Category: School Life

A Weekend In Manchester Straight From School, 7 to 9 March 1980

My memory for this piece was triggered by a very enjoyable reunion with Mark Lewis at Simon Jacobs’s album launch in September 2017.

Mark Lewis is now one of the top media and libel lawyers around – a man who did not fear taking on the Murdoch Empire in the Millie Dowler phone hacking case, nor did he fear Katie Hopkins in the Jack Monroe Twitter libel case.

So I’d better be very careful indeed what I say…

…and agree in advance to amend any part of this Ogblog piece at Mark’s request…

…and use the word allegedly at frequent intervals, even though I know that the addition of that word serves no defensive purpose whatsoever if the statement to which it refers in libellous…

…but I digress.

At Simon’s launch, Mark and I had roughly the following conversation, from which I have recovered some memory (and the relevant diary pages):

Mark: I remember the first time I met you. I had recently joined my local BBYO group in Manchester and you came to stay at our house for for the weekend. You were on the National executive, so it felt to us that you were a visiting dignitary…all the more so, because you came straight from school and you were wearing a three-piece suit when you arrived. Were you wearing tails too?

Me: Was I heck wearing tails. I’ll confess to the three-piece suit though; that was the school uniform for sixth-formers.

Mark: We thought you must be incredibly posh.

Ian: I wasn’t incredibly posh. I was just a scholarship boy at Alleyn’s School…

The conversation continued. I promised to dig out the trusty diaries and try to establish exactly when that weekend happened and see what else the diary might reveal.

So here it is:

I’ll transliterate the relevant bits for any reader who doesn’t read the rarefied script otherwise known as my handwriting:

 school OK, -> Euston -> Manchester -> Prestwich, Mark Lewis, stayed up till all hours -> shule -> lunch -> open house -> Nat Exec meeting -> party -> bed -> North v South soccer -> lunch -> Installations -> Piccadilly -> home (exhausted).

…and who wouldn’t be exhausted after that. I feel exhausted now just typing those words and thinking about it.

I like the Monday message too, by way of echo: “school OK”.

I’d just like to reflect for a moment on the early part of that adventure. The bit where I left school in my three piece suit, went to Euston and up to Manchester. The easiest/quickest route would have been to take the train from North Dulwich to London Bridge and the tube from there to Euston.

But that would have meant me venturing, more or less alone, on the Billy Biro’s (pupils of William Penn School) side of the station/platform, which, while wearing an Alleyn’s three-piece suit, would have been a form of attempted suicide. I don’t remember doing that.

More likely, I left school a little early, probably with Anil Biltoo, most likely (if with Anil) stopping at his house for a couple of cigarettes and an earful of some trendy music served up by his rock chick older sister Benita. Or, if Bi wasn’t around, we’d have probably listened to Innervisions by Stevie Wonder. Then, I guess, on to Euston, either by bus or by picking up the train from the relative safety of East Dulwich.

At no point in this trek from school to Mark Lewis’s house did it occur to me to change clothing. I must have had changes of clothing. But perhaps not a suitable suitcase/bag for my three-piece whistle.

Based on Mark’s 2017 description and my reflections on how I came across, I must have seemed like a Judaic Jacob Rees-Mogg.

Postscript: I have subsequently found a picture of me in my Alleyn’s three piece suit a few month’s later – written up and linked here & through the picture below:

Me And Wendy Robbins On Westminster Bridge

I’m not sure whether that visit was my only stay at the Lewis house or whether I stayed there again on subsequent visits to Manchester that year. I certainly do remember discourse late into the night.

I recall Mark’s sister, Mandy, introducing me to the delights of the Manchester music scene, at least to the extent they were represented in her record collection and narrative. I think her main thing was Joy Division, but I might be mistaken.

It was only decades later I learnt that Joy Division weren’t Manchester at all, they were Macclesfield. I also recall hearing Spandau Ballet a few months later and confusing them with Joy Division, much to the derision of friends at the time. I don’t think I needed to confess that foible – I think it might have vanished without trace if I hadn’t raised the matter again. Perhaps Mandy talked about Spandau Ballet, but I think they came later and were quintessentially London. Perhaps none of us knew what we were talking about – I certainly didn’t – I only went to my first proper gig a few weeks later – click here for that debacle.

