Author: Ian Louis Harris

A Fortnight During Which A Character Named Motel, Ted Heath & An “Elderly” 41-Year-Old Alleyn’s Alum Featured In My Diary, Late February To Early March 1974

Edward Heath & Richard Nixon, February 1973, Their Respective Falls Imminent

A few out of the ordinary matters cropped up in my diary at that time.

Sunday, 24th February 1974

NOT usual classes. Visited Motel in hospital. Kalooki 19p.

Monday, 25 February 1974

PE – v. good. Handcraft good. Cricket Banson in [??].

Tuesday, 26 February 1974

Classes good. Likely Lads, v good.

Wednesday, 27 February 1974

Chemistry, good. Fives v good though I lost 16–14, 10–15, 15–10.

Thursday, 28 February 1974

Election day. Classes, polling station. Annex, 440–700.

Friday, 1 March 1974.

Election cliff hanger. Water polo, good. Drama, good.

Saturday 2 March 1974

School morn, good. Penalty prize good. Exam tomorrow – prepared.

Sunday…Visited Motel In Hospital…

Motel was someone my Grandma Anne had picked up along the way. Goodness knows where she found him…probably in a kosher hotel in Bournemouth. Or in central casting having asked for “an alte kaker from the schmutter trade”.

“…even a poor tailor is entitled to some happiness!” Presumably Motel, Fiddler On The Roof, Otterbein University Theatre & Dance from USA, CC BY-SA 2.0

Grandma Anne’s friend Motel was always nice to me but consistently promised more than he ever delivered. On one occasion he told me that he was going to make me a little velvet suit…I’m still waiting. Not that I think, in retrospect, that I was or am the little velvet suit type.

I’m pretty sure it was on this occasion, in hospital, wired up to a cardiogram machine, that Motel, hand shaking, “gave me a little something”, probably 10p, which, according to my father, sent Motel’s cardiogram readings haywire. Perhaps my dad exaggerated for effect.

Monday…The Banson Mystery

Until this week, my cricket training reports had been either pithy – “good / v good” or explaining my own derring-do such as taking catches or wickets. This week I mention something pertaining to Mr Banson and I cannot for the life of me read the word. Here’s the entry blown up and enhanced as best Photoshop can:

So what was “Banson in…?” My memory of him is mostly as an impatient, old school games master whose motivational technique was primarily based on applying his hand to the boys’ heads with some force.

I would really appreciate it if the hive mind of Alleyn’s alums were to transliterate the offending word/words.

Rest Of the Week

A rare mention of loss in the fives on Wednesday. The unnamed warrior who beat me was almost certainly Alan Cooke.

Thursday and Friday I am clearly pre-occupied with the general election. I have no idea what 440-700 means in that context on the Thursday – possibly the number of people they estimated to have voted at that Synagogue-annex-cum-polling-station in Brixton. Marcus Lipton prevailed in that constituency, which will have pleased my mum who always spoke very highly of him.

No idea what “Penalty prize” means. I don’t think it was a TV show – perhaps it was something we did as games on a Saturday at school.

Sunday, 3 March 1974

Exam went well. Andrew [Levinson] came for lunch, editing learned how to splice.

Monday 4 March 1974

Cricket good. HEATH RESIGNED.

Tuesday, 5 March 1974

Art papier-mâché. Classes good. Okay walk.

Wednesday, 6 March 1974

Fives, v good. Instruction from elderly man – played in old and new courts.

Thursday, 7 March 1974

Physics 9 out of 10. Classes paper. Purim at Bolingbroke – female singer.

Friday, 8 March 1974

Water polo scored and saved goal. Drama v good.

Saturday, 9 March 1974

School morning. Typed play in afternoon. Doctor Who v good.

I’m a little surprised to see “learned how to splice” at such an age – I thought I’d been editing tapes from an earlier age than that. But on reflection, I realise that the splicing method required for reel-to-reel tape included an open blade and my guess is that my dad needed convincing that I was ready to use something as potentially dangerous (to myself I hasten to add) as an open blade.

Still available from places like ebay

Monday: Our Political Correspondent Writes

I love the fact that “Cricket Good” is trumped by, in block capitals, HEATH RESIGNED on the Monday.

Tuesday: Spelling Bee

My attempt to spell papier-mâché has to be seen in the original to be believed. Still, how would you have spelt it, dear reader, had you not seen my spell-checked version in this article?

Wednesday: Rugby Fives Tuition From Elderly Man, Aged 41

When I raised the matter of this “elderly man” with Mike Jones a few years ago, he informed me that it must have been John Pretlove, a name that rang a bell. A fine county cricketer and doyen of Rugby Fives, John was, at that time, often at a loose end and would come down to his alma mater, Alleyn’s, to watch and give informal instruction to the boys.

I was a little shocked when Mike told me that John was 41 in early 1974.

“But I seem to remember having to help the elderly man down from the viewing bench when he offered to help me”, I said. “He was already not in good shape by the early 1970s”, said Mike, “he’d worn out a lot of parts playing multiple sports”..

This might have been the occasion that Barry Banson had clipped me around the back of the head and called me “uncoachable” in front of John. I was upset, as I had been humiliated in front of this senior fellow. But after I helped John Pretlove down from the viewing bench he showed me what he thought Banson was trying to show me – getting my front leg well forward, getting right down to the ball and using my shoulder to give the ball some humpty around the walls. It became my best shot, both left and right-handed.

Rest Of The Week

I’m not sure which was the greater miracle – me scoring 9/10 in a physics test or me scoring and saving a goal at water polo. Several of the people in my year who really were good at water polo might read this piece at some point. Please let me know what you think…as if you guys need any encouragement to let me know what you think.

I’m not sure which of our “plays” this might have been, but this was the fruit of our drama class so it is just possible that this “typing of play” reference is about the Greek classics piece I have previously written about.

We Did Make A Drama Out Of An Eris: Friday Drama Class At Alleyn’s School With Mr Sandbrook In 1S, 1973/1974

Sir (Ian Sandbrook) certainly won’t remember, but he might just be able to make out what I was saying about Mr Banson on that first Monday of this fortnight. After all, Mr Sandbrook had a lot of practice trying to make out my scrawl (and that of others) 50 years ago. Here’s the extract again, in colour this time.

Chess, Fives, Drama & A Mysterious “Big Trip” Spanning Half Term At Alleyn’s, Mid February 1974

With thanks to Mike Jones (seated) for this 1975 picture of him with Bernard Rothbart, who, in 1973/74, taught me biology and chess

There are many mysteries in our world, but, as I type this piece, none engaging my mind more than the relatively trivial mystery, what was the “BIG TRIP” on 16 February 1974.

