Author: Ian Louis Harris

Travel To The Very Edge, ThreadZoomMash Piece, Performed At “The Virtual Glad”, 10 June 2020

The Beechwood Hotel, renamed The Lakeside Hotel, prior to closure

I shouldn’t be here this evening. I should be in Edgbaston, savouring the build up to the first cricket test match of the summer. It’s an annual gathering with good friends I met through The Children’s Society; we started our Edgbaston tradition more than 20 years ago.

It’s OK. I’m glad to be here with you. I like being here, in virtual ThreadMash or ThreadZoom or ZoomMash or whatever we’re calling it now…

…with you.

It’s just that I wouldn’t be here at all, but for the virus.

I’d be travelling.

Rohan has asked us to write about travel.

Rohan has advised us, “let’s do this without any pictures or music”. He didn’t say, “this advice is not a request – it is an instruction”, but he could have done.

Anyway, for me, the instruction, “write about travel”, is not a difficult one. I have travelled a lot and have been writing up my travels on Ogblog these past few years. 

I considered relating to you the tale of me and Janie jumping the border between Laos and Thailand at Chong Mek, then blagging our way out of Thailand again. Don’t try that stunt at home…hmm.

I thought you might relish hearing about the occasion when, in Nicaragua, I put my naviphobia aside  only for us to end up marooned in a boat on the Pacific. We survived that one as well…obviously.

Or, I might have stuck with the theme of cricket – after all I should be in Edgbaston this week, not here – and tell you about the weird day when I was press-ganged into commentating live on a cricket match in Jagdalpur, Chhattisgarh – a tribal state in the central plains of India. Janie and I were all over the papers and cable TV for that one.

But no.

Sod it.

I should be in Edgbaston right now and the minor matter of a global pandemic is not going to stop me from going there.

Birmingham might not exactly be an exotic location, nor is it a remote location, but going to Birmingham IS travel.

I’m going to Edgbaston and I’m going right now and I’m taking you lot with me…

…to the very worst hotel I have ever stayed in.

Late May 2006. Most of our gang, known as The Heavy Rollers, who together had savoured the 2005 Edgbaston test, a match that will forever be part of Ashes folklore, were to be reunited as a group for the first time since that match.

We knew that 2006 was to be different. 2005 had marked the end of our early era, which had enabled us to base ourselves at the Wadderton Conference Centre, the Children’s Society place in rural Worcestershire, just outside Birmingham. David Steed, who was one of our number in the Heavy Rollers, ran the place and lived on site. The Children’s Society was pleased for a bit of income from guests in the quiet summer period and it was mighty convenient and pleasant for us, with a suitable garden for pre-match cricket antics.

The time that Charley “The Gent Malloy” chased a cricket ball down the Wadderton slope, only to realise too late that the incline was too steep for a graceful deceleration, such that he went…how do I put this politely…arse over tit, into a heap at the bottom of said slope…remains as much part of Heavy Rollers folklore as the classic 2005 Ashes test match.

But I digress.

Late May 2006. Wadderton had closed permanently that winter. Now David Steed, bless him, ran Wadderton wonderfully and was subsequently a superb host at his Birmingham house. But he possibly wasn’t the best judge of a hotel unseen. Cheap and near the ground seemed sufficient criteria for him. An e-mail came:

Accommodation is confirmed as previously written about and subsequent telephone chat at Beechwood Hotel on the Bristol Road approx. 200 yards from the main entrance at Edgbaston…no deposits required…

The subsequent inquiry identified Nigel “Father Barry”, our de facto leader, as the other side of correspondence that clearly lacked the investigative skills, penetrating questions and due diligence that such matters deserve.

Thus the term “each with private bathroom”, did not preclude each of us having to toddle down a corridor to get to our nominated ablution booth.

“Private”, I suppose, did not necessarily mean “en suite” in this Beechwood world. Nor did it mean anything more than a tiny, decrepit shower cubicle. I recall some very inappropriate jokes about Zyklon B from my companions during conversations about those ghastly, disgusting showers.

The place was clearly used mostly as a sort-of social services half-way house for people who were having a multitude of difficulties. I took detailed notes about my alarming next-door neighbour, who I discovered heavily tattooed, talking frantically to himself and pissed…at six in the evening. At least he called me “young fella” when he greeted me warmly. We had a bizarre conversation or two.

But the most bizarre conversations were with Tom; I hesitate to use the title, “manager”, who tended to sidle up to us in the bar/common parts areas of the hotel and bend our ears with tales of his roller-coaster and/or imagined past. I made some fragmented notes:

I was a millionaire at 21…a multi-millionaire at 24…lost it all at 33…I’ve been out with Miss Jamaica, Miss Bromsgrove, the lot. I had an Aston Martin – would cost about £125,000 today…Do fast cars while you’re young, young man, you won’t fancy it once you are your dad’s age….I made a million when a million was real money; when a million was really a million…

In a more modern era, we would never have ended up there. At least one of us would have looked at TripAdvisor to check out the Beechwood Hotel. But back then, such web sites barely existed. The earliest on-line review of the Beechwood Hotel is on holidaywatchdog.com, TripAdvisor’s UK predecessor, a year after our stay; Spring 2007.  There are six reviews on that site, before the hotel was closed down in 2009 and became a squat for the Earth First Social Justice Permaculture warriors.

