Unfortunately Charley The Gent could not join us this year, so we added a late substitute to the group of five – Jonny “Twophones” Hurst, a friend of mine from NewsRevue. As part of his initiation into the Heavy Roller clan, Jonny & I spent some hours together during the Ireland test match a couple of weeks earlier.
The other four of us were me, Daisy, Nigel “Father Barry” Hinks and Harish “Harsha Ghoble” Gohil.
But before all of that, my now traditional stop off in Leamington for some medicinal tennis with the good doctors of that town.
Not just tennis, but a very pleasant lunch, after a very entertaining tennis match that was a close-fought affair. Five of us (four players plus Janie) sat down and the time flew by, such that I started to worry that we’d get no food and/or be late for dinner.
By the time Janie and I had done the picnic shopping, located our lovely digs in Moseley and unpacked, it was more or less time to meet Harish and Nigel for dinner. (Jonny chose to join us at the ground the next morning).
Early start for me as there was a picnic to pull together. Then a 25 minute stroll to the ground for me and Daisy. Bit of a queue, but not too bad at 10:15. We guessed that 5 or 10 minutes earlier the next day would be easier yet. We were right.
Daisy enjoyed photographing the pre match hullabaloo and our reaction to it.
Daisy also likes to photograph people behind the Eric Hollies Stand. Those people don’t seem to mind.
Who knew that Lord Farquaad and Princess Fiona were test cricket fans?
The weather was glorious and the cricket was captivating throughout our time at Edgbaston – indeed the whole match was a cracker.
We were all exhausted at the end of Day One, so went back to our respective diggings and regrouped the next morning.
Saturday 17 June 2023 – Day Two
Daisy took some more pictures during the lunch interval of Day Two.
She also persuaded our mystery lunchtime visitor to take a picture of us…
…then Ged took a picture of the mystery visitor with the Nigel, Daisy and Harish. All the while, Jonny Twophones was off on some mystery mission of his own.
Sam, who was said “mystery guest” wrote up his (apparently) terrifying experience on King Cricket, linked here and below:
In the matter of having a picture of all five of us rollers, Harish put matters right, photographically, with the following five-face selfie – very deft:
Of course it was not the same without Chas, but it was still a monumental Heavy Rollers occasion, with great company, good food and amazing cricket, lovely cricket.
In a minor break with tradition, we gathered at that Mexican institution, Cafe Pacifico, in Covent Garden this year, at Andrea’s excellent suggestion.
In compliance with the strict traditions of our group, Andrea was late. In the modern era, Andrea is able to pre-announce her tardiness by sending a message to everyone explaining why, on this one occasion, she has been delayed. It always feels in keeping with our long-established social mores. If Andrea is ever to be on time I think she should message us to warn us of that – the shock of her timely arrival might be too great for some of our ageing tickers.
Andrea back then
Anyway, it is always worth the wait to see Andrea, just as it is always worth the wait to see everyone from the youth club gang again. We used to gather almost every week, of course – youth clubs tend to be a bit like that.
Time rolls on, but when we gather it feels as though the decades have changed this gang remarkably little. Coincidentally, Cafe Pacifico similarly felt much like the place I remember trying many decades ago; probably because it is little changed.
As always, we had a very enjoyable evening.
Wednesday 31 May – A Redoubtable Bout Of Doubles Tennis At Lord’s
Our real tennis court at Lord’s has been sequestered by the cricket authorities “for media purposes” during the major matches this year (don’t get me started) so it made obvious sense to have a game the evening before the temporary closure.
Indeed, even without the closure, I realised that it was a personal tradition for me to play the day before an Ireland test at Lord’s – I have now done so every time such a test has ever been held throughout history (both times):
This time it was a ninety minute doubles helping to warm up my friends Andrew Hinds and John Thirlwell who are partnering each other in the in-house tournament. We had a three-set epic, which my partner, Bill, and I managed to take at the very last gasp in a decider, having been one-set-all, five-games-all.
Great fun and a good battle.
Thursday 1 June – England v Ireland Day One At Lord’s
Pavilion View
I went to the gym to get a bit of exercise ahead of the excesses of a few days at Lord’s. I togged up for the pavilion and enjoyed 30-40 minutes of cricket from there before lunch, chatting with Nick Brown from Dulwich College, exchanging interesting thoughts and word on our respective initiatives on community participation cricket.
