While some drowned their sorrows in cheap beer (or perhaps something stronger) and puffed away at cigarettes, I had quit smoking and was not going to drink any booze (which was still often upsetting me a bit post glandular fever).
So Liza, Mike and Mandy decided, in order for me to be able to do something intoxicating with my sorrows, that they would bake a cake, infused with lashings of hashish sprinklings, thus mellowing my and everyone else’s mood.
Dall-E has tried to help me replicate the scene in an image.
It was done an act of kindness, but perhaps at least one of us should have known a rather important, basic, biological fact about the mind-affecting substance in question. When smoked, the effect wears off in a few hours at the most. When ingested, the effect lasts a good deal longer – 12 to 24 hours.
The Next Day – 10 June 1983
I basically ended up sitting my Jurisprudence paper feeling high as a kite. I don’t think I got a great mark…but nor did I flunk the exam. Philip Rose might have thought I was still icky from my glandular fever and taken pity on me. Or possibly my scribblings were enhanced by my relaxed state of mind, such that my paper really wasn’t at all bad.
A reasonable chunk of what I know about jurisprudence has subsequently been captured for posterity in the Gresham Lecture I gave in 2008 on Commercial Ethics. The video seems to have gone, but the transcript, sound file and pictures are all still on the Gresham site here. I wrote and delivered that lecture without the help of mind-affecting substances.
Returning to June 1983 at Keele – after doing two law papers (I think the other paper I cognitively-floated through was Torts) I went to see Victor/Victoria in the evening.
This film was highly acclaimed but I remember not liking it much. There were one or two good set pieces, such as the cockroach scene at the start of the film, but ultimately I found the conceit of it – a failing actress pretending to be a male female impersonator – a little irksome. I remember especially disliking the trailer for the film, which laboured the point about the Julie Andrews character being “a woman…pretending to be a man…pretending to be a woman” – just in case the audience was too thick to work out what was going on.
After The Exams – 13 to 19 June 1983
Monday 13 June – Last exam today -> Newcastle afternoon -> UGM in eve – stayed up late after
Tuesday 14 June – Lazed around all day. Stayed in eve drinking etc.
Wednesday 15 June – Lazy day again. Shopped – lazy evening
Thursday 16 June – Did little today – went to Shelton & NSP [North staffs Poly] – lazy evening. Cooked meal.
Friday 17 June – Lazyish day, Shopped – in evening went to see Diva – v good.
I do especially remember that movie Diva. I thought it was stunning. Not what I would now think of as my kind of movie, but the visuals and sounds were an explosion of sensory extremes that I rarely feel in the movies. Here’s the IMDb link. Below is the trailer:
Saturday 18 June – Did little today – Liza working most of the day and evening – stayed in cooked meal.
Sunday 19 June – Rose late – went Int [International] Fair – wet lunch at Sneyd – went Newcastle in eve – Liza v ill after
Lazy is the key word for the week after my exams. The following week was different again, as you’ll discover next time…
Yesterday, Jon sent me an e-mail with some more scans that made me smile even wider, relating to some student union election shenanigans in February 1983. I wrote a brief note of those a few years ago for the Keele Oral History Project – click here – but now, thanks to Jon and his scanning machine, I can relate the story far more accurately and colourfully for Ogblog. I’ll write that up soon – something for Ogblog enthusiasts and lovers of student politics to look forward to.
So Jon’s documents sent me to my 1983 diary and that got me thinking about the 1983 general election, our very first one as voters.
There are many similarities between 1983 and 2017; an aging, unpopular Labour leader, splits in the Labour party, a Tory woman Prime Minister looking to increase her majority and power…
…there are also many differences. I’m not so fearful of the far right parties this time, whereas we were genuinely (but mistakenly) worried that the National Front and/or British National Party might make ground in 1983. Perhaps the Tories have simply moved onto much of that turf now, albeit with less visceral policies. I’m not so sure that Theresa May will achieve a 1983 Maggie style result – certainly the polls are less clear (or less trusted) in 2017. For sure all the main parties have put up dreadful campaigns in 2017 – I didn’t feel that way in 1983 – the Tories at least seemed like an unstoppable election machine back then.
