Found Him! An E-mail Interview With Ian Sandbrook, 50 Years After 1S At Alleyn’s School, 6 November 2023

2020 Image “borrowed” from the bowels of the Endelienta Arts website

On the morning of Rohan Candappa’s small gathering of 1S chaps in late October…

…I thought I’d try to track down Mr Sandbrook, and indeed, a few day’s later, as reported in the above piece, I received a message from “Ian” addressed to “Ian”. Eventually it dawned on me that “Mr Sandbrook” and “Harris” were now, a mere 50 years later, on first name terms.

A few days after that, in response to my somewhat inquisitive follow-up, Ian wrote the following charming tour d’horizon of the past 50 years and a few Alleyn’s memories from his perspective.

Ian has kindly granted me permission to publish it here. It is reproduced below verbartim.

This image borrowed from LinkedIn

I’ve never been good at the alumni thing; I have lost touch with people with whom I have been close as I have moved to other places and situations and I have found that the few reunions I have attended have been rather hard work. But that hasn’t stopped me from wondering – frequently – what became of individuals who, somewhat unpredictably, surface from the past and come into brief but often quite sharp focus for a while.

So this 50 year-old blast from the past is quite a strange experience. I am very gratified to think that our trip to Scapino proved to be significant in some way; and I am amused that my ruse about looking for spelling errors on the blackboard has stuck in your memories. Funny to think too about how much has moved on – not many blackboards around in schools these days. Seeing the full form list of 1S set my synapses singing, although sadly only with tiny snatches of song.

I was only at Alleyns for 2 years, although they feel, in retrospect, to have been rich and full years. The salient memories were to do with the feel of the classrooms, hockey, snooker, the flat I shared with Dr Dave Wallace in Calton Avenue, particular staff such as Barry Banson, Colin Rowse, Paul Kingman – to name just a few.

Oddly enough, it was because of my role as the first-year form tutor of 1S that I moved on. I had decided that it would be a good idea to visit one or two of the schools from whom members of the class had come. Heber Primary School, in East Dulwich (which was rather rougher and tougher then than the somewhat gentrified district that it is now) was one of these. When I went to visit, the headteacher there persuaded me that I should switch to primary teaching and, cutting a longer story short, this is what I did. From there I moved into headship (at Rosendale Juniors, not far away) and on into the ILEA inspectorate. Thence to Hampshire’s school inspection and advisory service and then, eventually, to become Director of Education in Southampton. I completed my paid career with a five year freelance period as interim director of children’s services in various local authorities and as an educational consultant.

You did well to find me via Endelienta Arts. When I was a consultant in the noughties, I had a website which included a full CV. But the education consultant market contracted sharply in 2010 when austerity cut sharply into local authority budgets. My wife and I moved to North Cornwall, which we had come to know and love after my playing annually in the St Endellion Easter (classical music) Festival (also since 1973). While we were there, we helped to set up a new charity, Endelienta Arts, to run a year-round arts programme to complement the music festivals. Endelienta Arts is alive and well, responsible for regular concerts across the music genres, the North Cornwall Book Festival, reflective days, and a thriving arts outreach programme.

We moved to Lewes in December 2020 – mid lockdown – because we wanted to be closer to our grandchildren who are in Brighton and Tottenham. I’m still involved with the St Endellion Festivals in Cornwall but we are building a life in Lewes – singing in a choir, being a school governor, doing various bits of voluntary work, tending an allotment, lots of walking on the Downs, lots of culture – very much enjoying being part of a (slightly quirky) 15-minute community.

This is probably enough to answer the “I wonder what happened to him ?” question. Thank you for going to the trouble to make contact – and for the work that you do to keep the 1S community alive. As I said when I responded initially, it is gratifying to discover that one has left little bits of legacy in one’s slipstream – but it is only through the likes of you that I get to make such discoveries !

My very best wishes to all who might remember me from my brief but rewarding time at Alleyns.

I really enjoyed and was moved reading this note. Janie liked it too when I read it out to her. I feel sure that many Alleyn’s 1970s alums will appreciate the note. Thank you, Ian.