All six reviews give the Beechwood Hotel one-out-of-ten: “awful”. One reviewer takes pains to point out that the system doesn’t allow their preferred score of nought-out-of-ten.

Rohan said, in his instruction, “I think the words you use will create much more vibrant pictures than anything that can appear on a screen”. 

But in the mode of that great traveller, Dominic Cummings, I shall now break the spirit if not the letter of Rohan’s guidance, by using the words of others, those six unfortunate holidaywatchdog.com reviewers who followed in our footsteps, rather than my own words, to complete the painting of those vibrant pictures. One extracted quote from each victim:

  • “This hotel makes Fawlty Towers seem like luxury.”
  • “I really cannot believe that places like this are allowed to operate.”
  • “This hotel should be condemned on health and safety grounds!”
  • “I do not recommend this hotel to anyone if you have standards”.
  • “Hell hole!”. 

And my personal favourite, the final review, from August 2009:

“Please stay away – I have stayed in 100s of hotels and B&BS all over the UK – this one has to be the worst by a long way… DO NOT STAY THERE, you’d be better off in a cardboard box.”

The Beechwood Hotel Garden and Roller.
With thanks to Charles Bartlett for this picture.

Editing George And Edith Corke’s Honeymoon Diary With John Random, May/June 2020

Seymour Hicks & Ellaline Terriss – not George & Edith

In May 2020 John Burns (aka John Random) sent me an electronic transcript of his great-grandfather’s honeymoon diary, from June/July 1901. The picture above shows John with that anique artefact.

I suggested the idea of upping it as a guest piece on Ogblog and hence a fascinating mini-project was born. Here’s the thing:

Protected: George And Edith Corke’s Honeymoon Diary, 27 June To 11 July 1901

There are some truly charming touches in George’s diary. I absolutely love the fact that he couldn’t describe an escalator at Earls Court on July 3rd, presumably because he hadn’t seen one before. He refers to the thing as

Endless staircase lift. You stand still and it takes you to the top for 1d.

By 10 july in Paris, though, he’s mastered these things and merely describes:

Moving staircase.

Another interesting thing is slight changes in tone as the holiday goes on. Firstly there are increasing mentions of money, especially after 4 July when they:

Called at Paris Bank re more money. 

Perhaps the trip to Paris was an afterthought and/or perhaps they realised that they were spending more than they originally planned.

George’s notes get pithier as the trip goes on, especially when in France where the touring (I think with Thomas Cook) reads incredibly intense and therefore quite tiring I imagine. I know the feeeling from my own travel logs.

George & Edith’s wedding took place on 27 June 1901. That was the day after the original intended date for Edward VII’s coronation, which had to be postponed due to the King’s ill health. The coronation’s postponement was announced 24 June.

George and Edith’s wedding might have been arranged at fairly short notice, although their wedding party as described seems quite large and their subsequent honeymoon quite complex for a rush job.

One additional piece of evidence is the baptismal record for John’s grandmother, Dorris:

That date is just 36 weeks after the wedding day. Dorris apparently went to her grave believing herself to be a premature baby whereas John’s mother never bought in to that explanation.

The truth of that matter is lost in the mists of time.

What survives is a truly charming diary, written with great clarity and a lack of pomposity.

Below are some more detailed notes and thoughts about the content; some arising from conversations between me and John, others arising from subsequent research.

27 June 1901 – late in the day George & Edith arrive at “37 Bedford Place, Russell Square, which is kept by the Misses Dobson.” That place is now (in 2020) The Grange Clarendon, a boutique hotel. How boutiquey it was in 1901 I cannot tell, but I don’t think that Bloomsbury was anywhere near as up-market then as it is now.

28 June 1901 – Ellaline Terriss & Seymour Hicks were huge stars back then, so George & Edith’s evening at The Vaudeville Theatre seeing Sweet & Twenty was a big deal. I have managed to find a contemporaneous review from The Idler:

Coincidentally, while I was researching and writing up these notes, Janie popped in and, on seeing Ellaline Terriss’s name, told me that she had, many years ago, treated the daughter, Betty, at her home in Richmond. I believe that this linked photograph of Eamonn Andrews interviewing Terriss was taken in that very Richmond house. The Sweet And Twenty Playwright, Basil Hood, has a fascinating, sad story of his own and the most Edwardian moustache ever!

