We sat directly behind Andrew McGregor, who presented the concert for BBC Radio 3 listeners. It is the first time we have ever sat in those seats, which was enlightening and slightly distracting in equal measure. We did at least, from there, hear what the presenter is telling the Radio 3 audience, which is often a bit more than can be found on the programme.
Actually, for this concert, most of what we wanted was in the programme, which can be found through the Wigmore Hall link or, if that ever fails, here.
If you are finding this within a month or so of the concert, then you can hear it on BBC Sounds – click here.
In the concert hall we got a sweet encore by Pietro Locatelli, which made me realise that I had paid that composer far too little attention, so we listened to a fair smattering of Locatelli when we got home. We also discussed his football skills and his magnificence as a restaurateur.
One of the finest composers Juventus ever produced? And as for Zafferano…
I wrote up my experience of the MCC Tennis Weekend as a “Secret Diary” piece which found its way onto the MCC website as the authoritative report on the event.
As everything I wanted to say about that most enjoyable weekend is contained in that report, I replicate it here, with the links to other resources for anyone who might be interested.
The Secret 2024 MCC Tennis Club Weekend Diary Of Ian Harris, Aged Sixty-One And Five Twelfths
I felt excited and fearful in equal measure when I learned that I had been promoted to Group B of the MCC Club Weekend this year. Surely Group C is where I belong. The pros told me that Group B, this year, would be for 50-60 handicappers, like me.
I was to partner the actor Ian Falconer, with whom I had played a fair bit before. He can exert a calming and experienced influence over me. Anyway, there was no time to fret on Friday morning, as we played two tough matches, both of which we won; the second by quite some margin. My sense of imposter syndrome begone.
Ian Falconer said that I left the ball well in that second match. That reminded me of comments I have oft received about my cricket batting; that my best shot is the leave. Less kindly folk tell me that, apart from the block, the leave is my only cricket shot.
Our group then had a 24-hour break from the tennis, until Saturday afternoon. I enjoyed the convivial Friday evening dinner, with great company, great grub and surprisingly interesting speeches, not least from the Chairman, Bruce Carnegie-Brown, who broke the good news to us that real tennis play during test matches should be restored henceforward, with just a small risk of occasional interruption for media purposes.
Ian Falconer was unable to attend the dinner, as he is deep into rehearsal for a play in which he plays a domineering father. He was also to attend an audition the next morning, for a film role as Hitler.
Less aware of my partner’s acting techniques than his tennis techniques, I worried overnight that Ian might be a practitioner of The Method. If so, that calm, gentle, encouraging persona I had previously experienced, might be replaced with something…less comforting and more shouty. I decided that we should agree a safety phrase, “who do you think you are kidding, Mr Falconer?”, just in case matters got out of hand for the rest of the weekend. I am pleased to report that neither of us needed to resort to the safety phrase.
Saturday’s battles in our group were really close. We managed one (narrow) win and a draw, leaving us top of the table and qualified for a semi-final before the final day. All groups (including ours) had at least one, if not both, semi-final places up for grabs still on the Sunday.
There were many distractions for tennis-loving MCC folk early that Sunday morning. First thing, at home, I followed the India v England test match, the Australia v West Indies test, the Australian Open (lawn tennis) Men’s final and the live stream from Lord’s of our tournament. “Isn’t this a bit too much stimulation before you play?”, asked my wife, Janie. “Probably”, said I. By the time I set off for Lord’s, I knew that our pair had won Group B whatever happened in our last group match.
I got to Lord’s in time to see the final wicket fall in the India v England test along with my tennis friends in the dedans gallery, which was a wonderful watching moment ahead of playing our final group match. We lost that match narrowly, despite having been ahead. “Foreshadowing”, as my dramaturge/actor tennis partner might well say.
We enjoyed lunch in the Long Room Bar between our last group match and the semi-final. All three days, in fact, lunch is an informal pleasure as part of this tournament. An opportunity to chat with friends, old and new, in convivial surroundings. The glorious sunshine all three afternoons added to that pleasure.
