We rose quite early, to be greeted by the sight and sound of miscellaneous gulls outside our window and even a bevy of eight swans, which graced our view daily throughout our stay. They even came to say goodbye just as we were leaving, a week later.
We found our way to Leith Links on foot (less than 10 minutes walk away) and played tennis there. Three courts in good condition; quite similar to our regular arrangements at Boston Manor.
Then we returned to the flat to wash, change and sort out bus/tram passes. Once we were “appy” with that, we set off into Edinburgh. First stop, to collect our tickets for today at the High Street Fringe ticket shop.
Then we headed towards Underbelly, to get our bearings & find some lunch. An Underbelly usher recommended Let Me Eat Too, where we had giant “Balmoral” panini wraps of chicken, haggis & cheese. There we met a nice English family – the son was in a show & the parents had some good ideas/suggestions for us.
We subsequently decided that places like Let Me Eat Too and their portion sizes were a bit “over belly” for us at lunchtime ahead of shows at Underbelly and the like, so we lightened up our subsequent post-tennis/lunchtime arrangements.
We saw the only play I had pre-booked for the trip: Angry Alan by Penelope Skinner. It was a superb piece, very well acted by Donald Sage Mackay, whom we had seen quite recently in White Guy On The Bus at the Finborough. Angry Alan has been very well received, on the whole, in formal reviews. By chance, we got to meet Donald Sage Mackay & Penelope Skinner afterwards in the Underbelly cafe.
Then we hunted down tickets for the shows that nice family recommended, &/but took sanctuary in the Checkpoint cafe on Bristo Place. I went on a bit of a fool’s errand from there to try & get tickets in person – app/collect works much better and cheaper it seems.
Then we strolled on to George Square to see NewsRevue; the other show I had pre-booked before we set off for Edinburgh.
I have been hanging around NewsRevue since the early 1990s and had material in the show, including the Edinburgh “best of” shows, for most of that decade. Of course I had often seen previews of the Edinburgh show at the Canal Cafe, but this was the first time I had ever seen the show in Edinburgh. The show has a different vibe in a 500-seater auditorium with the performers miked up and the audience in “early evening Fringe” mode rather than “late night cabaret” mode.
But it is still a very good show, as it has always been; and oh boy was it packed the day we saw it; probably the case every day. NewsRevue really has become an Edinburgh Fringe institution now.
Then we strolled back to High Street to collect those appy show tickets for tomorrow. Then back to Cowgate for quick drink at Underbelly & then on to Three Sisters (Free Sisters) to see Michael Keane (a friend of mine from the real tennis community) & his pals in a comedy improv. show named BattleActs.
Not really our sort of thing; improv. shows, but this one was done very well and had packed out a fairly sizeable room at the Free Sisters.
We bussed back to Leith, stopping for dinner at Chop House Leith for some excellent aged steaks and a couple of glasses of very quaffable red wine.
After a morning’s work, I played tennis and then drove out to Noddyland for the rest of the afternoon. Janie went over to Kim’s to do some gardening or what-have-you, while I followed the Wimbledon tennis quite avidly:
Clarke & Dart v Murray & Azarenka (short and a bit disappointing);
Draper v Mejia (boys semi – absolutely compelling to watch);
Isner v Anderson (almost failed to resolve until after I left for the restaurant).
Meanwhile Janie called me to instruct the closing of windows about 5 minutes after I had closed all the windows. It was already bucketing down in “The Suburb” whereas in Noddyland it was just starting to look ominous.
In fact, I got to the Uber while it was still just spitting, but by the time we got 100 yards down the road it was proper rain and by the time we got to Gypsy Corner there were surface water flash floods starting.
Micky and Kim were on good form. Janie and I both ended up eating the same dishes; calamari followed by a veal and mash dish.
For afters, I fancied ice cream. The gelato of the day was nougat. I asked what type of nuts were in the nougat (due to my walnut allergy), which kicked off a precautionary sequence of events, even when I relented to a simple choice of vanilla and chocolate.
“Out ice cream might contain traces of nut”, I was told. I explained that my allergy is mild and that I have no concerns about “might contain traces of nut” warnings…
…at which point Kim told the waitress that she should get me to sign a disclaimer…
…which the waitress duly produced and indeed insisted that I should sign.
This was all done in a gentle and friendly spirit…
With thanks to the waitress for taking the picture
…but I’m pretty sure that I’d have had no pudding without the form filling. I considered explaining that I am very allergic to form filling…
…but in the end decided that I wanted my ice cream.
