Victor was Kim’s dad who, after being widowed, had remarried, confusingly a woman named Kim. Janie used to refer to Victor’s Kim as:
Kim The Chickidoo
…to distinguish her from “our” Kim.
Not much memory remains of that particular evening. I’m sure Janie will have cooked a super meal and I’m sure that, by then, Janie and I took it for granted that I’d stay.
Janie’s diary says that she went to an SAC (chiropody committee) meeting on the Sunday afternoon. I recall that she was quite frustrated with committee stuff when we first met and that her “being on the committee” days didn’t last long into our relationship.
Nor did Janie’s midweek French lessons, not that they were getting in the wway of anything we wanted to do together…I think Janie felt she wasn’t getting much out of them.
I have more than a sneaking suspicion that Janie, Kim & Micky turned up with a view to surprising me that evening. I’m pretty sure I’d have written more in the diary otherwise. I also do not recall missing out on the writers’ meeting to be with those three, although I do recall us sitting together to watch the show.
The running order from that week is missing, presumed dead, sadly.
But I do, strangely, have the running order and writers’ list from the following week:
I say “strangely” because I wasn’t at the Canal Cafe the following week (Janie and I were in Stratford), nor indeed for the next few weeks, with a mixture of work and Janie commitments. But some kind person saved the running order and writers’ sheet for me.
Why?
Because that late October to early December 1992 run was “peak Harris” in the material use department. Eight of my songs on one show. Too many, frankly.
Whose handwriting is that renaming the show after me?
When Janie, Kim & Micky came to the show, I think there were probably only three or four of mine in the show. I say “only”, I considered three or four pieces to be a good return. I’m guessing:
I especially remember Kim latching on to the Kate Adie one – she still (27 years later) teases me with the opening line of it sometimes.
The irony of the following run, which was “peak Harris” material-wise and also “peak Harris” other commitments-wise is not wasted on me. Looking through my diary, I could only have got to see that run once, in late November, hot-footing it from a works team evening in the City, probably just to see the show.
The Director was Michael Eriera who was clearly not offended by my absence, as he and his team used a lot of my material the next time he directed, in mid 1993. I was a better attendee thee next time around for Michael.
But the $64M questions are:
who was the kind person who saved the 29/30 October 1992 papers for me in my absence?
who was the mischievous person who renamed the show on the writers’ sheet?
My diary is a bit of a confusion for that evening – indeed all that it reads is “Madness”…
…which I’m sure means “The Madness of George III”. But my theatre log is very clear that 17 October was this particular evening with John and Mandy and my diary also shows that “George III” reigned on 30 September for me:
What I think happened was that Bobbie, once again, could not make the planned theatre visit to see Madness of George III on 17 October, but was very keen to see that play. I vaguely recall Bobbie arranging a ticket swap with friends so that she/we could see “Madness” midweek a couple of weeks earlier and her friends got the prized Saturday night tickets that I had procured.
That freed up the evening of 17 October for Janie to meet John and Mandy and for all of us to see Death And The Maiden, which was still one of the hottest tickets in town that year, even though Juliet Stevenson (who had wowed audiences as the lead) had moved on.
Penny Downie played the lead in the cast we saw, which, as super subs go, is pretty darned super. Danny Webb and Hugh Ross played the male parts.
Janie and I are struggling to remember what other arrangements we made with John and Mandy around this evening. I think we might have had Chinese food in Soho with them before or after the theatre. Perhaps Mayflower? Or Joy King Lau in those days?
I also realise that my diaries at that time are littered with clues that John and Mandy must have recently moved house around that time:
Guessing that John and Mandy moved to Dangan Road that August, hence the address and phone number scrawled on 12 August……did I really escape the carnival 30 August to join John and Mandy in the George at Wanstead 30 August? Guessing that “birthday thing” 28 August would have been with my parents, but I’m not entirely sure about events of that weekend other than the 29 August hot date with Janie.
Anyway, on the day I am writing this up (29 August 2017), we shall be seeing John and Mandy later in the day, so I’ll pick their brains on these matters this evening and update this piece accordingly.