Clearly this matter was so very big, it warranted mentioning its planning at school the day before the trip. Also, it was clearly so very big, in my mind, that I had no need to write down what it was because, obviously, I would remember the details of that trip for the rest of my life.

It’s going to need the hive mind of my fellow former pupils and/or teachers to get to the bottom of this one. I’m holding high hopes that Dave French or Rohan Candappa or Ian Sandbrook will come up trumps for this one…

…and talking of coming up trumps, I had no recollection of learning bridge as early as February 1974. In my memory, I was deeply into chess at that time, with thanks to and encouragement from Bernard Rothbart. Bridge, I think, I was shown by my family (probably Uncle Manny and Anthony) and/but I didn’t really get into it until later.

Enough preamble, here are the diary pages, which, I must admit, presented me with some reading and interpretation challenges.

And, oh, the spelling! Sorry sir. It just goes to prove how much I needed tuition from English teachers such as Ian Sandbrook back then.

Sunday, 10 February 1974 – Lots of papers from Aaron. Ginsbury talk. 14 p. Kalooky [sic].

Monday, 11 February 1974 – Cricket good. Maths test 20 VG. PE wriggly snake. Handcraft Midgley.

Tuesday, 12 February 1974 – Horniman Museum art v good. Pot Black good.

Wednesday, 13 February 1974 – Beat Cooke 6–15, 15–10, 15–13 in fives. Man About The House v. good. World At War, v good.

Thursday, 14 February 197 4 – Chess v Leach and H’s – I won although points down.

Friday, 15 February 1974 – Uneventful. Chess practice. Planned tomorrow’s trip. Beat Andrew in chess match.

Saturday, 16 February 1974 – Whent [sic] ON BIG TRIP.

14p was a big haul for me at Kalooki at that time – more than doubling the pocket money I received from my parents. Grandma Anne was probably the bigger loser although I could also clip my mum on a good day. “Did I pick up yet?” – that was one of Grandma’s catch phrases. “Whose turn is it?”…”YOURS!” – that was another.

Cricket with Mr Banson followed by handicraft with Mr Midgely on the same day – it’s a miracle I didn’t get brain damage from the repeated cuffing around the head!

I very well remember those school visits to the Horniman Museum. I’m sure they helped form my fascination with far-flung cultures, especially those from the south seas.

Horniman Museum by No Swan So Fine, CC BY-SA 4.0

I have already written a bit about forming my fascination with the south seas back then in this piece – click here or below:

Ongka’s Big Moka, Television Documentary, 11 December 1974

I have mentioned before that I seemed prone, in my diary, to reporting my fives wins over Alan Cooke in the diary while often omitting to mention the losses. My memory tells me that Alan was the better player by some distance and would win more often than lose against me. This method of recording is contrary to those of noble Renaissance players of jeu de paume (real tennis), such as Philip The Bold of Burgundy or Henry VIII of England. They tended only to have the losses recorded. My theory is that this had more to do with money-laundering than humility, but I digress.

The World At War, an epic history series about the Second World War, was “appointment to view” stuff in our household and I’m sure many others during that 1973/74 academic year. I don’t mention it every week, but I’m pretty sure it was on in our living room every week and that I watched most of them with my parents.

Regarding the chess wins, I have less recollection about my chess progress than my fives progress, other than the fact that I got frustrated with chess after a relatively short while and didn’t really follow through with it, in contrast to my lifelong love of hand/bat and ball games. I’m guessing that there might well have been a fair number of unrecorded chess losses too.

But what, in the name of all that is good and pure, was the BIG TRIP that Saturday? Speculation in the absence of clear memories will be gratefully received. Clear memories will be even more gratefully received.

Sunday, 17 February 1974 – Aaron gave even more prep. Learnt bridge, Queen’s gambit.

Monday, 18 February 1974 – Rather bad day. Barbers, went to library with quiz for music in particular.

Tuesday, 19 February 1974 – Taught Andy [Levinson] bridge. G[randma] Jenny. Trousers. Classes. Geography, v good.

Wednesday, 20 February 1974 – Last day of half term. Bridge with Andrew. Mum had her hair permed. World At War, V good – Reich 1940 to 1944.

Thursday, 21 February 1974 – New half of term. Lost chess match. But on the whole not bad day.

Friday, 22 February 1974 – Swimming v good. Drama, did Candid Camera, v good. Chess v Cyril– Up.

Saturday, 23 February 1974 – School morning. Shopping and learning afternoon. Learning and thriller evening.

Ok, ok, folks, I don’t need you to tell me that bridge is bridge and Queen’s gambit is chess. I’m pretty sure this proves that it was Uncle Manny and or cousin Anthony who showed me bridge and a new (to me) gambit for chess on that Sunday.

Uncle Michael, Me, Anthony, Auntie Pam

“Rather bad day…barbers”. I have written elsewhere about my aversion to having my hair cut when I was a kid – this link – here and below – includes a picture of that very barber shop, Ronnies, in Streatham.

On Return From Keele, “Hair Brutally Severed”, Early Summer 1982

“Went to library with quiz for music in particular”. I think Mr Sandbrook set us all a rather fiendish quiz to keep us occupied over half term. Probably another of his ruses to get us into the habit of going to the public library – a habit for which I needed little additional encouragement – but I think that quiz got me looking at sections I wouldn’t otherwise have explored. Top marks, Sir.

I love the way I ended up teaching (or “tourt” as I put it) Andy Levinson how to play bridge five minutes after I’d been shown the basics. Poor chap didn’t stand a chance with a “tourter”…I mean teacher…like me.

I didn’t have it in me to name my chess nemesis on the Thursday.

It seems that we “did Candid Camera” as our drama Friday session that week. How that might work I cannot quite fathom, unless the idea for our drama class was for us to write the scenarios for candid camera vignettes, and/or act as if we were being surprised by hidden cameras. I’m absolutely sure that Sir knew what he was doing and I am positive that it was very good because I wrote “v good” in my diary.

I am 99% sure that My chess victim on the Friday, Cyril, will have been Cyril Barnett the next door neighbour, not “Cyril” Vaughan the Alleyn’s teacher.

Cyril teaching me pancake making while my dad was teaching me a bit about photography. c1978

I have no idea what the Saturday entries “Shopping and learning afternoon. Learning and thriller evening.” I do remember having educational magazines named “World Of Wonder” and “Look And Learn” – perhaps “learning” was my shorthand for burying myself in those. Thriller might have been a TV programme or film. Thoughts and ideas on this, as with other topics in this piece, would be most welcome.