2 July 1901 – Called at Sharp Perrins. John’s mum added a note to her transcript when the couple returned to that establishment 6 July – “(wholesalers to the drapery trade. The bride and groom ran a draper’s shop in Victoria Rd. Widnes.)” – I have moved the note to this first mention of the firm. That evening the happy couple went to see HMS Irresponsible at the Strand Theatre. There is no west end listing of cast and creatives for that production but there is a record of it opening 27 May 1901 and there is a Theatricalia entry from its Bristol transfer in 1902 – click here. Arthur Roberts is still listed. The playwright, J F Cornish, is hard to find on-line. One or two name-drops/mentions, mostly as an actor. Cornish doesn’t make the index of Seymour Hicks’s 1910 autobiography. Arthur Roberts does…once.

3 July 1901 – Military Exhibition. The entire catalogue from that exhibition is ion the public domain. You can view it on-line at Hathi Trust through this link…or this pdf uploaded to Ogblog here. John’s mum inserted a ? at the mention of Canton river, but the map/catalogue confirms that one of the attractions was a boat ride on Canton river.

5 July 1901 – the happy couple saw Emma Calvé as Carmen. John extracted a chunk of the Wikipedia entry for Emma Calvé in that topic. I have simply placed a link to the wikipedia entry in the 1901 blog – here is John’s chosen extract.

Wikipedia Entry for Emma Calvé

Her next triumph was Bizet's Carmen. Before beginning the study of this part, she went to Spain, learned the Spanish dances, mingled with the people and patterned her characterization after the cigarette girls whom she watched at their work and at play. In 1894, she made her appearance in the role at the Opéra-Comique, Paris. The city's opera-goers immediately hailed her as the greatest Carmen that had ever appeared, a verdict other cities would later echo.[citation needed] She had had many famous predecessors in the role, including Adelina Patti, Minnie Hauk and Célestine Galli-Marié, but critics and musicians agreed that in Calvé they had found their ideal of Bizet's cigarette girl of Seville.

6 July 1901 – after spending the day in London, the happy couple travelled overnight to Paris via Newhaven & Dieppe, arriving the next morning. I have located their hotel, Rapp et Duphot in the 1900 Baedeker, a book which is available in its entirety on the Internet Archive (Wayback Machine) – here.

Neither the hotel name, nor the road name, Richepense are still active, but that road, now renamed rue du Chevalier de Saint George, has the Hotel Richepense at No 14, which I suspect is an enlarged version of the same establishment.

8 July 1901 – the reference to “Cook’s four in hand coach as per programme ” tells us that the Paris leg of their honeymoon was arranged through Thomas Cook & Son. I have added the 1901 brochure cover at the end of the Wednesday 10th touring, which is when it seems the touring side of things ended. I don’t believe there was a Cook’s Guidebook for Paris for a further few years, which reinforces my view that George & Edith probably used the 1900 Baedeker if they used a guide book at all.

John sent me several pictures of Edith Corke in later life. He has none of George. I chose one to illustrate the end of the main honeymoon diary but thought the others would show nicely here.

I like the cheeky expression on Edith’s face in this last one. I imagine that someone has just asked her, “was Dorris really a premature baby?”

An Open Letter To My MP, 25 May 2020, Plus Postscript With Update & Reply The Next Day

Felicity Buchan MP, House of Commons, London, SW1A 0AA

By e-mail only           

25 May 2020

Dear Felicity

DOMINIC CUMMINGS, BORIS JOHNSON & THE HEALTH PROTECTION (CORONAVIRUS, RESTRICTIONS) (ENGLAND) REGULATIONS 2020:

AN OPEN LETTER

You probably don’t even need me to set out my argument in this letter.

Like most of your constituents, I accepted the above regulations, the most extreme impediment to my civil liberties in my circa six decade lifetime, for the good of our nation and the health of my fellow citizens.

My circumstances allow me to do volunteering for the community and enjoy a reasonable lifestyle despite the constraints. Friends and many of the people I am helping with my volunteering are not so lucky. I have friends who have not yet seen in person their new-born grandchildren and/or been unable to see their aged parents. My volunteering uncovers people who have been left destitute by the coronavirus crisis and those who are making incredible sacrifices in an attempt to do the right thing.

It is patently clear that Dominic Cummings, like so many of those people, had difficult choices to make.  But unlike most people, Cummings patently made the wrong choices under pressure, by flouting the above regulations and putting himself and others at risk by making long journeys during lockdown. 

It is an utter disgrace that the Prime Minister is backing Dominic Cummings in such circumstances, rather than sacking him or insisting that he resign.

As a result, the Prime Minister and the Government is losing its authority over the public in the matter of this pandemic and indeed, potentially losing its ability generally to govern with consent. This moral deficit and diminished dominion is a huge risk to our Nation. 

Frankly, if you cannot persuade Boris Johnson to remove Dominic Cummings in these circumstances, you and your fellow MPs should take urgent and prompt steps to remove both Dominic Cummings and Boris Johnson.

