…was my log note for this one. “His” referring to Stephen Poliakoff, whose best I rate very highly.
Janie and I saw this one as part of an extraordinary whistle-stop long weekend which took in three plays at Stratford (this the second of the three), a motorised hike to the Welsh Borders for lunch at The Walnut Tree before going on to Hay-On-Wye for some overnight- second-hand-book-buying on my part before stopping off for a long lunch at Raymond Blanc’s place (Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons) in Oxfordshire and then home. Friday to Monday. The other bits have been written up separately from this piece – click here or below.
I think we stayed in the Shakespeare for this trip. Janie booked it but only wrote down “Twelfth Night Room £115 per night” which I suspect in those days was a suite or certainly a superior room. I did the rest of the trip, including The Old Black Lion in Hay.
As for Talk Of the City, Poliakoff directed this one himself, if I recall correctly, which I think might have been (and often is) a minor mistake – i.e. playwrights, even if superb directors, can usually do with an external eye as director on their own works.
We saw this one as part of an extraordinary whistle-stop long weekend which took in three plays at Stratford (this the first of them), a motorised hike to the Welsh Borders for lunch at The Walnut Tree before going on to Hay-On-Wye for some overnight- second-hand-book-buying on my part before stopping off for a long lunch at Raymond Blanc’s place (Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons) in Oxfordshire and then home. Friday to Monday. The other bits have been written up separately from this piece – click here or below:
I think we stayed in the Shakespeare for this trip. Janie booked it but only wrote down “Twelfth Night Room £115 per night” which I suspect in those days was a suite or certainly a superior room. I looked after most of the rest of the trip, including The Old Black Lion in Hay and Le Manoir.
This was one heck of a good evening at the theatre. A triple-bill of Pinter. I think it was Janie’s and my first visit to the Donmar Warehouse, not least judging by the detailed notes Janie wrote down while booking this, including the full address etc.
Janie paid £15 a ticket for Row C centre stalls. Not bad to say the least, even if £15 was real money in 1998. In those days, the Donmar was still regarded (and priced) as fringe. Janie noted the following timings:
A Kind Of Alaska 7.00 to 7.50;
Interval 25 minutes;
The Collection 8.15 to 9.10;
Interval 25 minutes;
The Lover 9.30 to 10.25.
What a cast…or should I say, what casts – as this triple bill had a separate cast for the first play and then one cast for both the second and third.
A Kind of Alaska starred Penelope Wilton, Bill Nighy & Brid Brennan.
The Collection starred Harold himself (always good value as an actor as well as a playwright & director), Douglas Hodge, Lia Williams & Colin McFarlane. The latter three also starred in the Lover.
We thought all three plays excellent and the whole production top notch.
Nicholas de Jongh in The Standard only really liked the first play:
Our friend Michael Billington clearly liked all three, although he did share de Jongh’s view that three Pinters in one night was possibly a Pinter too many:
In truth I remember little about this day out in London.
Charlotte, who was about 12 at the time, might remember it a whole lot better. I’m not sure that Phillie & Tony were with us for the outing, although I’m pretty sure that Phillie, if not both of them, joined us at least for the meal at Good Earth in the evening. Both my diary and Janie’s diary describe the outing as “Charlie”.
The London Planetarium was clearly something that Charlie was keen to see, so see it we did. Janie’s diary is full of copious notes booking the place up and arranging to park in Chiltern Street.
After that, the trail gets murky. Janie was clearly considering Planet Hollywood or The Fashion Cafe for an in-between stop off, but I have a funny feeling we ended up in Madam Tussaud’s, which came as part of the deal with the Planetarium. Possibly we snacked there (or at the Planetarium) for lunch, especially as we had a dinner booked.
I think I might remember having been at the Fashion cafe, especially if all of them supermodels were hanging around in there, as implied by this write up. I did used to see Claudia Schiffer in Moscow Road occasionally in those days – I think she had a pied-à-terre around there. But I digress.
I’m pretty sure it was the Knightsbridge incarnation of The Good Earth that we tried that evening and jolly good food it was too.
Update: Yes Charlie does indeed remember more than us!
Charlie writes:
Wow, Ian, thank you for sending me that diary reminder from 1998. I remember it so well…even to the extent of Janie doing my hair in an ‘on the side’ ponytail and me wearing a hideous luminous yellow jumper ?
It was a wonderful weekend; we did Planetarium and M Tussauds followed by lunch at Fashion Cafe. I’m not sure mum did join us for dinner in the evening as I have a memory of going to tennis with you both on the Sunday and me having a tennis coach. I think you both also bought me some Speedo swimming costumes?!!!!!!!
So we did go to the Fashion Cafe, but I guess the supermodels weren’t there that day. Still, it’s just as well we went when we did, because the Fashion Cafe apparently opened in London in 1998 and went bust in 1999! The global story is of an even more spectacular failure.
