Geoffrey Withers – he is strictly for the unsquare
I’m not entirely sure when Paul Deacon and I came up with the character “Geoffrey Withers”, but it was a long long time ago when we were very small.
For sure it was at my house, because the nonsense started when I played this track to Paul and we started riffing on the idea that an uber-old-fashioned DJ might consider the piece to be “strictly for the unsquare” and use it as his signature tune:
I’m pretty sure that Paul himself “christened” the character “Geoffrey Withers” and gave him his pompous voice. Paul has used this character on his radio shows, sporadically, for at least four decades.
I should get a few bob each time Paul uses the character but heck, life is too short and anyway it’s probably best to save up that potential law suit material for a big one downstream.
With apologies to those who believe in Santa and who believe that there really is a piece of music named “Strictly For The Unsquare”, but this piece is actually named “Pop Sequence” and is from an album named “Cine Mood Music”. How cool is that?
Well, it’s unsquare, anyway.
I’m not sure that Geoffrey was really born on 14 April 1977, but the diary says…
…Paul in afternoon…
…so it might well have been that day. I’ll guess it was around about then, anyhow.
Who’d have thought that such a mucking around session aged 14/15 would have led to a character who still (writing in 2018) pops up from time to time on Paul’s radio shows?
On this day in 1977, Paul Deacon and I recorded ourselves larking around, including, for some unknown reason, several takes of a scene emulating an execution at the time of the French Revolution.
I’ve no idea whether anyone other than me and Paul will find this four minute clip funny, but I laughed out loud many times on hearing it again.
I think my favourite bit is on take 4, when you hear my pseudo-Robespierre voice, once again, ask
“do you ‘ave anything to say?”
and you can hear my mother holler from the next room…
“yeh – shut up!”
…at which point Paul collapses in gales of laughter.
Some of the bits in several of the takes where Paul gets tongue-tied around his lines are pretty funny too.
I also laughed out loud at my third announcement of “take 5” – to announce two “take 5s” might be described as unfortunate, to announce three sounds like carelessness. The juvenilia of a numbers man.
Suffice it to say that the unintended humour works better than the rather mawkish intended humour.
The guillotine sound comes from an actual guillotine…
…no, really…
…a paper one, which looked more or less exactly like this picture, which I have borrowed from an ebay sale long since closed – I’m sure the anonymous photographer/seller won’t mind – fair use for educational purposes blah blah:
Madame la Guillotine
The sound of the drum roll was made on a genuine Southern African bongo drum, a gift from my mother’s dear school friend, “Auntie” Elsie Betts who lived (I believe still lives) in South Africa. For reasons unknown, I took a superb photograph of that majestic drum:
Monsieur Le Bongodrum
The sound of the aristocrat’s head landing was, if I recall correctly, achieved with a white cabbage being dropped into a wastepaper basket. My mother used to make her own coleslaw to my father’s specification – with a light vinaigrette sauce, no mayonnaise nonsense for my dad’s slaw – it was a sort-of cross between sauerkraut and coleslaw really.
But I digress.
Point is, there would always have been a white cabbage conveniently on hand whenever the need arose for a head removal sound effect. The cabbage will have looked like one of these:
Paul and I made quite a few silly recordings over the years, but I believe only the one tape survives. Most of our recordings were recorded on the trusty Sony TC377, which looked like this…
…the tape for which was expensive and in demand in the Harris household (mostly by me to be honest), so much of the silly stuff will have been wiped over with other silly stuff or, eventually, something someone wanted to keep.
I meticulously digitised all the reel to reel tapes that survived (a few batches of tape were deteriorating before digitisation, so those tapes couldn’t be saved) but, as far as I can tell, none of the survivors had larking about material on them. Sorry.
So how or why did the 12 April 1977 material survive?
The answer is straightforward and signalled in the following diary page.
The relevant passage is 2 January 1977 – Bank Holiday Monday:
Went to Comet cassette deck. Great.
