Friends and Family Events – Page 9

Bound To Appear At The Old Bailey, 30 September 2019

Following Michael Mainelli’s admission as Aldermanic Sheriff of the City of London the previous Friday…

A Shrieval Day, Michael Mainelli’s Admission And Breakfast As Aldermanic Sheriff Of The City Of London, 27 September 2019

…I was bound to appear at the Old Bailey sooner or later. But it wasn’t until a few days before Michael’s admission that I was asked to join Michael and the judges for lunch on his first day as Sheriff, which I thought a very nice request and one that would be hard to turn down, despite the day not being overly convenient for the purpose.

The done thing is to stay on after lunch and watch the afternoon sitting of a case unfold for an hour or so; something that would interest me a great deal, but my itinerary for that day would not allow that post lunch hour. The kind administrators at The Old Bailey have arranged for me to return on another day, a few weeks hence, to observe a post-lunch sitting.

Anyway, I got to The Old Bailey in good time, which was just as well because security gave me a fairly thorough going-over. Try as we might, we couldn’t seem to find everything about my person that was making their gadgets go bleep.

I had visions of being taken down the cells and that the “phone-battery-gate” incident, as it would doubtless become known, which led to my (Michael’s business partner’s) arrest on his first day as Sheriff, becoming a legendary smear on Michael’s Aldermanic career.

But no, security eventually gave up on me, accepting that my cuff-links might be causing the relatively mild residuary bleeps. I was allowed in.

It was a relatively light day for The Old Bailey, with a minority of the courts sitting. The cases are a matter of public announcement and record – here and below is a link to the listing for the day of that visit.

What’s on at the Old Bailey, September 30

I was one of five guests that day and five judges dined. Before lunch, we guests were hosted by Michael and Elisabeth in their Old Bailey apartment for drinks. This was an opportunity for Michael to explain the workings of the Old Bailey to us and explain the protocols for the rest of our visit.

As it was his first one, Michael has also written it up, although he has gone for an extremely quirky angle on the matter – click here or below:

Piper The Puffin

I should perhaps explain that Michael has opted for a puffin as the animal atop his crest. Michael’s puffin is playing the bagpipes…obviously. You can read more about Michaels’ chain and crest by clicking here. The punchline, for those who choose not to click, is the motto: ordo ex χάος. Order out of chaos. Welcome to my world.

Then we guests were led into a reception room where we met most of the judges who were joining us for lunch. The traditional pre-lunch drink is a very flavoursome tomato juice.

There I learnt that coroners know how to have a good time when they gather for a convention, at least in the matter of witty after dinner speakers, such as John Spence.

Then the lunch itself, which was a light but very tasty vegetarian Indian meal.

There I learnt that judges don’t always pre-read the mini cvs that each guest is required to submit ahead of the lunch…but that judges can catch up pretty quickly on the content of five single paragraph cvs – who’d ‘ave thought it? The judges were excellent company. We discussed theatre, music and the Price Of Fish as well as their interesting cases.

There I also learnt that the knife crime epidemic is certainly manifesting itself in The Old Bailey schedule and that even genteel parts of London, such as my walking route twixt Notting Hill Gate and Lord’s, is not immune from such events. A slightly chilling thought ahead of my making that very walk later that very day.

But before braving the edgy, mean streets of Notting Hill Gate and St John’s Wood, I needed to say goodbye to the judges and my fellow guests, all of whom were sticking around in The Old Bailey.

After I descended the staircase to find myself back in the hands of the security team, I was much relieved to be shown the door rather than the next flight of stairs downwards for involuntary retention.

A very interesting lunch and I look forward very much to my return to see part of a case unfold.

A Shrieval Day, Michael Mainelli’s Admission And Breakfast As Aldermanic Sheriff Of The City Of London, 27 September 2019

Well, who’d have thought it? My business partner, Michael Mainelli, Alderman & Sheriff of the City of London. Fancy.

Actually, this shrieval office is one of the most ancient offices in all humanity that remains in continuous use. See helpful blurb from the back of the breakfast menu below.

From my point of view, it was a great opportunity to catch up with old friends, acquaintances and of course Michael’s family from across the decades – Michael and I have now worked together for over 30 years and this event falls on the eve of the 25th anniversary of Z/Yen (or soon after it, depending on how you look on these things.)

Z/Yen, The Very First Z/Yen Seasonal Song Lyric, 9 December 1994

Anyway, point is, from the moment I arrived at the Guildhall, I found myself running into and chatting with folk I have known for ages; Michael’s brother Kelly and sister Katy, Elisabeth’s brother Marcus, Chris Smith, Robert Pay… also several of Michael’s high-profile friends, such as Neal Stephenson and Faisal Islam, who for once were in circumstances where they were perhaps less well known than me!