After lunch, it seemed if anything to get colder in the pavilion. Then the sun came out and I realised that the pavilion would warm up slowly, whereas I might warm up more quickly in one of my favoured sunny spots in the Tavern Stand – if I could get there before the stampede from the chilly Pavilion and Warner.
Made it. No sweat. It was still quite cold, even in the sun, so no sweat.
I watched and read a bit, interrupted only by the arrival of Sidney Yankson & his entourage – I was inadvertently sitting behind their chosen patch. Sidney is one of my real tennis pals, whom I first met when he organised a match between the MCC and Honourable Artillery Company five years ago.
Mid afternoon I received a message from Jonny “Twophones” Hurst to say that he had a spare seat in the Compton Lower and was wondering whether I would care to join him and his mate, Huge Morg. Who could say no to such an invitation.
Jonny Twophones & Huge Morg
We spent the rest of the afternoon watching cricket and nattering…which is not exactly an unusual combination of pastimes when a Lord’s.
All very enjoyable.
Friday 2 June – England v Ireland Day Two With Awesome Simo
I decided to get to Lord’s well early to secure good Tavern Stand seats for me and Simon Jacobs. I figured that the previous day’s good weather and the sunny start would make the Tavern Stand very popular, which it did.
Despite being on picnic duty which included some hand-made onion bagels from Papa Joseph’s place, I was still early enough to secure a brace of end of block seats in the second row.
Tavern Stand seats with excellent view of Jonny Bairstow’s warm-upsI also wanted to tell Janie, pictorially, that I had arrived safe, sane & sound
Simon arrived around 11:30, but not before my row had been invaded by several real tennis “stars” in exile from our beloved court with only cricket to watch: Tony Friend, Simon Martin & (latterly) James Coley.
An engineer trying in vain properly to equip a 19th century tennis court for 21st century media.
Unfortunately, much like the chinwag occasion, Simon simply couldn’t help himself in the matter of mentioning the names of despicable politicians, usually just after I had eaten a few mouthfuls of delicious smoked trout bagel or some of my “salad-in-a-cup” morsels. “Cruella” being the cruellest mid-mouthful blurt of the lot.
Still, we managed to get over all that and enjoy a glorious sunny day watching the cricket.
I did so little getting up and walking around on this day that I thought my right leg had utterly gone to sleep when I finally gave up on the day about 15 minutes before stumps – Simon had baled out about 10 minutes earlier. Fortunately the walk to Edgware Road tube brought my leg back to life.
I have no idea why a day of doing more or less nothing is so tiring, but I always feel in need of a long deep sleep after such a day of cricket and achieve same without any difficulty. Some people sleep during the cricket, of course, which is an entirely different matter and not usually my thing.
Saturday 3 June – England v Ireland Day Three With Daisy
We might only be here for six balls
We had no idea what to expect of Day Three. The result was pretty much no longer in doubt, but we wondered whether Ireland might collapse within an hour or make a day of it. They did the latter, very well.
We got to Lord’s well early, mostly to get a decent parking space rather than a decent seat but the early arrival meant that we achieved both.
That allowed us plenty of time to observe the England team warming up and interacting with the crowd.
Josh TongueMatty PottsChris WoakesChris & OllieWe need help to identify these three. Any ideas?Early morning autograph hunters
We did a bit of strolling around but mostly watched the cricket during the hours of play and chose to stroll during the lunch interval. The place was busy but not heaving on Day Three.
Daisy’s mum, The Duchess, seems to be moonlighting as a fast food outlet
I ran into yet another of my real tennis pals, Alastair Robson, during a pit stop, or “in the jacks” as Alastair so politely put it. Janie and I chatted with him for a while before the resumption, although we’ll hopefully have plenty of time to chat with him in Leamington in less than two week’s time on our way to Edgbaston.
Subsequently Alastair crafted some material for King Cricket, which I helped him to submit under the name Doctor Alexander Snoddie.
If anything ever goes awry with the King Cricket site, you can read that piece here.
The match even went on until tea, during which time, while politely putting away most of our things as the end was clearly nigh, I also did a bit of stretching.