I think that covered the necessary waiver comprehensively.
Readers of a nervous disposition will be delighted to learn that I suffered no ill effects from eating the ice cream.
It was a fun evening with Kim and Micky. The staff at the restaurant are very charming and friendly, which more than makes up for the quirky aspects.
I turned up to play him in the morning. On arrival he greets me with the phrase:
I ran into someone who knows you the other day. Knows you from the gym or something. When real tennis came up in the conversation, he asked if I knew you.
But the really strange coincidence about that encounter was that, John told me, it was at Grace Road, Leicester, at a Cricket Society bash…
…do you mean day two of the Leicestershire v Middlesex match?…
John and I fought out a tough, some would say bitter, battle, which ended in a draw, once the nonagenarians, who were next on court, separated us combatants who, by that time, were (naturally) screaming, punching, wrestling and biting. It’s a gentleman’s game, real tennis. In fact, I stayed on for the nonagenarian doubles that day and almost managed to keep up with the oppo for an additional hour.
Later that day, once I had recovered from two hours of combat (and done a spot of work), Janie and I took dinner at Delamina in Marylebone, ahead of a rather unusual-looking late night concert at the Wigmore Hall.
We thought the food in Delamina was superb – I had a seriously posh kofta dish while Janie had a seriously posh take on turkey shawarma – but the place was very noisy on a Friday evening and the service, while admittedly delivered by universally sweet staff, was poor.
We stretched our legs and got a chance to have a conversation that we both could hear, by walking the long way round to the Wigmore Hall. While strolling, I told Janie about the strange coincidence that John Thirlwell (whom she had met at the Middlesex University Real Tennis match) had been in the next room to me all day at Leicester.
Before entering the concert hall itself, I popped to the Wigmore Hall loo. There I saw a gentleman who looked remarkably like John Thirlwell. No, he wasn’t a gentleman who looked a lot like John Thirlwell; it WAS John Thirlwell.
“This is bonkers”, I said, “you’re blooming everywhere” – to which John could only smile and agree. Thus Janie and I chatted with John and his charming companion Maggie before and briefly after the concert. John is not a Wigmore Hall regular – he had simply seen this concert listed and thought it looked interesting and different.
I often say that Lord’s and the Wigmore Hall are the last remaining places where I get addressed as “young man”. I wonder whether that sort of thing was the causal link for John Thirlwell visiting both places on the same day as me. Joking apart about fierce combat; it turns out that John is actually jolly good company, both on the tennis court (which I knew already) and also in the concert hall.
A collaboration much like the fusions in Delamina’s food, now I come to think of it.
Here is one of the pieces, from the latest David Orlowsky Trio album, which they played for us at the Wig:
Or try this tiddler, which the Wig used to promote the concert we attended:
We thought the music was wonderful fun; a mixture of smooth jazz and the sort of dance rhythms that central and eastern European music does so well, not least when klezmerised.
Janie and I sat next to an aficionado of the group who told us, sadly, that the trio is due to split soon after a mere 20 years together. Perhaps they feel it is time to pursue other projects. They are all virtuoso musicians; David Orlowsky himself utterly exceptional on the clarinet but really all three were excellent.
Quite a day; I hope John Thrilwell enjoyed his day as much as I enjoyed mine.
Occasionally something really rather special emerges as a result of Ogblog. One such emergence, some months ago, was an e-mail out of the blue from Jon Gorvett, a friend from Keele University, who had stumbled across Ogblog and thus reconnected with me and with Simon Jacobs.
Anyway, subsequently one thing led to another, Jon eventually acquiesced to grace Blighty with his presence, so we (including Jon’s good lady, Stefanie) arranged to meet up for a meal together.
We settled on 35 New Cavendish, which I recalled from my previous visit with Janie, Chris & Charlotte, was pretty quiet. I thought our reunion would benefit from us being able to hear each other, which it did. The food is good at 35 New Cavendish, without being exceptional; the service is passable; the location worked well for all of us.
Thank you, Mr Waiter – top photographic work. L-R: Stefanie, Ian, Simon & JonQuestion for advanced students: identify Jon, Simon and Ian from this 1982 visual
The years seemed to peel away rapidly and easily. Lots has happened to all of us (and to the world) in the 30+ years since we last gathered, but it felt like a natural and familiar get together, despite the magnitude of that time interval. I certainly sensed that none of us have changed our world view or re-oriented our moral compasses.
