Category: School Life

Execution Scenes, Coin Tossers And Miscellaneous Silliness Recorded With Paul Deacon, 12 April 1977

On this day in 1977, Paul Deacon and I recorded ourselves larking around, including, for some unknown reason, several takes of a scene emulating an execution at the time of the French Revolution.

I’ve no idea whether anyone other than me and Paul will find this four minute clip funny, but I laughed out loud many times on hearing it again.

I think my favourite bit is on take 4, when you hear my pseudo-Robespierre voice, once again, ask

“do you ‘ave anything to say?”

and you can hear my mother holler from the next room…

“yeh – shut up!”

…at which point Paul collapses in gales of laughter.

Some of the bits in several of the takes where Paul gets tongue-tied around his lines are pretty funny too.

I also laughed out loud at my third announcement of “take 5” – to announce two “take 5s” might be described as unfortunate, to announce three sounds like carelessness.  The juvenilia of a numbers man.

Suffice it to say that the unintended humour works better than the rather mawkish intended humour.

The guillotine sound comes from an actual guillotine…

…no, really…

…a paper one, which looked more or less exactly like this picture, which I have borrowed from an ebay sale long since closed – I’m sure the anonymous photographer/seller won’t mind – fair use for educational purposes blah blah:

Madame la Guillotine

The sound of the drum roll was made on a genuine Southern African bongo drum, a gift from my mother’s dear school friend, “Auntie” Elsie Betts who lived (I believe still lives) in South Africa. For reasons unknown, I took a superb photograph of that majestic drum:

Monsieur Le Bongodrum

The sound of the aristocrat’s head landing was, if I recall correctly, achieved with a white cabbage being dropped into a wastepaper basket. My mother used to make her own coleslaw to my father’s specification – with a light vinaigrette sauce, no mayonnaise nonsense for my dad’s slaw – it was a sort-of cross between sauerkraut and coleslaw really.

But I digress.

Point is, there would always have been a white cabbage conveniently on hand whenever the need arose for a head removal sound effect. The cabbage will have looked like one of these:

White cabbages at Asian supermarket in New Jersey

Paul and I made quite a few silly recordings over the years, but I believe only the one tape survives. Most of our recordings were recorded on the trusty Sony TC377, which looked like this…

…the tape for which was expensive and in demand in the Harris household (mostly by me to be honest), so much of the silly stuff will have been wiped over with other silly stuff or, eventually, something someone wanted to keep.

I meticulously digitised all the reel to reel tapes that survived (a few batches of tape were deteriorating before digitisation, so those tapes couldn’t be saved) but, as far as I can tell, none of the survivors had larking about material on them. Sorry.

So how or why did the 12 April 1977 material survive?

The answer is straightforward and signalled in the following diary page.

The relevant passage is 2 January 1977 – Bank Holiday Monday:

Went to Comet cassette deck. Great.

On that day, our reel-to-reel family bowed to the inevitable and procured a cheap (this is the January sales, isn’t it?) “solid state” cassette deck. It was not a special one. I think it was one of the following or similar –  I have borrowed the picture from an ebay sale long since closed – I’m sure the anonymous photographer/seller won’t mind – fair use for educational purposes blah blah:

While I think Paul and I probably recorded the coin tossers/execution scenes on the reel-to-reel (the clicks sound reel-to-reelish to me – Paul might know better), I at least made a copy or copies onto cassette following that 1977 reording session:

Below I have also embedded the 20 minutes or so of general larking around stuff that preceded the main takes. It’s not a particularly interesting listen; I think we must both have been in an especially silly mood that day. Paul might go through it and extract a few small snippets of value from it. I think there is a Cyril Vaughan impersonation on there somewhere and one or two other impersonations to boot.

The main “conceit” of the following preliminary piece is a spoof sports commentary on the world coin tossing competition. This appears to be a throw-back to an earlier, seminal event, in December 1974:

Breaking The World Record For Coin Catching With Paul Deacon, Woodfield Avenue, 30 December 1974

Anyway, here is twenty minutes of coin tossing, infantile giggling, some impersonations and some early attempts at the execution scenes. This recording is on the other side of the Execution Scenes cassette.

I have written all of this up in September 2018 at Paul Deacon’s request, as he is giving some sort of talk about careers to a women’s group in Canada, the country in which Paul and his family now reside.

Paul wondered if I had any relevant photos of us from that time, which I don’t really – sorry again. The only picture I can lay my hands on with both of us in it is the following, which Paul himself uploaded in our Alleyn’s alum group:

Paul on the right doing the bumping; me the recipient of the bumps. This might take some explaining to a genteel women’s group…

…but if they are instead a group of Canadian Women’s Ice Hockey players/supporters, the picture will look like childishly amateur violence, which it assuredly was.

While I denied all memory of this event when Paul first upped that picture, I have a vague recollection now of how those autumnal-looking bumps came about. I’ll Ogblog about that separately some other time.

This piece is about recordings of execution scenes and stuff. You haven’t yet listened to the four minute execution scenes clip? Here it is again for your convenience. Listen out for my mum as “best supporting actress” in take four.