I hope this piece triggers some of Mark’s memories about that weekend. Or indeed memories of other subsequent weekends if I did stay more than once. I don’t know why, but I think the Joy Division (or whatever “Manchester scene” stuff it was) conversations might have been a subsequent visit.

January 2018 postscript: I have found the second visit and tried to disambiguate the two weekends here:

A Second Weekend Visit To The Lewis Household, Towards The End Of My BBYO Days, 20 & 21 December 1980

Back to the March 1980 weekend:

The National Exec meeting would then, I think, have included Jay Marks, Ivor Heller, Paul DeWinter, Raymond Ingleby and the late, great Jeffrey Spector. We must have discussed matters of enormous import; I’m sure one of the others can fill us in on the details, all of which for some reason have slipped my mind.

I also have no recollection of the North v South football match – but that sounds like fun – perhaps someone out there does recall the match and can provide a match report and/or photographs.

This picture from a different BBYO football match, in Portsmouth. a year or so earlier, but the March 1980 one in Manchester will have looked a bit like this

The installation ceremony cannot have been for Mark Lewis’s new Sunnybank group – that was far too new. So perhaps it was the Sale group or more likely the larger Whitefield Group. Again, perhaps some people reading this can chime in with their own memories and/or diary notes and/or photographs…

Correction: David Nispel has written in to confirm that Sunnybank BBYO had actually been going for 2-3 years by that time and that this weekend was their inaugural installation weekend. Mark confirms that he was a newbie but the group wasn’t. David Nispel has also posted several pictures in the BBYO Facebook Group – members of which can see the chat and pictures by clicking here. One quite extraordinary feat of memory comes from Jay Marks, recalling the score as a 1-1 draw and describing the football match as, “an undignified kick about in 70s terrace attire…” and that…”wherever the party was in north Manchester later it would have been far more successful.”

If any of my old mates from Alleyn’s School are still reading this and had been wondering why I often looked so wrecked on a Monday morning during my last year at school – this piece explains a fair bit.

Anyway, Mark, I have done my worst (as lawyers tend to say) and now rest my case. Over to you.

1970s BBYO Style Verses 1980s BBYO Style, 4 January 1980

Jay Marks posted in the BBAK Facebook Group in January 2019, inferring that the 1980s look might have been a little more aesthetically pleasing than the 1970s look. That remark kicked off some lively debate.

As it happens, Jay became BBYO National President on 1 January 1980, so methinks Jay might have been alluding to this fact and trying to take some credit for a change…

…in his opinion improvement…

…in style or looks between 31 December 1979 and 1 January 1980.

As it also happens, I am one of just a handful of people who had the honour to serve on the National Executive in both 1979 and 1980. Unfortunately, though, I was encouraged to put down my camera once I’d been co-opted onto the Committee in the summer of 1979, so I have been forced to trawl public domain archives for photographic evidence of that seminal change in aesthetics.

Of course, public domain sources are notoriously unreliable, whereas my memory is merely notorious.

Here are my “best efforts” to capture the look and spirit of the cusp of those decades.

I believe this might be the 1979 BBYO National Executive doing outreach work in one of the remotest parts of the District 15 empire. Hull perhaps? Is that Jeffrey at the back of the wagon wearing shades? It is hard to tell. The local member (bearded) looks ever so grateful for the visit.
I believe this might be the 1980 BBYO National Executive in relaxed mode, taking full advantage of the female attention, attributable no doubt to the much improved sartorial look, no? Is that Raymond partially obscured at the back? And once again Jeffrey, perhaps, playfully biting a colleagues shoulder. It’s so hard to tell.

The original Wikimedia Commons sources for these photos seem to think they are something else. In the interests of good manners and good practice, they are embedded below so other researchers might form their own opinion on these sources.

TheBoomtownRatsKBF1981
XTC UK

BBYO National Convention & Aftermath, 30 December 1979 to 3 January 1980: Annex

My shout out in the previous piece…

BBYO National Convention & Aftermath, 30 December 1979 to 3 January 1980

…for further information and/or photos was answered in most impressive style by Jay Marks…or should I say Jay’s mum.