But there is just one small thing, Sir…I mean, Ian. I have spotted a spelling mistake in your e-mail. The same mistake appears twice. Does that mean I can claim 10p or 20p?

No-one likes a cocky little 11-year-old. Worse yet, one who is still cocky after all these years.

Chess, Fives, Drama & A Mysterious “Big Trip” Spanning Half Term At Alleyn’s, Mid February 1974

With thanks to Mike Jones (seated) for this 1975 picture of him with Bernard Rothbart, who, in 1973/74, taught me biology and chess

There are many mysteries in our world, but, as I type this piece, none engaging my mind more than the relatively trivial mystery, what was the “BIG TRIP” on 16 February 1974.

Clearly this matter was so very big, it warranted mentioning its planning at school the day before the trip. Also, it was clearly so very big, in my mind, that I had no need to write down what it was because, obviously, I would remember the details of that trip for the rest of my life.

It’s going to need the hive mind of my fellow former pupils and/or teachers to get to the bottom of this one. I’m holding high hopes that Dave French or Rohan Candappa or Ian Sandbrook will come up trumps for this one…

…and talking of coming up trumps, I had no recollection of learning bridge as early as February 1974. In my memory, I was deeply into chess at that time, with thanks to and encouragement from Bernard Rothbart. Bridge, I think, I was shown by my family (probably Uncle Manny and Anthony) and/but I didn’t really get into it until later.

Enough preamble, here are the diary pages, which, I must admit, presented me with some reading and interpretation challenges.

And, oh, the spelling! Sorry sir. It just goes to prove how much I needed tuition from English teachers such as Ian Sandbrook back then.

Sunday, 10 February 1974 – Lots of papers from Aaron. Ginsbury talk. 14 p. Kalooky [sic].

Monday, 11 February 1974 – Cricket good. Maths test 20 VG. PE wriggly snake. Handcraft Midgley.

Tuesday, 12 February 1974 – Horniman Museum art v good. Pot Black good.

Wednesday, 13 February 1974 – Beat Cooke 6–15, 15–10, 15–13 in fives. Man About The House v. good. World At War, v good.

Thursday, 14 February 197 4 – Chess v Leach and H’s – I won although points down.

Friday, 15 February 1974 – Uneventful. Chess practice. Planned tomorrow’s trip. Beat Andrew in chess match.

Saturday, 16 February 1974 – Whent [sic] ON BIG TRIP.

14p was a big haul for me at Kalooki at that time – more than doubling the pocket money I received from my parents. Grandma Anne was probably the bigger loser although I could also clip my mum on a good day. “Did I pick up yet?” – that was one of Grandma’s catch phrases. “Whose turn is it?”…”YOURS!” – that was another.

Cricket with Mr Banson followed by handicraft with Mr Midgely on the same day – it’s a miracle I didn’t get brain damage from the repeated cuffing around the head!

I very well remember those school visits to the Horniman Museum. I’m sure they helped form my fascination with far-flung cultures, especially those from the south seas.

Horniman Museum by No Swan So Fine, CC BY-SA 4.0

I have already written a bit about forming my fascination with the south seas back then in this piece – click here or below:

I have mentioned before that I seemed prone, in my diary, to reporting my fives wins over Alan Cooke in the diary while often omitting to mention the losses. My memory tells me that Alan was the better player by some distance and would win more often than lose against me. This method of recording is contrary to those of noble Renaissance players of jeu de paume (real tennis), such as Philip The Bold of Burgundy or Henry VIII of England. They tended only to have the losses recorded. My theory is that this had more to do with money-laundering than humility, but I digress.

The World At War, an epic history series about the Second World War, was “appointment to view” stuff in our household and I’m sure many others during that 1973/74 academic year. I don’t mention it every week, but I’m pretty sure it was on in our living room every week and that I watched most of them with my parents.

Regarding the chess wins, I have less recollection about my chess progress than my fives progress, other than the fact that I got frustrated with chess after a relatively short while and didn’t really follow through with it, in contrast to my lifelong love of hand/bat and ball games. I’m guessing that there might well have been a fair number of unrecorded chess losses too.