On that day, our reel-to-reel family bowed to the inevitable and procured a cheap (this is the January sales, isn’t it?) “solid state” cassette deck. It was not a special one. I think it was one of the following or similar – I have borrowed the picture from an ebay sale long since closed – I’m sure the anonymous photographer/seller won’t mind – fair use for educational purposes blah blah:
While I think Paul and I probably recorded the coin tossers/execution scenes on the reel-to-reel (the clicks sound reel-to-reelish to me – Paul might know better), I at least made a copy or copies onto cassette following that 1977 reording session:
Below I have also embedded the 20 minutes or so of general larking around stuff that preceded the main takes. It’s not a particularly interesting listen; I think we must both have been in an especially silly mood that day. Paul might go through it and extract a few small snippets of value from it. I think there is a Cyril Vaughan impersonation on there somewhere and one or two other impersonations to boot.
The main “conceit” of the following preliminary piece is a spoof sports commentary on the world coin tossing competition. This appears to be a throw-back to an earlier, seminal event, in December 1974:
Anyway, here is twenty minutes of coin tossing, infantile giggling, some impersonations and some early attempts at the execution scenes. This recording is on the other side of the Execution Scenes cassette.
I have written all of this up in September 2018 at Paul Deacon’s request, as he is giving some sort of talk about careers to a women’s group in Canada, the country in which Paul and his family now reside.
Paul wondered if I had any relevant photos of us from that time, which I don’t really – sorry again. The only picture I can lay my hands on with both of us in it is the following, which Paul himself uploaded in our Alleyn’s alum group:
Paul on the right doing the bumping; me the recipient of the bumps. This might take some explaining to a genteel women’s group…
…but if they are instead a group of Canadian Women’s Ice Hockey players/supporters, the picture will look like childishly amateur violence, which it assuredly was.
While I denied all memory of this event when Paul first upped that picture, I have a vague recollection now of how those autumnal-looking bumps came about. I’ll Ogblog about that separately some other time.
This piece is about recordings of execution scenes and stuff. You haven’t yet listened to the four minute execution scenes clip? Here it is again for your convenience. Listen out for my mum as “best supporting actress” in take four.
This turned out to be our last family summer holiday together. The following year dad was brassic (skint) so we just did some day trips and stuff, e.g. Greenwich:
Then the year after that, I did BBYO camps while mum and dad went off and did their own thing early autumn.
I turned 14 on this La Manga holiday and I do remember feeling, even at that tender age, that I had sort of outgrown those family holidays. I sensed that mum and dad wanted some prime time together and I was no longer intrigued by going off and doing stuff with random youngsters who just happen to be on holiday with you.
We stayed in the Hotel Entremares – not the sort of place I might stay in now, but it is still there and looks OK. Mixed reviews now.
The hotel (and to some extent the resort) was brand new then and I suspect my dad picked up a late booking at low cost for a place that hadn’t yet gained a reputation.
Clearly we were treated like visiting celebrities:
There is a movie for this holiday which, believe it or not, actually did yield some “famous for 15 minutes material” many years later, when Visa rewarded me handsomely enough and used some clips in one of their adverts and vines. Here is the whole movie:
Here’s the Visa ad, which shows dad slapping on the tanning oil:
This blond girl features in the movie too. I wonder whether I had latched on to the blond girl or whether she had latched on to me. Rohan Candappa probably wants me to track her down and write a story about her.
In those days La Manga was positioning itself for tennis in particular…
The Alleyn’s School water polo boys on a more appropriate pool mission
THE LONG HOT SUMMER OF ’76 – RECOLLECTIONS OF A 14-YEAR-OLD WITH SPECIAL APPEARANCE BY A LUNATIC FRENCHMAN
It was a stormy Thursday afternoon (are there any others?). Me, myself, and three others who shall remain nameless (Chris Grant, Ben Clayson and Kevin Blythe), were chortling over Paul Hayes’ Freudian slip from earlier. He had inadvertently called Miss Lynch “Mum” and we were marvelling at how well they had kept their relationship secret and for so long. All six of us were amazed at the audacity of the lad and thoughts were now turning to the identity of the father. Bob Skelly, Percy Kingman and Mrs. Barden were put forward for consideration but we were unable to agree. Each candidate received five votes and so we were at stalemate. After much deliberation, we opted for the time-honoured tie-breaker of rock, paper, scissors and as you might have expected, it landed on tails. (Doesn’t it always?) So, decision made, Dave Stretton it was then. Let’s face it, he must have inherited his cool from somewhere.
