Since lockdown, we’ve not been going to the theatre anything like as much as we did before. Partly, I suppose, because we got out of the habit. Partly, we think, because there is not so much to our taste on offer, as theatres tend to play it safe, with many more revivals and musicals on offer than we remember in the past.
Indeed this was our first visit to the Hampstead Theatre since lockdown, although we have kept our membership going throughout. Our previous visit to Hampstead theatre was to see The Haystack, just before lockdown.
In these difficult times, Janie and I wanted to see something light-hearted and yet with some serious aspects to it. This looked like it would fit that bill and indeed it did.
Janie and I tend to enjoy Richard Bean’s plays – we have seen several. To Have And To Hold was an enjoyable evening at the theatre.
The play avoided the worst excesses of drama about elderly parents, which can easily fall victim to tired cliché and, in our case, a sense that “we can get all that at home”!
In the event, I read a bit more into the play than Janie did, until we discussed it afterwards. Janie sensed that she had gone with the comedic flow of the play without reading as much into it as I had. In particular, I thought there was interesting irony and pathos in a nonagenarian, sharp-sensed former policeman being scammed, at least in part because of his digital exclusion as well as his physical frailty.
Great cast for this one: Alun Armstrong, Marion Bailey, Rachel Dale, Hermione Gulliford, Christopher Fulford and Adrian Hood. All played their parts well, under the joint directorship of Richard Wilson and Terry Johnson.
Here is a vid of the two Richards (Wilson & Bean) discussing this play/production:
And there was me, into my 7th decade, thinking, until now, that something else comes after The Lord Mayor’s Show.
But then, in early October, I was “perfectly astounded”, to quote Charles Pooter, to receive the following invitation:
Unaccustomed as I am to attending white tie events, this meant a trip to the costume hire shop, Buckleigh Of London in my case, together with Daisy who acted as my sartorial advisor.
“Yup, that’ll do for the do“
A month later, off I trotted to the Z/Yen office, with my whistle and flute in a specially designed suiter, where I changed out of mufti. No I am not a natural in the matter of costume changes.
The Lord Mayor’s Banquet is far more formal than that – no singing, no dancing, just food, drink and speeches.
The reception ahead of dinner was a great opportunity for me to catch up with several old friends and also to speak with Michael’s family, not least his mum, Katherine, whom I missed at The Lord Mayor’s Show. I also spoke with a few new people (new to me, that is).
Then the dinner. I was sitting with an interesting collection of people – opposite me and to my right Tim and Sandi, who had been at school with Michael. Tim I had met before, at Michael and Elisabeth’s wedding. Also on that “to my right” side was Father Bill (Michael’s former maths teacher), Robert Pay and Susan Steele. To my left, people I hadn’t met before but all charming: Judith Pleasance, Philip Palumbo, Philip Woodhouse and Clare Felton. We found many and varied interesting topics to discuss over dinner, only some of which are on the unwritten “safe to discuss at formal dinners” list. Edgy.
This is what we ate and drank.
The cast list of speech makers comprised The Lord Mayor & The Prime Minister (between Course Two and Course Three), then The Archbishop Of Canterbury and The Lord Chancellor after dinner.
You can watch a vid of the speechifying if you wish:
Michael mostly laid out his agenda for his mayoral year, which you can read/skim about here. He included a joke, which, while I paraphrase, goes a bit like this:
Into a bar walks an American economist, an Irish writer, an English accountant and an Italian scientist. The barman says, “good evening Michael, what are you having?”
Rishi Sunak, as is the custom for The Lord Mayor’s Banquet, spoke about foreign affairs, the crises in Gaza and Ukraine being his main focus. Rishi understandably didn’t crack any jokes. I’m not sure jokes would be Rishi’s strongest suit even in more jovial times.
After the two “afters” courses, The Archbishop of Canterbury was entertaining, with an interesting mixture of a serious, pious, skittish and downright malcontented points.
…which is far more than I can say about the other speakers…apart from Michael, of course, with whom I have worked for nearly 35 years.
Last but not least was The Lord Chancellor, Alex Chalk, who was also in somewhat skittish mood. He picked up on Michael’s joke, and pondered about a bloke who had so many different things on his CV. Again I paraphrase:
Economist, scientist, accountant, writer…I thought, “this fellow doesn’t seem able to hold down a job”.
My first thought was to heckle:
…but that’s the whole point of Z/Yen – it’s a place where you can work while you decide what you want to be when you grow up…
…but I thought better of it. A brawl one visit, a heckle the next…I might gain an unwanted, though perhaps warranted, reputation at The Guildhall as a bit of a subversive.
Then it occurred to me that The Lord Chancellor, with all due respect to him, was hardly one to talk about holding on to a job. He has already “Chalked up” his fifth job since the start of the pandemic – indeed he seemed relieved that he wasn’t moved to a sixth job in three years in the cabinet reshuffle that had taken up much of Rishi’s day earlier.