“Freed At Last, Freed At Last…”: Brixton Cheder In Early 1974

Brixton Synagogue site in 2023, photo by Pinhas stern, CC BY-SA 4.0

If you want to see the 1970s look of Brixton Synagogue, together with the hall behind the synagogue, in which we had our cheder classes, click this link to the Lambeth archive.

In my infancy, I went to cheder at South West London (Bolingbroke) Synagogue. I have written a piece about that experience, click here or below.

Pre-diary Memories of “Classes” – Cheder On A Sunday Morning At Bolingbroke Grove Shul, Late 1960s To Early 1970s

I’m not sure when the Bolingbroke cheder folded, but it will have been at some point between 1971 and 1973, I suspect it closed in the summer of 1972 or 1973. We survivors form that experience were scattered – some went to Streatham while others of us went to Brixton.

Andy and Fiona Levinson for sure came to Brixton. I’m pretty sure Wendy Ornadel also. Jonathan Davies was there too – I’m not sure whether or not he was a fellow refugee from Bolingbroke. I’m pretty sure Mark and Simon Phillips switched to Streatham not Brixton – hopefully Mark will recall.

Other people I remember from Brixton were the Laikin brothers (Richard and Graham) and Lloyd Green, whom I knew from Rosemead, with whom I wrote/edited a cheder magazine later in our time there and who was at Keele University, overlapping with me for a couple of the years there too. Sandra Corbman was there at Brixton whereas Natalie Calvert was not. In Sandra’s case, she needed to remind me, in Natalie’s case I was pretty sure she’d been at Brixton but I was wrong – I remembered her from Rosemead School. not Brixton cheder. Were you at Brixton or Streatham, Liza Abrahams? (“Neither”, says Liza, she went to West London Reform in Seymour Place). Also I recall knowing Karen Eagles before the BBYO years and suspect that was probably through Brixton cheder. Linda Phillips I think went to Streatham, although she had, a year or so earlier, been at the same Brixton kindergarten as me and Sandra – the latter evidenced in the press as well as Ogblog:

A Trio Of Firsts: My First Pictorial Appearance In A Newspaper, Almost Certainly My First Performance In A Show & “My First Girlfriend”, May 1966

For those of us with bar or bat mitzvah approaching, in addition to Sunday morning classes, we were expected to attend additional classes on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. This started around the time I started secondary school at Alleyn’s. In retrospect, I now realise that my chances of becoming good at any school sport were thus nixed. My limited talent at sport added to the minimisation of my chances at sporting glory.

I started keeping a diary in 1974, although I took a break between April and November that year – needing an early sabbatical before hunkering down to write pretty much daily between late 1974 and 1988.

This piece is an attempt to dredge my thoughts about that 1974 period at Brixton, with the help of my diary mentions and also, hopefully, a little help from my friends who read this piece and chime in with their own memories.

The First Quarter of 1974 Diary Says…

Actually the first mention of “classes” is an absence of them. “Missed” must mean that there were classes that day but I didn’t attend. No reason given. We went out with Grandma Anne after classes regularly. Perhaps I’d had an epiphany after Christmas…or am I reading too much into the above image.

My midweek diary references only refer to my attendance, never with any detail about the session. But my Sunday morning notes are quite informative.

Miss Aaron away. Mr Ragshaw gave teaser. I was right…

In truth I don’t remember Mr Ragshaw. He might have been the “headmaster” of the cheder or he might have been a locum. I do recall that the headmaster fellow, if you went to see him, always seemed to be eating surreptitiously in his office. He was probably just a greedy guts who couldn’t wait for his lunch, but the scoundrel rumour amongst us pupils was that he must have been surreptitiously eating bacon sandwiches. (No way!)

Note the comments in ink by a slightly older juvenile version of me, who went through those early diaries at one time, kibitzing on my own past in a cocky manner.

As January progressed into February, I sense that I was itching to get away from Miss (Ruth) Aaron and into the hands of Mr Freed. Clearly this class change (presumably a promotion) had been promised but was late coming. See the next few entries:

20 January 1974 – Bechat [sic] Hamazon [grace after meals] went well. Aaron not Freed. Boo…

27 January 1974 – Still no Mr Freed…

3 February 1974 – Classes, Freed in March

Miss Aaron Remembered

Part of my reason for frustration at the delayed move to Mr Freed’s class was presumably a sense of promotion deferred. But part of it was probably a desire to escape the clutches of Miss Aaron, whom I recall as being a rather shrill-voiced woman who used a sharp tongue in her attempts (not always successful) to maintain discipline.

“Were you born in a barn?” or “were you born on a bus?”

,,,I recall her asking people if they entered the room without closing the door behind them.

“Shut up” or “shechet” [shut up in Hebrew]

…she would often screech.

She insisted on calling us by Hebrew names, but with some of us she chose the name (or part name). My Hebrew name is Avram Leb ben Yitzhok. For some reason, she didn’t want to call me Avram, claiming that there were too many Avrams already. In fact, I think the others were all Avraham (the more Godly version of the name) and her insistence on calling me Leb merely shifted the confusion because Lloyd Green, for example, was also a Leb.

But you didn’t argue with Miss Aaron.

In Miss Aaron’s larynx, “Leb” is a four-syllable name:

Le-ay-eh-buh

She would call out a name in that style, when she thought a pupil was not paying attention, asking them an awkward question and then chastising the child if, as she had suspected, the child had let their mind drift. I got quite good at looking as though I was listening when I wasn’t and making it look as though I was drifting when I thought I could tackle any question that might result from the piercing cry:

Le-ay-eh-buh!

I seem to recall that Mr Freed was a gentler sort, although I’m not sure he was any more effective as a teacher.

I find it hard to assess how much or how well I learnt at cheder.

One impediment to my learning was my scepticism about the whole project.

“Ginsbury Talk”

It seems we were preparing for some sort of exam at that time.

Lots of papers from Aaron. Ginsbury talk.

I’m not 100% sure that my note “Ginsbury talk” here refers to a conversation i remember having with Rabbi Ginsbury on one occasion, but I think it might well be and I might as well write up that conversation here.

Soon after starting at Alleyn’s School I became wracked with doubt about religion. I wanted to attend the religious education classes at school, which were Christianity-oriented at Alleyn’s. My parents were content for me to do so.

But it wasn’t Christianity per se, nor confusion between Christianity and Judaism, that started to trouble me. It was extreme doubt about the whole God business. At one point (I think subsequent to speaking with Rabbi Ginsbury), I took a book out of the public library about religions of the world. Each religion in turn seemed like a fascinating and really good idea to me at first, while the basic moral tenets and social mores were set out. But once it moved on to creation and God and the like, my scepticism would always return.