But I digest. To our gullible Frenchman: It was around this time that Chris used to import young French boys for his amusement and this particular lost soul went by the name of Gotier. He had, I believe, been imported once before, so having met us now on more than one occasion, really ought to have known better. However, we all found ourselves down at the swimming pool. It was a natural hangout for those of us who liked to swim and play water polo and seemed even more appropriate on what was quite possibly a very hot day. Gotier was sweating profusely. I think he knew what Chris had planned for later. He kept muttering strange French words under his breath. “Baguette” was a particular favourite of his I seem to recall. Anyhow, one of us happened upon the anarchic idea of enticing Gotier to jump into the swimming pool fully clothed, and on the strict understanding that he then had to travel home with us to Beckenham et les environs completement mouille.
“How much shall we offer him?” asked Clayson. “How much do we have on us?” asked Blythe. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” enquired Grant, forever and to this day our moral compass. He perhaps felt that if there was any dampness involved it should be of his making and no other. “Yes, it’s a cracking idea,” I chipped in. “And let’s make him cry Vive la France as he goes under.”
We gathered our resources and came up with the tidy sum of £4 and a few pence. We approached the hapless Gotier with our proposal and having explained to him that with exchange rates being as they were at the time, that £4 and a few pence was uncommonly generous, he agreed.
And so the stage was set. I was elected to distract Harry Whale and Alan Berry, who at that precise moment were taking it in turns to slipper a 12-year-old, whilst the others were assigned the arduous task of pacing out Gotier’s run up. And then the moment arrived. With a Gallic scream of “Un, deux, trois, allez…!” Gotier was off, legging it poolwards as if he had not a care in the world. He leapt, he might even have somersaulted I honestly can’t remember, and there was a mighty splash followed by the gurgled incantation of “Vive la France, Vive la France.” Let’s give the boy his due. He did not let us down. Good for him. Only honourable Frenchman I’ve ever met.
Gotier was duly rewarded with his £4 and a few pence which he kindly used to buy us Maynards wine gums and Coca Cola down by Herne Hill station.
To this day, that incident (which is 100% true by the way), is my most vivid recollection of the Summer of ’76. That and being arrested for shoplifting in Millets.
Stephen Jenkins was an Alleyn’s schoolmaster whose reputation preceded him. By the time my cohort entered his orbit, in the mid 1970s, he had a reputation for telling long-winded tales of psychic happenings, visits to far-flung places, UFOs, extra-sensory perception, ley lines…
…in short, he’d talk in lessons about pretty much anything other than the subject he was meant to be teaching.
“During the war…have I told you this anecdote before?…anyway…”
So why in the name of all that is good and pure was this fellow allocated to my third year class, 3BJ, to abstain from teaching us not just one but two key subjects; English and history?
Strangely and despite Stephen Jenkins contrary efforts, many of us managed to bounce back up to the A-stream after 3BJ. In my case, I ended up with Jenkins again, I think for history ‘O’Level (perhaps it was English – it really is impossible to recall what Jenkins was supposed to be teaching us) when I was in 4AT/5AT, so this anecdote about Sandy Rowswell might have happened a year or two later than I am guessing.
I should add, to avoid confusion, that the Alleyn’s Stephen Jenkins died some years ago and has nothing to do with the impressive LSE Professor of Social Policy who inadvertently shares his name.
Anyway, I clearly recall an incident in class when the Alleyn’s Stephen Jenkins was waxing lyrical about his latest trip to Tibet.
In truth, I always liked Mr Jenkins’s tales of far-flung travel the best. I found the psychic and UFO stories hard to believe, I found the idea of ley-lines intriguing but unconvincing, but I did enjoy the tales from his travels. They were believable, enviable even…and I felt I was learning something useful…even if it wasn’t particularly useful for the purposes of progressing to O-level English or history.