The tale of the Groups C/D category was one of mostly close-fought matches during the group stages. That characteristic persisted into the finals stages, with, in particular, a nail-biting semi-final Brunner & Vacher v Nelson & Stain. The Group C/D final, Brunner & Vacher v Lark & McDermott was similarly close and exciting to watch. Congratulations to the winners: Peter Brunner & Piers Vacher.
In the Groups A/B category, the main story was the dominance of the Cattermull & Parkes pairing. My own semi-final, Falconer & Harris v Bishop & Whiting, was one of the most exciting matches I have ever played. We had our chances…we came close. The final, Bishop & Whiting v Cattermull & Parkes, was one-sided in the final score, but was an excellent display of good tennis by all four players. It was just the relentless consistency of Paul Cattermull & Rufus Parkes, despite giving up significant handicaps, that saw them dominate their matches and storm home with the trophy.
It was a superb weekend which should live long in the memory. The organisers – Hannah and Dinesh, the professionals – Chris, Chris and Alex, and the tennis committee – especially Giles and Graeme, all deserve our thanks and praise.
In the first half, Michele Rabbia, Gianluca Petrella and Eivind Aarset played their unusual style of electronically-enhanced ambient music, mostly pieces from the album Lost River.
Here’s an example piece – Nimbus
One lady in our row, clearly not keen on electronically enhanced jazz, decided not to stick around for the second half. That’s a shame, because it was very different and not electronically enhanced at all.
Avishai Cohen and Yonathan Avishai have been friends since they were kids and the camaraderie really showed. Their set mostly came form the album “Playing The Room”.
Here’s a sample from that:
Here is a live video of them playing a lullaby, which i think they used as their encore:
Not a concert to set your pulse racing, but two very interesting acts and a good way to start concert-going in 2024.
The Christmas Eve shift was the busiest, as volunteer numbers were down that day for some reason. We like being busy and don’t like the sense that we are somewhat surplus even for part of our eight hour shift, so that one, for us, was the highlight.
Most of the guests seemed delighted with the meal we served them, but one guest was convinced that his food was cold, even though he refused to try it to confirm his hypothesis. His sour life was rendered yet more sour by dint of the cold plate of food, he told me. When i replaced it with another plate from the same hot tray serve din the same way, he tucked in.
Boxing Day, which the previous year had been quite busy, was a sedate affair with plenty of people around to do the requisite tasks. We again (as in 2022) had mixed reviews for the “can you run a coffee stall?” test, with some of the team leaders praising our “barristabilities”, while other attendees challenged that perception.
For reasons never explained, some of the team leaders brought in cardboard cut-outs of celebrities (I think to judge the talent show). Daisy and I failed epically to identify the celebs.
30 December was a different vibe with the Week Two team being mostly different people – at least the leadership team is different from Week One. Mostly people we had met in Week Two the year before.
We got to staff a health screening registration desk for a while, which was a bit different. We also got to hone our coffee stall skills under new management, which seemed to go very well despite our mixed reviews passim.
One encouraging sign, for us, is that very few of the 2023 guests were returnees from 2022. Word is that the work done over Christmas is getting a good proportion of the guests into a more positive loop, enabling many to get away from homelessness after their stay. That’s a large part of what our work is about and that thought makes it hugely rewarding.
So, with Crisis done for the 2023 Christmas, that’s us back to FoodCycle in early 2024:
Rumour has it that we are to be FoodCycle “poster-children” in February. Watch this space.
Oh, and if you were wondering why Daisy has two badges and I only have one…one of us forgot to bring their badge on the third day. Who knows if we’ll be invited back again in such circumstances.