But today was about Michael Mainelli and his partner in crime (I mean in controlling crime of course) Sheriff Christopher Hayward, CC.

First up was the admission ceremony. It is explained on the following page.

This is not a ceremony that one films or photographs, but its ceremonial look might be gleaned from the following Pathe film from 1949 which claims to be the Mayoral Election but its title also claims to be a shrieval occasion, which I think might be an error:

Medieval ceremonial and an uber-historic look to many of the garbs there, from so long ago that the world was in black and white.

The ceremony in the Great Hall was a solemn affair; the Common Cryer and Serjeant-at-Arms broke the silence by commanding silence, so startlingly that several people made audible gasps before falling silent once more. I especially liked that bit.

After the ceremony, a reception downstairs in the Old Library – an opportunity to catch up with many people before going upstairs for the banquet.

At the reception, downstairs in the Old Library

I was too timid to take any pictures that day, but Rupert Stubbs, another of those good friends met through Michael and Elisabeth from decades back, took loads and sent me quite a few; many thanks Rupert.

I have often joked with friends from the North of England about the word dinner, meaning luncheon in the north and evening meal in the south of England. But here is an instance of a lunch-time (or do I mean dinner-time?) banquet being described as a breakfast. Indeed the breakfast invitation says…

the breakfast does not usually conclude before 3:30 pm

…which some of us might mistake for tea-time.

The term breakfast in this context, of course, like a wedding breakfast, has the ancient connotation of being the meal after a solemn ceremony before which, in days of yore, the main participants would be so engrossed in prayer ahead of the ceremony that the after ceremony meal would be, for them, the breaking of a devotional fast.

Amazing grub too:

After the repast, the speeches in that glorious Old Library setting

I especially enjoyed Professor Jo Delahunty’s speech, during which she placed great emphasis on diversity and the rule of law; this year’s shrieval theme. Some around me seemed to find her speech, which seemed to me to be the voice of moderation, a bit edgy for the occasion. Apparently it is “the done thing” to restrict that particular speech to “pomping up the incoming sheriffs” (my choice of words for the gripes I heard).

Actually, my only beef with Jo Delahunty’s address was the selection of terrible mustard puns she made at the end of the talk, somewhat apologetically, as she had been told that it was compulsory to end on a joke.

That type of joke is a crime against hilarity in my book and the sheriffs should have done something to restore good order…except that I have a dreadful feeling that one of the sheriffs might have been the sauce of the puns [pun intended].

In any case, Jo did plug The Price Of Fish at the start of her talk, so I would forgive her pretty much anything.

Three hours after we sat down to breakfast, it was all over. Except that, before heading home, there was time to mill around and chat with some of the people I’d missed out on before the event. It really was lovely to see those people again.

The grandees departed in grand style…

…while the likes of me departed on the Central Line straight back to Noddyland and our little mock-medieval cottage:

West Acton, Chester Court, Monks Drive, W3 - geograph.org.uk - 217751 — One of the grander buildings in Noddyland, dwarfing our cottage

So what does a new sheriff do on the weekend after his admission? Why, of course, he drives sheep across London Bridge. What else? Here’s a little film of the very thing that Michael is doing right now as I type (film from the previous year of course):

While the only thing that is driving out here in Noddyland, as I write, is the driving rain against my window pain.

Here is a link to Michael’s own take on the big day…by which I mean Admission day, not Sheep Driving Day.

Truth And Reconciliation 55 Years After A Dastardly Custardy Battle: Guest Piece By Garry Steel

I keep in touch with many people through Facebook these days; cousins Garry & Janice Steel being no exception. They are the Essex branch of my extended cousinhood:

Canvey Island, Leigh-On-Sea, Westcliffe & Southend to See Garry & Janice Steel, 3 October 2015

Point is; Garry wrote a very touching reminiscence piece on Facebook the other day, which is very much in keeping with Ogblog. I asked him if I might publish it as a guest piece here. Garry said yes.

I have played fast and loose with the headline above (publisher’s prerogative) but the words below are reproduced verbatim. I think it is a lovely piece.