Anyway, during a long Stephen Jenkins anecdote about his recent visit to Tibet, Sandy Rowswell chimed in by saying words to the effect of,
“sir, I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that you have ever been to Tibet.”
There was a hush in the classroom. One glance at Stephen Jenkins’s face and the self-styled sobriquet “Mr Murder” now looked very apt. Sandy Rowswell was ejected from the class and told in no uncertain terms that his punishment would be swift and merciless afterwards.
It seemed such a daft challenge to me. Of all the things Mr Jenkins waffled on about, the travels element was the only manifestly plausible aspect.
I don’t think Sandy Rowswell really got the idea of overseas travel…nor the idea of tempering one’s remarks about a subject whether one “gets it” or not.
I recall Sandy Rowswell approaching me and saying,
I hear you are going to Mauritius with Biltoo this summer?
When I confirmed that fact, Sandy Rowswell replied,
You wouldn’t catch me going to a place like that, having to stay in mud huts.
I laughed and shrugged it off, but word of this exchange must have reached Anil Biltoo from other sources, because Anil sheepishly raised the matter with me, pointing out that his family did not live in mud huts. I recall telling Anil that I really didn’t mind what sort of accommodation we’d be having.
There is a rumour that Sandy Rowswell went into the diplomatic service after leaving Alleyn’s. OK, the source of that rumour is the preceding sentence of this article, but a rumour is a rumour.
Returning to the Tibet veracity incident, I have no real reason to assume it took place on 18 May 1976, but while skimming my diary for clues, I did enjoy the entry for that day.
Great tennis won 6-4 6-4 with Driscoll.
Does that mean I beat Paul Driscoll 6-4 6-4 at singles, or does it mean that, partnering with Paul Driscoll, we beat some unfortunate others 6-4, 6-4? There is only one person in the entire world who might possibly remember the event (because I sure as hell cannot) – so I’m shouting out to Paul who will no doubt confirm a similar blank on this one. He probably doesn’t even remember that there was no water polo the next day, despite water polo having been far more his thing than mine..
But I am now digressing more than a typical Stephen Jenkins lesson. Click the link below for a chance to buy Stephen Jenkins book – you know you want to.
Image generated with Nano Banana 2 via Google Flow
Those of us who travelled to Alleyn’s School from Streatham Hill felt that we had our own private train to take us to school in the morning. We sort-of did…except that it wasn’t private.
Streatham Hill was primarily on a line that ran between Victoria and Norwood Junction.
North Dulwich – the train station for Alleyn’s School – was on a line between London Bridge and several places, including many stops with the word Croydon in the name, avoiding Streatham Hill.
To get from North Dulwich to Streatham Hill, you needed to change at West Norwood. And vice-versa…
…except that, once a day, in the mornings, there was a special train that started at Streatham Hill that went to London Bridge via Tulse Hill and then North Dulwich.
Harry Potter hadn’t been invented back then, so it didn’t go from platform two-and-three-quarters, but it was, rather magically, emblazoned with the number “01”. Just like a London telephone number in those days.
The train had those claustrophobic little integral compartments that had no corridor connection with other parts of the train. Only access via the door/window on either side of the compartment – one side to the platform, the other to the track. Health and safety hadn’t yet been invented.
Image generated -with much instructional difficulty – using Nano Banana 2 via Google Flow
There are rumours…witness statements even…that some Alleyn’s boys, on some of these suburban railways trains, took advantage of the temporary privacy to make some mischief of their own. I cannot speak for such boys in such carriages, I can only speak of my cohort, who tended to be more sinned against than sinning.
“Mark you that jest. This mock hath turn’d my balls to gun-stones“. Bard Harris by Nano Banana 2 via Google Flow
My cohort usually included Andy Levinson and (I think by that time) Justin Sutton & Rupert Jeffries. I have written about this before:
I think it was this multiple instance of roughs causing us “trouble” on the train, that led to an informal intervention.
No British Transport Police, no formal reporting of the incidents, no public demand for British Rail to do something. The parents suggested, sensibly, that we have a word with the driver before embarking the next day.