The tennis coach would have been Jeremy or Shola, probably the latter, at Lammas Park in those days. It was Shola who introduced me and Janie to Boston Manor.
2023 marks the 25th anniversary of the very first Heavy Rollers day watching cricket – on 4 June 1998 – when Nigel “Father Barry” Hinks, Charles “Charley The Gent Malloy” Bartlett, “Big Papa Zambezi” Jeff Tye, David “David Peel” Steed & Paul “Fifth Beatle” Griffiths witnessed the first day of the test series between England & South Africa at Edgbaston.
In this guest piece, Nigel reflects on the tradition that started that day and the events that led to its birth. Questions such as “How did we get here?” and “Why curtains?” I add to the piece with theological and ethnomethodological interpretations of Nigel’s epiphany, plus, more importantly, some pictures and cricket links.
My initiation into the tradition itself was the following year, 1999 – you may see a write up of that occasion by clicking here or the link below.
A quarter of a century ago an early gathering of cricket enthusiasts assembled before a more buoyant South African touring side than exists currently. The tight group of participants applauded the carefully negotiated seating, oblivious to the fact that this would one day swell to eleven; the perfect accommodation arrangements (courtesy of The Children’s Society’s residential training centre) and the prospect of emergent friendships, forged through shared cricketing passions.
‘Yard’ cricket games would take place in one garden adjacent to a severe slope that would once take down Charley when in ever- increasing pursuit of a forward defensive gaining pace down the hill; and within public spaces that would entice inner-city youths to “come and have a go” in the best possible tradition. Indoor nets alongside the real thing have even been secured. No one could forget the pre-Ashes game in the garden fashioned from a farmer’s field by Big Jeff, where a surprise-addition associate walked-off with both of the tacky commemorative trophies.
Nobody could have predicted the longevity of this annual pursuit. When the familiar, and sometimes less so, would gleefully reconvene. Life’s troubles, work stresses were forgotten immediately insults, and warm greetings, began to be exchanged.
The crucial purchasing of tickets has been handed on baton-like, never once dropped until the best seats are secured. The catering responsibilities likewise, although the standards set by Mrs Malloy remain beyond any imitation, with personally labelled sandwiches for the fussy and egg-phobic in colour-coded wrapping.
Or, indeed, how this creation would withstand the accusations of elitism, vain efforts by senior personnel to muscle-in on the action, the eventual disintegration of our prized accommodation and, more poignantly, the redundancy of several Rollers.
Such was the strength, and singularity of purpose, as these cricket-friends, undeterred by adversity, toured a variety of alternative venues, some appalling and others more convivial (See links to pieces referencing Harborne Hall and The Hotel from Hell).
Second generation Rollers have been initiated, along with some of their mates, with one or two notable “one-hit wonders” who came and went. Other respected Associates were also invited to make repeat appearances.
That First Day Of Heavy Rollers At The Cricket: 4 June 1998
Memories fade. The 1998 Heavy Rollers day is the least documented and most temporally remote, nearly 25 years later. Yet the cast of characters (five) was documented many years ago, in 2012, during our rain -ruined sojourn. The following snippets emerge from me (Ian) interviewing Nigel.
The tradition of most rollers staying overnight at Wadderton and dining together the night before the match would have been initiated. Only Paul “Fifth Beatle” Griffiths simply joined the Heavy Rollers at the ground on the day (legend has it arriving late and leaving early).
Jeff Tye’s prediction betting game was there, at least in embryonic form. Paul struggled to engage with the game realistically, either because he really had no idea how a test match day tends to pan out or perhaps as an act of rebellion against the game. But everyone else participated as best they could.
Nigel – reflecting at Wadderton, 2003 – photo by Charles
Indeed, the post-lunch wooziness that affected all Heavy Rollers who chose to imbibe might well have induced a reflective phase in Nigel’s mind. “How did we get here? What sequence of events has led to this glorious day at the cricket with friends? What might it all mean?”
The answers to those tricky questions will lead us down many thought paths and to several prior events. But if I am to deconstruct Nigel’s answer to one word, that word is “curtains”.
How A Search For Curtains Revealed The Inner Truth Of Nigel’s Faith In Cricket, January 1995
DALL-E 2 imagining: “curtains of fine woven linen and blue, purple, and scarlet thread; with artistic designs of cherubim”
On the Monday [5th day] of that January 1995 Adelaide Test, I had decided to take a little time out of the cricket to-and-froing underway at the Adelaide Oval. I had already witnessed Mike Gatting’s retirement after his final Test century, and five-ball duck; a moody Glen McGrath when not selected; Craig McDermott’s late entry after the previous evening’s dodgy crocodile dinner; plus, together with Geoff, my scouse-Aussie mate, a forceful exchange of views about Mike Atherton’s captaincy credentials with the late Tony Greig, by the wheelie-bins.
