Diary says that we went out quite a bit midweek that week.
Tuesday 29 May – dinner at Jim Thompson’s at 617 King’s Road. A Thai brasserie type place. With Kim, Micky, Anthea and Mitchell. I think we were far more impressed with our company than we were with the place, which was crowded and noisy.
Thursday 31 May – Marie Logan’s leaving do (from Z/Yen) at The Dive in James Street. Another crowded place, if I remember correctly.
Yogi Berra famously said (although almost certainly did not originate the quip):
“Nobody ever goes there anymore — it’s too crowded.”
That quip certainly seems to have applied to both of these venues, which both closed down not long after our May 2001 visits.
One For The Road sent a driver on something like this
Friday 16 March 2001 – Dinner At Mike & Marianna Smith’s Place In Kennington
I have written at length about me and Janie spending occasional evenings with Mike and Marianna, either at their place or ours. My favourite memory of those – sadly my last memory of seeing Mike, is this one:
There won’t have been music-making in 2001 – that element came later – but there will have been good food and convivial chat. I think, on that occasion, Janie drove and therefore drank little. Mike and Marianna evenings were not particularly boozy affairs, but they were very pleasant ones.
Saturday 17 March 2001 – Dinner At Doug & Paul’s Place In Streatham, Featuring The Duchess And “One For The Road”
Doug and Paul were a couple that Janie and Pauline had met on holiday together before Janie and I got together – presumably 10 years at least before this evening. Pauline had kept in touch with them and they invited the three of us to their house in Streatham for dinner. Their place was just a few blocks away from my parents place, but visiting my folks didn’t come into it.
What did come into it was the use of a chauffeuring service that Janie and I had previously used couple of times, named “One For The Road”. You booked the service to drive you home in your own car. The chauffeur would arrive at an appointed hour on a collapsible bike, which they would stow in the boot of your car while they drove you home.
There was only one problem with this service, which we encountered to our shame on this occasion; you had to pre-book the time of departure.
Janie thought 10:45pm would be ideal after a 7:00 arrival, but she hadn’t accounted for the perfect storm of Doug & Paul’s desire to show off every last feature of their new home, their painstakingly slow preparation/serving of food, together with Pauline’s classic ability to spin out every one of her many yarns when holding forth, interspersed with inter-course cigarettes a plenty.
“…and let me tell you another thing…”
Doug and Paul seemed to be luxuriating in showing us their feature-packed home and listening to Pauline’s fables.
Janie and I, although somewhat refreshed by nibbles and starters, were far from sated, foodwise. More than sated, interior design and Pauline-yarn-wise.
Janie dropped a couple of hints, before expressing significant concern, around 10:00, that our driver was arriving at 10:45 and that we hadn’t progressed yet to the main course.
Doug and Paul hurried themselves to finish preparing and then serve a main dish. The driver arrived while we were still eating that dish. We finished it hurriedly.
Thanks ever so much for dinner, but we really must go now,
said Janie.
But what about dessert?
blurted Doug…or Paul…or both.
The Duchess was a little disappointed. She no doubt had several more tales of her derring-do up her sleeve and had been looking forward to relating them over pudding, coffee and cigarettes.
We never saw Doug and Paul again.
I don’t think we ever used the One For The Road service again either…
On yer bike, son.
…except that, I can see from our appointments diary notes, we did use them again after Kim’s party (mentioned en passant in this piece) a few week’s later.
Janie and I were running around like nuts working that week, ahead of our trip to Cambodia, Laos and Thailand.
Janie’s diary notes a brief visit to Auntie Francis in the St John & St Elizabeth Hospital a few days before she died. I think Janie made that visit solo, as I do not recall it.
My diary page for the relevant week is missing. I think I took it out of the Filofax on the funeral day with the relevant details scribbled on it and never returned the page to the diary. Very rare error from me, that.
But for sure I went to that funeral, as I recall it for three particular things that are ingrained in my meomory.
The first of those things was the rejigging that I had to do in order to attend. I had an important meeting scheduled with a difficult client, which I needed to reschedule quite late in the day in order to attend the funeral and visit the client. I got the logistics of that right, just about, and received sympathy and gratitude from the client at my obvious efforts to fit everything in, rather than the annoyance I half expected from them at the resulting need for a late in the day meeting.
The second of my memories relates to the minutes before…and just after…the start of the funeral. I got to Cheshunt with a good 20-30 minutes to spare. I mean, you don’t get to funerals late, do you?
But there were no signs of Mum, Dad, Michael and Pam as the funeral hour approached. The funeral started. Still no sign of them.
I was a little worried that something might have happened to them. Only a little worried, because I remembered mum telling me that they would be coming as a family pack, via Pam & Michael’s place.
About 10 minutes into the funeral, all four of them sneaked in at the back. Mum had a mixture of embarrassed face and angry face. There ought to be an emoji for such a face. Dad had flustered face. Michael and Pam looked…like Michael and Pam.
Pam and Michael, seemingly unbothered, August 1975
Precise timings isn’t really what Pam’s about.
The other thing I so clearly remember about that funeral is the “stock eulogy” that the Rabbi delivered in honour of Auntie Francis. After the standard facts list of dates (birth, marriage, my cousin Angela’s birth)…the Rabbi eulogised about the kind, gentle, warm-hearted mother that stock eulogies are all about.
I cannot have been the only person in the funeral hall who was thinking, “this doesn’t sound like Auntie Francis”, who was, bless her, a tough old bird, for whom the phrase, “on the lung, on the tongue” might have been written. She was one of only two or three people I ever met who induced fear in my mother.
At one point, Angela was struggling to keep a straight face during the eulogy, which made it even harder for me (and probably several others) to maintain our composure as well.
I resolved there and then to ensure that, in any situation where I had some influence over the funeral proceedings, that stock eulogies delivered by someone who didn’t know the deceased would be off the menu.
Writing 25 years later, I have only recently delivered what I think might be the most challenging eulogy I’ll ever have to make – eulogising Auntie Francis (who had endearing as well as challenging qualities) would be have been a doddle compared with the perils of Pauline:
On the Friday – 2 February, Janie and I had dinner with Kim & Micky at Monty’s Nepalese Restaurant in Ealing – thus spake Janie’s diary. My page is missing in action, remember?
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…