Please thank your mum for me, Jay. (How many times must I have said that during 1980?)

As Jay says to me in his covering note:

… my mum has outdone you…

…and who could disagree with that?

Point is, Jay’s mum had saved a magazine article from the Jewish Chronicle nearly 40 years ago (as I write in January 2020). The piece, by Barry Toberman, is a veritable treasure trove of pictures (some colour, nach) and information about BBYO at that time.

Jay remarks elsewhere about these articles:

Reading it made us sound like a trade union / political party

But some fabulous shots of very special people…

There’s no date on the pages, but I’m guessing it will have been published in the spring of 1980, after Rebecca Lowi’s resignation but before she left just ahead of that summer. More on that subject anon.

Meanwhile Jay cheekily also photographed a couple of the ads from that magazine, just to remind us all (in case we need reminding) that it was all a long time ago.

As Jay says:

But best of all in this mag were the ads… Aramis literally communicates success – assuming success is on the lounge floor in a sleeping bag 200 miles from home

…and then, Jay again commenting:

Tech ain’t what it used to be

This Hitachi ad makes a good point, Jay. Where’s your video footage from convention 1979/1980, eh? Now that can be your next challenge.

Seriously, many thanks again to Jay and Jay’s mum for providing this wonderful archive material.

BBYO National Convention & Aftermath, 30 December 1979 to 3 January 1980

I have very few specific memories of the 1979/1980 BBYO National convention.

One reason for my dearth of memories from that particular convention is a complete absence of photographs. I have hundreds of photographs from the previous year’s convention – click here or below for the Ogblog article and links…

BBYO National Convention 29 December 1978 to 1 January 1979

…but I have not a single photograph from the 1979/1980 convention. If anyone reading this piece has photos…even one photo…from that convention, it would be great to see it and/or add it to this Ogblog piece.

Of course, I do have my diaries, but – as was my habit with large scale BBYO events such as conventions – I considered them, at the time, to be such memorable events that I needn’t write down any details about them.

Below is the sum total of my scribbling for the three days 30 December 1979 to 1 January 1980:

…got up very early in morn, set off for convention. Great time at convention, saw in new year… …GREAT DAY. GOT ELECTED AS NATIONAL RESOURCE.

Yet, despite the lack of memories and writing, the 1979/1980 Convention was a momentous event for me. I was elected onto the National Executive for 1980 (I had been co-opted onto the National Exec to edit the magazine for the second half of 1979, but that’s not the same thing as getting elected).

So let me try to delve the memory bank. The National Executive for 1980 had been scaled right back – the feeling being that most day-to-day responsibility should be devolved to the regions and thus a smaller National Executive could be a more strategic or policy-oriented body.

1980, I think, proved this scaled-down executive idea to be flawed for BBYO in Great Britain and Ireland, but the upshot for the 1979/1980 convention was that there were only three posts up for election that year, rather than the usual 6 to 8 posts.

Jay Marks was elected National President.

Jay Marks, Spring 1979. If you could look that cool, you could be National President.

Ivor Heller, my fellow Streathamista, was elected National Vice-President:

Ivor Heller, Spring 1979, enjoying a goodness-knows-what moment with Helen Lewis from Oxford
Incontrovertible evidence that the mystery woman above is Helen Lewis, plus a rare picture of Rebecca Lowi, the BBYO full-timer, chatting with Ivor, Spring 1979

The third and final election that year was for National Resources Officer, which was a combination of several former portfolios such as welfare, programmes, Soviet Jewry and perhaps a couple of others. I remember so little about how the elections worked. I think a candidate had to be proposed and seconded by an elector. Each group that was fully constituted (i.e. had a charter) had two electors. I think candidates simply made a short speech of self-advocacy and the electors then voted.

I don’t recall preparing myself for an election battle in any meaningful way. I think the influencers from the outgoing committee had decided that I had done enough in four or five months of magazine editing to justify supporting me for this expanded and complex portfolio. Anyway, I somehow succeeded in convincing enough electors that a bit of magazine writing and editing qualified me for the task…

…which would be a bit like assuming that a political sketch writer and former editor of a political magazine should be elected to a great political office of state…oh cripes!