A dedicated follower of fashionat tea
When England took the final wicket we made our escape ahead of the crowds, realising that a lead of 11 runs was not going to take much hunting down.
Thanks to David Wellbrook for the above picture of me, him & Rohan Candappa
Tuesday 23 May – Brasserie Zédel With Wellbrook & Candappa
I’ve known Rohan Candappa & David Wellbrook for very nearly 50 years now. Rohan is very good at keeping in touch and occasionally just saying, “let’s meet” and/or “there’s something I want to chat through with you fellas”.
We responded to the call. David booked Brasserie Zédel, a favourite place of his. As it happens, I had wanted to try the place for some time, ever since I discovered that my grandfather, Lew Marcus, worked there for decades as a barber in the Regent Palace Hotel, rising to the giddy heights of manager I am told:
Anyway, we were there to chew the fat, catch up and the like. I think I have persuaded Rohan and David to provide some “Fifty Years Ago” reflections on the opening overs of our Alleyn’s School career, as I remember so little about the very early days and didn’t start my diary until January 1974.
Rohan wanted to discuss his thoughts on positive proposals following his extensive fundraising around mental health, not least reframing the language used around that subject.
It became a little difficult to have profound conversation once the jazz trio got started. With two of them sporting flat caps, I thought they might name themselves “Jazz & Dave”.
Always good to catch up with those two. Good food & drink at that place too.
Always great to catch up with John – it had been a while so we had a bit of catching up to do. But we shall be seeing each other again within the month, along with “the girls” and Pady. Part of our catching up comprised planning that gathering.
Thursday 25 May – Lord’s For Sunrisers v South East Stars & Middlesex v Surrey, With Janie
Cullen Bowls To The Curran Brothers
Our plan, which more or less worked, was to get to Lord’s around 15:00 and watch as much of the double-header as took our fancy. The weather smiled on us, for sure, so we took root in Janie’s favourite place, the pavilion sun deck.
In truth, the afternoon women’s game, between the Sunrisers and South East Stars, was somewhat of a damp squib, both in terms of the cricket and also the atmosphere…or lack thereof. Midweek afternoon games work great when youngsters are off school. In term time, the timing virtually guaranteed a tiny crowd before the evening.
A reasonable number of member stalwarts (MCC and MCCC) turned up for both matches, but there was almost no atmosphere for the women’s match, which is a shame.
There was a decent (but not full) crowd for the Middlesex v Surrey fixture.
Anyway, we were enjoying ourselves. But the Surrey score batting first seemed high and the chill of the evening was starting to tell, so we decided to go home and watch the almost inevitable ending of the match on TV.
This event was subsequently immortalised on the King Cricket site:
Friday 26 May – Dedanists v Jesters At The Queen’s Club
I was delighted to be selected again to represent The Dedanists in this absolutely crucial real tennis fixture with The Jesters.
If anyone from Alleyn’s School is still reading at this juncture, you might be interested to know that the very first Jesters fixture was in late 1928 – a Rugby Fives match between the nascent Jesters and Alleyn Old Boys.
Actually, in truth, this is one of those fixtures where half the people playing are members of both clubs and half the time it’s hard to work out who is representing which club. Indeed on this occasion I found myself (together with Simon Cripps) playing for the Dedanists but playing against our team captain, Martin Village, who paired up with Anton Eisdell.
I’m glad to say I managed to maintain a winning streak in the matter of match play in Dedanists fixtures at Queen’s, having recently lost my Lowenthal Trophy crown there to, amongst others, Mr Eisdell. The piece linked here and below also describes this Jesters fixture from last year.
It was a thoroughly delightful afternoon and evening – my first (but hopefully not last) opportunity to partner Simon Cripps – who kept getting me out of trouble and who in truth was the key to our success as a pair. Also an opportunity to meet and chat with lots of delightful and interesting people.
It also gave me the opportunity to check up on the progress of the seats I have booked for me and Janie to enjoy the Wednesday of Queen’s this year.
The garage couldn’t find anything wrong with him, but he felt a bit sluggish, especially when attempting to drive uphill.
Dumbo’s Adventures In Essex, 2 May 2023
I had arranged to have a couple of practice games with my doubles partner Howard, ahead of the Dedanists’ Trophy this year. One was at Lord’s in April, the second we arranged at Howard’s home court, Prested Hall in Essex.