Enter Aiden. A young, long-haired (well it was the 1970s), Irish train driver, who, it seemed, was on shift for the 01 for quite some time. he invited us to ride in the drivers carriage for a few days, after which he recommended that we travel in the nearest compartment to the drivers carriage.
We became friends with Aiden for many months – by which I mean we’d always have at the very least a cheery “hi and bye” with him and sometimes a proper chat – especially if the 01 pulled into the station a couple of minutes before the scheduled time for its departure. It was a disappointment if Aiden was not on our shift, but most of the time the 01’s driver was our good friend, Aiden.
Thems were simpler times.
For the benefit of completists and those who like to see what I was watching on the TV at that time, here is a complete extract of that period’s diary entries:
Tuesday, 20 January 1976 – all ok, rugby good. TV Bugs [Bunny], Ellery Queen, Pro-celebrity golf, Fawlty Towers.
Wednesday, 21 January 1976 – CCF ok. TV – And Mother Makes Five, Kenneth Williams.
Thursday 22 January 1976 – drama, great. TV – World At War, When The Boat Comes In.
Friday 23 January 1976 – All OK. TV – Candid Camera, Hawaii Five-O, The Good Life.
Saturday 24 January 1976 – exeat. Library. TV Upstairs Downstairs.
Sunday, 25 January 1976 – classes and Shalom great. TV Italian job (unfinished).
Monday, 26 January 1976 All OK. TV – Ask The Family, Hello Cheeky.
Tuesday, 27 January 1976 – rugby great. TV Ellerry Queen, Pro-celebrity golf, Fawlty Towers.
Wednesday, 28 January 1976 – CCF cold. TV This Is Your Life, Andy [Levinson] snooker etc.
Thursday 29 January 1976 – train trouble. TV World At War, When The Boat Comes In, The Good Old Days.
Friday, 30 January 1976 – more train trouble. TV Candid Camera, Walt Disney, It Ain’t Half Hot Mum, Yes Honestly.
Saturday, 31 January 1976 – All OK – TV New Faces, Sale [Of the Century], Film [Danger Has Two Faces], Upstairs Downstairs.
The events of January 1976 happened so soon after the Watergate Scandal had unfolded, I don’t suppose it had yet become standard journalistic practice to attach the suffix “-gate” to any scandal. I don’t care – I’m calling this one “Nogagate”.
My diary note of Thursday 15 January 1976 starts with the phrase:
Noga leaving form.
Then, on Monday 19 January 1976, I open my diary note with:
Wrong about Noga. All OK.
How very contra reverse ferret of me. Professional journalism would not have been for me.
So what happened…I mean, something must have happened and then unwound. Was Noga believed to have been promoted or relegated, but actually staying in our division all along? Was Noga initially perceived to have scored an own goal but actually adjudicated to have made a great “on the line” save? Was Noga initially adjudged to have committed a sending-off offence foul but then reprieved by VAR (Various Alleyn’s Representations)? Was I the victim of a “false rumour/class prank”?
I didn’t mention people lightly in my diary, so in my mind, for a few days, this must have been THE big deal. Yet, I’m sorry folks, I now remember absolutely nothing about this.
Someone out there must remember roughly what went on. Mike Jones, for example, was the form master. David Wellbrook and/or Nick Wahla – you two were never far away from the mischief side of 3BJ life. Laurence Noga himself might vaguely recall this matter, of course. If indeed it ever was a real matter.
Here are the diary notes:
For those who like to refresh their memories with earworms from that time, here are three tracks (other than Bohemian Rhapsody, which was surely spent in our consciousness by then even if it was still Number One) from the top 10:
…and for the completists (probably just me and the 1970s TV savages) – here are the full extracts from those diary pages.
Intriguingly, it seems I spent that intervening weekend of Nogagate going through my ‘O’ Level choices with my parents. I have a feeling that the word “perspex” is a malapropism (perhaps deliberate) for “perplexed”. Did they really expect me to persevere with biology, geography and/or Latin? I could get all that at home.