The play is set in an unspecified nation emerging into democracy from brutal dictatorship. Ariel Dorfman was a Chilean exile during the Pinochet years and the brutal regime is clearly based on that one. It is one of those hugely affecting plays about torture and the abuse of power. It brings to mind also One For The Road by Harold Pinter and Fermin Cabal’s Tejas Verdes.
I’m sure we did something after the play – perhaps we did eat afterwards. For sure we’d have needed a drink. For sure we found a way to discuss and decompress together for a while.
I remember being very pleased that John, Mandy and Janie all seemed to get along so well; in that regard alone the evening was a tremendous success (to use John’s favourite adjective). But it was also an excellent evening of theatre and I’m sure we must have eaten and drunk well…if only Janie and I could remember those details too.
Postscript: A strange coda to this story. Both Janie’s and my diairy say “The Madras House” for this evening, not “Death And The Maiden”. But my log says Death And The Maiden and I have no recollection of going to the Lyric with John and Mandy to see The Madras House – Janie and I saw that play at The Orange Tree many years later. Did we make a late switch of play choice or have the memories and documentary records got into a terrible muddle? I think probably the former.
Another of those early dates when the weekends were someowhat otherwise committed but Janie and I ended up doing somthing together.
My diary says “Annalisa?”for the Friday evening. Janie’s says Questor’s Theatre (with her mum) on the Saturday.
But we both went to Cathy’s party on the Sunday. I’m pretty sure this is Cathy Dyson’s party. I’m pretty sure we’re taking Stoke Newington and I’m pretty sure Cathy and Bruce Martin were an item by then.
The details of the events of the party are lost in the mists of time…
Not too sure what we got up to this day. In the early days of our relatioship, we had other commitments already pre-arranged. This particular weekend, Janie had her twin Phillie for the weekend, but was expecting to be clear for lunch at Kim’s on the Sunday.
I saw Caroline on the Saturday evening – almost certainly a dinner in a quite fancy but not OTT place) and had another of those “Bridge?” things in my diary for the Sunday. I’m pretty sure that means it fell through.
I have also written:
…not Kim…2.00…Jane
…so I’m guessing the Kim lunch idea fell through and that this was one of the first occasions that Janie and I had a late lunch and spent the latter part of a Sunday together.
Janie and I don’t remember enough about this evening.
I had played bridge at Andrea’s place with the gang (probably Daniel and Maz back then) the night before.
Janie had taken patients on the Saturday morning, as she did in those days.
I know it was the first time I met Anthea. I know we went out to Bethnal Green – down Anthea’s way. I wrote down Anthea’s address for the purpose.
We went to an ethnic restaurant quite near to Anthea’s place in Bethnal Green.
Janie and I both think there were other people there that evening; not just we three, but for the life of us we cannot figure it out. Anthea just might.
We ended up back at Janie’s place that night; that much Janie and I both certainly remember.
We’re not sure how long I stayed, but I do have an electronic record of lyrics written onthe Sunday time stamped bbetween 17:00 and 18:00. So I’ll guess I stayed for some brunch.
So the invitation to Kim’s the following Friday must have come hot on the heels of a positive report from Janie on the Street of Crocodiles date…
…or at least not a negative report.
Intriguingly, there is also a note in Janie’s diary that she had a new bed delivered on Tuesday 1 September. Janie claims that the timing of the bed purchase must be pure coincidence. I am tempted to believe her and I am sure that all you sweet Ogblog readers are similarly convinced by the “must be” argument.
Anyway, for Friday 4 September, the suggestion was that we gather for some early evening tennis in the Square and then eat5 at Kim & Micky’s place afterwards.
I think the pre-refurbishment look of the courts in 1992 can just be seen on the second court at the back of this picture.
Anyway, we were returning to the scene of the 8 August crime (as it were), with Kim, Micky and their dogs Charlie and Jumper in tow. In truth, even though I was no doubt sober on arrival, tennis peppered with dogs wanting to chase the balls all the time is not exactly great tennis.