Thus I sought solace in my host’s offer…..to go shopping…..for bedroom curtains.
What possessed this decision to accompany Mercedes (Geoff’s wife), a delightful Spanish-Aussie, to buy curtains from a low-budget retail outlet in the port area of the City, will remain a mystery.
It has been suggested that accompanying Mercedes was an ideal antidote to Greg Blewett’s maiden century on debut, and 40 degree centigrade temperatures. But, curtains? For goodness sake.
The curtain spotting excursion was progressing as only these things can, until Geoff, my Scouse-Aussie mate, managed to convey (via one of those new-fangled mobile phones) something of the excitement now unfolding [at the Adelaide Oval] that would make any further curtain exploration instantly less appealing. In fairness Geoff had consistently eschewed the idea of curtain shopping and was now fully vindicated.
He made it known that we had to get to the Oval asap, as Phil De Freitas was in the process of doing something far more attention-worthy than the selection of a durable, mid-priced fabric for a teen’s [Geoff & Mercedes daughter, Carmen’s, to be specific] bedroom. Consequently, following the De Freitas wonder-knock, and equally memorable bowling from Chris Lewis and Devon Malcolm, England secured what was once a very unlikely victory.
It is here that the gossamer-thin, embryonic conception that would eventually create the Heavy Rollers begins to emerge. It was in the post match euphoria, just after David Gower added his signature to that of former captains, M J Atherton and……D A Reeve, that I promised myself that I would be witness to [at least part of] all further Ashes series when back home. To do so with cricket loving colleagues and friends would be my ambition, but just how to make it a reality didn’t yet enter my thoughts; it was still just a dream.
The Adelaide Oval some 10 years later
Interviewing Nigel some 28 years after the exciting events of the 1994/95 4th Ashes Test at the Adelaide Oval, it was clear that none of the sense of euphoria from that day has departed Nigel’s soul. It was one of those life-affirming, never-to-be-forgotten memories that remains vivid for Nigel – it was a cricket epiphany.
I have investigated Biblical references to curtains to try and understand the profound meaning of this particular epiphany. In Exodus 26, the curtains for the Tabernacle are specified in some detail.
“Moreover you shall make the tabernacle with ten curtains of fine woven linen and blue, purple, and scarlet thread; with artistic designs of cherubim you shall weave them. The length of each curtain…”
Intriguingly the very first thing that God specifies for the building of the Tabernacle is the curtains. Personally I’d start with the structural stuff, but then I couldn’t create much in six days, let alone the entire universe and all that is in it, so what do I know?
Emanuel Swedenborg believed that the significance of the “curtains” in that Exodus 26 passage is the interior truths of faith. Thus it was fitting that Nigel went in search of curtains on the morning of the 5th day of that 4th Test at Adelaide, when his faith in cricket was failing him; yet also the very day when, just a few hours later, the interior truths of his cricketing faith were revealed to him.
On the other hand, for all we know, poor Carmen – Geoff and Mercedes daughter – might never have been bought the promised curtains. Nigel neither knows nor cares whether the aborted shopping trip was ever rescheduled. Carmen’s side of this story, a sorry tale of teenage disappointment at the hands of her parents and their visitor, might be intriguing in all sorts of ways.
The Day Nigel Delivered On the First Bit Of His Self-Promise: Day One Of The 1997 Ashes, Edgbaston, 5 June 1997
A different England v Australia Day At Edgbaston around that time
The groundworks were to be dug still further in June 1997 when I made my introduction with Charley at the residential training centre [Wadderton], the venue for future Heavy Roller gatherings.
I was buoyant, if rather red-nosed, after the first day of play at Edgbaston, when Australia had been bowled out for just 118. An exciting Test was now in motion, despite a threatened Aussie comeback with the ball.
Charley became instantly engaged with the recall, having regularly checked progress throughout the day. Devon Malcolm’s tumbling catch in the outfield to end a spirited Shane Warne fight back was specifically relived but well clear of the infamous hill-end that would claim Charley in years to come. There was still time to describe the standing rendition of D-I-S-C-O by those occupying the seats in front after every boundary.
This very first meeting with Charley, who was staying over for a more mundane work matter, led to the beginnings of a plan for the following year. We vowed to return, possibly with other enthusiasts, for the Edgbaston Test match. I confess to wondering if this expressed enthusiasm was going to be akin to a brief holiday romance, where numbers are exchanged but never acted upon.
However, Charley was true to his declaration. He was definitely up for it when it was time for me to start phoning Edgbaston ticket office for the following year’s fixture.