Yours sincerely,

Ian Harris

I sent the above letter to my MP, cc:ing Boris Johnson. I also posted it on Facebook, where it seems to have picked up quite a few shares and comments in just a few minutes.

Postscript: 26 May 2020

The following morning, I resent the letter with the following e-mail message:

Felicity

Just in case you imagine that the events in Downing Street yesterday afternoon/evening have superseded my letter of yesterday morning, I would like to assure you that my views have, if anything, hardened in the light of those events.  My wife is so upset by the injustice, mendacity and double-standards displayed, she is talking about leaving the country if the Government continues to treat the British public with such contempt.

I therefore attach the letter again for your attention and urge you to seek to influence the Government as requested in the attached letter. 

With best wishes

Ian Harris

Fewer than five hours later, I received this direct reply to the above e-mail:

Dear Mr Harris,

Thank you for your letter and emails in regards to Dominic Cummings.  I have received many emails on the subject over the weekend.

I would like to first say that I am very conscious of the many sacrifices that people in Kensington have made during the lockdown; and for some this has been a particularly harrowing experience.  I am sorry to hear about your wife’s thoughts of moving away – I will convey this in the strongest terms. I also believe strongly that those in Government should not be treated differently from those outside.

I want you to know that over the weekend and this morning I have fed through your views on the subject to the Government and have made clear the strength of feeling on this matter. 

However, it is important that this issue does not become all consuming as there are many important decisions that need to be made in the upcoming days and weeks, as we look to reopen schools and in general look to restart the economy.

I will keep you updated on any developments from my side.

Best wishes,

Felicity

Felicity Buchan MP

Member of Parliament for Kensington

Finally We Really Are NHS Responders, 19 May 2020

Daisy loading up Dumbo with our first NHS Responder client’s shopping.

The morning after the Government announced the NHS Responder scheme for the Covid-19 crisis, 25 March, Janie and I both signed up for it.

Even before the Government scheme, we had joined the local community volunteering network, but it was clear that, apart from a bit of help for older/isolating neighbours that we (Janie) pretty much would have done anyway, there’s far more supply than demand in Noddyland.

My NHS Responder application was accepted very quickly (27th March), whereas Janie had to wait quite a few more days before her application was accepted. Clearly my bona fides for such matters simply shone through my application, whereas Janie’s needed more thorough checking.

Then the waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

We knew the initiative had got started to some extent, because Cathy Driscoll, wife of my old school pal Paul, had been a Daily Telegraph poster child (somewhat to her chagrin) for the pilot launch in the first half of April.

Anyway, Janie was especially keen that we do something and started investigating charity options, hence the valuable and rewarding work we have been doing with FoodCycle:

Ged & Daisy Go South On A FoodCycle Made For Two, 2 May 2020

We’ve now done several gigs for FoodCycle and intend to do more.

But until very recently, silence from NHS Responder.

The thing that seems to have changed is the fact that we can now play tennis and are going through West Ealing to Boston Manor and back to do that.

Oh Joy – We’re Back On The Tennis Court, Boston Manor, 13 May 2020

On Monday (18th), our NHS Responder alarms went off just as we were leaving the tennis courts. That potential gig turned out to be a false alarm, as the gentleman we called told us that neighbours were helping him regularly and he didn’t need any other help at the moment. I suspect that he has been set up on the system for a weekly call just in case the neighbours let him down.

The next day, Janie’s responder went off while I was driving us back from the tennis courts. This time, there was a real need for a woman with suspected Covid-19 who cannot do her own shopping at the moment.

“OMG, what do we do now?” we both thought, having steeped ourselves in the instructions/protocols back in early April, but having done other stuff under other protocols since then.

Fortunately, the “NHS Respondee” woman didn’t want a rapid response – indeed she even suggested that we might leave it until the next day as she hadn’t yet composed her shopping list, so we had time to go home, freshen up, mug up and return to the client to collect her instructions and fulfil the gig an hour or two later.

The list looked extensive to me with a few luxury items on it and she had furnished us with a mere £40 for the shop. I thought we’d have to leave some items out.

Her instructions were explicit, although it proved to be like a bit of a treasure hunt to find the exact outlets she wanted us to use for the exact products that she gets at those exact prices.

This is not our world and it was eye-opening.

Of course, our client knew what everything cost so her £40 was almost but not entirely exhausted and we managed to get all of the items.

She seemed like a very nice woman and was extremely grateful and pleased when we got to the end of it.

And of course NHS Responder alerts are like buses – you wait for ages and ages and then two come along at the same time. The alarm went off again while we were doing that gig in West Ealing.

I guess the lesson is that there is more volunteer supply than demand in West Acton, whereas in West Ealing there is more demand than supply.

I suspect we’ll see some more action if we keep playing tennis down at Boston Manor – all the more reason to go there.