This photo and others from Skills Night by Conor Coley, with thanks
Skills Night At Lord’s 1 November 2023
Lord’s Skills Nights, now held twice-yearly, have become “my thing”, by dint of me, foolishly, offering to help back in 2019. Foolishly, because I thought “help” might mean adding a bit of extra resource to a well-managed thing, rather than, as it turned out, replacing the manager who used to manage the well-managed thing. Thank you, Johnny Whiting.
Still, in truth I enjoy managing it as much of not more than I enjoyed playing it. The curry and wine afterwards always was the highlight and I can certainly still participate in that aspect.
At least i get to curate the prize-giving, providing room for all manner of subsidiary prizes and opportunities to give away gimcrack.
Most Valuable Player Award – a millionaire every timeThe Close But No Cigar Award
If you have an MCC login – everything you ever wanted to know about his event but were afraid to ask can be found here. In the unlikely event that someone else wants to read my match report in excruciating detail, click here.
Lord’s Club Nights, 16 November and 13 December 2023
By similar method, although slightly less formal, Steven Bishop managed to finesse a seemingly one-off request to “look after Club Night” for him on one occasion just before the pandemic, into “I’m basically not really in London midweek any more…” me looking after Club Night most months.
This informal evening can be curated while playing, which I very much enjoy doing on these occasions. We get a mixture of regulars and newbies. It is always possible to mix and match, to make the evening fun and good practice for most if not all who attend.
An Afternoon Watching Really Real Doubles At Queen’s, 17 November 2023
The only slot of the British Open that worked for me this year – I very much enjoyed a few hours at Queen’s watching proper real tennis doubles on Quarter-Finals afternoon. I saw Rob Fahey and Nicky Howell overcome Levi Gale & Lewis Williams, then John Lumley & Steve Virgona defeat Claire Fahey and Louis Gordon. A pleasant afternoon, during which time I ran into several people I know, which is more or less guaranteed if you go to see real tennis.
Dedanist’s Lunch At Lemonia Followed By Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner At Spaghetti House Holborn, 14 December 2023
A Highlight of the real tennis year is the Dedanist’s seasonal lunch, at Lemonia. On this occasion I needed to be reasonably abstemious because OI was going on that evening to the annual Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner afterwards.
But reasonably abstemious still allowed for a glass-and-a-half of wine, some tasty grub and excellent company.
The photo below from the Ivan Shakespeare, not The Dedanist’s.
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.
Frankly, only Candappa could come up with an idea like this and see it through to implementation.
When I call my friend Rohan Candappa just “Candappa”, I am of course harking back to that time, 50 years ago, when we started secondary school and discovered that we all had surnames but none of us seemed to have first names.
Candappa – bellicose back then……merely cantankerous now: Rohan Candappa
The gathering was at The Young Vic, in commemoration of the first theatrical school trip of our young careers, with Mr Sandbrook himself, to see Scapino, in January 1974:
Dress code: Grey suits (too large ideally, but don’t worry, you’ll grow into it), black briefcases, and a slightly nervous smile. Oh, and make sure you’ve got some blotting paper in the briefcase.
I knew that I would be unable to comply fully with Rohan’s rules and also that I was no longer in a position to get my (late) mother to write a note of apology to Mr Sandbrook, our form teacher. I decided to commission ChatGPT to forge a note from my mum. It took four or five goes, as ChatGPT, unwilling to imagine itself in 1973 writing a note, was keen to use the phrase “1973 was a long time ago” as part of the excuse. Only when I advised it to use a “dog ate my homework” style of excuse did it muster the following:
Interesting use of a gender-neutral pronoun there. Not very 1973.
It was always only going to be a small group of us. In the end, only four of us met, as Dave French unfortunately was a bit poorly on the day. He did send an extensive note, which I shall quote from shortly.
The four of us who met were:
Candappa, Rohan
Goodwin, Ian
Maine, Myles
Harris, Ian (me).
Left to right, Me, Myles, Rohan, t’other Ian
We called the register – strangely while I was calling the register from my old 1974 diary, Dave French was sending me a message which included said register with some thoughts about the people, especially those who have sadly departed.
