…I discover in Daisy’s diary, unquestionably in my handwriting…
Move Geddy To Country Quarters
(Ealing)…
..immediately after, in Daisy’s own writing, “10:00 Shola tennis”.
We were having a bit of tuition from Shola that summer at Lammas Park. This paid dividends for us in ways we would never have expected, when the Lammas Park set up went tits-up a few months later and Shola helped us to find “refugee status” at the then yet to be refurbished Boston Manor courts, where we play to this day (25 years later).
But I digress.
Move Geddy to country quarters was a temporary measure. I had bought the Clanricarde Gardens flat that summer and arranged for the very talented (but ultimately volatile) Gavin to refurbish the flat for me.
This was to be a bit of a tester for me and Janie. We’d been going out together for seven years by then. Could we live with each other for six weeks. I mean, it was only going to be for six weeks…
…but naturally those six weeks turned into four months…
In truth I remember little about this play/production. I logged it without comment, which doesn’t help.
Super cast and crew. Stephen Moore, Charlotte Cornwell, Gemma Jones and David Horovitch, directed by Robin Lefevre.
John Gross in The Sunday Telegraph gave it a modest review, which doesn’t help the memory much, 25 years later, other than making me feel better about the fact that I remember so little about it:
My diary reminds me that I went to a lunchtime party at Theodore Goddard’s offices (at the invitation of Graham Stedman) to witness the total solar eclipse, which the celestial bodies had obviously arranged to honour my father’s 80th birthday.
I think I made my way to Woodfield Avenue by public transport from that party, while Janie brought the car having spent the earlier part of the day working. I’ll rephrase that: I spent the earlier part of the day working by dint of being “looked after” by our company lawyers, while Janie had a more regular working morning in the company of several pairs of feet.
In those days, Janie obviously still thought of crossing the river to visit my parents as a major expedition beyond her normal boundaries. Her appointment diary entry reads:
3.00 pm – leave London for Peter’s party.
…in Streatham, which, apparently, is not in London. Anyway…
…the party went swimmingly well.
I’m struggling to remember who was there and we only have a handful of photos from that party, which were in “Mum’s Photo Box”, identifying only a few of the guests.
Pam and Michael Harris were there, as evidenced pictorially. The neighbours were there, in the form of Eardley and Adrienne Dadonka, plus John & Lily Hogan. Peter Harris (no relation) from next door confirms that he was away, unfortunately. Norman and Marjorie Levinson were there, the pictures prove. I remember Lionel and Dina Aarons being there. I’m sure that Stanley and Doreen Benjamin would have been there if around, as would Malcolm and Delia Cedar, John & Angela Kessler (my cousin, Dad’s niece), Len and Jacquie Briegal (cousins and close friends from Mum’s side), plus Leatrice Levene (Arnold had recently died back then). But I have a feeling quite a lot of “the usual suspects” were away.
I think there were about 20 people there all in all. The size of the crowd didn’t matter – Dad was no Trump (a little August 2024 topical joke there, as I write 25 years after Dad’s event). Dad had a great time as evidenced by the couple of photos I have inherited. I wonder who took them? They are the only pictures I have of the Woodfield Avenue living room from that angle, pretty much as it looked for most of mum’s life and nearly half of Dad’s.
I’m so glad that we did throw the party Dad wanted on that auspicious day. Dad wasn’t really a party person, but most of the time he did know how to have fun.
I know who took this picture of Dad: Me. August Bank Holiday Weekend, 1977.
Liberated from hosting The Duchess at The Proms, Janie and I went along to this concert on a Sunday evening planning nothing more than a light supper at my flat after the show. It was a Sunday evening and we both had ridiculously early starts the next morning.
Here’s the running order:
Johann Sebastian Bach, Singet dem Herrn, BWV 225
Joseph Haydn, Symphony No. 49 in F minor ‘La passione’
Joseph Haydn, Non nobis, Domine, Hob. XXIIIa:1
Joseph Haydn, Insanae et vanae curae
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Requiem in D minor (compl. Süssmayr).
This was an excellent concert. You don’t need to take my word for that – it seems it got rave reviews afterwards. It has taken me 25 years to check out those rave reviews, but that’s me.
In those days we used to take Janie’s mum, Pauline, aka The Duchess, to the Proms at least a couple of times a season.
She was partial to a bit of Mahler, and a bit of Ludwig van…
…and a bit of verbal ultraviolence, now I come think of it.
Anyway, this is what we heard:
Symphony No 7 in A major by Ludwig van Beethoven
Violin Concerto by Alban Berg
Adagio from Symphony No 10 by Gustav Mahler
Henry V: A Shakespeare Scenario – Touch Her Soft Lips and Part by William Walton, arr. C. Palmer (encore)
The Hallé Orchestra, leader Lyn Fletcher, conductor Kent Nagano, violinist Kyung-Wha Chung.
All that information and more is on the excellent BBC Proms stub for this concert, which also enables you to hear and read about the stuff we heard – click here.
Janie’s diary suggests that we ate at Golden Chopsticks afterwards, with the helpful name “Mr Chow” jotted beside the phone number. (Harrington Road…long since gone.)
