Malbec once the Aussie wine had been lofted through the covers for six (glasses).

Caroline and Alan told us the story of how they got together…or were somewhat encouraged together…which made us think to recommend Through The Wall to them. I’m sure it also brought to Janie’s mind her recent Noddyland efforts in the matchmaking department.

We talked about cricket quite a bit and managed to keep Alan off the subject of Tottenham Hotspurs more effectively, I suspect, than he is used to. We also managed to keep Trump and Brexit out of the conversation for a surprisingly large proportion of the evening…which I think proves that the conversation was mostly of the right sort; interesting without being distressing. No “rush to the bathroom as a result of distressing Brexit talk misery” on this occasion – click here only if you want to read what can go wrong in such circumstances…and/or if you want to read about my most recent get together with Simon Jacobs.

One running theme of the evening was young Alex, Caroline and Alan’s teenage son. Alex was enjoying an early experience of going out with his friends on a Saturday evening while his parents were out seeing theirs. There was a bit of parent/child message exchanging towards the end of the evening. Caroline and Alan won hands down – i.e. they steadfastly remained at our place until after Alex reported that he had got home safely.

Soon after that, we all realised how late it was, so off went Caroline and Alan. We all swore we wouldn’t leave it so long again next time.

Dawn chorus tweeting more vociferously than Trump

The next morning we rose a bit later than usual – we knew that it would be futile to attempt tennis at our regular time as it was so cold and frosty. But we were treated to an especially magnificent dawn chorus, probably as a result of so many birds visiting that morning, including the new pair of blackbirds who were the bird equivalent of Simon and Garfunkle on tour, visiting Noddyland, perhaps only briefly.

All our regular visitors, including many parakeets, collared doves, blue jays, starlings and the woodpecker turned out to see the show, join in the chorus and eat from the feeders.

Before I was allowed my feed, we went off at lunchtime to the tennis courts where Janie continued teaching me a lesson on how to play slice and cut touch tennis properly. I worked hard at it and improved as the hour went on. That improvement doesn’t show from this picture, whereas the fact that it was still blooming cold does show:

A Good Old Chinwag and Dinner With Simon Jacobs, Old Suffolk Punch, 10 January 2017

Old Suffolk Punch image borrowed from whatpub.com

Simon and I had intended to meet up before Christmas, but as December hove into view, we both felt that a get together might work better after the seasonal holiday, rather than before.

Simon suggested the Old Suffolk Punch in Hammersmith, which seemed a suitable enough venue to me, so that element was agreed and Simon said that he would book it.

What I didn’t realise, until the day itself, was that Simon had committed us to a very particular activity for the evening. Here is part of Simon’s message on the day confirming the details:

…cute online booking form that requests to know what the occasion is… it gives options to choose like: ‘family gathering’, ‘to watch the rugby’, ‘TGIF’, ‘just because’ – but I opted for ‘good old chinwag’. I guess they’ll be watching to make sure that’s what we do…

This had me worried for the rest of the day. I thought we were meeting up, “just because” and I had been looking forward that.

I tried to do some chin-wagging training at the gym that morning and indeed at the office that afternoon, but frankly I didn’t do very well at it during the day and wasn’t at all sure whether I would be up to the task that evening.

I did gently reproach Simon in my reply to his message:

I’m not sure you were authorised to make a decision on that scale, Simon, but I forgive you this once…

I then had an awkward journey to Hammersmith. Despite the tube announcers constantly telling me that there was a good service on the lines, it took 40 minutes for me to get the four stops from Notting Hill Gate to Hammersmith. As Simon said when I arrived, “thank goodness that was a good service”.

But there was far worse to come.

We got our food order in quickly. While we waited for our food, we made a start on the rather tasty bottle of Rioja we had chosen. Within a couple of minutes, Brexit was on the chinwag agenda; indeed before I had even taken off my coat Simon named a particularly venal Brexiteer; a recent Work and Pensions Minister who years ago had briefly been leader of the Tory party.

Simon didn’t merely say his trademark initials or “…Whatsit” (as the Daniel Blake character refers to him in the movie I, Daniel Blake. Yes, Simon uttered the full name. Without so much as a trigger warning.

