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).

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

Photo by Jason Jacobs, CC BY 2.0

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”…

All the Dim Sum

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.

Little me, around that time

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.