But what, in the name of all that is good and pure, was the BIG TRIP that Saturday? Speculation in the absence of clear memories will be gratefully received. Clear memories will be even more gratefully received.

Sunday, 17 February 1974 – Aaron gave even more prep. Learnt bridge, Queen’s gambit.

Monday, 18 February 1974 – Rather bad day. Barbers, went to library with quiz for music in particular.

Tuesday, 19 February 1974 – Taught Andy [Levinson] bridge. G[randma] Jenny. Trousers. Classes. Geography, v good.

Wednesday, 20 February 1974 – Last day of half term. Bridge with Andrew. Mum had her hair permed. World At War, V good – Reich 1940 to 1944.

Thursday, 21 February 1974 – New half of term. Lost chess match. But on the whole not bad day.

Friday, 22 February 1974 – Swimming v good. Drama, did Candid Camera, v good. Chess v Cyril– Up.

Saturday, 23 February 1974 – School morning. Shopping and learning afternoon. Learning and thriller evening.

Ok, ok, folks, I don’t need you to tell me that bridge is bridge and Queen’s gambit is chess. I’m pretty sure this proves that it was Uncle Manny and or cousin Anthony who showed me bridge and a new (to me) gambit for chess on that Sunday.

Uncle Michael, Me, Anthony, Auntie Pam

“Rather bad day…barbers”. I have written elsewhere about my aversion to having my hair cut when I was a kid – this link – here and below – includes a picture of that very barber shop, Ronnies, in Streatham.

“Went to library with quiz for music in particular”. I think Mr Sandbrook set us all a rather fiendish quiz to keep us occupied over half term. Probably another of his ruses to get us into the habit of going to the public library – a habit for which I needed little additional encouragement – but I think that quiz got me looking at sections I wouldn’t otherwise have explored. Top marks, Sir.

I love the way I ended up teaching (or “tourt” as I put it) Andy Levinson how to play bridge five minutes after I’d been shown the basics. Poor chap didn’t stand a chance with a “tourter”…I mean teacher…like me.

I didn’t have it in me to name my chess nemesis on the Thursday.

It seems that we “did Candid Camera” as our drama Friday session that week. How that might work I cannot quite fathom, unless the idea for our drama class was for us to write the scenarios for candid camera vignettes, and/or act as if we were being surprised by hidden cameras. I’m absolutely sure that Sir knew what he was doing and I am positive that it was very good because I wrote “v good” in my diary.

I am 99% sure that My chess victim on the Friday, Cyril, will have been Cyril Barnett the next door neighbour, not “Cyril” Vaughan the Alleyn’s teacher.

Cyril teaching me pancake making while my dad was teaching me a bit about photography. c1978

I have no idea what the Saturday entries “Shopping and learning afternoon. Learning and thriller evening.” I do remember having educational magazines named “World Of Wonder” and “Look And Learn” – perhaps “learning” was my shorthand for burying myself in those. Thriller might have been a TV programme or film. Thoughts and ideas on this, as with other topics in this piece, would be most welcome.

What On Earth Was Downing Doing? Alleyn’s Aghast At 1S Drama Friday Outrage, 25 January 1974

Sometimes the handwriting in my juvenile diaries is hard to decipher.

Other times, the scrawl is legible but the text is hard to interpret. The entry for 25 January 1974 is such an instance, rereading it 50 years later.

P.E. good + drama good. trial me a witness Downing made a mess of it.

Let us not fret about my pre-teen punctuation and sentence structure…or lack thereof.

My main concern here is with the reference to Downing.

There was no-one named Downing in 1S.

I asked a few 1S pals to hive mind this problem. Who was Downing and what on earth might Downing have done to “make a mess of it”?

Dave French suggested:

I remember that Drama class well, it was in the afternoon. Mistakenly, the dinner ladies served up magic mushrooms with lunch that day. That probably explains it – Downing was just ‘in your head’. It was quite embarrassing really; I still have nightmares.

Rohan Candappa offered an alternative theory:

Actually I remember the boy ‘Downing’. Downing was his nickname. It was a Cockney rhyming slang thing: Downing Street – Warwick Frearson.