Noddyland sunset with Dumbo just visible in the foreground
Did the above stunning sunset outside our window foreshadow trouble soon to come? No.
However, almost as soon as I got going at pace in the direction of Prested, Dumbo’s amber hazard light came on and I sensed the sluggishness above 50 mph. By that time I was committed to the M25 route, on which going above 50-60 mph is rarely an option anyway.
A good game of real tennis doubles with a really friendly bunch of people. Then after coffee and a bun, I set off on a Byrd watching trail.
Just a few miles down the road, Stondon Massey, where William Byrd lived. I took some refreshments in the pub and got my bearings – then drove on to the 12th Century Church where Byrd was almost certainly laid to rest.
Hey – are you looking at my Byrd?
I decided to limp home on A-roads and the North Circular rather than risk Dumbo on the M25, although by the time I had filled up with petrol the amber light had gone off and Dumbo seemed less sluggish.
Interim Verdict On Dumbo – Nothing To See Here, 3 May 2023
Dumbo seemed fine taking me and Janie to Boston Manor to play modern tennis.
Well played, Dumbo
We took him in to see Derek at Smallbills who surmised that the amber warning light was probably a falsey, as it rectified itself. This seemed logical.
Next Day, Absolutely Fine Until…
I headed off to Lord’s the next day for a short lesson and game of real tennis. All seemed fine with Dumbo until I turned onto the A40 at Gypsy Corner, at which point, in the middle lane, Dumbo decided that 5mph was his absolute maximum.
There are times of day when 5mph on the A40 would be just fine. This wasn’t one of those times. The road was not so busy as to keep the traffic at a snail’s pace, but busy enough to make my predicament hair-raising. I had the presence of mind to put my hazards on and quite quickly managed to get into the slow lane. I also worked out that, unless I stopped completely, I should limp to Savoy Circus and turn off at Old Oak Common Lane, from whence I could hopefully limp onto Du Cane Road and take stock there.
Taking stock basically comprised paying for Dumbo to park for the rest of the day and going about my planned business for a few hours by Uber.
Dall-E’s image choices for my description reminds me that the situation could have been much worse. Also reminds me that I should have specified “Black Suzuki Jimny”.
Mr Uber got me to Lord’s and on court just five minutes late and I had a good game after my short lesson. My friend Bill, who is a fellow Ealingista, kindly gave me a lift back to Dumbo, from whence I phoned the AA, grabbed some refreshments from the local cafe and waited.
The AA app repeatedly told me that someone would be with me in 40 minutes…for about an hour.
An Impromptu London Cricket Trust Inspection On Wormwood Scrubbs
There is an adage that, in London, you are never more than 10 feet away from a rat. This adage is almost certainly untrue. But, in similar vein, I started to wonder whether you are never more than 10 minutes walk from a London Cricket Trust (LCT) cricket facility.
My trusty smart phone confirmed my suspicions – indeed I was only 10 minutes walk away from the non-turf pitch we (LCT) installed on Wormwood Scrubbs a couple of years ago.
With a 40 minute wait still showing on my app and a yearning to stretch my legs and see a cricket pitch, I strode away from Dumbo, walked the length of the Scrubbs and inspected the pitch.
The Scrubbs was very quiet around 5:30 pm
Then back to Dumbo and a few minutes later a nice AA chap named Mathew who concluded that Dumbo would need the full recovery treatment. Daisy was on standby to recover me and take me back to the house where we awaited the call from the recovery vehicle man. It was about 10:00 when we got that call.
Janie reassures Dumbo despite Wormwood Scrubbs Nick in the background
In truth Dumbo was being taken back to Smallbills, who had been forewarned to expect to find him outside their gates in the morning.
Dumbo Redux, Queen’s & Cityland, 10 & 11 May 2023
Coincidentally, word reached me that Dumbo was all better when I was at Queen’s, playing in the tournament for which I had been preparing on those ill-fated trips.
“A completely collapsed cat” apparently, but no animals were hurt in the repairing of Dumbo. A relief that the problem was readily identifiable and entirely fixable.
It was a day of coincidences at Queen’s. It’s a wonderful thing that e-tickets can be supplied to you through the ether wherever in the world you might be. Janie’s and my tickets for the Wednesday of Queen’s came through to me while I was at Queen’s.