Anyway, I remember fretting to myself, it must have been around this time, that I quite possibly shouldn’t have a bar mitzvah, which is basically the Jewish form of confirmation, if I didn’t believe in God. So I decided to share my doubts and this moral paradox with Rabbi Ginsbury.

Rabbi Philip Ginsbury died in 2023 – here is a link to his Jewish Chronicle obituary. He was a strictly orthodox Rabbi. Mostly kind and gentle – certainly in his manner towards children at cheder or certainly at least towards me.

It must have taken some courage at that age to raise my moral conundrum with the Rabbi, but it is probably also a testament to Rabbi Ginsbury’s approachable manner that I felt able to do so. How I articulated my question is lost in the mists of time. Probably not brilliantly. But a paraphrase of Rabbi Ginsbury’s answer has stayed with me ever since.

Do you really think that God cares a jot whether you believe in him or not? The Torah instructs you as a Jew on how you should conduct your life. God’s only concern is that you conduct your life in that way.

I remember sensing that this answer did not really get to the nub of my problem, but it did give me a very clear steer on what to do about the bar mitzvah. I needed to put my head down, do the tests, learn my passage and get the bar mitzva done. Which I did.

And So It Goes On…Yes, There Was An Exam

17 February 1974 – Aaron gave even more prep.

24 February 1974 – 10X usual classes.

3 March 1974 – Exam, went well.

10 March 1974 Classes party.

I’m guessing that “10X usual classes” is a slight exaggeration. I can only wonder at the classes party and how wonderful that might have been. It will have been a Purim party – hamantashen will have been involved for sure.

10 March 1974 was a double-party day for me and I note, once again, that I claim to have got drunk at cousin Mark Briegal’s bar mitzvah party. What a disgrace.

…Soon After That, We Are Freed At Last

No classes for two weeks due to Pesach, then:

…after which the diary falls silent until November.

My memories of that time are scratchy, yet it was a significant part of my life those years. If I spent a whole morning and a couple of evenings a week doing anything, even now, I’d consider that to be a substantial chunk of my time.

If others have memories to share about this time, I’d love to house those memories with this piece.

Egg, Sports, Drama, TV & A Heap Of Truly Geeky 11-Year-Old Alleyn’s Boy Diary Stuff, Two Weeks – Late January To Early February 1974

A strange mixture of interesting, baffling and mundane diary entries in this chunk of my second term at Alleyn’s.

27 January To 2 February 1974

Sunday 27 January 1974 – Still no Mr Freed [Hebrew classes]. Grandma Anne’s. Made dad a blue moon egg.

Monday 28 January 1974 – Cricket with Banson v good batting and bowling.

Tuesday 29 January 1974 – Art good. Classes good.

Wednesday 30 January 1974 – Fives with Cookie – from 11-3 down to 16-14 up. He one [sic] other game.

Thursday 31 January 1974 – BAD DAY IN ALL

Friday 1 February 1974 – Maths test. Form drama, The Cave. PE basketball match.

Saturday 2 February 1974 – scool [sic] morning. Afternoon played filter paper.

“Blue moon egg” – my dad liked fluffy omelettes and I learnt how to make them when I was still quite small. They were (are) difficult to get absolutely right in terms of fluffiness – a bit like making a soufflé in a pan – but if I got it right, dad would announce that the egg was a blue moon egg.

I’ll talk about cricket in January at Alleyn’s separately in more detail elsewhere. At this seminal stage of our cricketing careers, I suspect that Barry Banson held back on head-cuffing as his modus operandus for “encouragement”.

In the matter of fives (Rugby fives), to be fair on Alan Cooke (aka “Cookie”), it is clear from other diary entries that I was usually the victim of his more able performances. During that early effort in January 1974, I must have found a little something extra to turn a match around thusly. Interesting that we were already playing to 15 rather than to 11. I’m pretty sure that our “proper” junior matches were played to 11.

When a bad day is all in block capitals, it must have been pretty bad. I might well have thought it needed no further exposition, as I would remember the details of its badness for the rest of my life. However, I can now report categorically that I have no idea what made that particular day bad. I can only say with some certainty that, at the time, that Thursday had not been a good one.

By Friday all was well again, with Drama Friday to enjoy and a basketball match in PE. I’m struggling to work out what “The Cave” might have been. I have already asked “Sir” (Ian Sandbrook) who is equally baffled.

There is a play called The Cave by Mervyn Peake which was written in the 1950s but not formally published until after 1974. It is possible that Alleyn’s had some “for school” copies of that piece, as some of the resources we used were not formally published books. Ian Sandbrook says:

The Mervyn Peake hypothesis has some merit as I think the English Dept did consider the Titus Groan trilogy as a candidate for the Mode 3 English Syllabus – although that is perhaps rather a fragile link.

If anyone out there remembers, then do chime in.

The late John Clarke (chemistry teacher) would no doubt have been proud of me playing with filter paper on Saturday after school. Just the sort of thing he would have wanted (perhaps even expected) boys from his chemistry class to do.

3 To 9 February 1974

This week has some even more obscure or difficult references in it. Some of it is handwriting related but some items are simply, to my mind now, truly weird things to write in one’s diary.

Sunday 3 February 1974 – Classes, Freed in March. Bechat Hamazon [grace after meals] v good.

Monday 4 February 1974 – cricket great bat good eye a hit bowl straight and good catch 4 v good, 1 good, 1 bad.

Tuesday 5 February 1974 – Art painting on wall. Classes good. Alf Garnet [sic] good.

Wednesday 6 February 1974 – Fives v Cookie. Man About The House v good.

Thursday 7 February 1974 – Very bad day. Horrible H’s in bad mood. I got the bad.

Friday 8 February 1974 – Monitor for entrance exam. Learnt some magils and /`read] a chapter second WW. Timeslip v good.

Saturday 9 February 1974 – scool [sic] in morning. Changed shoes Tuf /` + reinforcers 400] Dr Who v good.

“Freed in March must mean that I was told that I would transfer from Miss Aarons’s class to Mr Freed’s in March. Not that I was due to be released in March, nearly 18 months before my bar mitzvah. That wasn’t going to happen. Why I was so keen to mention the grace after meals I have no idea. I vaguely recall the Brixton Synagogue Hebrew Class including a sweet, calorific elevenses with Danish pastries, challah bread, jam and the like. This was partly to motivate attendance and partly to teach the meal graces in a happy context. I’ll write more on this topic in a specific piece or two and direct it towards the several friends from that era with whom I am still in touch, 50 years later. I think Andy Levinson was the only other Alleyn’s boy from our year who also attended those classes.