Waterloo Sunset, Unplugged, 18 May 2020

Preparing for my singing lesson tomorrow, I was struck by this lovely song, Waterloo Sunset. The meaning of the lyrics can seem very different from its original meaning in this strange time of lockdown.

They are evocative lyrics at any time. I have loved this song since I first came across it as a teenager.

It also occurred to me that this song mentions two of my ThreadMash friends, Terry and Julie.

Last week at ThreadMash, in addition to some business with satsumas, Rohan encouraged us all to sing Geraldine by Ian Dury and the Blockheads to one of our number, Geraldine, with predictably hilarious results given the latency on Zoom and Rohan’s technical “mastery”, or lack thereof, viz sound engineering.

Anyway, I’ve found a song that mentions two Theadmash people. That has to be a good thing. Waterloo Sunset. I hope I do it justice. Here it is again:

An Authentic Tale Of New York, Virtual Threadmash Performance Piece, 13 May 2020

The challenge, set by Rohan Candappa, the doyen of Threadmash, was to write a piece inspired by one of three pieces of music Rohan sent to us.

I, along with most of the Threadmashers, chose New Amsterdam by Moondog. Here’s my piece.

I first came across Moondog’s music in the late 1970s, when I was buying up second hand albums at Record & Tape Exchange.  I talked in my first ThreadMash piece about my misadventure-ful date at R&TE with a young woman named Fuzz…

The Rohan Thing, My Short Performance Piece As Part Of Rohan Candappa’s Inaugural Threadmash, Gladstone Arms, 5 February 2019

…whose real first and second names are lost to posterity. I believe it was on that fateful day with Fuzz that I bought the sampler album, Fill Your Head With Rock, which included my first Moondog track, Stamping Ground.

In truth I paid Moondog’s music only occasional heed until 10-12 years ago, when Janie and I began exploring Jazz. But Moondog’s story has long fascinated me and I have always associated him and his music with New York.

Rohan’s choice of piece, New Amsterdam, is a case in point. New Amsterdam was her name, Before she was New York; New Amsterdam is a dame, The heart and soul of Big Apple city.

To my mind, Moondog’s music is the second most quintessential New York music.

So I was surprised, when I started researching this piece, to learn that Moondog was not a native New Yorker. Louis Thomas Hardin, known as Moondog, haled from Kansas. He moved to New York City at the age of 27 and lived there for only 30 of his 83 years. Moondog moved to Germany in the early 1970s, where he lived out his remaining decades. 

Of course this doesn’t take away from the fact that Moondog was known as The Viking Of 6th Avenue. Nor from the fact that Moondog’s music is unquestionably inspired by a glorious mixture of  New York City’s ethnic sounds. But authentic New Yorker, he wasn’t.

So, if Moondog is merely the second most quintessential New York sound ever, what, to my mind, is THE most quintessential?  Ah, well, that comes down to my own New York experience.

My first ever visit to New York was in November 1989 at the age of 27, the same age as Moondog when he moved to New York. Coincidence strongly links my New York timeline with Moondog’s; he made a rare visit to New York, for his last major gig there. that very month.

But my soundtrack of my first New York visit was not Moondog’s music; it was Pump Up The Jam. By Technotronic, featuring Felly.

It seemed to be played everywhere, all the time, while I was in New York. It is said to be the first hip-house hit and has been described as a dance masterpiece. Just listen to those amazing accents; New York, African-American Vernacular. That’s authentic, no?

No. When I returned to the UK with my copy of Pump Up The Jam proudly in hand and played it to my half-Belgian friend, Daniel Scordel, suggesting that it was THE New York sound, Daniel told me that his kid sister reliably informed him that Technotronic was a Belgian act.

Googling now informs me that Felly, the “featured artiste” was in fact a Congolese model who lip-synced on the video and posed for the cover of the Belgian record as a marketing ploy. The actual singer with the “authentic” New York accent was Ya Kid K, an androgynous-looking Congolese-Belgian woman, who was also a co-author of the song. Worse yet, the hip-house genre is said to cross-fertilise Chicago & London styles. Not New York.

In truth, the late 1980’s was not exactly a golden age for authentic popular music.  Consider the Eurodance chart topper just before I set off for New York, Ride On Time, Italian in this case; an even messier mix of lip-synching models in the vid…

and samples “liberated” from uncredited artistes.

https://youtu.be/BKmw9UrX99s

Walk right in, soul diva Loleatta Holloway; unsung hero, yet one of the most sampled singers of all time.

But now I must move on to my authentic tale of New York.

On the Sunday before I set off for New York, I went to the Barbican Hall.  The story of my chance encounter there with Rita Frank, our bizarre drive in the densest London fog I have ever seen and the coincidence that Rita turned out to live just a few blocks from the Manhattan apartment where I was about to stay, would be worth the price of admission to the Virtual Glad alone.