Dave French helpfully provided a legible list, when he wrote in to us:
Please raise a glass or three in my absence to:
Allott
Athaide
Barrett
Burgess
Candappa – Candy
Carroll
Corrin
Dallaway
Feeley
Foord – Dunkie
Forrest
Frearson
French – Frog
Goodwin – Milk
Handy
Harley
Hayes
Hollingshead – Mutt
Manhood
Masson – Chimpy
Mayne
Moore
Ricketts
Romain – Charlie
Sym
Stendall
🍻🍻🍻
One sobering thought was the realisation that at least four of our number have departed permanently. That’s at least as many departed as gathered that October evening. An attrition rate above 15% seems very high.
Jovito Athaide – as Dave French wrote: “I think it was in the early 1990s that I received a call from Jovito Athaide’s dad, letting me know he’d died suddenly from an undetected heart condition.” I think quite a few of us got this call – my parents probably told me about it without passing on my new number to Mr Athaide. I have an address and phone number for Jo in an old address book – I should imagine he made a point of collecting/exchanging them.
Dave Masson – Dave French writes: “I and a few others stayed very close to Dave Chimpy Masson for many years after school – very fond memories in the sixth form of going back to his house at 66 Woodwarde Road, 5 minutes from school, either at lunch or during free periods, to drink his home brew – made maths more tolerable in the afternoon. Devastatingly he and his mother-in-law died in a car crash in Namibia in 1995…his birthday, December 4th, is ingrained in my memory, and I always say “Hi” and raise a glass to him. Lovely guy”.
Yet the four of us who gathered in October 2023 were able to park our melancholy, enjoy each other’s company enormously and share many reminiscences.
Rohan, being Rohan, brought a small collection of gifts for all of us who attended – a fountain pen, a piece of blotting paper and a notebook which he had craftily renamed G.W.B for general work book – gosh yes, I remember those.
Gifted, we were, all of us gifted.
Naturally, when I got home I wrote Rohan a thank you note in my GWB using my fountain pen and blotting paper.
I then scanned the note and e-mailed it to Rohan, which slightly spoiled the 1973 effect.
My favourite anecdote from 50 years ago was also one of Rohan’s. He recalled that, in one of our very first lessons with Mr Sandbrook, we were promised a princely sum of money – perhaps it was 10p – every time we spotted a spelling or grammatical mistake on the blackboard. Rohan recalls that it took him most of the year to realise that he was very unlikely indeed to hit pay dirt. Rather, Mr Sandbrook had duped him into paying attention to the spelling and grammar for best part of a year.
On the topic of Mr Sandbrook, I had exchanged e-mails with Rohan about the possibility of trying to track Ian Sandbrook down. Rohan said that he had tried to do that, but with only limited success. On the morning before our gathering, I decided to do a bit of detective work myself. I decided that an Ian Sandbrook who seemed to be highly active in the arts community of St Endellion, even since the days of teaching us, was still active there until very recently. The others agreed that the Endelienta bassoon reference clinched it, as we remembered Mr Sandbrook bringing his bassoon into the class room to show us.
I decided to write to Mr Sandbrook via Endelienta and see what happens.
On 1 November, an e-mail arrived from “Ian” addressed to “Ian”…
…it took me a while to realise that Mr Sandbrook really had just written to me. He’d like to know how we got on when we met, so I’ll send him a link to this piece. Hopefully he will send through some thoughts and memories of his own, in addition to the thoughts he wrote in his first note. He might even grant me permission to share those thoughts with the Alleyn’s 1970s alums on Facebook, several dozen of whom tend to look at these postings, however long and rambling they might be. Even Mike Jones, formally of the masters common room, hangs out in the Alleyn’s 1970s Facebook group.
Oh, and by the way, there are no cash prizes for spotting my spelling and grammatical errors. I’m not falling for that one. But all subediting comments and corrections are gratefully received.