We joined those already on the National Executive who would remain; Paul Dewinter (Southern Region President), Raymond Ingleby (Northern Region President) and Jeffrey Spector, who was to stay on as immediate past National President after saying goodbye to formal office.

Of course, conventions are also about goodbyes as well as hellos. This convention marked the end of Jeffrey Spector’s Presidency and indeed the end of two very successful years on the National Executive in his case.

Jeff Spector, Spring 1979

Writing forty years after this convention (in January 2020) and nearly five years after Jeffrey’s premature death, his memory lives on powerfully in my mind and I’m sure in the minds of most who knew him.

Jeffrey will have been honoured with life membership of BBYO at this convention, as would several other stalwarts. I don’t remember all the names, but I’m pretty sure Richard Marks, Tania Silverman and Neil Hyman were amongst them.

Of course there will have been interesting events for us all to enjoy. There will have been singing, dancing, skit competitions and a heck of a lot of spirited stuff. We had the spirit all right.

But in truth, I do not remember any specific stuff of that kind from this convention. I’d love to hear from people who have some very specific memories from this one.

But I do have one very clear memory from the aftermath of convention. It is described in my diary a bit but I do also remember it clearly.

Wednesday 2 January – Really late night. GREAT DAY. Returned, went straight back out to Hillel top stay with…

Thursday 3 January – …Dubliners. Saw off in the morning. Got a lot of admin done.

Yes, something went awry with the travel plans for the Dublin contingent on 2 January – presumably they missed their train or were informed that they would not get to Holyhead in time for the last ferry or something.

Anyone who ever went to one of these conventions will know how tired I must have been when I got home, but I had barely put down my bags when I got the call to please come to Hillel House and stay the night. The authorities there were refusing to give the Dublin BBYO contingent (I think it was 10 to 15 people) sanctuary unless someone suitably senior stayed with them to ensure that there would be no trouble.

So I grabbed my sleeping bag and headed off to Euston for the night, where I joined some very grateful Dubliners in a large room that I think was normally used for functions…

…it will have been good training for Janie’s and my Crisis Christmas forty years later:

A Bit Of A Crisis Christmas, 25 To 26 December 2019

I’m amused also to read my comment about “getting a lot of admin done” while at Hillel on 3 January. However tired I must have been after seeing off the Dubliners, I was clearly awake and motivated enough to get started on my new portfolio that very day. The 57-year-old me is awarding the 17-year-old me top marks for effort there.

The Dubliners, being a warm and generous lot, sent me a lovely thank you and gift voucher when they returned to Dublin. I think David Lapedus was the ringleader of that kind gesture.

With the voucher, I treated myself to a copy of Roget’s Thesaurus, which has been my writing companion for the 40 years since…

“A thesaurus is great. There’s no other word for it” – Ross Smith

…OK, in the last few years, on-line synonym finders tend to do the job, but for several decades the well-thumbed (but also lovingly preserved) book, depicted above, was my constant companion on my all-too-regular writing occasions. Certainly for all the books (so far) – click here to see all of those in a row.

The sight of my Roget’s Thesaurus would often make me think of that convention and in particular that additional night with the Dubliners at Hillel House.

A BBYO convention is great. There’s no other word for it.

Postscript: Jay Marks responded to my shout out for more memories and/or materials in tremendous style – thanks in the most part to his mum. I have annexed – link here and below – a wonderful magazine piece from the Jewish Chronicle at the time, preserved by Jay’s mum and sent through via Facebook by Jay;

BBYO National Convention & Aftermath, 30 December 1979 to 3 January 1980: Annex

The Two Weeks Leading Up To BBYO National Convention, 16 to 29 December 1979

For about four months, I had been on the National Executive of BBYO as magazine editor (a role known as Dovair – not to be confused with the defunked airline in Vanuatu).

I was also still very active with my local group in Streatham. Once the time is right I’ll write up the plethora of Streatham BBYO activity that took place that autumn, including our famous (or should I say infamous) so-called-fashion-show at Bolingbroke.