An Unexpected Evening At The Barbican During Which I Heard Sibelius, Met Rita Frank & Experienced Driving In Dense London Fog, 12 November 1989

When I got to New York, Rita insisted that I allow her 20 year-old daughter, Mara, known as Moose, to be my guide. My adventures with Moose (and with other people) in New York are well documented on Ogblog and would also be worth the price of admission to the Virtual Glad alone.

My First Visit To The USA Part One: New York, c19 to 22 November 1989

I did have a holiday romance on that trip, but not with Moose – you need to read between the lines of that write up to find it. Instead, Moose was a superb guide; a charming & fun companion in New York.  We became firm friends. I resolved to return the guiding favour when Moose was due to come to London the following year.

But that favour was not to be returned. In June 1990, I was felled by a serious back injury; multiple prolapses in my lower back. Don’t talk to me about lockdown. This was a solo lockdown; my world got smaller for many months. Everyone else was out there having a good time while I was in excruciating pain, alone in my flat, rehabilitating.

It’s at times like those when you find out who your friends are. Many of my long-standing friends turned out to be true friends. So did Moose. Moose still wanted to see me. Moose would bring in shopping for me. Moose spent happy times with me in my confined world. Moose turned out to be an authentic friend.

Now I know what some of you are thinking. You recall the story of Fuzz, whose real first and second names remain a mystery.  Is Moose similarly obscure? Is this Harris bloke a specialist in befriending young women with monosyllabic nicknames, enabling them conveniently to vanish without trace?

In Moose’s case, we did lose touch with each other after she returned to the States, but I did know her real names and I knew where she lived.

So in late 2019, while writing up my New York adventures, Mr Google helped me find her. It took me about three minutes. Not bad, considering she now goes by her married name and has moved to California.

She has 24 children…Meet:

Felly Kilingi, former Congolese model…no no no…Meet:
…Loleatta Holloway, the late great unsung samples singer…no, no, no… Meet:

Mara Holtz.

Teaching is perfect career for Vallemar newcomer

Mara has 24 different children every year. Mara is a primary school teacher.

The next few lines are dialogue.

MARA: “I am so glad that you contacted me. I’ve thought about you over the years and wondered how you were doing…I’m amazed that you found me…It’s so nice to hear from you.”

ME: “I’m so pleased that you are glad to hear from me…Are you still known as Moose?

MOOSE: “…very few friends still call me Moose. However…I seemed to have accidentally developed a Moose themed classroom, so I usually end up with students calling me Professor Moose.”

MOONDOG: “No matter what name she goes under, I dig her deeply and no wonder, For she’s been lovely to me, And I’m the better for having met her”.

Oh Joy – We’re Back On The Tennis Court, Boston Manor, 13 May 2020

Linda Massey pulled out all the stops to get us back on court day one of the Covid-19 partial unlocking . Thanks Linda.

I was the second person to log on and book, but while Alfred went for a leisurely 11:00 booking, the only slot we could do on a busy day of work, FoodCycle charity round and Virtual Glad performance (all to come) was 10:00.

So we were the first people back on court. Yah boo.

As you can see from the headline photo, I couldn’t even remember what to do with the tennis bag – I look utterly bewildered as indeed I was.

Court Two has not been vandalised – it has been decommissioned while social distancing remains in full force.

You can even tell from the pictures that Janie was up for it to a greater extent than me. She took the first set 6-2. I started to come back second set, leading 5-3 when it was time for us to leave.

Normally, of course, the next pair on need to drag us off the court kicking and screaming because we still want to play.

But on this occasion, due to social distancing, we politely yielded the court, donning gloves and wipes to ensure that the gate handle is kept as germ free as possible.

We saw several of the regular dog walkers who waved at us and we waved back. We even exchanged a few words at extreme distance which I’m sure is not a breach of the spirit or even the letter of the social distancing rules.

It really is great to be back on court at Boston Manor. Thanks again to Linda Massey for organising it so quickly.

Tennis The Covid Way In Noddyland, 23 March To 12 May 2020

This is an exciting moment in our tennis lives, as the Boston Manor courts are set to reopen after lockdown. Daisy and I are allowed to play again.

Have we merely been sitting on our bottoms biding our time? Have we heck.

When it seemed inevitable that lockdown was about to happen, I got ordering on-line, so a variety of tennis-oriented gizmos have been trickling through the system to us over the last couple of months.

The first manifestation of the “tennis ball on an elastic string” training device was not a great success. The base was fine, but the “string” was an elastic band and the ball seemed to be made of cardboard rather than vulcanised rubber.

It lasted about five minutes.

Fortunately I had already ordered some more robust-looking varieties which trickled through in early April. The depicted version is one of two we now have, using a proper elasticated string and balls that have some durability.

If you look carefully in the background of the above picture you can also see the other device I bought, which is far less fun but it helps you to work on technique. The ball is static but it won’t move the way you want it to move unless you apply, for example, top spin or cut properly.

Actually it is especially good for practicing cut. I’ll probably persevere with this device with my real tennis racket once we are back on the modern courts with the modern rackets. So my real tennis friends should watch out when (if) we get back onto the real tennis court.