Before I looked at the relevant page in my 1983 diary, I would have sworn that I remembered following election night in Liza O’Connor’s Rectory Road Shelton digs with a mixture of my Keele friends and Liza’s North Staffs Poly art & design flatmates.
But it wasn’t quite like that and now I do remember.
Thing was, I was bang slap in the middle of my Part One law degree finals.
As I now recall it, I had voted by post in my parent’s constituency (Streatham) where we felt that there was a chance that Labour might win, whereas John Golding (for whom even then I would have struggled to hold my nose and vote) had a safe as houses seat in Newcastle-Under-Lyme. My Streatham plan didn’t work in 1983 – by the time Streatham switched from Tory to Labour in 1992, I was voting in Kensington North.
Now, through boundary changes, my constituency is Kensington, with a Brexity Tory MP in a strongly non-Brexit but utterly safe seat. I’m finding it hard to hold my nose and vote for anyone today, but of course I shall and it won’t be for Lady Brexit-Borwick.
My 9 June 1983 diary note is quite pithy:
Did some work in day. Jon, Simon & Vince came to Rectory Road for tea – we came back to Keele in eve. Panicy.
“Jon” is Jon Gorvett, “Simon” is Simon Jacobs, “Vince” is Vince Beasley.
So my abiding memory of sitting around for hours debating politics with those people was correct – but it was during the day, not election night.
The reason I was “panicy”/panicky was because I had a couple of part one finals papers the very next day. I suspect that the others had finished their finals exams by then. Jon might remember his circumstances. Simon always claims to remember nothing at all.
So I think we held our 1983 election post mortem…pre mortem. I remember debating what next and all that sort of post mortem stuff.
So in 1983 we really knew (or thought we really knew) the result before polls closed – we just wondered exactly how bad it was going to be.
Political life doesn’t feel so certain to me now. Is that my age/experience showing or does that tell us more about the political age we now live in?
Thanks for triggering the memories, Jon Gorvett.
Comments on Ogblog pieces are always welcome but especially so on this piece.
In the spring of 1983, one of the “big hit” comedy books that captivated the young (and young at heart) was The Complete Naff Guide.
Available second hand – click image if you wish
Not long after, there emerged a short publication at Keele named The Keele “Naff” Guide. It is attributed to Adrian Bore and Daphne Canard, but is actually the work of Frank Dillon, with a little help from his friends. I plan to e-publish the “tome” for the May Bank Holiday weekend 2023. Watch this space.
Point is, on the short list of Naff Union Positions gracing the back cover of the Keele “Naff” Guide, Chairperson Of Constitutional Committee does stand out as being quintessentially naff.
How Frank himself, with a little help from his friends, persuaded me to run for that position in the spring of 1983, is one of life’s mysteries that would probably best remain unsolved. But I’m going to try and solve it anyway.
I have mentioned before the shenanigans around several union elections in 1982 and 1983, largely caused by the Tory faction deliberately trying to game flaws and loopholes in the election rules in an attempt to disrupt the smooth running of the union.
In May 1983 my memory would still have been fresh with the (in my case literally sickening) shenanigans that February – click here or below:
Yes, I was on Constitutional Committee (which was also Election Appeals Committee) that year. Yes, I suppose I was seen as one of the good guys. Yes, only one person had put their name forward for the 1983/84 role – Adam Fairholme, who was a Conservative, albeit from a benign corner of that grouping.
I think it was a small posse that ganged up on me and persuaded me to run. I’m pretty sure that Frank Dillon himself was part of that posse. Also Vincent Beasley. I have a feeling that Genaro Castaldo (he who pleaded me away from my sick bed when things went awry in February) and possibly also Viv Robinson (who had been elected to succeed Genaro) leant on me.
I said I didn’t really want to do it. I said I had no time to put together a manifesto and contest the election. I said it was better that they find someone else.