On hearing THAT name (IDS, not I Daniel Blake), I immediately realised how extremely hot I felt in my coat and how much I wanted to wash my hands, especially before eating, having been on a crowded tube. So I rapidly took off my coat, made my excuses and dashed to the washroom.

By the time I returned, Simon had realised his mistake; indeed he thought he might have triggered a more profound reaction than mere hand washing.

But the truly extraordinary thing about our gathering was that, despite those desperate depths in the run up and start to the evening, in the end we had a most enjoyable time.

The food was very good, in a “good ingredients cooked quite simply, but well” sense. The bottle of Rioja did a grand job. The evening flew by and we weren’t chastised by the staff for inadequate levels of chin-wagging even once. Indeed it is quite possible that we were in fact chin-wagging rather well.

We haven’t yet been invited back to chinwag competitively for the Old Suffolk Punch, but I wouldn’t be surprised if we got the call.

And I’d be even less surprised if we find a suitable opportunity in the not too distant future to meet up again.

I even had a stellar tube journey back from Hammersmith to Notting Hill Gate, at a near-record speed of 20 minutes or so door-to-door, without so much as a single announcer telling me that the service was good.

Dinner at the Daisy House with DJ and Steph, 7 January 2017

Clearly, the Daisy Garden did not look like the above photo on the evening that DJ and Steph came to dinner. For a start, it gets dark around 16:00 in London early January. Secondly, Daisy (that’s Janie for the uninitiated) has invested in some fancy new garden furniture since the photo was taken – painted hard wood rescued from old houses in India, recycled as garden furniture, as it happens.

The idea for the dinner started to germinate back in November, when a few of us gathered for an informal Z/Yen/alumni get together – briefly described if you click here. Janie chatted with Steph, phone numbers (or WhatsApp accounts) were exchanged and the rest is history.

Janie has long wanted to try her hand at matchmaking, possibly because she and I were (initially inadvertently, I think) match-made by Kim, DJ’s sister, back in the day. “The day” was the late summer of 1992, which is approaching its 25 year anniversary, so I’m planning a fair bit of retro Ogblogging about that era as this year, 2017, unfolds.

Daisy put a great deal of effort into the evening. I’m not sure the following activities were intended as research, but we did go to see Through The Wall (a rom-com with matchmaking at the plot’s core) in December – click here. Daisy also spent some time reading about panda behaviour, perhaps seeking insight into low stress lifestyles and/or marathon eating routines.

To some extent, the evening was also “tongue-in-cheek payback time” for DJ, who had hosted us for Christmas this year so lavishly – click here – I’m not sure I have recovered yet, two/three weeks later.

But returning to the evening of 7 January. Possibly in a nod to our own early interactions, Janie cooked one of her signature dishes as the centrepiece of the meal; shin of veal in a clay pot. This dish is quite similar to the ossobuco (traditional style – none of that tomato-laden sauce) Janie cooked the very first time I went to her place for a meal.

But the shin of veal was merely the centrepiece:

preceded by goose rillette and vegetable nibbles;
accompanied by rice and sprouting broccoli;
followed by a platter of fresh fruits and/or chocolates…
…then followed by cheeses.

Drinks a-plenty:

Prosecco (for three)/decent white wine (for me);
Some fine gran reserva Riojas, which (as it happens) DJ gave me for my birthday and I had been saving for a suitable occasion with suitable food;
A bottle of vintage port for the cheese, to more or less guarantee “payback” to some extent in the overindulgence department.

Daisy and I were grateful for a quiet day the next day and an extra day off Monday before returning to the day jobs.

So why a photograph of the garden to head up this piece? Well, one of the most memorable characteristics of the evening (putting aside what good company everyone was, what a superb meal it was and how much we all enjoyed ourselves) was the mildness of the evening. So much so, that we were able to take our drinks and nibbles at the start of the evening in the garden, under the glow of the patio heater, which felt quite magical in January.

Stop press! Update!

Daisy has just seen this Ogblog posting and kindly taken a picture of the magical garden tonight, so readers might see what it looked like (except without the wine, nibbles and the four of us enjoying the evening, of course).

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: