Ian Louis Harris

From Yan Chow (Or Do I Mean Yang Chow?) In Streatham To Dim Sum In Soho, Chinese New Year, Probably February 1972

When I was a small child, growing up in Streatham, there was not exactly a vast choice of restaurant cuisine to choose from. But there was a Chinese restaurant near home. Mum, dad and I all liked the food there.

*This image, from 1958, thanks to John Payne on Facebook*

In my memory it was named Yang Chow – perhaps the proprietors changed the name between 1958 and my childhood visits there in the late 1960s and early 1970s. But that was the place. The “theatre” mentioned in the advert above is apparently the Streatham Hill Theatre, subsequently the Mecca Bingo Hall, although the restaurant was no more opposite the Bingo than it was opposite The Locarno, or The Cat’s Whiskers as it was known when I was munching food in the restaurant almost opposite those two landmarks.

My parents were friendly patrons in any restaurant we visited and we became friendly with the proprietor family. I cannot in truth remember the name of the matriarch patron, but for some reason the name Li pops into my head, perhaps falsely, but I’ll refer to her as Li in this article. I do remember the name of the proprietors’ little boy, Christopher, who was a similar age to me (perhaps a year or so younger), who would tend to show his face during our visits to the restaurant. Christopher and I became friends.

On one visit, Li announced that the restaurant would be closed for one weekend only as the family was going to celebrate Chinese New Year with family and friends in Soho that weekend. They wondered whether I would like to join them, to keep Christopher company.

I was keen. My parents were content. The date was arranged.

I’m not 100% sure that it was the 1972 new year, but I’m pretty sure I was around that age and something about “The Year Of The Rat” rings a bell. Again, the vague memory might be flawed.

But I am 100% sure how excited and awe-inspired I was by that event.

We went upstairs in a Soho Chinese Restaurant – sadly I have no recall which one it was. The beautiful sketch below might be the very one; who knows?

Terrence Dalley’s 1972 Sketch Of 43 Wardour Street

We sat at a large table and the upstairs room was packed with Chinese people. I think I might have been the only western face in the room.

Everyone seemed to know everyone – not only the people at our large table – which was presumably Christopher’s family and close friends – but the whole room felt a bit like one big party. It was probably an informal gathering of the suburban Chinese restaurateur community.

Writing 50 years later, it seems extraordinary that local Chinese restaurants might close for Chinese new year – a guaranteed busy time for all Chinese establishments today – but back then I don’t think the annual Chinese event had any traction in the wider community.

I remember lots of people making a fuss of me and I remember several people, especially Christopher’s parents, worrying that I might not like the food and letting me know that they could arrange for some food with which I was more familiar if I didn’t like the “party fare”…

But by gosh they needn’t have worried. The smells, the look of the food, the textures, the flavours. I’d never seen, smelled or tasted the like of it before.

I fell in love with dim sum that day and have never lost the love for it.

It was not all that long after this seminal event in my culinary journey through life that the Yang Chow closed and that family moved on, we knew not/know not where.

67 Streatham Hill in 2022 – from Googlemaps

Before the end of the Yang Chow era, I do vaguely remember my mum insisting on reciprocating the hospitality I had received by inviting Christopher over to our place for a homely meal. Whether he liked the meal and/or ended up associating matzo balls as a variant of dim sum is a matter seemingly lost to history…

…unless, by some chance, my posting of this article somehow helps re-establish contact with Christopher and/or that kind family, who initiated my love for westernised Chinese food at the Yang Chow and utterly entranced me with dim sum at a more authentic Chinese restaurant in Soho, all those decades ago.

When Grandma Jenny Took Me To See Living Flea…I Mean, Living Free, Odeon Astoria Brixton…Or Do I Mean The Ritzy, January or February 1972

Brixton Astoria / Academy by Fred Romero from Paris, France, CC BY 2.0

A friend mentioned Brixton Academy to me the other day (January 2022) which immediately triggered the memory/thought:

didn’t that used to be the cinema we knew as “The Flea Pit”?

Which triggered my one clear memory of going to that cinema – although I’m sure I was taken there several times as a child. I especially remember Grandma Jenny taking me to see the film Living Free there.

Cursory research on Living Free at IMDb uncovers the UK release date as January 1972, so I am writing this memory up almost exactly 50 years after the event.

I remember the experience especially clearly, as Grandma Jenny had loved the film Born Free. She was so excited that there was a sequel to Born Free and that I was now old enough to accompany her to the flickers.

Unfortunately, Grandma Jenny’s excitement turned to disappointment, as she felt that the film Living Free was only a shadow of the wonders that she had enjoyed in the film Born Free. Grandma Jenny felt bound to let me know that the original was much better.

Frankly, I don’t think I would have discerned much difference between the two films at that age. Lions are/were exciting charismatic megafauna to see on the screen. The humans waffling on about lions and each other was comparatively dull.

Even the theme music for Living Free was cheesy and disappointing for Grandma…

…who subsequently serenaded me with the theme from Born Free, in the hope I would thus discern the relative quality of the latter theme. Unfortunately, Grandma Jenny did not share her sister-in-law Marie’s wonderful BBC Singer singing voice.

But fifty years on, the thing I remember most about the experience was my dad wanting to have me checked over for fleas for the rest of the weekend, after I had visited The Flea Pit. And dad insisted on referring to the movie as “Living Flea”.

Postscript -Memory Corrected By A Four-Year-Old: The Flea Pit Was The Ritzy, Not The Astoria

Within an hour of me posting the above piece on the Streatham, Balham & Tooting (yes, as you’ll soon see, geography was not my strongest suit at school) Memories Group on Facebook, Paula chimed in with the following remark:

I went to see Living Free in Brixton too! I always thought it was the Ritzy… but I was only 4, so what do I know

As soon as I saw that comment, I knew that she was right, a fact confirmed within minutes by Paul:

I’m pretty sure the ‘flea pit’ was the ritzy, not the odeon( as stated in the article….)

In my own defence, I know that Grandma Jenny did take me to see movies at the Brixton Astoria as well as the Ritzy back then. I have a feeling that my first “date” with Grandma was to the Astoria, but that was to see an afternoon matinee of the Sound Of Music…

…something that Grandmas everywhere did with/for their grandchildren back then, before the days when such movies were shown on the TV every bank holiday and certainly before the days that you could stream those old movies whenever you like.

I can report that Grandma Jenny’s serenading with the Sound Of Music theme sounded no better than her rendition of the Born Free theme.

But I digress.

Yes, my memory from age nine has been bested by someone who was less than half my age at the time.

Grandma Jenny and I saw Living Flea at The Ritzy.

Original uploader: Secretlondon at English Wikipedia., CC BY-SA 1.0

A Family Holiday With The Schambill Family In Port Leucate, August 1971

We befriended the Schambill family while in Juan-les-Pins the previous year.

A Family Holiday In Juan-les-Pins, August 1970

In that baby-boom era, I suspect that Jean-Pierre & Marie-Therese (Monsieur et Madame) Schambill were as conscious as my parents that their son, Jean-Michel and I were relatively rare examples of only children. The fact that Jean-Michel and I had got along well and allowed the grown ups to enjoy their holiday time in relative peace was probably a fair chunk of the rationale behind the Port Leucate adventure in 1971.

The Schambills had a villa in Port Leucate, as did a friend of theirs, depicted above, who was also to holiday their with his son, Luke and (I think) his mother or mother-in-law.

I think Luke was a bit older than us, but not too much so and we all got along. I remember that Luke liked a cartoon character named Lucky Luke, so of course that was his nickname and of course we played cowboys with him in the Luke role, whatever that might have been.

In truth I don’t remember all that much about this holiday. The small stack of 20 photographs that I have uncovered, fifty years on, help a bit – Flickr album here or below:

There is also some cine – just a couple of minutes 13’15” to 15’20” in the following reel:

You get to see what the Port Leucate beach looks like and also the villa we stayed in is depicted briefly.