But it was great company, of course. In any case, the wine would soon start to take effect making the tennis seem less important and the idea of sloping back to Kim & Micky’s place for more wine plus food increasingly appealing…
…so that’s what we did.
Janie recalls we did this more than once, but the evenings were drawing in and soon tennis was off the agenda for Friday evenings even though gathering after work on a Friday was something we did quite regularly (i.e. once every few weeks) in this early months/years.
Sunday 20 September shows Kim & Micky tennis in Janie’s diary, whereas it says “Bridge?” in mine. I don’t think the bridge happened. Janie had been to the Questors Theatre with her mum the night before. More on the Questors anon. Anyway, I do think we spent that Sunday afternoon with Kim & Micky, plus Charlie and Jumper making tennis havoc.
Ossobuco – picture by Stu Spivack via Wikipedia Commons
Since I published my “25th anniversary of meeting Janie” piece last week, I have had, literally, several people ask me how Janie and I ever got it together after she refused to give me her telephone number the first time we met.
The answer, of course, is “ossobuco”.
It happened like this.
After Janie’s refusal to give me her telephone number, I simply assumed that she wasn’t interested at all and I got on with my next week. My next week looked like this.
My guess is that I was actually out every evening that week apart from the Monday – I probably had impromptu drinks/food with work colleagues Thursday and Friday evening.
Saturday evening I can see was a dinner with Caroline at the Pavilion in Poland Street. This will have been her birthday bash on the eve of that landmark day. (Happy birthday, Caroline, if by chance you read this piece on the day I post it).
I have had an exchange of messages with Caroline to establish what happened – I’m sure there were quite a few of us there at The Pavilion that evening. She replies:
I have to say that with the help of your diary your memory is much better than mine. The restaurant is in fact exactly the same now as then. It was a local from when I was working at the Burton group. Vasco and Piero ran it all those years ago. The food was always excellent. The decor was very pink! It’s amazing how quickly 25 years go.
I’m not sure what I ate at the Pavilion but I am sure that it was an Italian dish but not ossobuco.
The other thing I remember clearly, although the diary is silent on this matter, is that I went out for an impromptu lunch on the Sunday with Annalisa. We went to Lee Fook on Westbourne Grove, a Chinese restaurant near my flat which was very much one of my favourites at the time. The excellent chef there was named Ringo, I remember that wonderful fact too.
If that review ever bites the dust on the ES site, I’ve saved the Wayback machine the trouble on this one by scraping it here.
In short, by mid-afternoon I had eaten my fill that weekend and ambled home after lunch.
The telephone was ringing off the hook as I walked through the door.
I should point out, at this juncture, that, in those days, I had no answering machine for my phone. No cellphone either. Just the one, old-fashioned telephone.
“At bloody last”, said a female voice.
“Hello”, I said, “who’s calling?”
“It’s Janie, we met at Kim’s party last week.”
“Oh, hello”, I said, intrigued.
“You are impossible to get hold of”, said Janie, “I have tried to call you loads of times. Your answering machine isn’t switched on.”
“I don’t have an answering machine”, I said, while thinking to myself that if she had given me her telephone number in the first place she might have spared herself these difficulties.
“I have been out rather a lot this week”, I continued, “in fact, if I sound a little out of breath, it’s because I have just been out to lunch and heard the phone ringing as I came up the stairs.”
“Oh, that’s a bummer,” said Janie, “I was going to invite you over for ossobuco with Kim and Micky this evening, but if you have already eaten you obviously don’t want…”
“…no, hold on a moment”, I persevered, “I love ossobuco and I’d very much like to join you, Kim and Micky for dinner. But if I don’t eat a vast quantity of food, you’ll know the reason why. Is that a deal?”
“OK”, said Janie.
“You’ll have to give me your address and telephone number now”, I said, trying hard not to sound triumphal about it.