As usual Daisy looks more elegant, stylish and (let’s be honest) balanced, even when playing with this elasticated string thing and its erratic bounce.

But it’s not all been about modern tennis in the back yard – dear me no.

We’ve played table tennis pretty much every day of lockdown and my game has improved quite a bit. Before lockdown, Janie was, for sure, better than me at table tennis and always had been.

By the end of lockdown, I think it is fair to say that we are playing level.

I filmed just over 11 minutes of our last match before the end of lockdown:

Unfortunately the camera runs out of film as the scores are about to draw level at 3-3 in the decider, so this film is only for aficionados of the game…well, not even for them, frankly.

Daisy and Ged might want to see it again in their dotage.

Some people might want to watch some of it for a laugh.

If by any chance there are Ogblog readers desperate to know how this match ended, we have a team of operatives standing by (Daisy and Ged) to provide personalised responses to e-mail requests, e.g. for the final score or even for a blow-by-blow account of the closing salvos.

Youth Club, Charity Work, High Notes & More, A Surprisingly Diverse Week Of Activities, 3 to 9 May 2020

Wendy, Mark & David saying, “hello in there”, Nightingale, 1979

Youth Club & Director’s Cut, 3 May 2020

These last few weeks we have had regular youth club Zoom gatherings on a Sunday, which have surprising amounts in common with the gatherings more than 40 years ago.

Virtually Going Back To Our Roots, A Streatham BBYO Youth Club Reunion On Zoom, 29 March 2020

Sunday 3rd May was another such gathering. The soap opera that is the “social distancing rabbits” story (click link here or above if you are interested) took on yet another twist, as the buck appears to have broken the social distancing rules for a few moments; all that is required, apparently, potentially to initiate another brood.

Coincidentally, much of the discussion prior to the rabbit saga had focussed on offspring, be it children or grand-children, the latter being very recent or imminent in several cases.

Even more coincidentally, I was distracted for some of the Zoom on this occasion by virtue of having been invited to a Zoom Bris in Texas by another old BBYO friend, who became a doting grandfather a few days earlier. Having not experienced a bris since my own, I was intrigued and wanted to join the ceremony, which was timed to start at the same time as youth club. I followed the former surreptitiously on my mobile phone. It’s the sort of thing young folk do in face-to-face meetings, after all.

After the ceremony, I confessed to the specifics of my two-timing activity. One of our number, from the education sector, fretted about safeguarding issues arising from a Zoom bris. I felt bound to assure him and the others that all I could really see was doting parents, a blissfully unaware baby and a few other attendees. In short, I think the director/camera-dude said “cut!” at the vital moment.

I’ll give youth club my undivided next time. “Undivided what?”, I hear you cry.

Hitting The High Notes With Lydia White, 5 May 2020

Talking of hitting high notes, I have started taking some singing lessons with Lydia White via video conference. Actually this is something that John White and I had talked about some time ago, when I learnt that John’s daughter Lydia, as well as progressing her show business career in musicals…

Rags The Musical, Hope Mill Theatre, 13 March 2019

…was also giving singing lessons. Meanwhile, Lydia’s career had just taken an unexpected, fortuitous leap forward into a leading role, when lockdown came, bringing that opportunity to an end after just a few shows.

Anyway, it turns out that Lydia is a very good singing teacher and that, although she hadn’t tried giving lessons by VC before, that she can provide excellent coaching that way, much as Ian Pittaway helps me to progress my instrument playing, mostly through remote lessons.

A Renaissance In Baritone Ukulele Lessons, Stourbridge, 3 July 2017

Today was my second lesson with Lydia and I must say that I feel that I am making progress very rapidly. Not that I’ll ever be a great singer, but there are some basics of technique that are enabling me to get a lot more out of my voice for less effort. Most importantly, I am really enjoying the process of learning and practicing. Janie says she can hear a great deal of improvement, which is remarkable in such a short period of time…and given that Janie wears anti-noise earmuffs whenever I sing. OK I made up the bit about earmuffs.

Here is a link to Lydia’s singing lesson site.

Another Plug For Rohan Candappa’s Lockdown Theatre Company, 6 May 2020

I have previously plugged Rohan Candappa’s wonderful philanthropic yet artistically excellent project, the Lockdown Theatre Company.

This week’s production, Diff, is right up there as a piece of writing and performance:

Rohan, having funded season one himself, is trying to crowdfund season two. A link to the Kickstarter thingie can be found by clicking here or below:

You can help the project just by watching, enjoying and sharing the output with others who might appreciate it. But if, like me, you are also able to put your hand in your pocket a bit towards series two, that would be great for Rohan and the struggling artistes he is helping through this initiative.

Is It Lourdes Or Lord’s?, A FoodCycle Gig In Marylebone, 6 May 2020

Ged: You want us to deliver ALL these? Ali: (from a suitably social distance) Yup!