I remember the food. Several of the French adults had been raised and/or had lived for several years in North Africa, so meals in the villa had a distinctly French/Maghrebi style to it. I remember finding it very exotic and taking to it; whereas I think my mother found it a bit strange. Cous-cous? What’s that?

I know we corresponded with the Schambills for some time after that holiday – certainly Jean-Michel and I were sort-of pen pals for a while. I have a feeling that one or other or possibly both of Jean-Michel’s parents in time visited mum and dad in Streatham, but I don’t think I saw them again after that 1971 holiday.

I wonder what they…and in particular Jean-Michel, might be up to now?

A Family Holiday In Juan-les-Pins, August 1970

This holiday in Juan-les-Pins was my first taste of travel outside the UK and my first time on a plane. I was coming up to eight years old and remember little about it in truth.

One of my few abiding memories of the holiday is connected with the headline photograph – I do remember learning to swim under the tutelage of the swimming instructor depicted. The picture illustrates the physical element of his method, which was combined with the constant repetition of his sole word of English – “swim” – stated in a baritone French accent, part entreaty, part hypnotism I imagine.

Suffice it to say, the fellow’s method must have worked on me – I did eventually learn to swim. I think my neck might be a bit longer than it otherwise would have been too.

My other abiding memory was meeting & befriending the Schambill family. Jean-Michel was bit older than me, but well “within range” and our respective parents seemed pleased for us to become pals.

A rummage through old photographs has uncovered a few pictures from that holiday that I probably hadn’t seen since the time, including the picture below, with me and Monsieur Schambill on a pedalo, with Madame Schambill doing the hard work by the looks of it.

We got so friendly with the Schambill family that we ended up holidaying with them again the following year, in Port Leucate.

A Family Holiday With The Schambill Family In Port Leucate, August 1971

Meanwhile, in Juan-les-Pins, we stayed in the Hotel De France, as depicted in the picture below.

Looks quite posh. I don’t think it is there now – at least not under that name.

There is a decent stretch of 8mm cine from that holiday – the first 13’10” of the reel below. You can see “Monsieur Swim” at work. You can also see Bill Ruffler – of Ruffler & Walker fame, having a go at water-skiing. I do remember mum and dad going on about the coincidence of running into the Rufflers in Juan – Bill’s business premises were a few doors down from dad’s shop in Battersea.

The photos above and a few more are all in a Flickr album – click here or below:

Not many detailed memories from that age and stage, but my impressionistic recollection is that I had a wonderful time and found the whole “going abroad” thing quite thrilling.

Aladdin, Streatham Odeon, c29 December 1969

Brian Whittle / Streatham High Road, summer 1978

I remember less about this panto than the Cinderella event the previous year with Dick Emery and Joe Brown:

Cinderella, Streatham Odeon, c30 December 1968

That’s probably because I enjoyed a fleeting moment of stardom in Cinderella (interviewed on stage), whereas I was overlooked in the throng of eager children during Aladdin.

In my mind, I had MET Dick Emery and would share that vignette with anyone who might listen, whereas I had merely “seen” Norman Vaughan and never warmed to the latter as a comedian…there might have been other reasons for that lack of warming of course.

As for Joe Brown and Peter Noone, my memory is mightily confused now that I have done a bit of research into these two pantos and acts. The It’s Behind You! – Pop Stars In Panto piece linked here explains a bit more. In truth, I remember Peter Noone’s performance (and Herman’s Hermits as an act) far more vividly than I remember Joe Brown’s performance or Joe Brown & The Bruvvers as an act.

I don’t remember seeing a collective of Hermits, only Peter “Herman” Noone, but the recorded history suggests a plurality of Hermits, as does a lisgting from The Observer at the time

Aladdin Listing Observer 14 Dec 1969, Sun The Observer (London, Greater London, England) Newspapers.com

Anyway…

…I do recall that one of my very early “party pieces” was to sing, I’m Henery The Eighth, I Am. No doubt encouraged by both of my parents, who were great lovers of Edwardian-style music hall.

My (possibly flawed) memory has Peter Noone singing it in Aladdin, but possibly I saw Joe Brown singing it in Cinderella instead…or as well…or neither – perhaps my parents simply taught me that song ahead of seeing one or other of those performers because my parents knew that they had famously sung that song.

The hive minds in the Streatham Balham & Tooting Memories Facebook Group on balance suggest that it was most likely Joe Brown in 1968 who performed that song.

Below is Joe Brown & The Bruvvers singing it:

While below is a vid of Peter Noone singing it with Herman’s Hermits:

Anyway, point is, possibly on the back of seeing that song performed in these pantos, it became one of my party pieces for much of my infanthood.

Then I more or less forgot about it for best part of 50 years…

…until I remembered it again and wrote an adaptation of the song, which I retitled The Thomas Gresham Nativity Song and performed for The Gresham Society…

Thomas Gresham Nativity Song, Gresham Society Soiree, 9 December 2015

…which might only be described as a mock Tudor performance piece. Well, I suppose I was a kid from a mock Tudor house in Streatham:

For those especially interested in this sort of thing, below is a recording of the original music hall version of I’m Henery the Eighth, I Am, sung by Harry Champion:

A Short Holiday In Brighton, During Which I Met Geoffrey Boycott & The Yorkshire Cricket Team, 3 September 1969

That short holiday in Brighton was one of the least memorable of my childhood, but for the fact that we happened to be staying in the same hotel as the Yorkshire cricket team.

I’ll explain the context of the holiday after I relate this seminal moment in my lifelong love of cricket.

Dad and I were in the lobby of the hotel, probably waiting for mum, at the same time as the Yorkshire team were preparing to set off from the hotel to the Sussex CCC ground; I’m guessing this was the morning before the start of the three-day match.

Our coinciding will simply have been happenstance. Dad had no interest whatsoever in any sport, let alone cricket.

But Geoffrey Boycott was a big name in those days – one of very few cricketers who might find himself on the front pages of the paper or on the television news, not just the back pages. Dad knew who he was.

So, as we found ourselves in such close proximity to a big name, dad thought he would introduce me to Geoffrey, along the following lines.

This is Geoffrey Boycott, one of the most famous cricketers in England and indeed the whole world.

Being pretty well trained for a seven-year-old, I looked up at Geoffrey and said words to the effect of:

Very pleased to meet you, Mr Boycott.

Boycott2 — “What a polite young man”, said Mr Boycott, patting me on the head: Sigerson, CC BY-SA 3.0

Geoffrey responded well to these polite enquiries. I’m told that this is not always the Geoffrey way, so he must have been in a decent mood and I guess we came across as suitably deferential, fellow hotel guests.

What a polite young man.

Geoffrey patted me on the head. He might even have added

I do like polite young men.

He then explained the teams presence to me and my dad, half-introducing us to some of the other players. For reasons I cannot explain, Phil Sharpe, Geoff Cope and Chris Old’s names stuck in my head for ever. Perhaps it is to do with the minimal number of syllables to those names.

From that holiday onwards, for many years, I thought of Yorkshire as my team. After all, I knew them. I’d met them. They were my friends.

Here is a link to the scorecard from the match Yorkshire played while staying in that Grand Hotel with us. It did not go well for Geoffrey, who had to retire hurt on 3, just a few minutes into the match. Neither did the match go well for Yorkshire.

My family took that unusually short and proximate break, because I had my adenoids and tonsils removed a couple of weeks earlier, so mum and dad felt that a short break (sea air, ice cream, that sort of thing) not too far from home was the safest option and might aid my convalescence.

There is a short home movie from that holiday – not one of dad’s best:

https://youtu.be/U_EhZsvMRbM

A few transparencies too – below is a link to the highlights of that, which includes some pictures of me in school uniform when we got home and possibly my earliest efforts with the camera – a couple of pictures of dad:

Mum and dad clearly put a lot of effort into trying to keep me amused – frankly that holiday must have been deadly dull for them.

But I met the Yorkshire cricket team on that short Brighton break and my love of all things cricket was surely sparked there.

Cinderella, Streatham Odeon, c30 December 1968

Image borrowed from Betty’s Birthday Blog on the “nigelthedame” website – click here – with thanks for both the image and the information about this production.

With gratitude to a posting on the Streatham,Balham & Tooting Memories Facebook Group, talking about the Streatham Odeon, I remembered going to see as a small child, Dick Emery (amongst others) in panto there. I did a bit of Googling to find out about it and found out quite a bit – not least through the blogpost linked above.

So, that year I saw Dick Emery, Joe Brown and no doubt some other names I would now recognise, in a production by Audrey Lupton & Arthur Lane.

An article on It’s Behind You! – Pop Stars In Panto, describes this aspect of Joe Brown’s performance:

In 1968 Joe was at the Odeon Streatham in Cinderella with Dick Emery. Joe played Buttons and as part of his routine to entertain Cinderella he performed a multi instrumental spot. In this he played guitar, acoustic guitar, ukulele, banjo lutes and even a mandolin!

Is it possible that my later-day love of early music and stringed instruments for the playing thereof was formed all the way back then? Unlikely as I had no memory of Joe Brown’s multi-instrumentation.

More likely is that I caught an earworm at that performance – Joe Brown singing I’m Henery The Eighth, I Am – the hive mind of the Streatham, Balham & Tooting Memories Facebook Group seems pretty sure that Joe sang that song in this panto. For sure I picked it up as a party piece when still a very small nipper – probably at my parents’ behest as they were keen Players’ Theatre-istas before my time and loved that sort of music hall song.

I have found an official review of this panto -in the Guardian – written by an un-woke eleven-year-old named Victoria Bourne:

Victoria Bourne Cinderella Guardian 27 Dec 1968, Fri The Guardian (London, Greater London, England) Newspapers.com

The thing that made the event especially memorable for me, was being summoned onto the stage by Dick Emery himself and answering some fiendishly difficult questions in a manner that, for some reason, seemed to make the audience laugh.

This occasion might, technically, have been the first time I ever “trod the boards” personally and certainly my first interaction with a professional performer.

I was not to see my fine words dealt with by a professional performer again until 1992, when the late great Chris Stanton (coincidentally another fine comedy actor who latterly did good panto) was the first of many to perform my lyrics in NewsRevue.

Chris Stanton: Absurdist & Realist, A Personal Tribute, 9 March 2020

So why did Dick Emery pick on me for the honour of joining the cast on stage and being an unwitting, unpaid comic? The answer is lost in the mists of time.

Possibly I waved my hand and shouted “me! me!” more vigorously than anyone else. Or perhaps my mum did the vigorous waving and shouting for me. Or maybe I just looked like the sort of cocky little kid that central casting would have chosen for the role.

We returned the following year to see Peter Noone and Norman Vaughan in Aladdin, but that, as they say, is another story.

Aladdin, Streatham Odeon, c29 December 1969

I didn’t get summoned to the stage that second time.

What’s become of my pantomime performing career?…

…I should have asked, that following year.

It’s behind you!…

…the audience should have shouted.

Family Holidays In Bournemouth, August 1967 & August 1968

Mum, Dad and I spent a couple of summer holidays at the same kosher hotel in Bournemouth , in 1967 and 1968. Probably a couple of weeks each time. Probably late August.

Were we at The Cumberland? Were we at The Normandie? Was it one of the other “Bournemouth Borscht Belt” hotels. None of us could remember – perhaps someone more knowledgeable can recognise the place from the pictures and help with a comment.

Update: Some “archaeology” on the family stereo (3D) photographs in March 2022 uncovered some lovely pictures from 1968, one of which clearly shows The Normandie Hotel. It seems I was quite a hit with the girls back then – go figure!:

The following slides are from the holiday in Bournemouth in 1967 (same hotel) and then some pictures that were taken subsequently on the same roll of film.

We took a ferry and visited Corfe Castle, amongst other things. This was before dad had that Zodiac sprayed in psychedelic colours, unfortunately, but I’ve used some music which sounds of the period anyway.

I have a little more recollection of the 1968 holiday. Perhaps in part because of the home movie from that holiday – see the silent YouTube embedded below:

Unfortunately, YouTube has blocked the soundtracked version of this film, so you’ll need to imagine hearing a soundtrack including:

Hey Jude, The Beatles;
Jumping Jack Flash, The Rolling Stones;
Baby Come Back, The Equals.

Those three tunes in particular were the soundtrack of that holiday to my memory. Especially the first of those three, which was being played incessantly on the hotel jukebox; not least by me if I could persuade daddy to part with another sixpence so I could hear Hey Jude again.

I had been recording the pop charts from the radio earlier that month, as evidenced by a reel-to-reel tape that survived the decades – written up on Ogblog – click here and below:

Pick Of The Pops Chart Rundowns, Probably 28 July 1968 & 4 August 1968, Possibly 4 August 1968 & 11 August 1968

Can this stuff really have been fifty years ago as I write, in early September 2018?

Yes.

Pick Of The Pops Chart Rundowns, Probably 28 July 1968 & 4 August 1968, Possibly 4 August 1968 & 11 August 1968

I made my first tape recordings in November 1967, from the Radio One show Pick Of The Pops – I Ogblogged about it on the 50th anniversary here:

Pick Of The Pops Top Three, 5th November 1967

Only one other similar spool of that vintage survived, from the summer of 1968. The bulk of the tape comprises most of the top 10 from two consecutive weeks; there is therefore much repetition, but one of the great joys of this tape is that it has those two week’s chart run-downs, by Alan “Fluff” Freeman:

I especially love the way he turns the name “Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich” into a single word:

Davedeedozybeakymickandtich.

I also love the bit, in one of the two chart run downs, when he starts to say “Yummy Yummy Yummy I’ve Got Love In My Tummy” but has to abandon the second part of the phrase midway through because he is running out of time.

I explained in the November 1967 article how the BBC compiled its own chart from various other ones, so it is hard to pinpoint an exact date for the broadcasts. The Sunday early evening show – it was certainly those I recorded – was a rundown of the BBC chart broadcast the previous Tuesday and I’m not sure whether the BBC tended to lag the other published charts or was trying to pre-empt them.

Anyway, the first of the two, above, would have either been broadcast on 28 July 1968 or 4 August 1968; I’d guess probably the former.

The second of the two, broadcast one week later, I captured most of the top ten as well:

At 10, Simon & Garfunkle singing Mrs Robinson:

My editing had got much better between November 1967 and July/August 1968, although was still a little juvenile (I was five going on six). For some reason, I must have hated This Guys In Love With You by Herb Alpert as I edited it out completely from its Number Nine spot. I guess it was too slow and romantic for my 5-year-old ears back then.

Sorry Herb. I rather like the song now.

I have found a truly cheesy, uber-1960s video on Herb Alpert’s YouTube Channel, which accompanied the song back then, so I can present that to you here instead:

Tidy hair.

Anyway, at Number Eight…

…Cupid’s Inspiration with Yesterday Has Gone. Today the lyric might be seen as some sort of mindfulness anthem.

Number Seven was Fire by The Crazy World Of Arthur Brown – which subsequently got to Number One:

Then at Number Six the bizarre MacArthur Park by Richard Harris. I must confess that the five-on-six year old me was totally taken in by the pastiche lyrics for this one. Ever since, I have lived in fear of someone leaving the cake out in the rain, thus wasting gargantuan amounts of effort and (for utterly inexplicable reasons) consigning the recipe as well as the cake to oblivion:

At Number Five, OC Smith with Son Of Hickory Holler’s Tramp. On hearing this song again, I do wonder how all fourteen children, when abandoned by their dad, would only care about mama’s chicken dumplings and a goodnight kiss before they went to bed. Wouldn’t several of these children have reached late adolescence or even adulthood by the time the last one arrived, or did the wayward couple spawn a handful of sets of quadruplets and quins in quick succession? The story is neither well nor convincingly explained. It feels like exaggeration or possibly even fake news to me:

At Number Four, the bubblegum song Yummy Yummy Yummy by Ohio Express. Now here is a truly meaningful lyric with which to grapple:

The Number Three song in the second week of my collection was Number One in the first week – Baby Come Back by The Equals. I really like this track:

Number Two was I Pretend by Des O’Connor. The official (at that time NME) charts have this song as Number One for a week, but two weeks of BBC chart recordings suggest that it never made the top spot on the BBC version. It is a well cheesy song:

Number One was Mony Mony by Tommy James And The Shondelles. Here we find the most meaningful lyric of all…

…fifty years later I discover that the name “Mony” was simply taken from the sign on top of the Mutual Of New York (MONY) Insurance Company building. Now they tell me:

I’ve managed to find a wonderful video for that Number One song – so uber-sixties it is almost untrue. Perhaps some of my more musical friends can tell us whether the band is miming or actually playing their instruments – I find it impossible to tell:

Finally, here is the second of those wonderful classic Fluff Freeman chart rundowns. Probably 4 August 1968 but possibly the following week, 11 August 1968. If it was the latter, that was my dad’s 49th birthday and I write this piece as we approach what would have been his 99th birthday.

By July/August 1968 dad was no longer directly helping me with these recordings, other than (probably) hiding spools of tape from me so I kept reusing the same ones for chart shows.

Why this spool survived is a mystery.

We went on holiday to Bournemouth soon after and perhaps I got bored with or forgot about recording chart shows after that.

It might have been for my sixth birthday that a heap of Beano Records arrived to try and get me interested in more serious music. That attempt succeeded, more on that anon, but my fascination with popular music of that 1960s and then 1970s period has lived on in me.

For now, as Fluff Freeman would put it:

Tara.

Pick Of The Pops, Most Of the Top Ten, 12 November 1967

Grundig TK35, Photograph by Michael Keller, from Rad-io.de.

Greetings, pop pickers.

Last week I Ogblogged recordings dad and I made exactly 50 years ago to the day, on 5 November 1967, including the Pick Of The Pops top three – click here, from Alan “Fluff” Freeman’s seminal chart show.

This week, I’m setting out the recordings I made of most of the top 10 from Pick Of The Pops the following week.

These recordings have more cutting in and out – probably a five-year-old’s attention span incapable of just letting the tape run and unaware at that stage of the wizardry that could be achieved post-recording in that medium.

The first extract actually has a bit of the Tony Blackburn show; the tail end of San Fransiscan Nights by The Animals therefrom. My guess is that it was my desire to record that better that sent me to Pick Of the Pops that Sunday evening, finding this song at number nine, then I kept going.

Next up – at eight – Long John Baldry with Let The Heartaches Begin:

At seven, Donovan with There Is A Mountain:

Then at six, the Kinks with Autumn Almanac:

Into the top five with The Troggs, Love Is All Around:

The least said about The Last Waltz by Englebert Humerdink at number four, the better:

Massachusetts by The Bee Gees at Number Three:

Zabadak by Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick and Tich at Number Two:

…by which point I guess it dawned on my very junior indeed mind that I already had the top three on tape from the previous week.

Still, I wouldn’t want to keep pop pickers in suspenders, so here is a YouTube of the Number One from that period – Baby Now That I’ve Found You by The Foundations.

Does this bring back memories? Not Arf!

Tara.

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Postscript -Memory Corrected By A Four-Year-Old: The Flea Pit Was The Ritzy, Not The Astoria

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