Just do whatever you can. We think you’ll win the election anyway.
I sat in the Main Bar and wrote a few lines in large block capitals on a side of A4 paper. I wish I still had that scribbled-so-called-manifesto to show you. It was so sloppy and shoddy that, I recall, Viv Robinson and I subsequently used it in a guidance note to people who wanted to run for elections in 1983/84 as an example of what NOT to do.
It included my name writ large with a large cross in a box top and bottom. I recall that I pledged to
uphold the spirit and the letter of the constitution
explain constitutional matters in ways that would help and encourage students to participate in the union
seek to revise the constitution to block the loopholes that had recently been exploited to frustrate the union’s purposes.
In fairness to myself, despite the brevity of the pledges and shoddy presentation, I did see through those pledges to the best of my ability during 1983/84.
Having signed my nomination papers and deposited my scrappy piece of hand-written A4 purporting to be a manifesto, I then went back to Shelton for much of the next week, returning to the campus just for classes, a bit of private study and some infeasibly long tennis matches with Alan “The Great Yorkshire Pudding” Gorman. I don’t think I went to the union again until election day.
I’m pretty sure that my diary entry on 6 May which reads, in part “union for a while” reflects the above.
Friday 13 May 1983 – Busyish day – classes etc. – election for const. comm. – won – went to Shelton- had 1st drink (or 2) there.
I think I won the election on a small turnout but a significant percentage. Something like 120 to 80. I recall that Adam Fairholme was bitterly disappointed not to be elected; I think he campaigned quite hard and fancied his chances against an all-but-absentee candidate. Actually Adam was a good bloke and we became friends, albeit not close friends. I’ll write more about him and his demise come the 40th anniversary of that tragedy.
“1st drink (or 2)” relates to the fact that I had been completely off the sauce since February on the back of doctors orders due to my glandular fever (infectious mononucleosis). In May, Dr Scott told me that my “six month ban” could be reduced to “three months” for good behaviour, as I really hadn’t touched a drop.
But did I have the constitution for it?
Saturday 14 May 1983 – Rose quite early – came back to Keele for a while – dress and tennis – went back to Shelton – drag at party – not too pleasant – v late night.
I only very vaguely remember this party but I’m guessing it was some sort of costume party involving drag (they were an arty crowd, Liza’s North Staffs Poly crowd – I suppose that’s what you get when you study art). I don’t think I enjoyed it much, based on my diary entry.
Sunday 15 1983 – decadent day in bed – talking etc. – v pleasant – felt v ill – temp up – both [me and Liza] came back to Keele.
Even at the age of 20, I think its clear that I preferred smaller gatherings of friends/people I knew and liked, to big parties – regardless of costumes or lack thereof.
Even clearer is the fact that I did not yet have the constitution for drinking again. I voluntarily stayed off the sauce for quite a while longer. While my body didn’t tell me that three to four hour tennis matches might be overdoing it, it did tell me that one or two drinks was still one or two too many for my post-virus constitution.
The following diary entry is the first clue that something was wrong:
Sunday 6 February 1983: Rough night – felt ill in morn. & all day – wrote essay in eve nonetheless
It didn’t get better – for the next couple of days my ill health was the only topic in my diary. I have hardly any photos from that era, let alone “lolling around feeling poorly” ones, so I commissioned Dall-E to reimagine the scene:
Monday 7 February 1983 – Pretty ill today. Stayed away from classes – early night – not well.
Tuesday 8 February 1983 – Pretty ill still – went to Health Centre – put on tablets. Came home – stayed in – early night – quite ill.
Actually I have very powerful memories of that 8 February 1983 evening. Everyone else in the flat went out or did their own thing. I stayed home and watched the movie The Harder They Come on Channel 4. I remember thinking it was a fabulous movie, despite the fact I felt so ill. Forty years on, it is available on-line so anyone can watch it. The music is awesome if you like ska and reggae.
The other thing I especially remember about that evening is that I persevered with smoking even though my throat was incredibly sore.