Tuesday, 13 January 1976. Back at school. TV Are You Being Served? Ellery Queen, Pro-celebrity Golf, 48 hours.
Wednesday, 14 January 1976- All OK. TV film -Stewart Granger [Swordsmen Of Siena].
Thursday, 15 January 1976 Noga leaving form. TV World At War, When The Boat Comes In.
Friday, 16 January 1976 – Mum and Dad O-level choices, OK. Uncle Cyril [Barnett] marsala [which means that I went with Cyril and Marion Barnett in the back of their van to their Chalk Farm shmutter premises and they treated me to Marsala ice cream at Marine Ices afterwards].
Saturday, 17 January 1976 – Perspex parents. TV film, New Faces, Sale Of the Century, S.W.A.T. Squad, Upstairs Downstairs.
Sunday, 18 January 1976, classes is good. Paper could be published.! Auntie Doris [Marcus]. TV ?
Monday, 19 January 1976, Wrong re Noga. All OK. TV Ask The Family, Hello Cheeky, Walton’s.
Please folks, let’s solve the mystery of Nogagate collaboratively.
I loved those Christmas lectures as a kid and I especially remember enjoying Heinz Wolff’s series that Christmas.
The only other noteworthy points from my diaries for that period are references to writing and finishing “paper” with Lloyd Green. This was probably my first independent writing (and in this case also publishing) initiative. I’ll write more about that in a couple of episodes time, when the initiative took off in mid January 1976. I should really liaise with Lloyd prior to writing it up, to see if he has any specific memories or even relics to throw into the memory pot.
For the completists among my readership (probably just me and 1970s TV addicts) here is the diary extract for that 17 day period before school started up again.
Sunday, 28 December 1975 – dined at Felds. Grandma Anne in the afternoon. Played Kalooki. Thoroughly Modern Millie.
Monday, 29 December 1975 – all OK. TV lecture. Played Mastermind Royale with Uncle George [May, across the road].
Tuesday, 30 December 1975 – shopping. Played with Andy [Levinson] in afternoon after lecture. Played bridge with Uncle Cyril {Barnet, next door].
Wednesday, 31 December 1975 – got new shoes. TV lecture, Three Men in a Boat, Trapeze, Happy Birthday Columbia. Saw In New Year!
Thursday, 1 January 1976 – Dined at La Pistola. TV, Carry On Again Doctor, The Picnic, Supermind.
Friday 2 January 1976 – played with Andy in morning – Mastermind Royale *evening. TV The Good Life.
Saturday 3 January 1976 – Finished first paper. TV Mask of Sheba, Best Of Upstairs Downstairs.
Sunday, 4 January 1976 – classes good. TV MASH, Romeo and Juliet.
Monday, 5 January 1976 – Andy morn, snooker afternoon. TV, Ask the Family, Z Cars, Disappearing World.
Tuesday, 6 January 1976 – had haircut. TV, Are You Being Served?, Ellery Queen, Fawlty Towers.
Wednesday, 7 January 1976 – Meeting morn. Lloyd Green afternoon. [Presumably both to do with the paper] TV And Mother Makes Five, Morecambe and Wise, Tomkinson’s Schooldays.
Thursday, 8 January 1976 – went to Brixton. TV When The Boat Comes In.
Friday, 9 January 1976 – Went to Alan’s [Cooke] – great. TV England Games? Walt Disney, It Ain’t Half Hot Mum, The Good Life.
Saturday 10 January 1976, played with Andy. TV Caprice, Upstairs Downstairs.
Sunday, 11 January 1976 – classes good. Dined at Felds. Kalooki 7p. TV MASH.
Monday, 12 January 1976 – shopping in the morning. Andy afternoon. TV Ask The Family, Z Cars, The Waltons.
While technology can enable us to read the Herculaneum Scrolls, despite their c2000 years of antiquity and the fact that they were burnt to a crisp…some elements of my juvenile diaries are beyond redemption.
No idea what sort of cheap pencil I was using at the end of 1975, but very little of it survived on the page. The headline picture is the best that photoshop can do with it – the image below is what it really looks like.