As Simon said in a subsequent e-mail:
Inevitably, there was a sense of only scratching the surface as it’s an impossible task to meaningfully fill in the blanks of 30 plus years in an evening. But you’ve got to start somewhere.
Simon also expressed concern for Stefanie in all this:
I do hope Stefanie wasn’t too bored or bewildered… She didn’t appear to be, but then I’m not really in a position to know whether she was just being monumentally polite. It was very nice to meet her!
I echo those sentiments.
On learning that many people have Ogblog monikers – for example, Simon is known as “Awesome Simo” – Jon and Stefanie expressed an interest in acquiring Ogblog monikers of their own. I did offer them the opportunity to apply with their own choices of names, but the only thing that has been forthcoming so far is this super picture (below) of Jon drinking a pint in the Sneyd Arms at Keele, a couple of days after our gathering.
Later that same week, Jon sent us this snap from the Sneyd
So Ale-jar Jon and Sneyd Steff it is, unless or until they supply more suitable nicknames of their own.
Coincidentally, The Sneyd Arms does seem to have become a magnet recently for those nostalgia visits and photos amongst my old friends. Ashley Fletcher sent me this just a few months ago:
But I digress.
It was a very enjoyable evening at 35 New Cavendish with Jon, Simon and Stefanie. I very much hope, as Simon suggests, that we get a chance to do more than just scratch the surface of renewed acquaintance in the near future.
Janie and I were fascinated by the descriptive rubric about this play, so booked to see it as soon as the tickets went on sale, as oft we do for the Hampstead Downstairs.
A few weeks before our booking, I got a message from Dot to say that “they” would be in England the weekend of 23/24 June and wondered if I could recommend a show for them to see and/or it would be nice to meet up. In the event, there were still tickets for this play available and Dot seemed keen to join us.
“They” turned out to be Dot (who came to Z/Yen from the USA as a summer intern a few years ago, recruited by me while I was experimenting with recreational on-line poker using my first ever smart phone – that is certainly an Ogblog story for another day)…
…plus her beau Randy. Randy came to England on this occasion primarily for work purposes, whereas Dot was in transit, on her way to watch some football World Cup live in Russia.
Anyway, it made a change for me and Janie to go to the theatre with some other people – it is years since we last did that. Dot and Randy made excellent company too, bringing a different perspective to the themes raised in the play and indeed interesting perspectives on the current geopolitical maelstrom on both sides of the Atlantic pond.
Before the show, we had a chance encounter with Ollie Goodwin, who was also at the Hampstead but he was watching the upstairs show…so it proved to be a brief encounter. Still, always good to see Ollie.
In those days (2015) the Downstairs studio eschewed official reviews, but the Hampstead’s policy has changed, so you will find official and unofficial reviews through this link – click here. The official reviews are good but not rave reviews, whereas some of the unofficial noise is unequivocally complimentary. My take on it is that the play has its flaws, not least the rapidity of the scene changes and the amount of walking on/walking off that goes on in short scenes, but that the flaws do not detract from the drama, tension and fine acting within the piece. This production is well worth seeing.
It’s not ideally suited for the very squeamish – it is mostly set in a post mortem lab – but I was able to cope with it which means that most people should be OK – the grizzly bits were mostly done with sound rather than visuals. I glanced at one grizzly point to see if our entourage looked OK and assessed that Randy might be as squeamish as me, whereas Janie and Dot were lapping it up. Indeed the two girls looked as though they might, had they lived in late 18th century Paris, have sat in the front row of the guillotine execution sessions, knitting.
After the show, Janie, Dot, Randy and I went to Fora in St John’s Wood for a very tasty Turkish meal and a chance to chat about the issues some more. Randy generously picked up the tab at Fora – he can visit again 😉 – so Janie insisted on dropping the young couple back at the Hotel Intercontinental, bringing a most enjoyable evening to an end. Yes, come to think of it, both of them most certainly can visit again.
Now that’s what I call a theorboQuintessentially French Baroque
This ensemble was recently involved in a French TV series about Versailles – said to be the most expensive ever made in France – here is a short musical extract from the TV programme:
Mercifully for the down to earth SJSS audience, Fuoco E Cenere did not ponce about in 17th Century wigs and outfits for our concert.
Here is a more down to earth vid and interview about Les Folies d’Espagne by Marais, which they did play on the night:
The highlight of this concert, for us, was the singing of the young guest soprano, Theodora Raftis. She has an outstanding voice and tremendous stage presence. She seemed a little overwhelmed by the occasion at first, but it was great to see her warm to her work and become the highlight of the show by the end of the concert. She was clearly well appreciated by the audience and her fellow performers. Remember the name: Theodora Raftis. Not much of her to be found on-line, but here is some Donizetti – trust us, she’s upped her game big time since this vid was recorded:
The Platters
No , we didn’t see a 1950s vocal group, but we did eat charcuterie and cheese platters with salad and a glass of wine between the concerts. I won’t dwell on the shenanigans involved in booking a table and arranging the platters – let’s just celebrate the fact that waiters David and Ramon did us proud and that we thoroughly enjoyed our twixt concert supper.
Paris-Madras
It was this second concert that really inspired me to book the evening – the notion of a fusion of French Baroque and Indian raga music. How on earth might that work? Well, it pretty much did.
Le Concert De L’Hostel-Dieu provided the baroque element. In truth, we got more out of the ragas than we got out of the Leçons de Ténèbres. The wonderful weather of the previous week had turned to miserable cold weather that day, so neither of us was much in the mood for the lamentations of Jeremiah. More seriously, we’d seen the Leçons de Ténèbres quite recently and didn’t realise that the concert would pretty much give us the whole lot un-fused with the ragas…plus ragas unfused with the lamentations.
…artefacts from the raga element
On the ragas, in particular, we liked the bansuri flute and the sarod. Soumik Datta, the sarod virtuoso involved, is far more rock’n’roll than the rest of the performers on show that night. Here is his showreel:
Below is the explanatory vid in French about the Paris-Madras project, in which you can hear Ravi Prasad sing and Patrick Rudant play his flute, as well as the baroque players of course:
The absolute highlight of this concert for us was the few passages when the musicians segued between the two styles and the ending when they all played together. Perhaps they judged the fusion to be risky, so they minimised its use, but to our mind it was a risk that came off big time and the fusion was the reason we went to see the concert.
Anyway, we came out the other side of the evening feeling very pleased with the whole occasion.
An unusual week to say the least. A short one, as the Monday was a bank holiday. The bank holiday weekend weather had been glorious – Janie and I had spent most of the weekend enjoying the benefits of the garden in good weather.
On the Tuesday (8 May) I was asked to join the senior doubles at lunchtime, while I had my regular court booked at 18:00. It was a beautiful day and I was busy writing my pamphlet on Bullshit jobs, so thought that a few hours writing long-hand would do the piece and my posture no harm. I was right.
On the Wednesday morning I went to collect my Estonian e-Residency card, so i am now officially an e-Resident of the Republic of Estonia. Once I had finished my heavy writing sessions, I looked at some Arvo Pärt music in the evening to celebrate my new status.
On Thursday I had a rather frustrating music lesson as my machine kept playing up – in fact all of my machines seemed to be on go slow for some reason. Then Janie and I went to the Pear Tree for dinner with Toni, John and Tom Friend, plus Deni & Tony. Excellent food and an interesting evening.
…before I went on to Lord’s, playing a good game of tennis at 10:00 and then sticking around for the cricket. Janie joined me for most of the final session of the day, before we both went to the Middlesex kit sponsors party, which was fun. Always a nice bunch of people there.
Not only all that, but I got a lot of work done that week too. No wonder I was well-tired by the end of it.
Attempts to get John Random (aka John Burns) to see some real tennis at Lord’s had not gone particularly well, previously, with John being called up to appear in a meerkat advert last time he was due to come see.
So when John called on the afternoon before our arrangement for 6 April, because he had a last minute call to be a 1940’s MP, we both thought the worst.
But in the end, as the call turned out to be 15:00, we still had time 6 April for John to see me play. As it happens, the contest turned out to form part of an unusual type of hat-trick. This was the second of three singles matches in a row in which my opponent had a double-barrelled name. Such names are not exactly rare amongst players of real tennis at Lord’s – but three in a row must be quite a rarity. In any case, I played well (by my own modest standards)…
Hopefully I have come on a bit in the 18 months since this photo was taken
…then John and I took some lunch at Mazi in Notting Hill Gate before he went off to be an historic MP.
I’d forgotten how good a place Mazi is – and so convenient for a local lunch. So when Stephen “Stentor Baritone” Barry got in touch on the following Monday with the good news that the Lord’s tickets we thought had got lost in the post had in fact been returned to him, I suggested we meet at Mazi for a quick bite on the Tuesday to avoid further possible postal misery. A very enjoyable lunch and a good chance to catch up, as we hadn’t seen each other for some months.
The Lord’s tickets in question are for Charles “Charley The Gent Malloy” Bartlett and Nigel “Father Barry White” Hinks, who shall be joining me and Daisy (Janie) on the Saturday of the test match.
But Charley and I had/have some cricket to see in advance of that test match – not least and first up, the opening day of the season at Lord’s – now a traditional meet. I produced a picnic in my traditional stylee. Smoked salmon bagels, Iberico ham muffins and a fine Riesling (Alsatian on this occasion) forming the core.
Gawd it was cold at times that day. But we suffered for our love of cricket and sat it out at the front of the pavilion.
The MCC have been granted permission to use floodlights for the County Championship matches this year, which is a real coup and/but frankly overdue. I understand why local folk didn’t want untrammelled use of floodlights at Lord’s in the evenings, but they cause no disturbance during the day.
We’d probably have had no play at all without the lights and indeed, because it was so gloomy, only got a limited amount of play – about half the day’s play – even with the lights.
Middlesex had of course been inserted by Northants and I thought did well to battle it to 136/4 by the time stumps were drawn.
No shame there, though. John Random had been similarly “stitched up like a kipper” by it. Indeed it seems to have fooled most people.
I dare Ogblog readers who missed the posting over Easter to click through, watch the little vid and work out what was going on.
But enough of Lauds and back to Lord’s…
…play ended a little early and the day ended all too quickly, as always. I shall be joining Charley at Chelmsford next Friday, with the weather forecast suggesting a more pleasant climate for cricket than that gloomy opening day. But it had been worth it for the splendid company and the cricket, of course.
Simon Jacobs very kindly took time out from his hectic promotion schedule to meet me for dinner on Tuesday. Simon’s new single, Sore, came out three days later – today at the time of writing.
You can hear the song and watch the vid on the embedded YouTube below.
The first thing I feel bound to say about our evening on Tuesday is that the song Sore is most certainly not the story of Simon’s evening with me. Neither of us drank excessively, although we did share a bottle of rather jolly Alsatian Riesling, nor did we dance on any tables in a shirtless stylee.
Of course, what Simon did after we parted company on Holland Park Avenue is a matter solely for him, but I can report that the song and video were already in the can by Tuesday, so if Simon’s lyric is reportage, it is reportage of some earlier evening. Come to think of it, it could be reportage of a great many evenings at Keele “back in the day”. but that is an entirely different matter.
Anyway, we dined at the Ladbroke Arms, which had impressed me when I met Kristof there for a drink just before Christmas. I had resolved then to try the food some day soon – so when Simon suggested that I find a gastro-pub near me for our meet up this time, it seemed an ideal choice.
Click picture for link to pub’s site – photo borrowed from that site
The staff took my request for a relatively quiet, corner table literally, so we were in the snug back area in the corner, which actually is a nice quiet spot for a chat.
Simon and I discussed all manner of things, but clearly at the forefront of Simon’s mind was his music career, past and present.
“When I was very young, I briefly joined the Jackson 5”, said Simon.
Now I have known Simon since we were both 15 or so and this was the first I had heard of this matter.
“I know it sounds strange,” said Simon, “because my name isn’t Jackson…”
“…also strange because I don’t recall one of the Jackson 5 being named Simon,” I chimed in, somewhat suspiciously.
“OK, name them all then,” said Simon, confidently.
“Michael, obviously”, I said tentatively, “Tito, Marlon…um…Jermaine…um…um…”
…”and Simon”, said Simon, who then embarked on quite a long story – 45 seconds to a minute – more than my full attention span anyhow – in which I thought he explained that, as a nipper, he imagined himself to have been asked to join his heroes in the Jackson 5 and managed to convince some naive fellow nippers in the park that Simon was now a Jackson.
“It is morally reprehensible to lie about one’s singing career”, I thought quietly to myself, “but if merely a pre-teen fantasy lived out in the park one day, I suppose it is just about forgivable after all these years”.
But when Simon sent me a kind note the following day, he included this factoid:
PS: Marlon, Tito, Jermaine, Simon, Michael… and when Jermaine stayed with Motown and the rest of us went to CBS, little brother Randy joined… it’s all on Wikipedia…
So is it true? Was Simon really a member of the Jackson 5 back then? Or was Simon guilty of generating a bit of early 1970s fake news, which for some reason (presumably to bolster his current musical career) Simon still seeks to perpetuate?
I decided that I would have to investigate this matter for myself.
My first ground for suspicion was that Simon’s surname is Jacobs, not Jackson, so how could Simon Jacobs possibly be “a Jackson”?
Well, actually, Wikipedia puts that matter into clear perspective. The original line up, known as The Jackson Brothers, included “childhood buddies Reynaud Jones and Milford Hite playing keyboards and drums, respectively”.
OK, so it was not unprecedented for a non-Jackson to join the Jacksons. But the Wikipedia entry for that group clearly mentions a brother named Jackie – the one whose name had slipped my mind (and presumably Simon’s too) – who was in the Jackson 5 throughout. So could the Jackson 5 ever have comprised six people?
That’s not quite as daft an idea as it sounds – we all know about the lesser-known fifth Beatle and the lesser-known fourth and fifth Marx Brothers. But the name “Jackson 5” does seem, at least to me, to have a cardinal-numeric requirement to it. When Jermaine left, Randy stepped in to keep the arithmetic pure to the eponymous value “5”.
Yet, even though I could find no textual evidence that the Jackson 5 sometimes exceeded five people, I did find, also through Wikipedia, the following fascinating piece of photographic evidence:
By The Jackson 5 (eBay front back) [Public domain], via Wikimedia CommonsNow sums is not necessarily what I do best, but I am pretty sure that there are six people in that picture which is clearly labelled “Jackson 5 1974” on Wikimedia Commons.
So perhaps Simon really was in the Jackson 5 at one time. I must say that, by the time I got to Wikipedia, all mentions of Simon were omitted from the Jackson 5 entry, but perhaps that is simply some sort of spoiling tactic by Simon’s competitors, who know he has a single coming out today.
So does Simon sound like a former member of the Jackson 5? Does Simon look like a former member of the Jackson 5? I am hopeless at judging these things and am open-minded, so I’m sitting well and truly on the fence for this one.
You, dear reader, should judge for yourself, by listening to Simon’s new single, watching the video and possibly then buying the single, e.g. directly from Simon’s site – click here:
Anyway, as usual, it had been a fun evening chewing the fat with Simon. Big tick in the box for the Ladbroke Arms food and service too.
And to reiterate, I was not sore the next morning…at least not until after I had played two hours of tennis from 8:00 a.m. straight through to 10:00. Then I was very sore.
The above photo of The Red Lion is courtesy of TripAdvisor
When the e-mail came through from the Keele Alumni office, suggesting an informal “Keele In The City” at The Red Lion on Parliament Street, the timing seemed perfect to me.
I expected, by chance, to be in Westminster that afternoon, a few hundred yards away from The Red Lion pub.
This photo of The Red Lion is courtesy of TripAdvisor
I e-mailed Bobbie Scully (who is often at work in the Supreme Court, across the road) and John White (who often hangs around in the Palace of Westminster lobbies) to see if they were around and/or up for it. John said no, while Bobbie said yes to meeting around there, but suggested that we make it a quick drink and then a longer meal to catch up after so long – good thinking in my book.
As it turned out, my afternoon meeting in Westminster was somewhat curtailed, so I sloped back to the flat for a couple of hours, waving at the pub as I descended into the underground, then sloped back to Westminster early evening.
I hadn’t seen Steve for ages. He wasn’t an official photographer for this MBS visit, but apparently he had been the Prime Minister’s official photographer for the general election. He told me one or two things about our dear leader that didn’t surprise me but still horrified me. The word “chaos” is the one that sticks in the memory, perhaps due to frequent repetition.
I returned to Westminster about 18:50, some 20 minutes after the appointed hour with the Keele Alumni but 40 minutes ahead of the sort of time I figured Bobbie might show up.
Derby Street – the side road on one side of the pub – was chock full of police vans, which were themselves ram-packed with policemen. I recalled the wise words of Malcolm Cornelius, formerly of the Keele parish in our day:
“it is extraordinary how many policemen you can get inside one of those vans”.
I wondered whether the police had been tipped off about the Keele Alumni gathering. Facebook, after all, is said to be a fine source of security intelligence. The Keele Alumni announcement was full of key words that might trigger security concerns for the authorities…
I wandered through the pub in search of the basement, then saw the roped off stairs, jumped the barrier, went downstairs and found it was all locked up. Confused, I wandered back through the pub and then got caught up in a massive swarm of policemen on Parliament street, all heading from the vans towards Downing Street.
Now dazed as well as confused, I was unwilling to go back inside the Red Lion, which was absolutely heaving with people – unlike my previous visit there, to decompress after the Payroll Giving Awards. 2011 I think that was, when we held the event at Number 11 Downing Street and I met GOD – I’ll certainly retro-blog that evening in the fullness of time.
Seconds later, a drove of legal-looking folk marched purposefully down the side of Derby Street. Although I recognised no-one, the look and demeanour of this flock could only possibly have been the Keele Law Moot lot.
I joined the throng, as the advanced members of that party threw aside the basement rope and stormed the basement.
“I tried that five minutes ago – it was all locked up down there”, I said, dolefully.
“Oh, don’t worry, they’ll soon negotiate our way in”, said a cheery member of the moot party…
…which indeed they did. Very rapidly. Of course they did. They’d just been mooting all day.
I was assured that no actual donkeys were separated from their actual hind legs in those negotiations. On reflection, by the standards of mooting in the Supreme Court, persuading a publican to open his doors and sell drinks to thirsty Keele Alumni was probably not an especially tough argument to win.
So we were in.
I didn’t recognise anyone, but soon I was approached by a gentleman named George who had studied Psychology and Sociology in the 1970s. We chatted for a while as the moot brigade got their drinks orders in and started to quench their debate-weary thirsts.
Soon after that, Zoë Hollingsworth from the Alumni team came up to me. She had clearly mugged up on some of my post Keele activities and we chatted about charities a bit – a shared interest.
Then a very pleasant surprise – Andrea Woodhouse (formerly Collins) showed up; unexpectedly (to me), although she insisted that she had mentioned her intention to visit on her Facebook page. Perhaps I live on Facebook less than most people, but unless a Facebook posting specifically hails me, I’m unlikely to see a friends posting, unless, quite by chance, I am on-line around the time it is posted. But no harm done – it just made it a nice surprise for both of us on the evening.
Then Bobbie showed up.
Then we all chatted and drank for a while – drinks gatherings are a bit like that.
Around 20:00, Bobbie and I figured we should go and claim our Roux At Parliament Square table, so said goodbye to the drinks party. A shame in a way, as it was a very jolly, not overly noisy and not over-crowded gathering. We’d have enjoyed meeting some more of the people there.
Still, Bobbie and I really wanted to catch up with each other – we hadn’t had a chance to do that for a long time – so a quiet restaurant with some fine food and wine was probably a more suitable setting for that.
Out on the street, the police vans had all gone. The mean streets of Westminster had returned to a more tranquil state – perhaps those dodgy-sounding key words from the Keele Alumni message had now been reinterpreted as benign. Bobbie and I strolled the couple of hundred yards to Roux.
The food at Roux really was superb. They sort-of specialise in tasting menus, but I didn’t really fancy those and Bobbie was happy to go along with a more regular choice of dishes, so we had:
Dorset crab with Apple, Fermented chili, Dashi (Bobbie’s starter);
Pork cheek with Carrot, Ale, Mangalitsa black pudding (my starter);
Venison with Savoy cabbage, Pine, Alsace bacon (Bobbie’s main);
Halibut with Cauliflower, Grape, Tarragon (my main).
Dig those mains – mine in the foregroundA closer look at Bobbie taking a closer look at her main
We even both had a desert. Wines by the glass to complement the food.
It was great to catch up with Bobbie – no excuse really for leaving it so long but we have both had a lot of family stuff to deal with over the past few years, not least conclusive parent stuff.
Bobbie insisted on picking up the tab, noting that she (and Dave) had enjoyed our hospitality several times in succession…
…then Bobbie suggested that, on that basis, she probably should have taken Janie out to dinner rather than me.
I passed on that last reflection to Janie, while showing her the above photos.
Janie expressed envy at the sight of the meal and agreed with Bobbie that she has suffered an injustice…
…I don’t yet know how Janie expects me to redress this matter, but no doubt I’ll find out soon enough…
…I might need some of those Keele moot people to help argue me out of this tight corner.
Heck, but whatever the penalty, it was worth it – a most enjoyable gathering and then dinner.
Thank you, Keele Alumni team, for setting up the evening.