Anyway, I soon had time on my hands in the Health Centre to reflect on the stupidity of this practice. Hence I know that I smoked my last cigarette of tobacco while watching that movie that evening.
Interesting also that the TV listings tell me that the movie finished just before 23:00 – after which I would have gone to bed. At that time, this met the definition of an “early night”.
Wednesday 9 February 1983 – Came into Health Centre – pretty ill today. Don’t like it here much.
Thursday 10 February 1983 – Feeling bit better today – let up in evening into lounge etc.
More reflections on the Health Centre next time – my early release was premature
Not sure if I blagged my way out or whether they desperately needed the beds or what – but I was released with suspected flu and instructed to recuperate at my flat. I had at least resolved to quit smoking for good, which, with the benefit of hindsight, was an excellent longer-term health outcome.
From Smoke-Free Resolve To A Smoke-Filled Room: An Election Appeal
Friday 11 February – Came out of Health Centre – not at all well. Being sick all day. Went election appeals in eve – came home to bed.
…anyway, this season the shenaniganistas were at it again. I think this problematic election was that of Vivian Robinson, who was active in Labour Club and therefore “within the sights” of the Conservative crew who were keen to disrupt elections by deliberately breaking the rules and then trying to have the election annulled if they didn’t like the result because rules had been broken. These Machiavellian types probably thought that their techniques would enable them to run the country this way in future decades, given half a chance…oh crikey!
Anyway, there was I lolling around in my flat, looking like a Dall-E reimagining of a sick 1980s student, trying not to throw up all the time…
…when Gennaro Castaldo, the SU Secretary at that time, arrived at my flat. Gennaro was one of the good guys – I guess he probably still is. He had heard that I’d been ill and was hugely apologetic…while also being emphatic…he pretty much pleaded with me to come to the Election Appeals Meeting. Gennaro sensed that it was going to be a bare-knuckle tussle and was keen to have all of the voting panellists there.
It was hard to say no to Gennaro in such circumstances – probably almost any circumstances, if he put his mind to being persuasive.
I remember telling Gennaro that I’d been throwing up all day and wasn’t sure I could get through a heated meeting without upchucking. My “humourist reflecting back ” self today reckons that a full-blooded chunder at some point in that meeting might have been the most apposite comment of the evening.
I have asked Dall-E to try recreating the smoke-filled room that was the SU President’s office at that election appeal.
It was more unruly-looking than this, but not bad for 21st Century AI envisaging the 1980s
Chris Boden, who I think was also a member of our panel, was the main voice of the (if not the actual) complainant. I have no recollection what the actual detail of the complaint was – only that it was pretty clear to me that the whole exercise was a stunt to disrupt the students union rather than a genuine uncovering of sharp practice by or on behalf of a candidate which should result in the election being overturned.
I recall that Gennaro had kindly/sensibly placed me near the door so I could make a break for it if I felt the need to throw up. I also remember the room being very smoky indeed, which was not good news for my still agonisingly sore throat.
I also very clearly recall that, at one point, when Chris Boden was trying to set out his complaint that “someone” had broken the election rules, Vincent Beasley jumped to his feet, pointed at Chris Boden and yelled “J’Accuse” at the top of his voice. At that point, I thought I might need to bolt out of the room to throw up, but I just about managed to contain myself.
Lovers of justice everywhere will be delighted to learn that the election appeal was dismissed and the election rightfully confirmed.
But my personal struggle with infection and the Health Centre was far from over, as you’ll learn next time.
End Of Term Blues Band & The Interminable Signing On Ritual
Writing forty years on (March 2022) I am quite impressed reading about my diligence at the end of the second term of my P1 year…and how that diligence soon turned to partying and mayhem once my work was out of the way.
Friday 12 March 1982 – Easy sort of day. Went to the ball in the evening. Quite a good ball *. Jon [Gorvett] lost keys – stayed in flat.
I’m pretty sure that there is more than one reference in my diaries to Jon mislaying his keys and dossing out at my place.
