The Day The England Football Team Won The World Cup Final, Nunu’s House, 30 July 1966

There are very few dates from the early part of my life for which I can write a dated Ogblog piece.

But family folklore, even from a virtually-sports-free household like my parents’ home, kept the memory of this day alive for me.

My parents had been invited to a “watch the final party” in the street – Woodfield Avenue in Streatham. I suspect it was at the house with the biggest TV and my guess is that would have been the Benjamins at No 36 or the Levinsons at No 42; probably the former.

Me, Fiona & Andrew Levinson, probably “that summer”.

Goodness only knows what the other parents did with their children, but the party was to be an adults only affair and mum wanted our cleaner, Mrs Nugent, aka Nunu, to babysit for me.

Strangely, Nunu and her family also wanted to watch the final, but they were willing (possibly even keen) to have a toddler – me – with them. So basically I was bundled off to Nunu’s house. I think it was in Tooting.

For reasons that I am unable to fathom, it seems that my hosts, the Nugent family, were not interested in making a fuss of me to their usual level. I tolerated this for a while, but towards the end of the second half of the match I started to seek more Nugent attention than was forthcoming.

I don’t think Ted Nugent was among them, but I might be mistaken

Mr Nugent, perhaps unwisely with the benefit of hindsight, told me that the match would be over any minute and that we would soon indulge in activity more to my taste. At that point everyone was in a good mood. England were leading 2-1.

They thought it was all over…

…but unfortunately for me and for the Nugent family, an inconsiderate West German (named Wolfgang Webber, I now learn) scored a 90th minute goal, levelling the match.

So when someone from the Nugent family broke it to me that the match was not in fact over as scheduled but that there was to be a further 30 minutes of play, to which they wanted to devote their almost undivided attention…

…I am told this did not go down too well with me.

And quite right too. Why can’t these idiots conclude their football matches on time as promised? Daft sport.

Anyway, the rest is history. An hour or so later all was smiles, celebrations and cup presentations.

I never really did reconcile myself with soccer football after that.

But the strange thing is, my preferred sports, cricket and tennis, tend to have matches that last much longer than soccer matches, with score-related, i.e. temporally-indeterminate breaks and endings.

Go figure.

Mum & Dad’s Holiday In The South Of France, Late October To Early November 1958

I know that my parents had especially fond memories of this holiday. They had a few holidays overseas together before I was born; this was the first of those.

The photo album is dated October 1958 but dad says on an early part of the Standard 8mm film that it is early November, so I guess the holiday spanned the timeframe set out in the headline.

No doubt they enjoyed their third wedding anniversary on this holiday – [insert your own joke along the lines of “000-errr, leather wedding anniversary” here]. I am posting this on 6 November 2022, which would have been their 67th wedding anniversary, which is quite a number with which to conjure. Star sapphire, apparently.

But I digress

Anyway…

…dad’s 8mm film of that holiday is probably his masterpiece in the matter of such holiday films. It has a full soundtrack with dad’s (Peter’s) voice transferred from the original standard 8 film. It includes many scenes from the Côte d’Azur, including Menton, Nice and Cannes. Also a trip to Grasse.

One highlight is dad (Peter) lighting a cigarette using just a magnifying glass. Another highlight is mum (Renée) showing off her legs. But the real highlight is at the end, where you see their car being driven onto the air ferry – there was a brief period when ferrying your car to France by air was the fashionable way to go! Here and below is a link to that classic vid:

They (mostly dad) also took a lot of transparency photographs, which I have uploaded to the web – here and below is a link to the photo album from that trip.

1958 Oct South of France Box One (1)

As a child, I loved looking through our holiday pictures and films, including my parents ones from before I was born. The video of this one was my personal favourite.

John White’s Parents’ Wedding, Reel-To-Reel Recording, 22 October 1958

The background to these reel-to-reel discoveries is documented in the Ogblog piece linked here and below.

A week or so later John messaged me to say that he and Pippa had uncovered a third reel, which was emblazoned with the mysterious words:

Proof. Do not erase.