So the fortnight’s run up to National Convention was a giddy mixture of local and National stuff. I might need help from friends disambiguating some of this.

Let’s start translating my scrawl with the day I broke up from school:

18 December – broke up. Back to Anils. Met Fran.  Went to club in evening, she stayed.

No doubt Anil and I smoked some cigarettes and listened to some of our favourite records. e.g.

Fran had started her dentistry course that term and was staying in digs quite near our house. Mum invited her round for dinner a few times that first term and I’ll guess that term had just finished for her that day too, hence her staying that night before returning to her family.

Fran and I have subsequently reconnected through Facebook, where we discovered we had a shared interest in Middlesex CCC cricket – click here for the Fran tag.

Fran had also helped me to set up my somewhat ill-fated party, which took place several week’s before this December get together:

A Somewhat Eventful Party At Woodfield Avenue, 6 to 7 October 1979

19 December – Left for N [north] London. Took hours to get to Caroline’s [Freeman, now Curtis], dinner, Pinner, Drewey’s, late night

I ate often at Caroline’s house on my visits to “The North” in those days. I remember calculating at one point during my National Exec time that I had eaten more often at Caroline’s house than I had at my parent’s house over a period of several months. Caroline is also someone with whom I have kept in touch – here’s the Caroline tag.

“Drewey’s” is Andrew Melinek’s house. He (or I should say his parents) often and generously hosted meetings.

20 December – early start. Hillel all day, on to Sabra, then home.

Sabra was the Hampstead Garden Suburb chapter. Not too sure what i was doing there that evening – perhaps leading a group meeting. I was going round the groups that autumn showing photos of and talking about Mauritius:

“I’m The Only J In Mauritius”, Recreating My Interview With Isia Birger, Port Louis, 10 August 1979

The other two days of the above week were uneventful.

23 December – …Met Melina & 6 others went to Manhattan & on to party v good

Melina was, I think, Hendon BBYO and I’m guessing the six others were her pals from that part. I so clearly remember going off to see that Woody Allen movie, Manhattan and thinking it was a truly terrific movie.

I remember the strains of Rhapsody in Blue by George Gershwin ringing through my mind for several days after seeing that film.

24 December – Went to meeting at Hillel in afternoon.  Went to Martin’s [Shaw?] in evening, got sozzled, Trafalgar Square etc.

The meeting was no doubt some planning towards convention. I wonder who else was at Martin’s getting sozzled and going up to Trafalgar Square. Shout out to the Streatham gang – who was there and do any of you remember that occasion better than I do – i.e. does anyone remember any details beyond my scanty jotting?

25 December – Went to home in morning, on to Linda’s for coffee. Evening entertained family etc. Quite good.

My recollection is that we went to a home or day centre in Camberwell to do voluntary work for needy and/or lonely folk. “Home” implies Nightingale – perhaps my memory is getting the dates/years confused, but I don’t recall ever doing voluntary work at Nightingale on Christmas day, I just remember the Camberwell place. Linda, Mark, Sandra, Natalie and/or others from Streatham might remember this and be able to explain it.

The next few days seem less eventful. I get the impression I had a bit of a pre-convention cold. 27th mentions Streatham preparation (that would be skits and songs), 28th mentions build up to convention but goodness only knows what I might have built.

29 December – Mike came in evening stayed night…

I cannot work out who Mike might have been. It was a tradition to put up northerners in need of a stop over on the way to a convention when it was in the south. The only Mike I can think of is Mike Rose, but I really don’t remember him ever staying with us. If there is a Mike out there who remembers staying in Woodfield Avenue with us on the way to convention, please put your hand up now.

But if it was Michael Rose…or even if it wasn’t…here’s Mike Rose’s song, which we for sure often sang at convention.

Sunday School: Bernard Rothbart’s Funeral, 9 December 1979

With thanks to Mike Jones for this photograph of Bernard Rothbart nursing Mike Jones’s foot on a 1975 school field trip

In the first term of my last year at Alleyn’s School, one of our teachers, Bernard Rothbart, took his own life at the school. As I understand it, he had ingested cyanide and was discovered in his car in the school car park by some of my fellow pupils who got more than they might have bargained for when sky-larking around out of bounds. Mr Rothbart was a biology and chemistry teacher, so he must have known what he was doing in a scientific sense, but what the poor fellow’s state of mind must have been at the time is a matter for conjecture.