According to Dave Lee’s book The Keele Gigs!, the ball that I described as “quite good” was controversial in its choice of The Blues Band as they had played Keele only a couple of years earlier and were not deemed, by some cognoscenti, as ball material. I remember finding them pretty darned good.
The Keele gig from 1980 is available on-line as it was recorded as a Rock Goes To College broadcast, so you can see it below. The 1982 manifestation was really quite similar:
Saturday 13 March 1982 – Rose late – went to Newcastle during day – shopped. Rana [Sen]’s dinner party in eve -> Simon [Jacobs]’s party – Caroline [Freeman, now Curtis] up for weekend. V Good.
That’s quite a busy couple of evenings, even by my standards back then! No wonder I took it relatively easy the next day or two.
There is a strange comment in my diary on the Monday:
…went to union in evening – got mixed up in everyone else’s problems.
I have no idea who or what “everyone else’s problems” might have been referring to. Probably just as well I didn’t extrapolate in the diary and cannot remember a thing about it.
Tuesday 16 March 1982 – Last official day of term. Andrea [Collins] popped in to say goodbye – went to the union in the evening – much emptier!!
…and therefore fewer problems to interrupt my flow, presumably.
Wednesday 17 March 1982 – Went to sign on in morning – sent away again. Did little during day – stayed in evening.
Thursday 18 March 1982 – Did a little work today after signing on with Kath [I think the same person as Kate] after hanging around for hours – went to union in evening.
I have written before about the ridiculous bureaucracy of having students sign on each holiday. It’s good to see that bureaucratic nonsenses had “sending away empty handed” and “hanging around for hours” events even 40 years ago. Bureaucratic denial and delay techniques are more sophisticated and partially-automated forty years on, of course.
Speeding Away From Keele To Eardisley, Herefordshire
What did the beautiful little Herefordshire village of Eardisley ever do to deserve us?
The answer, it seems, is that Jon Gorvett’s parents had a cottage there and a Keele student posse decided to descend upon it when those parents were not around.
My poor memory had this as a “trip to Wales” rather than “on the English side of the Welsh border” but never mind. We did venture into Wales a couple of times.
Jon Gorvett writes, with more authority than my memory:
Trip to Wales… that wasn’t the trip to my folks’ place in Herefordshire, was it?
It was right on the Welsh border. Gerry Guinan was there, indeed, and Julie McClusky and Vince [Beasley] and George Scully, along with the three of us [Jon Gorvett, Simon Jacobs & me] and two friends of Vince’s who came up from London.
I seem to remember that my folks’ tiny cottage was rather jam-packed with people, with not a lot of sleep possible except on the floor - though possibly there wasn’t much sleep in any case because of the various substances imbibed…
Indeed.
My diary covers the event quite well:
Friday 19 March 1982 – Decided on impulse to go to Eardisley (Jon’s parents’ country home). Left Keele about 7 – got there – went to pub – ate dinner etc. Up most of the night I felt a…
Saturday 20 March 1982 – …bit ill – crashed – went out to Wales (c12:00) – great time there climbing hills etc – really nice. Got back quite late – had supper etc. – again up all night…
Sunday 21 March 1982 – …playing Risk etc. – walked a long way early morning – did little else – went back to Vince’s for supper – returned – crashed out very tired.
There are a few elements of this story that are clear in my memory but missing from the above notes.
I seem to recall that the impulse to do this trip came from the fortunate discovery that Jon’s parent’s cottage and the Keele Student Union minibus were both available for a group of us to use at short notice.
I do remember not feeling brilliant that first night, being relieved that I felt fine and had a great day walking the hills on the Saturday. I think that was my first “hill walking with friends” event and the joy of such walking has stuck with me ever since. A much better experience for me than my ill-fated school walking trip some eight years earlier.
As for the Saturday to Sunday all-nighter, I recall that I was desperately keen not to wimp out again and crash. I chose, on unsound advice, to try speed (Amphetamine).