I thought I’d pop outside to take a look at my seats, but, like a 1970s hotel in Spain, my seats were still work in progress.
Come the day they’ll be lovely.
The next day, I rescued Dumbo in the morning. The whole street must have wanted to welcome him home, because for the first time in as long as I can remember, the parking space outside my “Cityland” residence was waiting for him.
Eight of us gathered for one of our periodic NewsRevue alum evenings at the Holborn Spaghetti House.
There were no controversial shortages of certain dishes this time, but there was an especially irritable waiter who seemed to decide that I am an idiot, perhaps because I turned up a little late and didn’t want to partake of the Prosecco and sparkling mineral water already on the table, but wanted to order my own non-sparkling beverages.
Most unusually for me, I prevailed in Colin Stutt’s quiz about the faces/quotes of Irish writers & characters. A lot of informed guesswork in my answers, plus some lucky, uninformed guesswork. But on the whole it seems I can tell Shaw from Wilde, Joyce from Beckett and the like.
I did not fare so well with John’s intriguing game about famous movie stars and the obscure locations from whence they hail.
The next day, John summed up the evening, wonderfully, in his inimitable words:
I am sure you will all be celebrating the 234th anniversary of the Mutiny on the Bounty, which falls today (I know I am) but if I could drag you away from your Tahiti-shaped cupcakes for a moment…
Just wanted to thank you all for turfing yourselves out last night to the Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner. I would like to thank Colin for his wonderful Irish-themed quiz. I tried bits of it out on Jenny this morning, because she got herself an Irish passport last year in response to Brexit. One of her grandfathers was Irish, which is enough to make you count as Irish, apparently. Sad to say, she didn’t shine, so her citizenship may be re¬voked. I would like to praise Ian for winning said quiz and Mark for know¬ing the birthplaces of more Hollywood Royalty than anyone need to.
I would like to thank Colin again for the generous touch of the Prosecco and each and every one of you for your warm congratulations on Jenny and I becoming man and wife after all these years. I was very touched.
As I looked around the room, I thought how lucky I was to enjoy the friendship of such erudite, witty and good-hearted men. Such a shame that none of them could be there. You’d like them. And Caroline, I left you off that list cos it spoilt the flow of the joke, not because I’ve forgotten you.
We don’t go to people’s houses much for dinner any more. We don’t have people round to our house much either.
I guess the dinner party has sort-of gone out of fashion, but it really shouldn’t have done so, as it is a very pleasant way to spend an evening with friends old and new.
I have known Jilly for many decades – since we were youngsters at BBYO. Similarly Simon – in fact I have known Simon for longer than I have known Jilly…and Jilly has known Simon for even longer than that blah blah.
Simon…so sensible back then.Jilly was even more sensible…and in colour
We were also supposed to be joined by Timothy, but he had somehow managed to get a diary clash, having agreed to accompany Simon’s mum to see András Schiff at The Wig.
Ruth and Daniel are good friends of Jilly’s from the locality, which means Watford and also means that they too have known Jilly for decades…just not as many decades as me and Simon…about as many decades as Janie has known Jilly.
Anyway, point is, it was a really super evening. Jilly made a wonderful meal, with a slightly spicy tomato soup…
…this year’s Crisis at Christmas experience was an unmasked affair.
The “needs must” experiment of using hotels rather than colleges for the residential centres had proved so successful in 2021, Crisis decided to repeat that model in 2022.
Thus Ged and Daisy returned to the “secret location near Hyde Park” where we did our volunteering last year.
Rudolf spotted near that secret location near Hyde Park
A couple of days before our first shift, Daisy was excited to see our actual “secret location” on Breakfast TV:
ICYMI Charly and Matt talked to BBC Breakfast yesterday about why #CrisisAtChristmas is important for so many people and why our support is needed more than ever this year. pic.twitter.com/B63AgWiHrh
As in the past, we met some really interesting people over this period while doing our Crisis shifts – both guests and other volunteers.
Interesting characters, neither guests nor volunteers, seen near our location
This time, probably because we were returning to the same centre, we encountered several volunteers and team leaders that we had got to know the previous year, which was pleasing. Even more satisfying was the fact that we saw hardly any of the same faces among the guests, which hopefully helps to confirm the evidence that the majority of guests last year were helped back onto their feet.