The matter was discussed at length on the Facebook Group for Alleyn’s School 1970s alums; members of that group can read that discussion by clicking here.

But the purpose of this piece is to get my personal recollections down. I remember nothing about learning of Mr Rothbart’s death, but I do clearly recall being asked to attend and then attending the funeral, at Bushey Jewish Cemetery.

I had a memory flash about Mr Rothbart’s funeral in 2017, when I had a different memory flash about a different funeral at that same cemetery:

Uncle Manny’s Funeral & The Hoover Factory, 15 May 1981

I was reminded of my resolve to write up Mr Rothbart’s funeral when I received an e-mail, “out of the blue”, early summer 2020, from one of the scallywags who discovered poor Mr Rothbart, wondering whether I had got around to writing it up yet. I promised to do so, but it wasn’t until late September 2020 that I steeled myself to the task.

Sunday 9 December 1979: Went to school for rock practice and on to Mr Rothbart’s funeral. Easyish evening.

I’m struggling to recall what “rock practice” was about, but I do remember one occasion spending some weekend time in the old gym watching Mark Stevens, Neil Voce and some of their mates practicing in their nascent rock band. I’m guessing that this was that very visit and that I was taking the opportunity to see the lads rehearse as I needed to be at the school in order to join the school’s funeral party.

I’m hoping that Mark, Neil and possibly others can fill in the rock practice bit.

But a more important question in this context is, “why was I, one of Mr Rothbart’s least-distinguished chemistry students, asked…almost begged…to be one of the pupils to attend the funeral?”

The answer is almost solely based on ethnic profiling. I’m pretty sure it was John “Squeaky” Newton who asked me to attend and I’m pretty sure he fessed up to the fact that none of the teachers had the faintest idea what a Jewish funeral was about, so the brains trust had concluded that I might help them in that regard. They also thought that my presence might help put Bernard Rothbart’s poor grieving parents/family a little more at ease with the Alleyn’s School contingent.

There is an adage in the medical (surgical) world, “see one, do one, teach one”, encapsulating the need for (and sometimes disputed benefits of) trickling down experience and knowledge at high speed. Unfortunately, in this instance, by December 1979, I hadn’t yet been through the “see one” phase of attending a funeral. It is not the done thing in the Jewish tradition for minors (under 13s) to attend the funeral itself; in the four years after my 13th birthday, my family had, inconveniently, been bereavement free.

Dad & Mum provided diverse funereal advice – this photo from a 1977 “summer break” in Greenwich

Having neither “seen one” nor “done one” before, my only available source of sage advice on such matters was my parents. Like most people in their 50s, they had experience of funerals which they were able to impart. Unfortunately,they had a significant difference of opinion as to the type of funeral I was about to experience.

Mum was adamant that, as Bernard Rothbart had committed suicide, that we would experience a much scaled down version of the funeral, as the burial of suicides in the orthodox tradition cannot take place on consecrated ground and are consequently minimal.

Dad was equally sure that there was no facility for such burials at Bushey. He suspected that the authorities in such situations often agree to a compassionate coroners’ verdict of “accidental death” in order to spare the bereaved loved ones of the further suffering resulting from a verdict, perceived to be shameful, of suicide.

Dad even consulted with his coroner friend & neighbour, Arnold Levene, who concurred with Dad’s view. They were right. Arnold was nearly always right.

Leatrice & Arnold Levene, 1975

These discussions led to several family conversations on the various ethical aspects of this matter. I’m not sure if we were philosophical/theological/logical or whatever, this was 1979 after all, the year of The Logical Song.

Anyway, it was my job on the day of the funeral to be acceptable, respectable, presentable, (but not) a vegetable. I did my best.