I’m not entirely sure what all of the Monday cricket entry means, but the England selectors might want a look at that young man, based on my description.

The Tuesday diary entry suggests that the art teacher, Mr Brew, liked one of my pieces. This wouldn’t be the last time that Mr Brew took to my crude drawings, despite my near hopelessness. My Dad, being a genuinely good artist with a steady hand and fine eye, tutored me a little at home, rendering me a bit less than useless and very keen.

Alf Garnett was the main character in Till Death Us Do Part – a comedy that wouldn’t pass muster in the modern era because, although it was ridiculing racist and misogynistic opinions, the Alf Garnett character spouted them with abandon. Here is the episode I watched that night with my parents:

Wednesday – the fact that I say “fives v Cookie” without mentioning the score tells you that Cookie must have won – probably won well.

Man About The House was a much gentler comedy than Till Death Us Do Part. Below is the episode we watched that night.

Interesting to read that 1st year pupils did monitoring for entrance exams. I have no idea what “learning magils” means. It might have been some homework for my bar mitzvah class. Also unsure what the second world war reading was about, as for sure we were studying ancient history that year. Perhaps just reading for general interest.

I had to Google “Timeslip”, but when I did so remembered that children’s programme. Unlike the above two shows, which first broadcast the above episodes on the day of the diary mentions, Timeslip was first broadcast three or so years’ earlier. Below is a short trailer which might trigger some of your memories:

I had to Google Tuf to realise that my note about changing shoes included a brand name. Back then, the brand was meant to be indestructible footwear for kids…

Image borrowed from this site where you can buy…

When the going gets Tuf, eh?

“Reinforcers 400” can only be a reference to buying a packet of 400 hole reinforcers. This might be the geekiest diary entry ever and surely confirms my membership of the Dull Men’s Club. We’re only a few weeks’ in to my diary and no doubt there are some well geeky entries to come.

Dr Who very good – who knew? The Doctor was Jon Pertwee at that time and Invasion of the Dinosaurs was the mini series at that time. Here is a short explaining how that season of Doctor Who worked:

Some of this TV stuff might be in colour for you (and for me now) but in 1974 the Harris household was still strictly black and white.

I’d forgotten all about hole reinforcers…I wonder whether I can find some in my draw and repair some damaged holes in my file pages?…

Image borrowed from this Amazon trader – click here.

What On Earth Was Downing Doing? Alleyn’s Aghast At 1S Drama Friday Outrage, 25 January 1974

Sometimes the handwriting in my juvenile diaries is hard to decipher.

Other times, the scrawl is legible but the text is hard to interpret. The entry for 25 January 1974 is such an instance, rereading it 50 years later.

P.E. good + drama good. trial me a witness Downing made a mess of it.

Let us not fret about my pre-teen punctuation and sentence structure…or lack thereof.

My main concern here is with the reference to Downing.

There was no-one named Downing in 1S.

I asked a few 1S pals to hive mind this problem. Who was Downing and what on earth might Downing have done to “make a mess of it”?

Dave French suggested:

I remember that Drama class well, it was in the afternoon. Mistakenly, the dinner ladies served up magic mushrooms with lunch that day. That probably explains it – Downing was just ‘in your head’. It was quite embarrassing really; I still have nightmares.

Rohan Candappa offered an alternative theory:

Actually I remember the boy ‘Downing’. Downing was his nickname. It was a Cockney rhyming slang thing: Downing Street – Warwick Frearson.

To be honest, I think none of us really knew how rhyming slang worked.

Hmmm. The half-century-old 1S hive appears to be a bit of a struggling colony these days, especially in the matter of remembering the finer details of class activities. I can’t imagine any of the above evidence holding up in a jury trial.

“Erase from your minds inadmissible, hearsay evidence…”

I decided instead to seek help from the internet. I put the name “Downing” into the Alleyn’s 1970 Facebook Group search and found “Mike Downing” in our group, stitched up (or should I say “introduced”) by Steve Williams some years ago.

A Google Search of “Mike Downing Alleyn’s” found the gentleman on LinkedIn, asserting that he spent 1972-1979 at Alleyn’s (a year above us) and again a visible connection with Steve Williams.

There was nothing else for it. I contacted Steve Williams. Steve confirmed that Mike Downing was indeed a year above my 1S year, two years above Steve. Steve also confirmed that Mike was and still is a top bloke, who would no doubt enjoy the fifteen minutes of fame (or infamy) and rise to the challenge of trying to recall what might have happened.

Frankly, I can only imagine a few possibilities for this mystery diary entry.

The most plausible in my mind is that Mike Downing inadvertently entered our classroom half way through a double lesson. Opening the wrong classroom door by mistake during another class’s lesson was not an uncommon occurrence at Alleyn’s.

But in order to make it into my diary – a very rare mention of a specific event – the interruption was, presumably, during a key dramatic moment while I was giving evidence. I imagine myself fully in character. Lost within my back story and the highly-charged dramatic circumstances in which my character found himself. Such an interruption would, in those circumstances, have utterly demolished the fourth wall. My potentially monumental acting career thus cruelly interrupted, never again to find the giddy artistic heights that were just that moment about to blossom. A mess of it indeed.

The other possible answer to the Downing mystery is that Downing was part of that drama class and somehow muffed his lines. Perhaps he got tongue-tied or incriminated himself or failed to cross-examine me well enough to expose the implausibility of my evidence.

Is it possible that we occasionally (or even regularly) combined forces with a second year class on drama Friday? Or might Downing have been attending remedial first year drama classes, having made a mess of drama when he was a first year…only to go and make a mess of it again as a remedial member of our class?

I put it to you, dear readers (aka members of the jury) that we need to call at least two additional witnesses to the infamous “made a mess of it” event. Mr Ian Sandbrook (Sir) and Mr Mike Downing. Unless someone else who was there on that fateful day has memories to share.

For sure the sentencing needs to be a lot more incisive than the 25 January 1974 diary entry

Postscript One: Mike Downing Writes:

I seem to recall that I was in the end of year production of Dr and the Devils by Dylan Thomas for which I received critical acclaim in the school magazine 😉 but that may have been 1973. A later foray into Drama spanning some 40 years revealed that I was always late to put my book down and could paraphrase with the best of them when the lines were not forthcoming! I was also in the G & S society production of Trial by Jury so maybe that makes sense and I may well have messed up but old age has reduced it all to a vague blur! Shame you didn’t get to critique some of my later efforts as I definitely got quite good at the whole drama thing in the end🤣. Came close to going professional at one stage but rather preferred the security of a regular pay cheque. Does that jog your memory at all? I doubt it refers to my older brother 1968-75 who never went near a stage in his life.