Feeling Old – Feeling Useful!
When you get to our age, stuff happens that makes you realise how old you are. For example, the realisation that England cricket’s latest wunderkind, Rehan Ahmed, is younger than my cricket trousers, as reported recently on the King Cricket website:
But when volunteering at Crisis, sometimes our age comes in handy – especially as Daisy and I are as fit and able as most of the youngster volunteers.
On our first shift, Christmas Eve, a late arrival had possibly missed his slot and was at risk of being turned away. Our shift leader asked me and Daisy to look after him and keep him occupied while “Crisis central” tried to resolve the problem and find him a room.
An interesting character, we asked him a bit about his background. He told us he was born and raised in South-East London. Almost the same vintage as me. When I asked him where he went to school, he said, “oh, my school’s not there any more. I was a Billy Biro…”
…”oh yes, I know”, I said, “William Penn. I went to school around there too”.
We went on to discuss the relative merits of The Specials and UB40…the time flew by. He also took the opportunity to wipe the floor with me at chess. Twice. Bernard Rothbart would have been stunned – not so much at my rusty rubbish – but at how good this fella clearly was. Mr Rothbart would have approved of the matching up I did on subsequent shifts to help this guest and others who could play to get some good chess match-ups.
It’s not all serving food, chess and chewing the fat with guests
That “Billy Biro” was one of several really interesting characters we met this year. From some, we learnt how they had fallen on hard, crisis-ridden times. Some chose not to discuss such matters and left us wondering. In all cases, we just hoped that our small contribution would help them back on their feet.
Utilising Our Food Charity Skills
Daisy and I did dinner service a couple of times, utilising our FoodCycle skills, which we have been deploying on communal meals for the last 15 months, to good effect.
I particularly enjoyed getting the opportunity to do the washing up (yes really!) in a commercial hotel kitchen, never having had the opportunity to use machines and equipment on that scale before.
Dreaming of washing up
Some of the guests are overwhelmed by the experience of being in a hotel and being looked after by a team of kindly volunteers. One guest almost refused to let me take him to his table and serve him his food, because he felt that “wasn’t right”.
Some find it quite difficult to make a decision along the lines of “vegetarian or non-vegetarian pasta”, one guest seeming almost paralysed by indecision until I suggested that he might like a bit of both. “No thanks, I’ll have the meat please”.
It can be quite a leveller, though. When we were on the coffee stall, one particularly demanding guest came to me for a coffee three times during the 90 minutes or so we were on that duty and complained each time. The first time he complained about the coffee, the second time about the sugar and the third time about the angle from which I poured the milk (left-handed, from a full, large flagon, as I politely and smilingly pointed out). Another guest, when I asked him to repeat his order to be sure to make the coffee to his specification, told me off for not having listened properly the first time.
I was reminded of my father’s favourite put down, usually directed towards a politician of his loathing, that the person in question “couldn’t even run a coffee stall”. In less robust minds than mine and Daisy’s, the experience could induce a crisis of confidence.
But, joking apart, the experience is, on the whole, hugely rewarding and satisfying.
It won’t be the same secret location next year, but of course we plan to return to help Crisis next year; of course we do.
Postscript: Returning To Crisis Sooner Than We Expected
Actually we returned to do a couple of additional part-shifts during the final few days at that location. There were rail strikes on those days so we agreed to cover a few hours over the evening meal surge, utilising our FoodCycle skills.
We saw some of our volunteer colleagues from January last year whom we hadn’t seen earlier in the season, which was nice. It was also good to follow through with some of the guests towards the end of their stay.
The leveller motif was continued and even enhanced though, with one guest who seemed especially keen for me to serve him virtually clicking his fingers in my direction for “service”.
On the other side of that coin though, one guest with whom I had chatted several times over the weeks came up to me to shake my hand as he left after his last evening meal. One other regular, whom I had judged to be painfully shy, quietly said to me as he left the restaurant area on the last evening, “thank you for serving me”.