This experiment certainly helped me to stay awake all night but I do recall that I almost bit my bottom lip to pieces in the process. I don’t think I did very well playing Risk in that state – I’m not sure I ever did well playing Risk. I would tend to play carefully, then get overconfident, invade somewhere beyond my means and get crushed.
Speeding as I was, I have a feeling that I didn’t even go through the “play carefully” stage and I have a dreadful feeling that I might have invaded Ukraine – it just always looked so enticing in the middle of the board. Forty years on, I hang my head in shame at my drug-addled, over zealous, over-confident, reckless former self.
My other unwritten but abiding memory of this trip was the long walk we did on the Sunday, walking from Eardisley across the border into Wales and back. WE must have looked like a right motley bunch by the Sunday and I particularly remember Gerry Guinan wearing a bright green cape-like outfit and remarking that the strange looks she was getting left her in fear of being burnt at the stake as a witch by the horrified-looking villagers as we strode through various villages.
But I am glad to report that there were no witch burning incidents or even “running the students out of our village” incidents as far as I can recall.
It was a seminal little trip for me in several ways. Perhaps I even fell in love with the look of Tudor-style architecture that weekend.
Eardisley (Herefordshire) probably looked like this 19 March 1982 Noddyland, (London W3) did look like this 19 March 2022
Postscript: Jon & Simon chime in with their memories
Jon makes the following informed contribution in addition to the notes (above) which he sent prior to my write up:
1982, eh? Eardisley… I have to say, though, that my folks’ old place there would have regarded the Tudors as fancy young interlopers with no sense of style or tradition at all, I’m afraid. The Cruck House, as it was known, was a 14th century jobby, made out of a single massive oak tree spliced vertically down the middle and then inverted into a kind of Plantagenet ‘A’ Frame. What the ghosts of the house made of us, mind you, speeding like crazy all weekend, I’ve no idea. Gerry Guinan’s cape might even have seemed comfortingly familiar…
Simon’s recollections are no more focussed than Jon’s and mine:
I remember our trip to Eardisley pretty well except that I can’t remember precisely who was there. Vince Beasley was, for sure. I recall going for a brief walk after a first or second night of not sleeping at all and having stomach cramps as a result of the somewhat toxic powder we’d been happily imbibing.
To celebrate the 40th anniversary of the “Film Star Makes President” edition of Concourse, I have republished the whole paper in the form of high-quality scans in a Flickr album – click here or the embedded image at the bottom of this page.
Dave had generously given me a great deal of editorial control over the political pages, so the front page and the next two pages were very much mine, content-wise.
Presentation-wise, I think it was entirely down to Dave that we went for an audaciously eye-catching front page – big headline, big photo and election results table only. This was not the regular Concourse way but I think it did help us sell.
I was very proud of the headline; a nod to Ronald Reagan’s recent election and the fact that Mark Thomas headed up the Film Society.
I realise also on re-reading the paper that I interviewed almost all of the protagonists from that early part of the election season: Mark Thomas, Frank Dillon, Anna Summerskill, Ric Cowdery, Steve Townsley, Vince Beasley, Jon Rees…
…I already knew some of them reasonably well and got to know most of them a lot better as the next year or three went on.
Other highlights include:
Dave Lee editorially eating his own liver over the previous editors’ resignation scandal and the Katy Turner column faux pas, on Page 4 and then again at length on Page 13;
Jon Gorvett & David Perrins fret-piece about fire risk, following a Dublin disco fire, on Page 7;
Some Concourse memorabilia on Page 11, looking back 10 years (which now is 50 years), including a snippet about Neil Baldwin from 1971;
A couple of damning gig reviews on Page 17, including the Krokus one by Simon Jacobs which I have Ogblogged about here and the Rob Blow & Di Ball one from deadline night;
I rather like Phil Avery’s hockey team review on the back page, not least because I had to read the entire thing to the end to work out which sport he was reporting. If only his weather forecasts were so suspenseful.
If you want to browse/read the whole thing, simply click the link below and you will find all the pages in high quality digital form, easy to read/navigate on most devices and for sure downloadable.