Postscript Two: Ian Sandbrook (“Sir”) Responds:

IAN SANDBOOK: I am very sorry, but I have absolutely no recall of Downing’s intervention in the drama class of Jan 25th 1974…

IAN HARRIS: Don’t worry about your lack of memory. It’s my diary and I cannot remember this stuff, so I cannot realistically expect others to remember it for me.

Scapino, Young Vic, 23 January 1974

I started to keep a diary in January 1974.  The 23 January entry is my first record of visiting the theatre, although I went with my parents to see pantomimes and children’s shows before then.

This visit I’m sure was my first school trip to the theatre, an Alleyn’s School outing.  I think just for my class; 1S, probably Ian Sandbrook’s initiative.  It was a revival of the first production at the Young Vic Theatre, which I think therefore makes it the Young Vic’s first production as an independent theatre company.  It seems the revival was a precursor to a glittering US transfer.

All the 11 year old “critic” wrote at the time was:

“Scapino v good indeed.  Jim Dale good.  Got to bed very late.”

Yet the evening stays quite clearly in my memory.  I remember liking the patter song about Italian food and I also recall catching a plastic facsimile of a glass of wine and keeping it in a bottom drawer for years and years.  It survived many clear outs, but I think it came a cropper in the end.  Who knows, it might turn up in one of my junk boxes some day.

This Michael Billington piece about that production and the early days of the independent Young Vic is charming, click here.

This archive review from the Columbia Daily Spectator was written only a couple of months after our visit.  The late great Ian Charleson gets an honourable mention in this piece.

There is some material on this production right at the beginning of the Young Vic’s 50 year celebration on-line article – click here.

Here is a link to the Theatricalia entry for the production – whether or not some of the cast changed for the independent revival is lost in the mists of time. I think the main cast was those on the Theatricalia list.

Below is Milton Shulman’s review of the opening night, in September 1970, which he pretty much raved about:

Scapino Shulman StandardScapino Shulman Standard 14 Sep 1970, Mon Evening Standard (London, Greater London, England) Newspapers.com

The Guardian did an Arts Diary picture piece on the p[roduction:

Scapino GuardianScapino Guardian 11 Sep 1970, Fri The Guardian Journal (Nottingham, Nottinghamshire, England) Newspapers.com

If you want to read the script on the Internet Archive, I think you might need a (free) login to borrow it but you can preview it here:

The First Couple Of Weeks Of My Second Term At Alleyn’s School, 6 to 22 January 1974

When 10p really was 10p. Images borrowed from coincraft.com who, fifty years later, can sell you one of these 1974 coins for £6.50

The meaning of the two bob bit in this context will become apparent a bit later.

It is not the two bob that Mr Sandbrook offered to pay any of us if we spotted him make a spelling mistake on the blackboard. Mercifully, Mr Sandbrook did not similarly threaten to fine us 10p for every spelling mistake we made. Had he done so, he’d be a wealthy man and I (and several 1S colleagues) would each be a fair bit poorer.

My diary is riddled with dreadful spelling. I apologise unequivocally to Mr Sandbrook and to those who tried to teach me English before and after him. In the end, it was WordPerfect, AmiPro and Microsoft Word who drummed better spelling into me by dint of their spellcheckers. Teachers and parents, despite their entreaties, got only so far.

Week 6 to 12 January 1974 – Return To Alleyn’s School On the Thursday

My last few days of Christmas holiday freedom were not very eventful.

Sunday 6 January 1974 Missed [Hebrew] classes, went out for lunch with Grandma Anne. A rather bad day.

Lunch with Grandma Anne was probably at Feld’s restaurant in 1974, as I think Folman’s was gone by then.

I quite often mentioned having a good day or a bad day in those early diaries, without so much as a clue as to what might have made the day deserving of the chosen adjective.

Monday 7 January 1974 went to West End and bought 9? books., lunch at Auntie Francis, a very pleasant day. PS Getting lamp from Heals.

The only picture I can find depicting Auntie Francis is the following one from my parents’ wedding, in which everyone looks a bit miserable. Possibly it was a curated moment of reflection on absent friends and relatives. Or possibly everyone was caught on camera just at that “I’ve overeaten” realization moment.

Auntie Francis, Uncle Alec, Grandma Anne, Dad, Mum, Grandpa Lew, Grandma Jenny

I absolutely loved my Heals lamp. It was in the shape of a giant incandescent lightbulb. So cool. You’ll just have to believe me.

Tuesday 8 January 1974 – uneventful. Saw Andrew [Andy Levinson] in morning. G Jenny in afternoon.

Wednesday 9 January 1974 – had lunch with Andrew. Saw Mary Poppins in afternoon. She’s Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Return To School 10 to 22 January 1974

Thursday 10 January 1974 – First day of Lent Term. The t[w]o H’s are on form. No activities so classes early.

Friday 11 January 1974 – Whent [sorry Sir] to Dad after school – lift from U[ncle] Manny.

Saturday 12 January 1974 – School in morning afternoon uneventful.

The two H’s were Keith Handy and Richard Hollingshead, who tended to give me a pretty hard time in those early days at Alleyn’s.

Sunday 13 January 1974 – Miss Aaron [Hebrew class teacher] away. Mr Ragshaw [relief teacher presumably] gave teaser I was right. Lamp is nice.

Monday 14 January 1974 – was robed [presumably I mean to write “robbed”, but I probably, more accurately, “was thieved from”] at school. Mr Fanner [Headmaster] lent 10p. NOTHING ELSE.

I don’t remember the theft incident. I’m sure I would have remembered it had I actually been robbed at school. I suspect my bus fare money “disappeared” from my pocket during PE that morning or games that afternoon.

Still, the incident must have been deemed serious enough for me to have been sent to the headmaster, Mr Fanner, who kindly ponied up a couple of bob to see me home safely. I think I only needed 2p or 4p for that purpose in those days.

I was once actually robbed – i.e. duffed over on the train to school and had my pocket money stolen – but that was certainly not in term two of my first year.

Tuesday 15 January 1974 – repaid Mr Fanner. Biology – no wormery yet. Classes good.

I love the fact that repaying Mr Fanner was a diary-worthy event. I can imagine mum telling me multiple times that it was vitally important that I got that money back to the Headmaster that very day, otherwise he might imagine all sorts of terrible things about me and my family.

I think Bernard Rothbart was our biology teacher that year, making that diary entry especially bitter-sweet thinking about him and Mr Fanner and Mr Tindale (see below) all dying prematurely.