To be honest, I think none of us really knew how rhyming slang worked.

Hmmm. The half-century-old 1S hive appears to be a bit of a struggling colony these days, especially in the matter of remembering the finer details of class activities. I can’t imagine any of the above evidence holding up in a jury trial.

“Erase from your minds inadmissible, hearsay evidence…”

I decided instead to seek help from the internet. I put the name “Downing” into the Alleyn’s 1970 Facebook Group search and found “Mike Downing” in our group, stitched up (or should I say “introduced”) by Steve Williams some years ago.

A Google Search of “Mike Downing Alleyn’s” found the gentleman on LinkedIn, asserting that he spent 1972-1979 at Alleyn’s (a year above us) and again a visible connection with Steve Williams.

There was nothing else for it. I contacted Steve Williams. Steve confirmed that Mike Downing was indeed a year above my 1S year, two years above Steve. Steve also confirmed that Mike was and still is a top bloke, who would no doubt enjoy the fifteen minutes of fame (or infamy) and rise to the challenge of trying to recall what might have happened.

Frankly, I can only imagine a few possibilities for this mystery diary entry.

The most plausible in my mind is that Mike Downing inadvertently entered our classroom half way through a double lesson. Opening the wrong classroom door by mistake during another class’s lesson was not an uncommon occurrence at Alleyn’s.

But in order to make it into my diary – a very rare mention of a specific event – the interruption was, presumably, during a key dramatic moment while I was giving evidence. I imagine myself fully in character. Lost within my back story and the highly-charged dramatic circumstances in which my character found himself. Such an interruption would, in those circumstances, have utterly demolished the fourth wall. My potentially monumental acting career thus cruelly interrupted, never again to find the giddy artistic heights that were just that moment about to blossom. A mess of it indeed.

The other possible answer to the Downing mystery is that Downing was part of that drama class and somehow muffed his lines. Perhaps he got tongue-tied or incriminated himself or failed to cross-examine me well enough to expose the implausibility of my evidence.

Is it possible that we occasionally (or even regularly) combined forces with a second year class on drama Friday? Or might Downing have been attending remedial first year drama classes, having made a mess of drama when he was a first year…only to go and make a mess of it again as a remedial member of our class?

I put it to you, dear readers (aka members of the jury) that we need to call at least two additional witnesses to the infamous “made a mess of it” event. Mr Ian Sandbrook (Sir) and Mr Mike Downing. Unless someone else who was there on that fateful day has memories to share.

For sure the sentencing needs to be a lot more incisive than the 25 January 1974 diary entry

Postscript One: Mike Downing Writes:

I seem to recall that I was in the end of year production of Dr and the Devils by Dylan Thomas for which I received critical acclaim in the school magazine 😉 but that may have been 1973. A later foray into Drama spanning some 40 years revealed that I was always late to put my book down and could paraphrase with the best of them when the lines were not forthcoming! I was also in the G & S society production of Trial by Jury so maybe that makes sense and I may well have messed up but old age has reduced it all to a vague blur! Shame you didn’t get to critique some of my later efforts as I definitely got quite good at the whole drama thing in the end🤣. Came close to going professional at one stage but rather preferred the security of a regular pay cheque. Does that jog your memory at all? I doubt it refers to my older brother 1968-75 who never went near a stage in his life.

Postscript Two: Ian Sandbrook (“Sir”) Responds:

IAN SANDBOOK: I am very sorry, but I have absolutely no recall of Downing’s intervention in the drama class of Jan 25th 1974…

IAN HARRIS: Don’t worry about your lack of memory. It’s my diary and I cannot remember this stuff, so I cannot realistically expect others to remember it for me.

Scapino, Young Vic, 23 January 1974

I started to keep a diary in January 1974.  The 23 January entry is my first record of visiting the theatre, although I went with my parents to see pantomimes and children’s shows before then.

This visit I’m sure was my first school trip to the theatre, an Alleyn’s School outing.  I think just for my class; 1S, probably Ian Sandbrook’s initiative.  It was a revival of the first production at the Young Vic Theatre, which I think therefore makes it the Young Vic’s first production as an independent theatre company.  It seems the revival was a precursor to a glittering US transfer.