(Those were the distant days when phone calls to real people at places like Edgbaston’s ticket office were still possible). I secured a handful of excellent tickets. I then approached Big Jeff who was an immediate selection, as was David Steed, who managed Wadderton.
Intriguingly, I had never previously realised that Nigel met Charles for the first time, in the summer of 1997, a few weeks before I met him. It was truly fortuitous that they met in that context at Wadderton on the evening of Nigel’s return from the cricket. It really is conceivable that the Heavy Rollers might never have happened had it not been for the combined enthusiasm of Nigel and Charles seeing through on that 1997 promise to make the idea of a cricket gathering at the Edgbaston test in 1998 a reality.
That whole 1998 test series was extraordinary. Here is a highlights reel for the whole series.
There would be scope for others to participate. Could there possibly be like-minded enthusiasts about? That idea following Adelaide ’95 was slowly becoming a reality it seemed.
Indeed, it was only a few weeks after that very first heavy rollers event that my “field trip” with Jeff brought me into the fold for the following year and the ensuing decades – click here or below.
Such was the unqualified success of this ‘first’ episode. Despite there being no presumption of repetition, it duly was and other stalwart Rollers were snapped up (Ian “Ged Ladd” Harris, Harish “Harsha Goble” Gohil, Nick “The Boy Malloy” Bartlett, Dan “Dan Peel” Steed) to provide illustrious and valued membership, some to this day.
I have very little intel on this play/production, other than the above sheet handed to us at the Lyric.
I think the playwright is probably THIS Stephen Clark but I could be wrong.
My one word review of the play/production was:
Good
…which means it was good.
My records show that we went to Sabai Sabai afterwards. Janie and I had a little reminisce when I found that reference, as we both remember really liking that place – we went quite often back then. So good they named it twice.
Ironically, I think we ate in there rather than take away, but perhaps on this occasion we took away!
The next day we went to a rather ghastly chiropody trade show in Mitcham (Footman) before visiting my folks. The diaries reveal.
We went to this with Pauline “The Duchess”, who will have sported the theatre tickets (which she got free), which she saw as fair exchange for Janie to buy the drinks and me to buy dinner afterwards.
We went to Gilbey’s for that dinner. Gilbey’s was a small chain run by honourable people, if the companies house dissolution records (which is all I can find on-line) are to be believed.
We had a few weeks off from theatre in late April & May 1998, but Janie and I did a fair bit of eating and drinking with friends instead.
30 April 1998 – “John Boy”
That is all the diary says, but my recent experience trawling medieval household accounts records for relevant factoids has led me to use a similar technique for my own stuff. I figured, if I could find a restaurant record in my archaic personal accounting system for 30 April 1998, it would have been my turn and I would, in those days, have named the place.
Postscript: John White chimed in to suggest that the place wasn’t Turkish but “a bit of upmarket suburban gastronomy.” I’m sure I recall something oriental about it – perhaps it was full of eastern promise – or just reasonably close to John’s beloved Orient.
2 May 1998 – David Party
I’m not 100% sure that 1998 was the year that DJ shlepped us all out in grand style to the Fat Duck to help Kim celebrate her birthday, but I have a feeling it was around about that year. DJ never let on where we were going in those days, sending vehicles for us at an appointed hour, so even Janie’s diary is silent on detail.
If it was The Fat Duck year, it was for sure a fantastic meal. Heston Blumenthal had not yet gone into the more excessive realms of food fancies, but was already wowing the crowds with magnificent food served imaginatively.
3 May 1998 – Mum & Dad Lunch
In the same way as Kim’s birthday inevitably (in those days) meant an event around that time, mum’s birthday falling three days after Kim’s meant more dining.
Not so high-falutin’, my household records tell me that Mum & Dad joined us at Lee Fook for lunch – they both liked a nice Chinese. This would have been the Westbourne Grove incarnation of Lee Fook, where the chef was memorably named Ringo.
9 May or 16 May 1998…The Latter, I’m Pretty Sure, Phillie & Charlie Staying At Janie’s Place
Diary confusion which i think was to do with a planned visit on 9 May being moved to 16 May, but for sure they came and I am pretty sure that Janie cooked something splendid rather than us going out on that occasion. In my diary for 16th it says “Duchess”, which might mean that Pauline joined us that evening but might also be part of the same diary confusion as Janie and I went to the theatre with said Duchess the following week. That event also might have been shunted a week.
Come to think of it, in those days Pauline would no doubt have joined us for that meal on 16th too.
I have tended to find Sebastian Barry plays long and wordy, but this one worked for me and encouraged back to try more of his stuff. I suppose after four plus hours of “Iceman” the previous week, this 150 minute jobbie seemed like a short sketch.
The Theatricalia entry for this play/production can be found here. What a fine gathering of cast and creatives. Sinéad Cusack got most of the plaudits. The critics loved it.