Daisy and I were asked to do another FoodCycle gig this week; in Marylebone this time. The church hall in which tireless volunteers such as Ali and Jenny assemble the food parcels is the Roman Catholic Church Of Our Lady, just around the corner from my own temple – Lord’s Cricket Ground – currently closed due to covid.

We met another volunteer, Connagh, who was taking the other batch of parcels that day. He was also a first-timer at this venue so we all three wandered around together (at a suitably social distance of course) until we found Ali & Jenny.

Ali & Connagh demonstrate the socially distant high five, aka the “high five meters apart”
Ali, Jenny, Janie (Daisy) & Connagh. This could be a press picture or album cover for an early music a cappella quartet. I have named them “Pro Canteen Antiqua”

We then drove off. While we were waiting for the sat nav to get its bearings, Dumbo (who loves visiting Lord’s more than anything)…

Lord’s net practice report

…decided that Lodge Road and then back past Lord’s was the best route. It wasn’t the best route for the food deliveries but it did give us all a glimpse of what we are missing.

There it is, up ahead…
So near and yet so far; the gates are closed, even to us!
Lord’s denied; Ged cannot contain his emotions

Actually the whole experience of delivering for FoodCycle is quite an emotional experience at times. One elderly guest on the Lisson Green Estate, I believe one of the regulars when the arrangement is for the guests and volunteers to gather for a weekly meal, was waiting by the entrance to her block and started to cry when we announced ourselves. She thought we were late (we weren’t) and that she had been forgotten (she hadn’t).

The reality of our food deliveries during the pandemic is that the food parcels can only help to meet part of the FoodCycle mission, which is to alleviate both food poverty and social isolation. Of course we understand why we can only deliver a tiny part of the social agenda, by engaging as best we can within the constraints of social distancing. But it is chastening to see how isolated some of the guests must feel at the moment. Still, the food poverty agenda is also extremely important and we encountered some other guests who have clearly fallen on hard times of late and just desperately need the food.

We’re doing another gig on Sunday, around White City/East Acton. I’ll add photos from there if I get a chance to take some.

Hello In There by John Prine, 9 May 2020

I thought I’d sum up this strange week with this beautiful John Prine song, Hello In There, which I have been unable to get out of my head since I learnt that Prine was ill, about a week before he died of Covid-19 in early April.

This charming, beautiful song is so much for our times. I can only try to do it justice.

Postscript: FoodCycle Around White City, Old Oak & Wormholt & Acton, 10 May 2020

Collecting the parcels: Janie (Daisy) with Fr Richard Nesbitt, Alannah & Francesco

Janie’s first gig for Foodcycle had been the project known as East Acton, which is initiated at the Our Lady Of Fatima Church in White City.

As we are now billed as a double act, seasoned operators at that, we get to drop 20 parcels at 10 addresses on our run.

Actually, this proved the least onerous run so far, partly because Janie had been to three of the locations before but also because the several drops to houses on the Old Oak and Wormholt were easier to navigate than some of the more modern estates.

Again, lovely, attentive people producing the parcels and helping us to load up the car. Fr Richard even wandered around to make sure the first drop, which was a new guest very near the church, went according to plan. Again extremely grateful and friendly guests who seemed so pleased to see us when we turned up.

This really is necessary and worthwhile voluntary work at the moment.

Hitting The High Notes With Lydia White, 5 May 2020

I have started taking some singing lessons with Lydia White via video conference. Actually this is something that John White and I had talked about some time ago, when I learnt that John’s daughter Lydia, as well as progressing her show business career in musicals…

…was also giving singing lessons. Meanwhile, Lydia’s career had just taken an unexpected, fortuitous leap forward into a leading role, when lockdown came, bringing that opportunity to an end after just a few shows.

Anyway, it turns out that Lydia is a very good singing teacher and that, although she hadn’t tried giving lessons by VC before, that she can provide excellent coaching that way, much as Ian Pittaway helps me to progress my instrument playing, mostly through remote lessons.

Today was my second lesson with Lydia and I must say that I feel that I am making progress very rapidly. Not that I’ll ever be a great singer, but there are some basics of technique that are enabling me to get a lot more out of my voice for less effort. Most importantly, I am really enjoying the process of learning and practicing.

Janie says she can hear a great deal of improvement, which is remarkable in such a short period of time…and given that Janie wears anti-noise earmuffs whenever I sing. OK I made up the bit about earmuffs.

Here is a link to Lydia’s singing lesson site.

At the end of the week, I thought I’d try out my new-found range & sum up the strange life we are currently leading with this beautiful John Prine song, Hello In There, which I have been unable to get out of my head since I learnt that Prine was ill, about a week before he died of Covid-19 in early April.

This charming, beautiful song is so much for our times. I can only try to do it justice. With some more lessons with Lydia, I’m sure I can only get better at it.