All the 11 year old “critic” wrote at the time was:

“Scapino v good indeed.  Jim Dale good.  Got to bed very late.”

Yet the evening stays quite clearly in my memory.  I remember liking the patter song about Italian food and I also recall catching a plastic facsimile of a glass of wine and keeping it in a bottom drawer for years and years.  It survived many clear outs, but I think it came a cropper in the end.  Who knows, it might turn up in one of my junk boxes some day.

This Michael Billington piece about that production and the early days of the independent Young Vic is charming, click here.

This archive review from the Columbia Daily Spectator was written only a couple of months after our visit.  The late great Ian Charleson gets an honourable mention in this piece.

There is some material on this production right at the beginning of the Young Vic’s 50 year celebration on-line article – click here.

Here is a link to the Theatricalia entry for the production – whether or not some of the cast changed for the independent revival is lost in the mists of time. I think the main cast was those on the Theatricalia list.

Below is Milton Shulman’s review of the opening night, in September 1970, which he pretty much raved about:

Scapino Shulman StandardScapino Shulman Standard 14 Sep 1970, Mon Evening Standard (London, Greater London, England) Newspapers.com

The Guardian did an Arts Diary picture piece on the p[roduction:

Scapino GuardianScapino Guardian 11 Sep 1970, Fri The Guardian Journal (Nottingham, Nottinghamshire, England) Newspapers.com

If you want to read the script on the Internet Archive, I think you might need a (free) login to borrow it but you can preview it here:

The First Couple Of Weeks Of My Second Term At Alleyn’s School, 6 to 22 January 1974

When 10p really was 10p. Images borrowed from coincraft.com who, fifty years later, can sell you one of these 1974 coins for £6.50

The meaning of the two bob bit in this context will become apparent a bit later.

It is not the two bob that Mr Sandbrook offered to pay any of us if we spotted him make a spelling mistake on the blackboard. Mercifully, Mr Sandbrook did not similarly threaten to fine us 10p for every spelling mistake we made. Had he done so, he’d be a wealthy man and I (and several 1S colleagues) would each be a fair bit poorer.

My diary is riddled with dreadful spelling. I apologise unequivocally to Mr Sandbrook and to those who tried to teach me English before and after him. In the end, it was WordPerfect, AmiPro and Microsoft Word who drummed better spelling into me by dint of their spellcheckers. Teachers and parents, despite their entreaties, got only so far.

Week 6 to 12 January 1974 – Return To Alleyn’s School On the Thursday

My last few days of Christmas holiday freedom were not very eventful.

Sunday 6 January 1974 Missed [Hebrew] classes, went out for lunch with Grandma Anne. A rather bad day.

Lunch with Grandma Anne was probably at Feld’s restaurant in 1974, as I think Folman’s was gone by then.

I quite often mentioned having a good day or a bad day in those early diaries, without so much as a clue as to what might have made the day deserving of the chosen adjective.

Monday 7 January 1974 went to West End and bought 9? books., lunch at Auntie Francis, a very pleasant day. PS Getting lamp from Heals.

The only picture I can find depicting Auntie Francis is the following one from my parents’ wedding, in which everyone looks a bit miserable. Possibly it was a curated moment of reflection on absent friends and relatives. Or possibly everyone was caught on camera just at that “I’ve overeaten” realization moment.

Auntie Francis, Uncle Alec, Grandma Anne, Dad, Mum, Grandpa Lew, Grandma Jenny

I absolutely loved my Heals lamp. It was in the shape of a giant incandescent lightbulb. So cool. You’ll just have to believe me.

Tuesday 8 January 1974 – uneventful. Saw Andrew [Andy Levinson] in morning. G Jenny in afternoon.

Wednesday 9 January 1974 – had lunch with Andrew. Saw Mary Poppins in afternoon. She’s Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Return To School 10 to 22 January 1974

Thursday 10 January 1974 – First day of Lent Term. The t[w]o H’s are on form. No activities so classes early.