Fortunately, judging by the readable entries around it, we can surmise that I was enjoying Christmas at home with my parents very much and watching lots of TV.
Trawling the TV listings for Christmas Day, I’m pretty sure I will have watched:
Morcombe & Wise Christmas Show – which was compulsory viewing in the UK back then if I remember correctly. Failing to watch it was deemed to be treason which was still technically punishable by death.
On Boxing Day, dad and I would have gone for a walk together after lunch, but not before I’d watched Let It Be in the morning. Almost certainly I’d have watched Disney Time in the afternoon and we’d all have watched the Mike Yarwood Christmas Show together in the evening. Almost compulsory, was the Mike Yarwood Christmas Show.
The following day I think I can make out the words “Played With Andy”, which means I probably went to the Levinson’s house. I can also just about decipher (Carry On) “Don’t Lose Your Head” as the TV viewing that evening.
I’m Camembert! I’m the big cheese!…
…as Kenneth William’s character, Citizen Camembert, put it. Well the jokes most certainly were cheesy.
I have only an impressionistic memory of the shock that ran through Alleyn’s School on that day in mid December 1975, when we were told, I’m pretty sure it was in Assembly, that our headmaster, John Fanner, had died. It was sudden and unexpected – he had gone into hospital for a seemingly routine operation.
My diary entry for that day is a little strange. Written in ink at a time when I was mostly writing the diary in pencil. A couple of question marks as well:
Tuesday, 16 December 1975 Mr Fanner died yesterday. TV Invisible Man, Are You Being Served? Gym?
Are You Being Served? – with a question mark – is the correct title for that programme. But “Gym?” for the International Gymnastics that followed it feels like a discombobulated diary entry, perhaps not really remembering the extent to which I watched those programmes.
I didn’t know Mr Fanner well. In fact, my only other diary mentions of him are in the first month of my “career” as a diarist, January 1974, when I was relieved of my travel money by a local rough (probably a Billy Biro) on the way to school and was sent to the Headmaster to report and obtain temporary financial relief – see 14 & 15 January entries in the piece linked here:
I suspect that my January 1974 episode was my only interaction with John Fanner, apart from, perhaps, an occasional “nodding acquaintance” gesture in the corridor.
I sensed that he was a kind man and realised, even at the time, that this was far more of a shock for the teachers than it was for most of the pupils. It was the day before we broke up for the school holidays and I don’t remember dwelling on the matter once school was out.
Others with whom I am in touch 50 years later might have more insightful memories of this event. Mike Jones, for example. Simon Barton for another.
The rest of my diary in the run up to Christmas is unsuitably mundane:
Wednesday, 17 December 1975 broke up. Good report. TV Superstars, Benny Hill.
Thursday, 18 December 1975 played with Andy [Levinson]. Went to library. TV $6 Million Man, Likely Lads, Mastermind, Carry on Christmas.
Friday, 19 December 1975 – Lloyd’s [Green] in morning. TV Pot Black, The Good Life.
Saturday 20 December 1975 all ok. Andy afternoon. TV film German something or other? [Mosquito Squadron]
Sunday, 21 December 1975 – no classes. TV last Upstairs Downstairs, Al Capone.
Monday 22 December 1975 Andy all day. TV Invisible Man, Are You Being Served? Mastermind.
Tuesday, 23 December 1975 – meeting today. Andy afternoon. TV Carry On film [Carry On Up the Khyber], Liver Birds.
Wednesday, 24 December 1975 lovely Christmas eve, Andy all day TV Oliver Twist, Jim’ll Fix It, something something [Dick Emery Christmas Show] and Porridge
Not much insight there.
I have used the opening line from Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen as the headline for this piece. That record was part of the soundtrack of our lives that late autumn and Christmas.
But my earworm that season was the other record that did astonishingly well. Actually, not just an earworm – loads of us in the Alleyn’s School playground (and other playgrounds all over the country) tried to emulate its nonsense:
Perhaps you had to be there.
For those who are desperate to hear/see Bohemian Rhapsody again and don’t know how to use a search engine:
