The diary notes simply tell us that we went to The Ruts for this party.
Photography had only just recently been invented back then, so we didn’t take any pictures. Someone might have taken pictures. Someone might even supply me with one from that event in the fullness of time.
I do have a handful of pictures of a young Caroline (see headline picture) and I have seen photographs of Alan from way back when.
I remember lots of people. I remember terrific grub – much of that was no doubt down to Jackie (Caroline’s mum) – and I remember Janie and I having a good time at that party.
Why a picture of me eating wonton soup? Because our diary notes for Hil & Chris’s weekend visit are light on detail, other than Janie’s “menu”:
Wonton soup;
Shin of veal;
Triffle [sic].
Despite the trifling spelling mistake, I expect the desert was just as enticing as the other courses. The wonton soup will have been my contribution and it will have been excellent.
I have even less intelligence on the first seasonal Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner. It was a Cafe Rogues [spelling mistake intentional] in Maida Vale. But the soon-to-be traditional sounding of the alarms and post mortem e-mails from John Random were not forthcoming back then…
…or if they were forthcoming, they self-destructed in five seconds or something like that.
I don’t think the tradition of quizzing and trophy awarding got started as early as that first Christmas, but I might be wrong.
I’m leaving it to Random to do whatever archaeology he can, be it excavation of ancient scrolls, old computers or his own brain, to see if any further information survives.
No pressure, John, but this one is all down to you.
I had been a bit of a Kinky Friedman fan for a while before I met David Seidel. Michael Mainelli had recommended/lent two or three of Kinky’s novels to me, which I had very much enjoyed. Elvis, Jesus & Coca-Cola is a title I especially remember.
Also, fascinated by the idea that a group could even be moderately successful with the name Kinky Friedman & the Texas Jewboys, I had bought a couple of his albums on CD and found myself listening to them surprisingly often. Sold American in particular pleased me – here’s a link to the album on YouTube Music. I also have a copy of Lasso From El Passo – here’s the YouTube Music link to that one.
Anyway…
…Kinky came up in conversation with David Seidel one day, as well it might have done, given our shared interest in humorous music. David said that Kinky was due to play Brighton in November and that he and Rachel planned to go, as they lived out that way – Hove, actually.
Would Janie and I like to…
…naturally, that Sunday meet up was set.
I remember that afternoon/evening fondly. We started off at David & Rachel’s house – I think it might have been the first time that Janie and I met Rachel, then went under their local guidance to the show.
I’m pretty sure we all thought the show was good fun.
I remember talking about Janie’s and my visit to the Royal Court the previous evening and agreeing that we would arrange a reciprocal visit to London for the Royal Court in the new year, which we did.
But the centrepiece of the evening was Kinky Friedman, accompanied by but one of the former Texas Jewboys, Little Jewford, who was the last of that sub-tribe.
The following previous piece by Clark Collis in The Telegraph (of all sources) provides more background than most readers will want about Kinky and that tour…with plenty even for the most diligent readers.
Article from 18 Nov 2000 The Guardian (London, Greater London, England)
Kinky’s performances at that time looked a bit like this. Trigger warning – Kinky Friedman parodied bigots and misogynists by using their style of language, some of which is very offensive:
And if you would like to learn more about Kinky through a documentary, here’s a 50+ minute documentary made about a year after that concert.
I have previously written at length about the shock and loss felt by us Canal Café comedy writers (and all else who knew him) when Ivan Shakespeare died suddenly and unexpectedly in February 2000:
John Random liaised with Ivan’s de facto widow, Elspeth, to put on a tribute show in Ivan’s memory, in late October that year. Naturally Janie and I went to see the show.
It was a little ironic that the show was on the night after Janie and I went to see Light at the Almeida, as we would often see Ivan there. Ivan was a regular volunteer at the Almeida; this I ascertained very soon after I got to know him through comedy writing. Indeed Janie probably knew Ivan better from chats at the Almeida than through NewsRevue.
To my shame, I forgot to pick up a programme that night…
…but that doesn’t matter a jot, because John Random, who directed the show, clearly did not forget to preserve the programme, which has naturally emerged as part of John’s & my NewsRevue archaeology project:
NewsRevue stalwarts Genevieve Swallow, Stephan Bessant and Mark Brailsford performed the words of the show, while equally stalwart NewsRevue-ista Jenny Gould tinkled the ivories.
The material from the show would have born a startling resemblance to the anthology of Ivan Shakespeare material gathered by the Kim Morrisey at the ComedyCollective Writers Project, mercifully preserved on the Internet Archive – click here for the index to Ivan’s preserved oeuvre.
If you only look at one piece, I would recommend my favourite Ivan song lyric, The Farmers’ Song – click here. I can never hear The Archers theme music without thinking of Ivan and that lyric…
…which, as a fairly regular Radio Four listener, means that I think of Ivan and the lyric quite often.
I learnt of Ivan’s passing a few days later, I believe.
I recall John Random phoning me and also asking me what I thought he should say in the Independent newspaper obituary piece he had been asked to write. I remember saying that I thought the irony, dying while undertaking activity to try and get fit, would not have been wasted on Ivan. I was chuffed that John used that idea at the start of his obituary – transcribed in the biography above and scanned, with thanks to John Random, below.
John has also, kindly, scanned one or two other obituary pieces:
Along with several other fellow NewsRevue writers, I attended Ivan’s funeral at Hoop Lane Crematorium. I remember the comedic touch of Ivan’s trademark hat sitting atop the coffin. I remember feeling so very sad for Elspeth, Ivan’s partner.
I remember how awkward everyone felt; we were a comedic lot, struggling to deal with a tragic situation. To what extend could/should we make light of any part of the event? To be sure it was not a time for mordant or sardonic humour. I concluded that many comedy writers are, at heart, amongst the most maudlin people on earth.
Yet a magnificent thing emerged from this tragedy.
A few week’s before his untimely death, Ivan sent an e-mail to the few of us who were already e-mail friendly, suggesting that, although several of us had started to drift away from the regular NewsRevue gatherings, it would be nice to meet occasionally in any case, perhaps dine together, perhaps watch the show or perhaps both.
A few of us at the funeral concluded that we really must implement that lovely idea. John Random picked up the mantle and we have met several times a year, every year, since.
The first was, I think, around May 2000. I’ll write it up in the fullness of time. I have written up most of the more recent ones – see above link (repeated here). The next one (at the time of writing) is scheduled for early April 2020.
Ivan would have loved those events. He would also have loved the idea that he initiated and caused them.
“Surprise” Party For Elisabeth Mainelli, Lady Daphne, 2 December 1999
Janie has written directions to St Katherine’s Dock in excruciating detail in her diary for that event. I merely wrote “surprise! boat”.
I have a funny feeling that this surprise party was not the best kept secret in the City that year. I sensed that Elisabeth feigned surprise rather than was seriously surprised.
It would have taken quite a ruse to lure her to the boat in December on the evening of her birthday without some suspicion arising.
Still, I recall that it was a good party.
Caroline’s Engagement Party, The Ruts, 4 December 1999
We moved our Hedda Gabler theatre tickets from the Saturday to the Friday in order to attend this party.
I hope Caroline and Alan appreciate being given priority over Francesca Annis for our Saturday night entertainment.
*Spoiler Alert* The Caroline and Alan story had a happier ending than Hedda Gabler.
Joking apart, it was a great party as I remember it. Caroline’s mum went to town producing amazing grub for the party and there was a very happy buzz about the evening.
Z/Yen Seasonal Event – Park Inn, Wellington Terrace W2, Preceded By Drinks At Ian’s Newly Refurbished Flat, 17 December 1999
Sofa, so good – the living room in my flat
This was one of the more memorable Z/Yen seasonal events…but mostly for the wrong reasons.
Firstly, there was a mad rush to get my flat ready to accommodate the drinks party at mine ahead of the dinner at The Park Inn. Gavin’s snail-like progress was doing Janie’s and my head in – it would have been TOO embarrassing to have had to relocate the drinks because the flat wasn’t ready.
At one point- I think it was the preceding Friday as Janie and I both took that day off for this purpose – Janie even ended up on her hands and knees helping Gavin to varnish the floorboards – subjected to the indignity not only of doing the work for which we were paying but being bossed around by Gavin in the style that had put off his many attempts at engaging assistants:
GAVIN: NO! Don’t do it like that! Do it like this!
JANIE: Does it really make a difference, Gavin? I can’t see the difference and we need to get this finished.
GAVIN: NO! NOT LIKE THAT!
To add to the problematic nature of this event, several member of staff went down with an especially nasty lurgy in the days running up to the event. I think in the end only about seven or eight people attended, one of whom was Linda Cook who turned up despite feeling under the weather and ended up crashing out on my (brand new) bed and then going home rather than staying for dinner.
Fortunately, we knew May at The Park Inn so well that the constantly reducing of numbers and the eventual relatively small table was all handled with her usual professional and service-oriented demeanour, so all who ate, ate well.
No quizzes and no Secret Santa yet. Linda got into her stride from the early 2000s onwards in those regards.
Michael wrote the song that year…
Toil and Play
God rest ye Z/Yen par-tic-i-pants, There’s no point in dismay Remember Christmas parties All end in disarray Don’t save yourself from whiskey’s pow’r You might as well a’stray
O tidings of bromo and fizz Bromo and fizz O tidings of bromo and fizz
From year to year we reappear And wonder all the same How business so chaotic With such an awful name Can still inspire Nippon songs And ever-woeful games
O tidings of toil and play Toil and play O tidings of toil and play
But when to Ze-e-Yen they came Where their dear project lay And found us all hung-over But still prepared to pay We found our invoice quick and fast And saved ’em from May-Day
O tidings of toil and pay Toil and pay O tidings of toil and pay
Only Michael could choose the words “bromo and fizz” to replace comfort and joy. It seems that Bromo-Seltzer has a long and (in)glorious history in song lyrics. Who knew? (Well, Michael did, obviously). Perhaps you had to be there…or to have sent a sick note at the time…to get the gist of that song.
In Janie’s diary for Sunday 14 November, but not mine, the following reminder – presumably based on me saying to Janie, “let’s not forget to listen to…”
The Attractive Young Rabbi. Barry Grossman. 11:30 Radio 4.
Tracy-Anne Oberman was also a NewsRevue (or more specifically, SportsRevue) alum, so this series was definitely a tribute to our NewsRevue “Class of ’92”.
There’s Barry in the Guinness World Record photo, with specs, holding the award.
I enjoyed listening to The Attractive Young Rabbi again. It is quintessentially BBC Radio Four comedy.
Postscript: Barry Grossman Writes…
Thanks Ian, except you and Janey [sic] must have missed it because it was actually on Friday, the 12th of November.
And there were no i-players, BBC Sounds or internet archives in those more innocent times. Perhaps you taped it on your reel-to-reel tape recorder the size of a house and listened to it on the Sunday.
I responded to Barry as follows:
Weird but clearly true that the broadcast was on the Friday not the Sunday, yet the note is unquestionably written in the Sunday section of Janie’s diary.
My guess is that Janie wrote the note there because the Friday page was completely crammed with patient appointments. The Saturday block is covered in notes about something completely different and unintelligible. So the only space for an additional note on that page was the Sunday block.
Quite right that there was no public domain technology to help us listen at an alternative time, but Janie did have a midi hi-fi thing in the maisonette that would enable you to record onto cassette from the radio. I was out visiting clients that day, but she would have been able to press the record button on her midi gadget at the appointed hour. My guess is that the note was a reminder to do that.