My 100 Year Old Dinner Lady
======================
It can be uncanny how a chance meeting, in my case acrimonious tussle with authority, can lead to a lifetime connection and create a dear friendship.
I go back to a day in 1964; I was a 7 year old schoolboy at Hamlet Court Road primary, long since replaced by a car park. On this day, mum decided I was to stay for school dinner.
For those of us over the age of 50, maybe younger, there is no need to describe the culinary obscenities of school meals in the 60’s. Needless to say, they wouldn’t meet Jamie Oliver’s standards.
Having managed to keep the main course down I returned to the hatch for dessert. Since infancy I have had a medical intolerance to milk. I asked the server to omit the regulation portion of thick-skinned custard but was told the serving was mandatory. All diners had to eat it without option to decline. Shock, horror. Was I about to project the custard?!
Here comes the dinner lady from hell. I was not allowed to leave the dining hall until I had consumed that congealed mass in the bowl. Just me and her left in the hall. The other few hundred or so kids had already returned to class. Ms dinner lady accompanied me to my classroom, bowl in hand. Strict instruction was given to my teacher. “He is not allowed home until he eats his custard”.
Come 4pm, just me and the teacher, staring at this solidified mass in the bowl on the desk. I didn’t give in.
Here’s a thing; mum had been waiting for me at the gate since half past three. No one told her I’d been held “prisoner”. Eventually there was a door slam and in comes mum faster than an Exocet missile. Her arm was cocked ready to give me a thick ear, or worse and I was willing to take the pain rather than eat that custard.
Thankfully, mum noticed the plate on the desk before making contact. She quickly put 2 + 2 together. I can’t repeat the language directed at the teacher. Let’s say I had the last laugh. I never met Ms dinner lady at school again.
Move on fourteen years. Janice and I got engaged and her parents threw a party for us. Mum-in-law beckoned me over. “Let me introduce you to my best friend, Alice Fraser”. (Got it yet?)
Arghhhh……There she was, Ms dinner lady. Our eyes locked. Despite the transition from boy to man of 21, she instantly recognised me and vice versa. “You forced me to eat custard”, I said. She retorted, “it wasn’t me, the headmaster made me do it.”
We had a laugh. I got to meet Alice and her husband Ralph many times over the years. They came to my wedding and many family events. I realised Alice was a sweet, intelligent lady.
Sadly my in-laws have passed, The Frasers retired and moved to London to be near their children. Alice has kept in touch by phone many times and continues to do so. She is compassionate and her tone conveys genuine interest in our wellbeing. On the last call she mentioned to me that she had a birthday coming up. “Guess how old I’m going to be”, she said. I thought it had to be an amazing achievement but feigned my reply. “You must be in your eighties now”. “I’m going to be A-hun-dreddd”, she said. “Wow, can I come and see you?” “Oh, I’d love that”, she said.
A few days later an official invitation arrived from Alice’s sprightly young septuagenarian daughter inviting us to Alice’s 100th birthday party. Janice and I went last Sunday. Ralph has passed on but it was an honour to meet up with Alice again. Also to meet her extended family including eleven great grandchildren.
And what did she say to Janice? “He’s never forgiven me for that custard”! Oh yes I have.

But was there custard with the pudding at Garry & Janice’s wedding? I cannot remember, but I’m guessing not.

Me (furthest left), Carol (Janice’s sister, front left) and several others at Garry & Janice’s (most probably custard-free) wedding

Dinner At Kitty Fisher’s With John And Mandy, 28 August 2019

Not content with the excitement of witnessing Simon Jacobs Live Gig at the Notting Hill Arts Club the night before:

Simon Jacobs Live Gig, Notting Hill Arts Club, 27 August 2019

Janie and I had another big night out the next day; a double-birthday celebration with John and Mandy at Kitty Fisher’s.

Janie likes restaurants where you can see the kitchens

John and Mandy had enjoyed a day out in London ahead of our dinner, so were able to tell us about that and about the kids.

We don’t have to tell them any of our news, obviously, because it is all there to be seen on Ogblog. Yet still we did tell them our news too.

Meaty main courses and crispy potatoes that aren’t chips, apparently

The food was excellent, the service lively and unpretentious. We really liked this place.

On learning that it was a double birthday, the restaurant managed a mercifully low key way of helping us to celebrate:

John and Mandy very kindly bought me a small gift while enjoying their day out earlier in the day – we don’t normally do presents – requesting photographs of the celebratory footwear.

We’d all really enjoyed our evening, as evidenced (if evidence were needed) by the exchange of messages the next day.

Meanwhile, Janie and I took great pleasure in taking and posing (respectively) for those photos early the next morning:

“Sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me…”

Simon Jacobs Live Gig, Notting Hill Arts Club, 27 August 2019

It was jolly decent of Simon to arrange this gig to take place just across the road from Clanricarde Gardens, I thought. Janie and I both made sure we’d be free that evening to support.

Notting Hill Arts Club has had a bit of a makeover since we last attended a gig there, which must be 10-15 years ago.

The main purpose of the gig was to launch Simon’s second album, Baby Boomer, available on Spotify – click here – or on YouTube – click the picture link below.

Simon has used a fascinating technique to overcome the problem of the “troublesome second album following a successful first album”…

…he and his (self)-publicist have deemed the first album to have been a flop. Fiendish. Cunning. Daft. The following “interview” explains:

Anyway, despite all that John Shuttleworth meets Spinal Tap buffoonery, the album Baby Boomer really is very good and I think a big leap forward from the first album, Circle Line, which I also liked, btw.