With thanks to John Random for several pictures, not least this one: me with Noel Christopher– Caroline is also there, trying to hide in the corner of this picture
Given that Ivan Shakespeare Memorial dinners are principally gatherings of comedy writers, they have not been much of a laughing matter of late, with many of our number having departed permanently. Indeed John Random pondered various re-namings this time:
Ivan Shakespeare Debbie Barham Nick R. Thomas Gerry Goddin Mike Hodd Chris Stanton Memorial Dinner
or
“Ivan to Stanton Memorial Dinner”
Yet plenty of us still survive to dine, chat and play silly quizzes. A dozen or so of us gathered this time.
Random gets busy with his camera phone while Barry looks on and……Hugh Ryecroft shows off the new trophy: The Hoddy
Following the departure of Mike Hodd, we toasted our patriarch and played an extra quiz for the above magnificent new trophy: The Hoddy, provided by Mark Keegan, who set the seminal Hoddy Quiz. Professional quiz dude Hugh Ryecroft took that trophy.
Hugh couldn’t win the regular annual Ivan Shakespeare Trophy, as he won it last year and set that quiz this year. Bit of a busman’s holiday for Hugh, setting quizzes for Ivan Shakespeare dinners. Still, it was Keith Wickham who took that magnificent prize, which will no doubt grace his trophy cabinet for most of 2023:
Wickham lands the big one
I was close, but no cigar on both quizzes, in particular one of them on which i only missed out by a couple of points.
But of course all were winners, as it was such a heart-warming and convivial evening, as indeed it always is.
Was that Keith’s classic James Mason impression making me laugh?
Violets & Fatt Pundit With Mark Ellicott, Simon Jacobs & John White, 17 October 2022
For some reason we were all being too grown up to take photos, but this was a special get together reuniting people who had all known each other at Keele for one reason or another.
In particular the musical aspects intrigued Simon Jacobs, who wondered out loud to me why I hadn’t set up a get-together with Mark.
Simon, in 2019, trying to make a silk purse out of my (then) sow’s ear voice
Actually, John said something similar when I shared my Mark correspondence with him when we met up in the summer. I had no excuse, so I felt duty bound to act.
John questioning my judgement with his eyes and body language, August 2022
I played tennis at Lord’s – a draw at singles seeing as you were going to ask – before hot-footing it (via the flat) to Soho.
I arrived at Violet’s, grabbing a table – just inside but suitably quasi-open to the street – about five minutes before Simon arrived. From that vantage point, we observed Mark walk straight past us and then four or five minutes later he returned having got as confused as everyone else by the Berwick Street door-numbering. John arrived fashionably but not ridiculously last.
We had a good chat and a drink at Violet’s before heading a block or two up the road to Fatt Pundit, where the food was excellent and the chat got even better.
A few comedy moments with the sweet waitress whose high-pitched voice is possibly in a register that none of us, given our advancing years, could hear. But the menu was pretty-much self-explanatory, so a mixture of sign language, reading the menu and common sense allowed us to order a cracking good meal.
It was a really enjoyable four-way catch up.
Goldmine With Rohan Candappa & David Wellbrook, 18 October 2022
It was basically a “barbeque meats challenge” based on my assertion that the Queensway specialists therein, especially Goldmine, are better than those in Chinatown.
It turned into a small-scale Alleyn’s School alum thing. David Wellbrook, being Wellbrook, needed to join in the challenge, not least because Queensway is an alma mater of his where he attended the University of Romance (his wife used to live there when they were courting).
We tucked into plenty of barbeque meats, diverting briefly at the start and end of the lunchtime feast for some dim sum, just in the interests of science.
At school Rohan Candappa was always known as Candy, so it was with great mirth and merriment that David spotted “Candy World” across the street.
For those who don’t like to click and/or who don’t want all the tennis detail – here is an extract:
“It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall,” said your intrepid reporter to Carl Snitcher, having braved the 3.5 mile high-pass journey from Notting to Primrose Hill in just over 35 minutes.
“There’s a bad moon on the rise,” agreed Carl, gnomically.
We arrived at a rain-soaked Hampton Court Palace in the nick of time; just as well, as your intemporal reporter was playing in the first rubber. Some might argue that our arrival was actually “worse than two”, but a more substantial discrepancy soon revealed itself; the marker’s sheet was showing a lesser handicap for the Dedanists than the sheet that James McDermott & I had been sent.