Wednesday 16 January 1974 – Fives good. McG good player. TV good. Man About The House, Bless This House especially.

I’m not sure who McG is/was. Answers, please, on a postcard. McG presumably beat me in order to be assessed as a good player.

Thursday 17 January 1974 – Tindale [French master] away. No violin. Classes good. Prepared lecture for tomorrow.

I’ll talk about my diabolical relationship with the violin some other time. Me and the violin did not get on.

Friday 18 January 1974 – Lecture went well. Drama v good. Heard tape of me 7 years ago.

Not sure what the brief for the lecture was, or indeed for drama that day, deserving of v good. But I can work out what “tape of me 7 years ago” must be referring to, which was the simply delightful recording, which I still have, of my dad reading “Hare And Guy Fawkes” to me on 5 November 1967:

Hare And Guy Fawkes, Daddy Reading To Me, 5 November 1967

Did someone, e.g. Mr Sandbrook, dig out a reel to reel tape recorder and play that recording in class? Or does that diary entry refer to family activity later that day at home? If only I had been more detailed and specific with my diary entries back then.

Saturday 19 January – school morn. Afternoon played with myself. Everything is OK.

Played with myself is not a smutty and/or euphemistic reference. As an only child, I had a variety of games that I had adapted for solo entertainment when needed. I had a version of cricket darts where I would play both batting and bowling roles. I had my own version of Cluedo which enabled me to play solo – goodness knows how – I think that might have come a bit later.

And I had fridge ball, which I have documented on this blog from a December 1974 reference:

A Marathon Day Of Court Sport; Fives and Fridge Ball, 4 December 1974

Great sport, fridge ball. Fridge ball is to ping pong what real tennis is to tennis.

Sunday 20 January 1974 – Bechat Ha Mazon [Birkat Hamazon – food blessing] went well. [Miss] Aaron not [Mr] Freed – boo!! [Hebrew classes]. Otherwise uneventful.

Monday 21 January 1974 – cricket good. 1 dive. 2 one-handed catches. Rest uneventful.

Tuesday 22 January 1974 – No fencing. Female art teacher is good. Classes good.

There is my first reference to cricket in the diaries. Possibly my first ever cricket lesson. I like the sound of my diving one-handed catches.

…more like this DALL-E reimagined picture.

As for the female art teacher, I cannot remember anything about her and certainly not her name. Sorry, Miss. Perhaps others can recall her. I remember Mr Brew and I remember Mr Friedlander, but no female comes to mind in that context. Still, she was good, in my eyes, in January 1974.

My First Class At Alleyn’s School, 1S, And Some Nicknames, guessing 8 January 1974

I started keeping a diary on 1 January 1974. A little Letts Schoolboys Diary.

In the back of the diary, in a notes section, I wrote down the names of all the members of my class, which was 1S. Against some of those classmates’ names I also wrote a nickname.

1974-diary-1s

Just in case my handwriting, scanning and Photoshop skills are inadequate for your purposes, I set the text out below – apologies for replicated spelling errors and for some of the ghastly nicknames:

Allott

Athaide

Barrett – Bass, Titchbass

Burgess

Candappa – Candyfloss

Corrin

Dallaway – Dallers

Feeley

Foord

Forest

French – Frog

Frerson – Dreary-Frery

Goodwin

Guildford

Handy

Harley – Charley

Harris

Hayes

Hollingshead

Manhood – Manhunt

Masson

Mayne – Miles-Of-Mainline-Railway

Moore

Payne – In The Neck

Rickett – LEFT

Romain

Sim

Stendall

I don’t think Guy Rickett was nicknamed “Left”, I think that is a note to say that he left the school.

Now some of the above nicknames are weaker and thinner than a pound-shop condom; I find it hard to believe that many of them had regular currency at the school, although one or two I remember did.

Further, the rest of us must have had nicknames of some sort at one time or another – frankly my juvenile nickname survey lacks quantitative as well as qualitative merit.

Surely some people out there can help fill in the blanks or put matters right, even after all these years? Comments and suggestions, please. Those from other classes are welcome to add their names and nicknames to the pile.

Timetable For My First Year At Alleyn’s School In Class 1S, c7 January 1974

I started keeping a diary in 1974 and I wrote my class timetable in that diary, as shown above.

Unfortunately, I wrote the 1973/74 timetable for 1S in the space where the 1974/75 timetable was supposed to go.

That was not a great start.

I must have spotted my error when the 1974/75 academic year began; I marked in purple and brackets my 2AK timetable.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I have tried to decode the 1S timetable as best as my memory can manage in December 2020, nearly 47 years after I first wrote it down. See below.

The only bit of code I struggled with was double GC (I think that’s what it says) on a Thursday afternoon. I think it might have stood for “General Class”, as I do recall doing fun stuff like drama, skits and the like with Mr Sandbrook that year and can’t work out when else we might have done that.

Someone out there might remember – I’m sure GC won’t have just been a 1S thing.

Specifically for 1S, though, I cannot recall who taught us what in several cases.  My memory gets as far as (and there might be mistakes in my plugs):

  • English – Ian Sandbrook
  • PE & Games – Alan Berry (sometimes Harry Wale, sometimes Paul Sherlock)
  • Handicraft – Mr Evans and David Midgely
  • Maths – Mr McCartney
  • RE – ?
  • Music – Pop Kennard
  • History – ? [Rohan Candappa reckons Doggie Johnson & I think he’s right]
  • French – Trevor Tindale
  • Biology – Bernard Rothbart
  • Art – James Brew
  • Chemistry – John Clarke
  • Physics – ?
  • GC – well if I knew what it was…but I think Ian Sandbrook
  • Geography – ?

Of course this isn’t just a 1S thing – who taught what, to whom, when, might be a fun memory game for people regardless of which class/year we might talk about. But perhaps for now we can stick with people who taught us in our first year.

Anyway, point is, I’d like to engage the hive mind of our cohort on this problem, so I am posting this piece in early December 2020, a few days ahead of one of Rohan Candappa’s Virtual Buttery evenings.

It’s a bit like homework really, but without the risk of censure if you turn up without having done any.

I’ll update this posting once the hive mind has built its metaphorical honeycomb.

Sherlock surely could work out whodunnit? Paul Sherlock, Alan Berry & Tony King

I Diarist, My First Diary Page, 1 to 5 January 1974

I started keeping a diary in January 1974. So exhausting must have been the process for eleven-on-twelve-year-old me, I took a sabbatical between May and late November that year.