At the start of the gig, Simon performed alone. In fact, the introduction and first number have been recorded for posterity – you can view those below:

One of Simon’s sisters, Ruth, shooting the video

After a couple of numbers performed solo, or should I say, “accompanied by laptop”, Simon was joined by a real human being, Nick, on drums.

Timothy, Simon’s husband, rapt with attention.

It all got a bit more complicated when Simon attempted the opening track from the album, Please Hold, with laptop, keyboards, drummer and vocals…

…but after calling back a couple of times, Simon managed to perform that rather intricate piece with aplomb. One of my favourites from the album, that one – it reminds me a little of The Teardrop Explodes at the top of their form – praise indeed coming from me.

Here’s another track from the live performance:

Finally, here is the official video for one of my favourite tracks from the album, Optimistic…

…although, as Simon said when he introduced this number at the gig, he’s a bit less optimistic now than he was when he wrote that track.

Another story.

Actually, in his quest to remain uber-topical, Simon did perform one or two brand new songs. They are, presumably, to form part of the third album and the resulting next launch gig. Janie and I hope so – we are already looking forward to that. We very much enjoyed our evening for the Baby Boomer launch.

A convivial moment of chat after the gig

Did I mention that Baby Boomer is available on Spotify – click here – or on YouTube – click the picture link below?

A Three-Day Trip To Brighton (& Hove, Actually), The First Two Of Those Days, 19 & 20 August 2019

The County Ground Hove is a lovely setting for cricket, so Janie and I couldn’t resist the timing of Middlesex’s away match there this season, despite it overlapping with Day 5 of the Lord’s test and a need to be back in London later that week.

So, I arranged three nights in Brighton with a view to seeing most of Day Two and the remainder of the county match, plus an opportunity to visit cousins Sidney & Joan on the Tuesday, plus the likelihood of a bit of spare time in Brighton for once.

That likelihood of spare time was exacerbated while Janie and I sat at Lord’s watching the test match on the Sunday, by Middlesex’s rude ejection from the batting crease at Hove, en masse, for 75 in a mere 130 balls.

Daisy’s role as a visiting totem for Middlesex victories and/or close finishes is becoming a distant memory.

Still, we arrived at The County Ground Hove on Monday around 12:15/12:30, following the traditional difficult packing exercise (Daisy) and roadwork-enhanced drive (on this occasion, me).

On arrival, we were introduced to John Barclay, someone I had not previously met and had been keen to meet ever since I read his wonderful book, Life Beyond The Airing Cupboard, in Burgundy, some 10 years ago:

Life Beyond the Airing Cupboard by former Sussex captain John Barclay – a holiday reading review by Ged Ladd

John Barclay seemed genuinely chuffed when I told him how much I enjoyed reading that book.

John Barclay (furthest left, facing) and others at lunch

We also met Marilyn Smith, Middlesex’s new Board member.

It turns out that Marilyn lives in Brentford and used to bring her son, Ramon, when he was very young, to the very Boston Manor tennis courts where Daisy and I play each week. She knows Linda Massey (of Friends of Boston Manor fame) very well.

Indeed, when we told Linda a few days later that we had spent some time with Marilyn in Hove, Linda pointed out to us, on the wall of the Boston Manor pavilion cafe, a picture that a very young Ramon had drawn for her, many years ago, as a thank you:

Monday was a glorious day for cricket at Hove, albeit not a glorious day’s play for Middlesex, who were coming very much second by stumps on that day.

We had been well fed and well watered on the Monday, but still, after checking in and settling in to our AirBnB cottage, the old Toll Cottage on the junction of Regency Square and Russell Square, we thought we’d try the Regency Tavern across the way from our digs. I fancied a drink as I had stayed dry all day and, after all, how big a portion could the pie, mash, peas and gravy possibly be at that price? Massive, basically.

We wouldn’t get steak and kidney, if this match was playing in Sydney

We should have shared one between the two of us. Except it was yummy so we both made serious headway into our portions.

Tuesday morning, we walked (or should I say waddled) to The County Ground. Another glorious weather day.

Daisy, questioning all the “balls on the head” incidents that had occurred at Lord’s a few days earlier, asked Mike Selvey if he approved of such intimidatory bowling.

Selv and Me, both trying to do the “there’s no such thing as a dumb question” bit when tackling Daisy’s enquiry about short-pitched bowling.

Daisy had more success with her penetrating questions about corruption in cricket (and sport generally) from the previous day, as John Abbott brought her some interesting reading in partial answer to her questions on that subject:

We had a super sit-down lunch of casseroled chicken on the Tuesday; a different vibe from the less formal (but also excellent) buffet on the Monday. The hospitality at Hove is superb, both in terms of the catering and the friendly people.