Given that the only way to resolve the matter was now for Janie to phone me, they came up with this “chaperoned Sunday evening meal at Janie’s place” idea. The only problem with that grand scheme was that Janie had tried and failed many times to phone me; basically because I wasn’t at home much and only took telephone messages through work in those days.
But all’s well that ends well.
The evening was a great success. I didn’t have room for seconds but I did discover that Janie can cook a mean ossobuco. Even to this day, we think of slow cooked shin of veal (not always done ossobuco style but all variants qualify in our book) as “our dish”.
Just feast your eyes on it again. Yum.
Osso Bucco – picture by Stu Spivack via Wikipedia Commons
All the diary entry says is “Kim & Michel 1:30”. A daytime, summer party. But that summer party was no ordinary passing event for me…nor for Janie.
On that day, at that party, Janie and I first met.
Writing this piece 25 years (to the day) after the event, my recollection of the day is a bit patchy.
I hadn’t seen Kim and Micky for some time; since my back injury, two year’s before, I had been a bit less sociable and had not been so good at keeping in touch with people. I remember being pleasantly surprised when Kim called, out of the blue, to invite me to that party.
There were quite a lot of people at the party – a few dozen I would guess. I chatted at some length with a pair of lively, friendly “girls”; Anthea – a photographer friend who had been at school with Kim, as had the other young woman, Jane, who was Kim’s chiropodist friend.
I vaguely recalled Kim having spoken with me in the past about these good friends; in particular Jane. I also recalled Rene Knight (who worked for Kim’s family for many years) telling me a funny story about Jane.
When Kim first started dating Micky, Rene mentioned to Jane that Micky was from Belgium and also that Kim’s new hot-shot boyfriend drove a Mercedes. Jane had asked whether the Mercedes was petrol or diesel. Rene wondered why Jane wanted to know. Jane told Rene that a Belgian diesel Mercedes must be a cab and that, if the Mercedes was diesel, Micky was clearly not the hot-shot he held himself out to be. Rene passed on this pearl of wisdom to Kim, who confirmed that the car was indeed propelled through the use of diesel fuel. By all accounts, Kim challenged Micky with this “fact” about his occupation the next time she saw him, but, despite Janie’s error of judgment on that matter, Kim & Micky progressed with their relationship and the two of them persevered with Janie’s friendship.
In some ways it is odd that Janie’s and my path hadn’t crossed before, through Kim & Micky, but in the late 1980s, when I would see Kim & Micky socially a few times a year, it tended to be dinner or lunch parties and I guess they saw Janie and me as part of different circles. In any case, we were both otherwise attached most of the time during those years.
Anyway, Janie and I ended up as part of a smaller group that was still around into the early evening, at which point Kim suggested that we all go across the square and play tennis.
I had just started playing tennis again post injury, although quite tentatively still. Goodness only knows how useless I was after quite a few drinks at the party. But most of us had been drinking quite heavily, so I don’t suppose the quality of the tennis was very high.
I’m struggling to remember who was still around for that impromptu tennis. Janie, Kim and Micky of course; I think also Gary & Clifford. Perhaps Anthea also, but I have a feeling that she ducked out before the tennis. Others might remember.
I do recall thinking that Janie was pretty good at tennis. It probably helped that she was the only sober person among us. It also helped that she had grown up in a house with a tennis court and sisters to play with, but I didn’t know that fact at the time.
Janie had mentioned several times that she had driven to the party in her car and therefore wasn’t drinking. After the tennis, I asked her if she could drop me at a tube station. She said that she would, but that she wasn’t prepared to go out of her way and that the only tube station she’d be passing was Hanger Lane. That was ideal for me, as Hanger Lane and Notting Hill Gate are on the same line.
Janie and I chatted some more on the fifteen minute car journey.
She said that she liked poetry.
When she stopped the car to drop me off, I asked Janie for her telephone number.
Janie said no.
In order to get out of the car with my dignity intact, I took from my wallet one of those sticky labels with my name, address and telephone number on it. I stuck the label on her steering wheel, saying, “in that case, you can have my address and telephone number”.
Janie thanked me and said that she would write me a poem.