The 1970s diaries cover my secondary school years, at Alleyn’s School. I shall write them up fifty years after the event, in the same way as I have been writing up my Keele University years of the 1980s as a “Forty Years On” series.

The juvenile writing needs some interpretation, both in terms of deciphering the strange symbols that comprised my handwriting back then and in terms of matters stated and omitted. I’ll try to explain and interpret as best I can, fifty years after the event.

I apologise for my atrocious spelling back then. Spellcheck has spared my blushes incalculably often in the IT era that followed my school years, while also drumming in some improvement to my ability at spelling.

Here’s that first page in all its glory.

Tuesday 1 January 1974 – …”Dined At Schmidt’s”…

Dad was at home. Dined at Schmidt’s. Chocolate moose was nice. In evening watched a film. P.S. Traditional walk 6th year.

Menu image borrowed from Writer’s London on Twitter (more recently known as X)

Schmidt’s was an extraordinary place on Charlotte Street. It was a German Restaurant trapped in time from the early part of the 20th century, operated by an aging gentleman named Frederick Schmidt and his moustached sister, Marie Schmidt. I knew them as Mr Schmidt and Miss Schmidt.

We ate there quite often, mostly when Grandma Anne was not with us, as she was kosher and Schmidt’s was quintessentially not so. I recall that Grandma would occasionally come there with us and eat fish there, while dad would choose his favourite dish, eisbein, a Berlin style of schweinshaxe, with dad pointedly asking for the “VEAL knuckle” as he pointed at eisbein on the menu. Naughty daddy.

I would almost certainly have gone for the liver and onions or the schnitzel as my main course. Both of those dishes came on a platter with some pease pudding and sauerkraut as well as potatoes and vegetables. More or less everything came on such a platter, now I come to think of it. The fact that I comment on the chocolate moose suggests that it might have been a new one to me, but whatever desert I chose there, I would insist on lashings of whipped cream, which, at Schmidt’s, was a highly aerated form of whipped cream which I absolutely loved, both in its look, its taste and its texture. Mum loved that stuff too, on her coffee.

We would sometimes see Esther Rantzen in the delicatessen section of the establishment, where we would usually spend some time after eating, perhaps choosing some delicacies to take home with us or just browsing. When I met Esther properly some 20 years later, I mentioned that I remembered seeing her in Schmidt’s several times and we had a joyous reminisce about that lost world.

There is a fascinating blog spot piece by Mark Bowles about the place, with many comments, which you can read here.

If anything were ever to happen to that web page, you can read a scrape of it here.

…”Watched A Film”…

The film was probably Around The World Under The Sea.

The traditional walk was something I did with my dad over the festive season every year for many years – initially I suspect it was mum’s way of getting a bit of peace for an hour or so and giving us the chance to walk off all the food we’d eaten. I think of Boxing Day as the usual day for that event, but it seems it was held back until 1 January that season – perhaps a weather-related change.

Wednesday 2 January 1974 – …”bought 5 History Books”…

Uneventful yet bought 5 history books. I cannot quite reconcile those two phrases.

I can, however, identify the books. They were from the “Everyday Life” series. I still have them:

The eagle-eyed amongst you will have spotted that there are nine books from that series depicted above, but the diary entry reports me buying five books. The even-more-eagle-eyed amongst you might be able to spot that the five “Everyday Life” books to the right of the picture look considerably more thumbed than the four to the left, which I’m sure I purchased at a later date.

I suspect that I spent my own money on those books (I’d have been flush with Christmas money or Hanukkah gelt at that time of year). The list price of the five books I bought that day comes to the princely sum of £1.45, but I’d wager a good few bob that these books were discounted after Christmas and I might have scored the batch of five for around £1 in W H Smith. I loved those books, which is why I have not been able to part with them, even when I cleared out most of my childhood books.

I especially loved the two about life in the stone ages. These related to the period of history we were being taught that year at school.

In both of the Stone Age books, I have written:

Ian Harris 1.S.

If found please return to 1.S.

I must have been taking these books to school with me on history days – possibly leaving them at school overnight sometimes. Only those two have that inscription, but inside the one about Roman Times, I discovered…

…an ancient, small piece of blotting paper, with one quite large blot on it, marking the place between pages 64 and 65 which, judging by the spine of the book, is as far as I got with that one 50 years ago. This discovery felt like a bit of a Pompeii moment, my juvenile reading trapped within a moment of time many years ago, providing evidence of reading interrupted and never resumed. I feel a relentless desire now to finish reading the book, which I think, fifty years later, will require me to start again from the beginning. I’m guessing that I’ll be able to whizz through the 130 or so pages quite quickly. But again I have put off the task to another day. It won’t be another 50 years, that’s for sure.

…”Saw Tommy Cooper”…

The Tommy Cooper Hour will have been this one – Episode 3 – click here. It will have looked a bit like the vid below, an episode from the same series, shown a few months later:

Thursday 3 January 1974

Went to dentist. No fillings yet. Drawn darts match. 5p Kalooki. 2 Rons [The Two Ronnies] good.

The dentist will have been Harry Wachtel, a slightly eccentric Austrian-Jewish refugee dentist who practiced in Streatham for several decades.

How a darts match ends up drawn I have no idea. Neither do I know who I played in that drawn match. Can’t have been one of my parents (dad would have gone back to work and mum would never go near my dartboard…come to think of it, nor did dad). Possibly Andy Levinson came round. Ot possibly I had a game of my own devising which enabled me to play against myself and secure a draw.

Kalooki probably did involve my mum and it seems that I got lucky, skilful or both, making 5p (that’s a shilling in real money).

The Two Ronnies was this episode. Interesting that I was allowed to watch TV that late at that age – it was possibly my starting secondary school that got my bedtime shifted towards and beyond the watershed.

Friday 4 January 1974

1×2 + bull at darts. Saw Fantasia for a third time – it is great.

I’m guessing that Fantasia was not shown on TV that week, so it would have been a visit to the cinema. I don’t say who I went with, but that might have been with mum (she loved Fantasia too) as I think I would have named my companion if I had gone with a friend or even if I had gone with Grandma Jenny. Probably local, at the Streatham ABC or Odeon.

My burgeoning darts career tails off soon, at least in the matter of diary mentions. I suspect that the dart board was a new toy for Christmas 1973.

Saturday 5 January 1974

Mum bought coat £22 reduced to £9.95. Went to Lytton’s. Played Striker with dive goalies.

Striker with dive goalies. That sounds amazing. I have re-established contact with Steve Lytton in the 50 years since that epic event. I wonder whether he still has his Striker set and is up for a rematch.

Borrowed from ebay, click here or image, where this item can be procured (at the time of posting).