After lunch, we were introduced to Ray Bloom, who is a Director of Brighton & Hove Albion Football Club.

We had a very interesting chat about television rights and national administration of football (about which I know almost nothing) and cricket (about which Ray claimed to know little). Ray is clearly a Sussex CCC fan as well as a Seagulls grandee. Based on his football experience, Ray had some fascinating opinions on how the new Hundred tournament might work…or not work.

Janie and I had arranged to visit cousin Sidney and Joan for tea that day, so we left The County Ground once Middlesex were bowled out a second time, which conveniently coincided with the umpires calling tea.

The result of the match wasn’t much in doubt; nor was there much doubt that the match would end that evening while we were at Sidney & Joan’s house, which is conveniently located half way between The County Ground and our AirBnB cottage.

Here’s a link to the scorecard for those of a masochistic-Middlesex, indifferently-inquisitive or celebratory Sussex persuasion.

Nevertheless, as we left, a friendly steward, James, asked if we were returning tomorrow. I explained that I didn’t think there’d be any cricket left in the match by then, but that we would return if there was. James then asked if we were coming to the T20 match on Thursday. I explained that we were Middlesex guests and that Middlesex were playing a T20 match at home on Thursday. “Come here anyway”, said James, “it’s nice to have you two here”. Now THAT’S welcoming stewarding!

It took us little more than 10 minutes stroll through Hove to get to Sidney and Joan’s house. There we enjoyed some tea and wonderful cake produced by a local baker who, it seems, produces really delicious home-made delicacies to order for local folk such as Sidney and Joan.

Sidney and Joan also cracked a bottle of wine to help the conversation flow. At one point Sidney noticed me look at one of the notifications that popped up on my screen, documenting Middlesex’s inevitable defeat.

Keeping in touch with the office?, asked Sidney.
No, just keeping in touch with the cricket score at Hove, I replied. Sorry, I can’t help myself.
Should’ve guessed, said Sidney with a smile.

It’s always a pleasure to see Sidney and Joan. After a couple of hours, we said our goodbyes, then Janie and I strolled back to our little toll cottage.

We only had one problem with hiring the Toll Cottage; we couldn’t work out how to take tolls from the passers-by, although we can see which window we should use and where the toll gate should be erected. But should we collect a farthing or a ha’penny from each passer-by?

Flummoxed by even the most basic questions with regard to our sinecure, we decided on an early night instead. We had plans for a busy day exploring Brighton the next day, now we knew there was to be no cricket.

NewsRevue 40th Anniversary Party, Show & Smoker, Canal Cafe Theatre, 18 August 2019

NewsRevue is the world’s longest running live comedy show. It has been running since 18 August 1979. That is a Guinness World Record. If you don’t believe me, click here and read it on the official Guinness World Records site.

I have been involved with the show since 1992, as reported on Ogblog in many postings, not least this one which records my first performed offering – click here or below:

California Here I Go, NewsRevue Lyric, 23 April 1992

I formed many friendships over the years I wrote for NewsRevue (most of the rest of the 1990s). Many of us keep in touch through Ivan Shakespeare dinners, many of which are written up on Ogblog, including this one:

Ultimate Love and Happy Tories, Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner, Café Rouge Holborn, 3 March 2017

Mike Hodd (see headline picture) is one of the founders of the show, was a mainstay at our writers meetings in the 1990s and is a fairly regular attendee at Ivan Shakespeare dinners.

For some reason, Mike roped me into liaising with Emma and Shannon at the Canal Cafe to help pull together the 40th anniversary event.

I take very little credit for the superb evening that ensued, but I did contribute some archival material and I did stitch up some NewsRevue alums by gathering names and serial numbers through the e-mail connections.

I also suggested that the event include a smoker, in line with a tradition we had back in the 1990s of having after show parties at which we performed party pieces. Mike particularly liked that idea so it simply had to happen.

But the organisation of the event was really down to Emma, Shannon and the team who did a cracking job.

First up was a pre show drinks reception, at which some of us (encouraged to dress up), looked like this:

Then we watched the current show. An excellent troupe comprising Dorothea Jones, Brendan Mageean, Gabrielle De Saumarez and Rhys Tees under Tim MacArthur’s directorship.

Before the smoker, Shannon and the team played us a wonderful 40th anniversary video compilation of pictures and video clips from across the decades. Here is that very vid:

I was proud to have supplied some of the clippings contained therein and moved to see the video and ponder on just what 40 years of a show really means.

Then the smoker. I was really delighted that current/recent cast and crew joined in the idea and chipped in with their own party pieces, which were very entertaining.

From our own “Class of ’92, there were several contributions, captured pictorially by Graham Robertson, with thanks to him for the following pics.