No gargantuan reel-to-reel tape recorder available at that time – that device lives in the flat and the flat was being refurbished that autumn. Probably just as well – Janie was reluctant enough to press a “record” button on a bog-standard midi system. My reel-to-reel would have seemed like something out of Mission Impossible to Janie…
Everyone who was anyone dined at Nobu back then…and so did we. I recall the meal being fabulous and I also realise that it was the first (but far from the last) time I tasted black cod in miso sauce. Exquisite.
Lammas – returning to the scene some years later
Back then we played tennis at Lammas Park Tennis Courts every weekend – much as we now play at Boston Manor. It was run by a chap named Larry and his belle, whose name escapes me. When things went awry between those two (not long after this party) things went rapidly downhill at Lammas Park until we had long since escaped and then the place got taken over by Will To Win (or initially one of its predecessors).
Anyway, this bank holiday party was billed as “party – bring wine”. Which we did. It was informal and fun I’m sure.
…I discover in Daisy’s diary, unquestionably in my handwriting…
Move Geddy To Country Quarters
(Ealing)…
..immediately after, in Daisy’s own writing, “10:00 Shola tennis”.
We were having a bit of tuition from Shola that summer at Lammas Park. This paid dividends for us in ways we would never have expected, when the Lammas Park set up went tits-up a few months later and Shola helped us to find “refugee status” at the then yet to be refurbished Boston Manor courts, where we play to this day (25 years later).
But I digress.
Move Geddy to country quarters was a temporary measure. I had bought the Clanricarde Gardens flat that summer and arranged for the very talented (but ultimately volatile) Gavin to refurbish the flat for me.
This was to be a bit of a tester for me and Janie. We’d been going out together for seven years by then. Could we live with each other for six weeks. I mean, it was only going to be for six weeks…
…but naturally those six weeks turned into four months…
My diary reminds me that I went to a lunchtime party at Theodore Goddard’s offices (at the invitation of Graham Stedman) to witness the total solar eclipse, which the celestial bodies had obviously arranged to honour my father’s 80th birthday.
I think I made my way to Woodfield Avenue by public transport from that party, while Janie brought the car having spent the earlier part of the day working. I’ll rephrase that: I spent the earlier part of the day working by dint of being “looked after” by our company lawyers, while Janie had a more regular working morning in the company of several pairs of feet.
In those days, Janie obviously still thought of crossing the river to visit my parents as a major expedition beyond her normal boundaries. Her appointment diary entry reads:
3.00 pm – leave London for Peter’s party.
…in Streatham, which, apparently, is not in London. Anyway…
…the party went swimmingly well.
I’m struggling to remember who was there and we only have a handful of photos from that party, which were in “Mum’s Photo Box”, identifying only a few of the guests.
Pam and Michael Harris were there, as evidenced pictorially. The neighbours were there, in the form of Eardley and Adrienne Dadonka, plus John & Lily Hogan. Peter Harris (no relation) from next door confirms that he was away, unfortunately. Norman and Marjorie Levinson were there, the pictures prove. I remember Lionel and Dina Aarons being there. I’m sure that Stanley and Doreen Benjamin would have been there if around, as would Malcolm and Delia Cedar, John & Angela Kessler (my cousin, Dad’s niece), Len and Jacquie Briegal (cousins and close friends from Mum’s side), plus Leatrice Levene (Arnold had recently died back then). But I have a feeling quite a lot of “the usual suspects” were away.
I think there were about 20 people there all in all. The size of the crowd didn’t matter – Dad was no Trump (a little August 2024 topical joke there, as I write 25 years after Dad’s event). Dad had a great time as evidenced by the couple of photos I have inherited. I wonder who took them? They are the only pictures I have of the Woodfield Avenue living room from that angle, pretty much as it looked for most of mum’s life and nearly half of Dad’s.
I’m so glad that we did throw the party Dad wanted on that auspicious day. Dad wasn’t really a party person, but most of the time he did know how to have fun.
I know who took this picture of Dad: Me. August Bank Holiday Weekend, 1977.