I was at least presentable in my Alleyn’s three-piece suit when I scrubbed up purposefully:

Me & Wendy Robbins On Westminster Bridge, Autumn 1979, the only photo I have of me in “that suit”

I remember briefing the Alleyn’s teachers and my fellow pupils as best I could. I have a feeling we went from the school by coach, but perhaps we assembled for a conversation before leaving the school and then went to the funeral in several teachers’ cars.

I don’t recall which of my fellow pupils attended. I think Chris Grant was there. I don’t know why but I can visualise Paul Driscoll being there. I suspect that this article will trigger some memories in other people who attended; I’ll amend this paragraph in due course if need be.

I do recall feeling quite numb and feeling that I didn’t really belong there. I felt a bit of a fraud, as the supposed fount of ethnic knowledge, for having had to mug up on the topic, about which I had been ignorant, in order to be that fount. A career in the professional advice business since has taught me to have no shame or fear of such situations, as long as you put the effort in to the mugging up on your subject in time.

I also felt a bit of a fraud in my capacity as one of Bernard Rothbart’s pupils. I knew I was pretty hopeless at the organic chemistry Mr Rothbart was supposed to be teaching me. Some of that hopelessness might be attributed to the teacher but most of it was down to my unwillingness to acquire the available knowledge from him.

Indeed, I remember the pangs of guilt from musing, I now realise foolishly, that it was possible that Bernard Rothbart had been driven to suicide by my utterly dismal organic chemistry mock exam paper that was (presumably) on Mr Rothbart’s desk when he died. “If I can’t even get any of this stuff across to a pupil like Harris…”

But of course I will have gone through the process of being a non-principal attendee at the Jewish funeral correctly, followed by other pupils and teachers “seeing one and then doing one” at each stage of the ceremony. Of course I will have said the right sort of thing to the principal mourners. I knew how to behave. Hopefully still do.

I know that Bernard Rothbart’s death weighs on many Alleyn’s alum’s minds. The self-violation of his mode of death. The fact that it was the first time in many of our juvenile/young adult lives that we encountered death. And that feeling of guilt, almost exclusively misguided, as Mr Rothbart had not been a popular teacher amongst the pupils. But of course we hardly knew him…or rather we only knew him in his capacity as a teacher, a career we have learnt subsequently did not please him at all. That is very sad.

I really like Mike Jones’s Lake District field trip photos from 1975. Bernard Rothbart has a smile on his face in one of them and is performing an act of kindness in the other.

“Borrowed” from Mike Jones’s Alleyn’s Group Facebook posting – thanks Mike
“Borrowed” from Mike Jones’s Alleyn’s Group Facebook posting – thanks Mike

With Wendy Robbins On Westminster Bridge, Guessing 26 September 1979

While rummaging for something completely different…

…like, totally different…

…I came a cross this lone, stray photograph:

Me And Wendy Robbins On Westminster Bridge

There am I in my Alleyn’s School three-piece suit, which played an unlikely part in a subplot to a Manchester visit, probably a few months later, in which Mark Lewis and family mistook me for a toff:

A Weekend In Manchester Straight From School, 7 to 9 March 1980

So when might this photo have been taken and how did I end up with this single, stray picture?

Well, I cannot be 100% sure, but that particular suit limited my diary search to term-time, midweek evenings in my final year of school…

…I didn’t get too far into my search when I found the following:

Wednesday 26 September 1979 – went to Hillel in afternoon. Met Wendy. Showed Stuart (USA) around London in eve.

I’m not too sure who Stuart (USA) might have been, but I’ll guess he was a visiting dignitary from the BBYO International Executive or one of the big American District Executives.

I’ll also guess that Stuart had a camera with a flash and colour film in it – plus the kindness and decency to send us a photograph in the aftermath of our hospitality/informal evening tour.

I remember precious little about the evening. Perhaps Wendy remembers it clearly. Perhaps Stuart remembers it, but he might take some serious tracking down.

Wendy and I look a rather dapper pair on that occasion, I have to say. Indeed, in my case this might be the sole piece of photographic evidence I have from my teenage years that I could, on occasion, scrub up quite well…

…at least I could with the help of my Alleyn’s School uniform.