Mike Hodd made two excellent contributions to the smoker;

a very amusing stand up set in which he somehow managed to extract humour from Parkinson’s disease. I shall never again be able to dissociate in my mind the film Fatal Attraction from the affliction fecal impaction;
a slow build routine in which he was an auctioneer trying to fob off some utter tat as masterpieces. Great fun.

Gerry Goddin performed an audience participation routine in which we joined in a song about “mutton dressed as lamb” to the tune of Knees Up Mother Brown. Gerry dealt with my heckling so masterfully that some people thought the heckles had been planted; they had not.

Barry performed a stand up comedy routine with masterful poise. I thought we were all supposed to be writers who cannot perform.

I wanted to celebrate one of my classic songs from 1992; the second of mine to be performed in the show but a perennial:

You Can’t Hurry Trusts, NewsRevue Lyric, 7 May 1992

My solo rendition of You Can’t Hurry Trusts

Chris Stanton was the performer who made my debut contributions to NewsRevue such a success in 1992. He too was at this party and performed a couple of classics brilliantly well; A Loan Again and also John Random’s classic 0898 song. No photo of the Chris’s performance as yet – unless Graham finds one of those amongst his collection.

Jonny Hurst also celebrated John Random’s ouevre with a rendition of the wonderful “Tell Laura A Liver”.

This was in part done to honour John Random’s recent selfless act to donate a kidney out of pure altruism to an anonymous recipient. To complete the honouring of that extraordinary good deed, Jonny and I jointly segued the liver song into a visceral medley including a specific piece we put together to honour John’s donation:

WHO DO YOU THINK GOT YOUR KIDNEY, MR RANDOM?

(Lyric to the Tune of “Who Do You think You Are Kidding, Mr Hitler?”)

THE MAIN REFRAIN

Who do you think got your kidney, Mr Random?
Since your organ donation?
Was it a girl for to stop her renal pain?
Was it a boy who can take the piss again?
So who do you think got your kidney, Mr Random?
Now that you’ve gone down to one?

FIRST MIDDLE EIGHT

Mr Burns – he came to town
The age of twenty-one
He did assume a nom de plume
And took the name Random.

FIRST REPRISE

So who do you think got your kidney, Mr Random?
Now that you’ve gone down to one?

SECOND MIDDLE EIGHT

Mr Burns did not return
With kidney number one
But kept his sense of humour…
(pause)
…And is ready with his pun.

SECOND REPRISE

So who do you think got your kidney, Mr Random?
Now that you’ve gone down to one?

It was a great party, it was a terrific show and it was a superb smoker. A truly memorable event to celebrate 40 years of a wonderful show.

As John Random said in his preamble to the smoker, NewsRevue has initiated so many careers and transformed so many lives over those decades. And for those of us who have formed enduring friendships, it is hard to express our gratitude to Mike Hodd and those who have kept the NewsRevue torch burning week in week out for forty years and counting.

North London Cricket And South London Reunion, 15 August 2019

I wanted to go up to North London Cricket Club to take a look at one of Middlesex CCC’s participation programmes. I wanted a bit more context around my work with London Cricket Trust, in part to inform my decision making and in part to inform any further media stuff I might be doing about it, possibly some as early as next week.

Picture borrowed from the North London Cricket Club website – click the picture to see the site.

Katie Berry thought the Wilf Slack Cup at North London Cricket Club would be a good example and I thought that 15 August, a date that I had put aside for the August Z/Yen Board meeting, an event that tends not to happen due to holidays and indeed was not going to happen, was a very good date for me to make such a visit.

Weather wise it turned out to be an excellent choice, sandwiched between two very wet Lord’s test match days. Work-wise it wasn’t quite so ideal, as a few things came up that needed my attention and I needed to deal with those ahead of going to Lord’s for a soaking the next day.

Still, I got to North London around 12:40 and was able to stay for a little under two hours, looked after by Pete Jones who is a key fellow in Middlesex’s participation team. He was able to give me a lot of useful context to the work we are doing and planning to do through the London Cricket Trust. We were also, usefully, joined by Mohammed from the ECB’s participation and growth team who also had some useful and interesting context to give me about such participation programmes in other parts of the country, as well as London.

Considering that the tournament was for 14-17 year olds of mixed ability and experience – ranging from some of the better colt players from strong clubs to young enthusiasts who were perhaps getting their first experience of playing hard ball cricket on a full sized cricket pitch, I thought the standard was pretty high.

I was a bit regretful that I couldn’t stick around and watch the tournament pan out for the afternoon – it was a glorious day for hanging around cricket – but I did need to get home and get some work done. Indeed, I got so deep into one or two tasks, I ended up rushing in the end to get out the door in time for the Streatham BBYO reunion gathering at Imperial China.

There was a coincidental connection between these two noteworthy, North London and then South London, activities of the day. The 14-17 year old age band of the Wilf Slack Cup coincides almost exactly with my age during the Streatham BBYO years and both of those activities were linked to the two “Mission Implausible” challenges that I had assumed at the last reunion gathering in May.