In truth, I think the best joke of the evening was my own, albeit an inadvertent one. Immediately after the formalities ended, I chatted again with the Mainelli clan. Michael’s sister, Molly, asked me what I thought of the evening. I paraphrase our chat.
MOLLY: So what did you think of it all.
ME: A lovely evening, lovely.
MOLLY: What did you think about the fruitcake at the end?
ME: Do you mean the Archbishop of Canterbury or the Lord Chancellor?
MOLLY: You’re so naughty. You know I meant the cheese and fruitcake…
The thing is, I hadn’t experienced that cheese course, as it was walnut-based and I had reported ahead of time my nut allergy. For the final course, the caterers had kindly provided me with a “mushrooms on toast” savoury. So I hadn’t registered that the cheese savoury had been served with fruitcake and really imagined that Molly had found one of the closing speeches a bit left-field.
Mercifully, I don’t think anyone other than Molly heard my faux pas. Equally mercifully, I didn’t burst into song when the savoury was served…
…although that John Shuttleworth classic always pops into my head on the rare occasions I attend a dinner that reverts to savoury at the end.
After enjoying a few minutes catching up with friends and (Michael’s) family in the Old Library, I returned to the office to change back into mufti and get home before I risked causing any more trouble.
In truth, the pomp and circumstance of The Lord Mayor’s Show is not really “our thing” – neither Janie nor I had ever been before, nor had either of us even watched the show on TV.
But in these circumstances, with Michael being the incoming Lord Mayor and all, it seemed only polite to accept the invitation to see the show as a guest of The Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress at the Mansion House.
But returning to November 2023, before the show, I wanted to show Janie the Z/Yen office at 1 King William Street, just around the corner from Mansion House, as Janie had not yet seen that “new” office. Nor had she seen the oft-mentioned roof terrace. It was also an excuse to make sure we would be on time, while still able to take some warm sanctuary indoors before the Mansion House opened its doors. At least half the Z/Yen team had taken a similar precaution.
Janie loves a roof terrace: 1 King William Street does not disappoint in that regard
Then Janie and I popped around the corner to the Mansion House. I suppose I’ll be popping around that corner a few times in the coming year. Following pre-show refreshments, in which we did not partake, Janie and I were stewarded to our pavement seats right at the front, underneath The Lord Mayor’s viewing position, next to Michael’s brother Kelly. I don’t think we’d seen each other since Michael’s shrieval ceremonies four years ago:
Janie, despite her stated lack of interest in pomp and circumstance, was irritated with herself for forgetting her phone and therefore being without a camera. I allowed her to use mine, on the proviso that she didn’t use up all my film. Janie, cognisant that phone cameras don’t use up film (she knows a thing or two, that lass), proceeded to take about 300 pictures, only 20% of which were fully deserving of the bin.
The weather absolutely smiled on the City of London that day. We have had a rather relentlessly wet autumn in 2023, so all assembled thought we had struck very lucky…except for the (surprisingly sizeable) minority who were convinced that Michael Mainelli is able to control the weather and therefore the crisp but sunny day was by design.
Regardless of how or why the weather ended up so good, it did make for an especially photogenic show. As did the fact that there was an even broader international flavour to the parade than usual.
If you would prefer a brief highlights skim through eye candy and a few choice words, then read and look on.
Evidence that I was there. Just one picture of me amongst the hundreds.Xenia Mainelli (Michael & Elisabeth’s daughter) at the rear of this mounted troupeMichael arrives
After the Armistice Day two-minute silence, the parade began. Here is a small sample of our (Janie’s) pictures.
Janie formed a surprising fondness for the giant effigies Gog & MagogI was able to explain the true and fictional stories of Richard/Dick Whittington to Kelly and Joan seated next to me. I guess Michael and Elisabeth knew I’d have my uses sitting there.Pageantry west meets pageantry eastListen up! The late Mayor’s key charity, The Samaritans – Janie is one of their listeners.Punjabi dancing well-timed for DiwaliVic Reeves aka Jim Moir with his arty crowdA Lord Mayor’s Show delegation from Lagos for the first time“Oh goody. Chigley…” said Janie at this stage of the showA Mongolian themed troupe, for theatrical reasons I believeJanie loved the Hong Kong dragons perhaps as much as Gog & MagogMichael’s partial to a puffin. The Institute of Couriers pandered to that preferenceAlderfolk – the boys and girls on the bus90 minutes later, the pageant was over, once Michael set off for The Royal Courts of Justice.O farewell, Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, th’ ear-piercing fife; The royal banner, and all quality.
Then milling to get back inside the Mansion House, a light lunch and some socialising/chatting before setting off for home.
If you are keen to see the BBC broadcast of this event but don’t know where to find it – as long as you have found this piece within 11 months, you can see it by clicking here.
…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.