Actually I guessed that this would probably turn out to be a recording of their parents’ wedding, as John had told me when we were going through the first batch that Pippa was half-exoecting to hear a recording of their parents’ wedding, as she remembered the folks telling her that such a recording existed.

Anyway, in early February 2020 John brought the mystery third spool round to Clanricarde Gardens and my trusty Sony TC377 (combined with the computer) did the rest.

The recording runs to just under 35 minutes and is surely a rare and wonderful relic for the White family to have.

Keith The Cat Displaying Indifference To My Mother’s Embrace, mid 1950s

The King Cricket website has an occasional running feature about cats displaying indifference…mostly to cricket.

Reading a shout out from a friend there desperate for relief from the depths of the Covid-19 pandemic and bad news stories about cricket in the opening overs of 2022…

…I felt powerless to help. I don’t “do” cats. My family hasn’t done cats since before I was born.

But wait – I have a couple of cat pictures in the family archive collection, from the mid 1950s.

The one above is a portrait of Keith, the Harris family cat.

The one below is of Keith in the arms of my mother. I think it is fair to say that Keith looks indifferent to the charms of my mother’s embrace.

Enjoy.

A Hundred Years On…The Mystery Of My Mum, Renée’s, Birth Certificate, May 1922

This year in particular, 2022, I have been excavating various aspects of my family’s origins.

It started with cousin Adam Green writing to Radio 3 about my mother’s cousin Sid…

…then I started looking into my father’s family, initially hindered by some peculiar transcription from the 1921 census…

…latterly aided and abetted by the far more reliable offices of my cousin Angela and some walks around the west end of London.

While some of this was going on, in the spring of 2022, what would have been mum’s hundredth birthday had been and gone.

Within a bundle of papers I dug out while examining the various other stories, I found my mother’s birth certificate. I think it is a somewhat mysterious one.

It appears that my mum’s birth was registered as having occurred on 2 May 1922 on 22 May 1922. It seems that my Grandpa Lew subsequently took the trouble to traipse to the registrar’s office, seek and obtain a dispensation from the Registrar General and thus, some five weeks later, on 26 June 1922, the birth certificate was corrected to 1 May 1922.

This seems to me to be a lot of fuss for a minor correction. What’s in a day?

Perhaps Grandpa Lew thought 1 May to be an especially desirable date of birth. It is Labour Day after all and I know that he (and possibly the immediate family) would have seen that as a significant date for political reasons. Or possibly it was a more simplistic superstition, thinking that the first of the month was auspicious. Or might he simply have spotted it as a mistake and felt honour/duty bound to have an official document corrected.

Almost as mysterious is the fact that my mother was registered with the single, simple forename Renée. There was no precedent in either the Marcus nor my Grandma Beatrice’s family for such a name.

Indeed, I remember as a child there were cousins in the family (Sadie Moliver being one I remember in particular) who were convinced that mum was really named Rene not Renée and insisted on pronouncing her name in the more colloquial, single-e-no-accent manner.

The birth certificate proves that mum really was registered as Renée, but why?

I can only imagine that my grandparents were naming her after a well-known person, much in the manner that certain names crop up these days when a singer, performer or sports personality becomes iconic.

I can only find a couple of Renées who might have been thought of as stars at that time. Renée Adorée has a proliferation of acute accents, in my opinion and certainly looks the part.

Renée Adorée

But I think Renée Adorée’s silent movie fame in the UK would have been limited that early in the 1920s, even if, like Grandpa Lew, you have a couple of nephews, Sid & Harry, in the cinema orchestra business.

A better bet might be Renée Mayer, who had been a child star, a star of stage and was also making it in the silent movies in the UK in the early 1920s.

Renée Mayer – Bassano Ltd Bromide Creative Commons

We’ll never know. I did ask mum once, but she demurred with “I think they must have just liked the name”.

Grandpa Lew & Grandma Beatrice – what were you thinking?