Mission Implausible, The Annual Streatham BBYO Alumni Gathering, Bill’s, 30 May 2019

The first of those challenges was to provide cricket facilities for Mark Phillips’s school, Deptford Green. I must admit at this juncture that I rather set this challenge up when I found out that Mark was the Head Teacher at that school, as I was pretty sure that we were imminently due to put a London Cricket Trust Non-Turf Pitch into Deptford Park. What I hadn’t known, in May, was that we would also be able to get one of the greatest cricketers of all time, AB DeVillers, to open the facility for us in July.

AB & Me & The LCT, Deptford Park, 16 July 2019

The second challenge was to track down Barry Freedman after all these years. This I failed to achieve through the BBYO Facebook network but succeeded in doing through the Kim and Micky connection. It’s not what you know…as they say.

Woddi, Terri and Barry (sounds like a group of England cricketers and their nicknames), *from way back then* (1979).

I thought we might be a little short of people for the 8-person table I had booked, but I needn’t have worried. Sandra and Mark had both said yes but were demonstrably both abroad right up until the last minute. Still they both – almost AB DeVilliers-like, hot-footed it from their vacation to our event.

I did a shout-out on the BBYO Facebook group. Terri got in touch and hoped to come along and try to replicate the above picture, but sadly in the end couldn’t make it. Simon Ordever wanted to pick up an age-old rivalry between supporters of Crystal Palace (Eagles) and supporters of Brighton FC (Seagulls), but sadly he now lives on the West Coast of the USA. That is a bit of a schlep for one meal.

Fortunately, Paul Dewinter was able to pick up the mantle for the Seagulls community, attending (as he has done before) as a “Friend of Streatham”. Paul possibly didn’t realise that he would be up against the combined forces of Barry, Linda and Liza in the Eagles department. I think Paul held out for a 0-0 draw despite being two men down.

Clockwise from me: Paul, Andrea, Sandra, Linda, Barry, Liza, Mark. Many thanks to the waiter whose photographic skills were surprisingly good considering his polite reluctance to accept the task.

It had been great to speak with Barry again when I called him some weeks ago and likewise it was great to see him again along with the group. Hopefully Barry will be able to join us again at the (now traditional) May gatherings. I find it very enjoyable spending time with everyone in the group. The years just seem to fall away when our group gets together, as I have said in reports of several previous gatherings, which have been happening since 2014.

It was a lovely ending to a busy but largely enjoyable day.

My Dad, Peter Harris At 100: Born 11 August 1919, Died 6 August 2007, Remembered 11 August 2019

‘Tis a day to remember my dad, who would have reached his 100th birthday today, had he lived a further 12 years and a few days.

I have very few pictures of dad when he was little, but I love this one:

As a baby and small boy, he grew up in the slums of Fitzrovia. People think of the East End of London as being the overcrowded part where the immigrant communities lived, but there was a West End equivalent which was (to some extent still is) the centre for the rag trade in London.

I’ll write a bit more about that elsewhere, but suffice it to say here that the Harris family migrated to South West London in the early 1930s, where they established themselves on Clapham Common North Side and became pillars of the South West London Jewish Community known as Bolingbroke.

As a young man dad served in the Second World war in the Ordnance Corps, mostly working on photography, cinematography and poster design. I’d like to write up some of his stories from that era at some point, but not for this piece.

Dad and Mum at Northside, early to mid 1950s

He went back to art school after the war (Central) but met my mum in the early 1950s and realised that he’d need a proper job if he was going to settle down with mum.

He and his older brother Alec went into a joint venture around photography, which landed dad with Photo Mart on St John’s Hill in Battersea:

With Uncle Alec’s financial acumen and dad’s understanding of photography and cinematography, this turned out to be a reasonably good idea.

Below is mum’s favourite photo of the two of them, so woe betide me if I omit the one below, I think from 1958, the same holiday as Dad’s cinematic masterpiece, shot in Standard 8mm, also below.

Then I Came Along

My earliest Ogblog pieces about dad revolve around the wonderful recordings he made of him reading stories to me. As a small child I used to listen to these over and over. I have many, but so far have only uploaded a couple of samples:

The Gingerbread Man, c1966 – click here or below:

Daddy Reading The Gingerbread Man To Me, Guessing Late 1966

Hare and Guy Fawkes, dated 5 November 1967 – click here or below:

Hare And Guy Fawkes, Daddy Reading To Me, 5 November 1967

Dad had absolutely no interest in sport, yet it was dad who introduced me to Geoffrey Boycott in 1969, inadvertently lighting the cricketing touchpaper in my heart:

A Short Holiday In Brighton, During Which I Met Geoffrey Boycott & The Yorkshire Cricket Team, 3 September 1969

I haven’t yet organised many of the family holiday films and photos onto Ogblog, but they are there if you can be bothered to delve through my Flickr account…

…or my YouTube channel.