Friday 11 January 1974 – Whent [sorry Sir] to Dad after school – lift from U[ncle] Manny.

Saturday 12 January 1974 – School in morning afternoon uneventful.

The two H’s were Keith Handy and Richard Hollingshead, who tended to give me a pretty hard time in those early days at Alleyn’s.

Sunday 13 January 1974 – Miss Aaron [Hebrew class teacher] away. Mr Ragshaw [relief teacher presumably] gave teaser I was right. Lamp is nice.

Monday 14 January 1974 – was robed [presumably I mean to write “robbed”, but I probably, more accurately, “was thieved from”] at school. Mr Fanner [Headmaster] lent 10p. NOTHING ELSE.

I don’t remember the theft incident. I’m sure I would have remembered it had I actually been robbed at school. I suspect my bus fare money “disappeared” from my pocket during PE that morning or games that afternoon.

Still, the incident must have been deemed serious enough for me to have been sent to the headmaster, Mr Fanner, who kindly ponied up a couple of bob to see me home safely. I think I only needed 2p or 4p for that purpose in those days.

I was once actually robbed – i.e. duffed over on the train to school and had my pocket money stolen – but that was certainly not in term two of my first year.

Tuesday 15 January 1974 – repaid Mr Fanner. Biology – no wormery yet. Classes good.

I love the fact that repaying Mr Fanner was a diary-worthy event. I can imagine mum telling me multiple times that it was vitally important that I got that money back to the Headmaster that very day, otherwise he might imagine all sorts of terrible things about me and my family.

I think Bernard Rothbart was our biology teacher that year, making that diary entry especially bitter-sweet thinking about him and Mr Fanner and Mr Tindale (see below) all dying prematurely.

Wednesday 16 January 1974 – Fives good. McG good player. TV good. Man About The House, Bless This House especially.

I’m not sure who McG is/was. Answers, please, on a postcard. McG presumably beat me in order to be assessed as a good player.

Thursday 17 January 1974 – Tindale [French master] away. No violin. Classes good. Prepared lecture for tomorrow.

I’ll talk about my diabolical relationship with the violin some other time. Me and the violin did not get on.

Friday 18 January 1974 – Lecture went well. Drama v good. Heard tape of me 7 years ago.

Not sure what the brief for the lecture was, or indeed for drama that day, deserving of v good. But I can work out what “tape of me 7 years ago” must be referring to, which was the simply delightful recording, which I still have, of my dad reading “Hare And Guy Fawkes” to me on 5 November 1967:

Did someone, e.g. Mr Sandbrook, dig out a reel to reel tape recorder and play that recording in class? Or does that diary entry refer to family activity later that day at home? If only I had been more detailed and specific with my diary entries back then.

Saturday 19 January – school morn. Afternoon played with myself. Everything is OK.

Played with myself is not a smutty and/or euphemistic reference. As an only child, I had a variety of games that I had adapted for solo entertainment when needed. I had a version of cricket darts where I would play both batting and bowling roles. I had my own version of Cluedo which enabled me to play solo – goodness knows how – I think that might have come a bit later.

And I had fridge ball, which I have documented on this blog from a December 1974 reference:

Great sport, fridge ball. Fridge ball is to ping pong what real tennis is to tennis.

Sunday 20 January 1974 – Bechat Ha Mazon [Birkat Hamazon – food blessing] went well. [Miss] Aaron not [Mr] Freed – boo!! [Hebrew classes]. Otherwise uneventful.

Monday 21 January 1974 – cricket good. 1 dive. 2 one-handed catches. Rest uneventful.

Tuesday 22 January 1974 – No fencing. Female art teacher is good. Classes good.

There is my first reference to cricket in the diaries. Possibly my first ever cricket lesson. I like the sound of my diving one-handed catches.

…more like this DALL-E reimagined picture.

As for the female art teacher, I cannot remember anything about her and certainly not her name. Sorry, Miss. Perhaps others can recall her. I remember Mr Brew and I remember Mr Friedlander, but no female comes to mind in that context. Still, she was good, in my eyes, in January 1974.