Mauritius, July & August 1979, Overview, Summary and Picture Links

I spent several weeks of the summer of 1979 in Mauritius, with my good school friend Anil Biltoo and his dad, staying with many branches of their interesting family.

I want to write quite a lot about this trip, as it was the most amazing experience for a 16/17 year old youngster. It was hugely formative for me in many ways, not least sparking my lifelong interest in travel and cultures other than my own.

This posting is a quick summary and overview piece, linking to artefacts already available on-line:

M4-30E

All of the letters I wrote home while I was there, which doubled up as my diary/travelogue, have now been scanned, uploaded and transcribed as Ogblog entries. They make fascinating reading for me and I hope are providing interesting reading for others.

The first letter and transcription can be found through this link or below – you can work forward from this one:

First Letter From Mauritius, 16 July 1979

A transcription of my diary entry from the last day – which was a day full of gatherings and parties – can be found here and below – you could work backwards from this one:

Several Farewell Parties, Palmar, Belle Mare & Rose Hill, Mauritius, 17 August 1979

I also want to write up a few additional stories and thoughts with the benefit of hindsight, including some memories that have been triggered by going through these documents relating to matters undocumented in them.

Postscript

I have subsequently (autumn 2019) Ogblogged my journal and recollections from this whole trip, so the above links can get you started on the whole lot, if you wish to read them.

The Day England Lost The Cricket World Cup Final To The West Indies, While I Scored A Different Match, 23 June 1979

I have written up my take on England’s ejection from the first (1975) cricket world cup, click here or below:

A Truly Thrice Awful Day In My School/Sporting Life, 18 June 1975

I did not witness that 1975 ejection, but I clearly had it on my mind that day.

But by 1979, it seems, not only was I (once again) too busy pottering around with actual cricket at Alleyn’s School to witness the match, I don’t even mention the cricket world cup in my diary.

had lazy day (scored) easy evening

So lazy was I, that day, I abandoned capital letters and most punctuation.

“Scored”, on that day, will mean, “scored a school team cricket match”, not the other (chasing girls) type of scoring.

Sociologists of the future will be delighted to learn that, at age 16, I was doing my fair share of the other type of scoring; the page before and the page after in the diary attest to that.

But that week had been an exam week at school.

I have a funny feeling that this particular episode of scoring lazily for the school team was a match at Battersea Grammar School (or I should say Furzedown, as that school had, by then, become) playing fields, which at that time was situated a lazy stroll away from our home in Woodfield Avenue. I say that only because I remember being asked at the last minute to score such a match around that time and the use of the term “lazy” infers that I went to little bother all day, possibly including even an absence of travel bother.

The way that world cup final match turned out is well described on Wikipedia here.

The way the Alleyn’s School match turned out is lost in the mists of time, unless some archivist somewhere kept the scorebooks. Anybody know if such archives are available for inspection? If so, let’s just hope my scoring handwriting was better than my diary handwriting.

The MCC has put up a rather charming half hour highlights package from that 1979 world cup final match – jolly decent of them – in two sections – here they both are:

The Day England Won A Cricket World Cup Semi Final On Home Soil, While I Went To School And A Youth Club Committee Meeting, 20 June 1979

No need to hold on to your hats for this diary entry, readers. 20 June 1979 is not one of the more exciting ones:

School OK. Exec meeting – all OK

But like the best Greek dramas, the exciting stuff is all happening just off stage.

This was the year during which I went out with Gillian for many months – several mentions of those activities on the preceding and subsequent pages.

The perceptive reader / interpreter might notice that I describe the youth club meeting the night before as “near revolution”. That can only be to do with the welfare day we were busy organising, with representatives from all around the Southern Region due to descend on our tiny little Streatham enclave on 1 July. I’ll take soundings and write up that whole near-drama soon (he writes in June 2019).

And those keen on drama might note that I sat my AO-level Drama that week. B was the result of that, if I recall correctly.

But the diary is entirely silent about the fact that the England cricket team, who for sure were very much on my mind still that summer, as indeed they were every summer, won a world cup semi-final thriller against New Zealand that day:

Here is a link to the scorecard and Cricinfo resources.

While this link takes you to some video of the match, which I might myself watch some day…but not today.