In order to avoid a major diplomatic incident, James & I acquiesced to the lesser handicap, yet still somehow contrived to win our rubber, albeit narrowly…
McDermott hitting, me watching
On finally staggering away from the court, your incognizant reporter picked up a message that the Prime Minister had resigned. “That’s the second Liz whose expiration has been announced while I was on the real tennis court in the space of six weeks”, I mused, having been informed of the late Queen’s demise by Tony Friend while I was on the Lord’s court.
I thought I might be the tidings-bringer this time, only to discover that most of the group had learnt the demise of Liz Truss some 45 minutes earlier.
Anyway, this was no time to ponder the fate of shambolic politicians – it was time to tuck into the pies before they too were to become a footnote in history. A positive footnote in the case of the pies of course – once again a delicious choice of • Chicken Ham & Leek; • Steak & Ale.
Bread and cheese (yes please) and two species of yummy desert that self-discipline allowed me to avoid, along with the jolly wines on offer…
Pictures by Tony Friend
There’s no better way to lift the spirits on a gloomy, worrisome day than a day of pastance with Dedanists and Hamsters. Symbolically, as the nation’s political shenanigans moved on to its new phase, the heavy clouds and rain of the morning had lifted to reveal a gorgeously bright, sunny evening as we all left.
“So foul and fair a day I have not seen”, said Carl, gnomically, as I dropped him home.
…I was acutely aware that we only have one actual relic of Grandpa Harris: the large certificate of honour depicted in the headline picture. We do not even have a surviving photograph of him – he died in the early 1940s – all such things were disposed of when Grandma moved out of the family home (104 Clapham Common Northside) in the 1960s.
I suspect that the certificate only survived because of its religious significance and the lingering, somewhat superstitious sense that such a thing should not simply be destroyed.
It lived at the back of my dad’s shop for at least a quarter of a century – then it lived in our Woodfield Avenue attic for another quarter of a century.
Mum nearly (accidentally) gave it away when dad died, but I managed to rescue it thanks to the good offices of Michael and Tessa Laikin who in any case hadn’t quite believed that I wanted shot of it, even if mum did.
It was in a pretty shocking state by the time I took it to Janie’s favourite picture framer in Bayswater, who declared the artefact to be on the verge of disintegration and recommended a specialist restorer to preserve it and bring it back to life before framing.
Several weeks and several hundred pounds later, it has pride of place on the hall wall in my flat.
The stunning, large certificate (60 x 45 cm unframed, 75 x 60 cm framed) commemorates my grandfather being honoured in the synagogue as Chatan Torah on the festival of Simchat Torah on 14/15 October 1922 – now 100 years ago. Or, in Hebrew calendar terms, 17/18 October 2022 is exactly 100 years after the event.
As it happens and by strange coincidence, Janie and I found ourselves on 15 October this year just around the corner from 14 Manette Street, which is the building which was, back then, the West End Talmud Torah & Bikkur Holim Synagogue.
I couldn’t resist the urge to walk around the corner and photograph the very building on the very 100th anniversary of Grandpa’s honour:
14 Manette Street, Soho as snapped by me, 15 October 2022
Religion isn’t my thing, but it was my grandparent’s thing and this honour would have been one of the most notable moments in my grandfather’s (relatively short) life.
That Soho synagogue – the West End Talmud Torah and Bikkur Holim was a rather fascinating and controversial thing, if Gerry Black’s Living Up West book is anything to go by (which it is…go buy it if you are interested). He describes it as an
orthodox and shtetl-like shule [synagogue, where comparatively] …the service, rabbi, and fervid atmosphere were more typical of the heim [the old country].
There are some wonderful passages in Living Up West about that Rabbi; I do remember my father talking about him as a formidable figure, even though my father was still quite small when the family moved away from Fitzrovia/Soho. Intriguingly also, the book reports that, by 1926, the congregation had grown so large that they needed to hire The Scala Theatre in Charlotte Street for overflow services.
Living Up West also has an astonishing, detailed account in it about the 1930 AGM and elections in that community that
…were on the point of coming to blows…
…Ultimately the meeting broke up in chaos and confusion.
I am minded to write more about that strange community, not least because those detailed accounts include the names that appear on Grandpa’s certificate.
But at the moment, 100 years on, we get more than enough such chaos and confusion from a more southerly part of Westminster. In any case my purpose today is really to commemorate my Grandpa’s big day in 1922.