People do look at this stuff. A researcher spotted Dad slapping on the sun tan oil, a clip I filmed in La Manga 1976, which resulted in me earning quite a few bob while dad was immortalised as a meme, in this advert for Visa.

No researcher has yet picked up this shot of dad being differently silly in Brighton the following year, 1977

Dad was one of the most placid fellows you are ever likely to meet. His friends often described him as laid back. Mum, a different personality, reflected that if he laid back any further, dad would probably fall over.

I hardly ever remember dad losing his temper about anything. But on one very strange occasion he did and I am proud of him for it. It is related in this strange tale – click here or below:

Strange Case Of Dr Green And Mr Knipe…And Beluga Caviar And Scotch Whisky And A Bust Of Hitler, c22 December 1981

Dad retired in the spring of 1986 and at first found retirement hard, until he returned to the world of art and largely lost himself in there. He produced some excellent work, much of which is stored in the Noddyland attic and some of which adorns our walls.

Dad’s 80th do at the house in Woodfield Avenue

So auspicious was dad’s 80th birthday, 11 August 1999, that we were able to organise a total eclipse of the sun as well as a birthday party at Woodfield Avenue for him. Now THAT’S impressive, no?

One of the last good pics I have of dad, Golden Wedding, November 2005

I could write lots more about dad- I shall write lots more on Ogblog about him, but shall do so in the context of the stuff I shall be writing up at the time. Dad wouldn’t have wanted me to go to too much trouble writing this up, simply because it would have been his 100th birthday today. He was that sort of dad.

A Day Of Random Access Memories And Flash Drives, My Flat And Then Lord’s, 8 August 2019

Of late, I have been immersing myself in writing up the journal and some impression pieces about my visit to Mauritius, which was 40 years ago exactly. Devotees of Ogblog (i.e.subscribers) might well be aware of this; others not so.

Ahead of his latest visit, John Random e-mailed to say several things, including this about one of those journal pieces:

A Jew Hunt in Port Louis reminds me of something not very interesting I must tell you about next Thursday.

A Jew Hunt In Port Louis, Mauritius, 9 August 1979

I had felt quite frustrated about the above piece since I realised that my mother had not only thrown away my article about the resulting great story I discovered once I hunted down the mystery man in Port Louis, but that she had also thrown away my journal notes for 10 and 11 August 1979, as part of the same inadvertently vandalistic act, in the name of “clearing out rubbish”.

Putting that to one side, John and I had a pleasant lunch and did some more fiddling around with his archive of writings. Less progress this session than the previous session, but the previous session had yielded plenty of unexpectedly retrievable data from his old collection. Actually even this day’s session seems to have yielded more than I thought it would.

Then I raised the matter of John’s “Jew Hunt anecdote”.

Oh, it’s nothing really. It’s just that, 20 or so years ago, Jenny and I went to a Mauritian community event in South-East London. There was a bookstall at that event, where I looked at a book called The Mauritian Shekel. It looked really interesting but in the end I didn’t buy it. Your headline, “A Jew Hunt In Port Louis” reminded me of that book.

I nearly left it at that, but my curiosity had been sparked, so I asked John if he remembered what the book was about.

It was a fascinating true story from the time of the Second World War, about a large ship full of Jewish refugees from Central Europe, who had been turned away in Palestine and who were eventually given refuge on Mauritius…

“Hold on!”, I yelled. “THAT’s the story the mystery Jewish man told me in Port Louis. THAT’s the very story I’m desperately trying to recall. The Mauritian Shekel, did you say?”…

…it might not have been cheap, but it was available as a rare second hand book on Amazon:

So the book is on its way and I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to reconstruct my missing article/story from it.

At about 17:00, John went off in the direction of the Proms while I went off in the direction of Lord’s. I bagsyed some seats for me and Jez Horne in the Warner Stand, then went for a quick meeting with Katie Berry for a briefing on participation cricket in Middlesex.

Jez messaged me to say he thought he was a little delayed but should only miss an over or so. In the end, he arrived just in time for the start of the match.

It was good to catch up with Jez again. I hope we can catch up again when Janie and I are in Hove and he also intends to join the Z/Yen party at the Hampshire game in a couple of week’s time.

This Middlesex v Surrey match always has some real frisson to it, though, being a local derby. More often than not we Middlesex fans end up disappointed at this fixture, but of late Middlesex have been doing better and tonight demonstrated that improvement.

AB deVilliers and Eoin Morgan were scintillating with the bat; Steve Finn magnificent with the ball.

You can read all about it through this link.

An interesting, productive and enjoyable day.

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