Guest Piece by David Wellbrook: The Long Hot Summer Of ’76 – Recollections Of A 14-Year-Old With Special Appearance By A Lunatic Frenchman, c1 July 1976

With many thanks to David Wellbrook for this “guest piece”, lifted (with David’s permission) from his posting in the Alleyn’s 1970s Facebook Group – worth a visit if you are able for the comments – click here.

The Alleyn’s School water polo boys on a more appropriate pool mission

THE LONG HOT SUMMER OF ’76 – RECOLLECTIONS OF A 14-YEAR-OLD WITH SPECIAL APPEARANCE BY A LUNATIC FRENCHMAN

It was a stormy Thursday afternoon (are there any others?). Me, myself, and three others who shall remain nameless (Chris Grant, Ben Clayson and Kevin Blythe), were chortling over Paul Hayes’ Freudian slip from earlier. He had inadvertently called Miss Lynch “Mum” and we were marvelling at how well they had kept their relationship secret and for so long. All six of us were amazed at the audacity of the lad and thoughts were now turning to the identity of the father. Bob Skelly, Percy Kingman and Mrs. Barden were put forward for consideration but we were unable to agree. Each candidate received five votes and so we were at stalemate. After much deliberation, we opted for the time-honoured tie-breaker of rock, paper, scissors and as you might have expected, it landed on tails. (Doesn’t it always?) So, decision made, Dave Stretton it was then. Let’s face it, he must have inherited his cool from somewhere.

But I digest. To our gullible Frenchman: It was around this time that Chris used to import young French boys for his amusement and this particular lost soul went by the name of Gotier. He had, I believe, been imported once before, so having met us now on more than one occasion, really ought to have known better. However, we all found ourselves down at the swimming pool. It was a natural hangout for those of us who liked to swim and play water polo and seemed even more appropriate on what was quite possibly a very hot day. Gotier was sweating profusely. I think he knew what Chris had planned for later. He kept muttering strange French words under his breath. “Baguette” was a particular favourite of his I seem to recall. Anyhow, one of us happened upon the anarchic idea of enticing Gotier to jump into the swimming pool fully clothed, and on the strict understanding that he then had to travel home with us to Beckenham et les environs completement mouille.

“How much shall we offer him?” asked Clayson. “How much do we have on us?” asked Blythe. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” enquired Grant, forever and to this day our moral compass. He perhaps felt that if there was any dampness involved it should be of his making and no other. “Yes, it’s a cracking idea,” I chipped in. “And let’s make him cry Vive la France as he goes under.”

We gathered our resources and came up with the tidy sum of £4 and a few pence. We approached the hapless Gotier with our proposal and having explained to him that with exchange rates being as they were at the time, that £4 and a few pence was uncommonly generous, he agreed.

And so the stage was set. I was elected to distract Harry Whale and Alan Berry, who at that precise moment were taking it in turns to slipper a 12-year-old, whilst the others were assigned the arduous task of pacing out Gotier’s run up. And then the moment arrived. With a Gallic scream of “Un, deux, trois, allez…!” Gotier was off, legging it poolwards as if he had not a care in the world. He leapt, he might even have somersaulted I honestly can’t remember, and there was a mighty splash followed by the gurgled incantation of “Vive la France, Vive la France.” Let’s give the boy his due. He did not let us down. Good for him. Only honourable Frenchman I’ve ever met.

Gotier was duly rewarded with his £4 and a few pence which he kindly used to buy us Maynards wine gums and Coca Cola down by Herne Hill station.

To this day, that incident (which is 100% true by the way), is my most vivid recollection of the Summer of ’76. That and being arrested for shoplifting in Millets.

Another day perhaps…

 

When Fellow Pupil Sandy Rowswell Challenged Our Alleyn’s Schoolmaster Stephen “Mr Murder” Jenkins On The Veracity Of His Tales Of Visiting Tibet, Possibly Spring 1976

Stephen Jenkins was an Alleyn’s schoolmaster whose reputation preceded him. By the time my cohort entered his orbit, in the mid 1970s, he had a reputation for telling long-winded tales of psychic happenings, visits to far-flung places, UFOs, extra-sensory perception, ley lines…

…his 1977 book, The Undiscovered Country, can still be obtained from sellers of rare second hand books for under £100 at the time of writing (February 2020), a snip at the price I’m sure but I shall personally pass on that one. I’ve scraped one of the product descriptions to here in case the above link ceases to work…

…in short, he’d talk in lessons about pretty much anything other than the subject he was meant to be teaching.

“During the war…have I told you this anecdote before?…anyway…”

So why in the name of all that is good and pure was this fellow allocated to my third year class, 3BJ, to abstain from teaching us not just one but two key subjects; English and history?

Strangely and despite Stephen Jenkins contrary efforts, many of us managed to bounce back up to the A-stream after 3BJ. In my case, I ended up with Jenkins again, I think for history ‘O’Level (perhaps it was English – it really is impossible to recall what Jenkins was supposed to be teaching us) when I was in 4AT/5AT, so this anecdote about Sandy Rowswell might have happened a year or two later than I am guessing.

I should add, to avoid confusion, that the Alleyn’s Stephen Jenkins died some years ago and has nothing to do with the impressive LSE Professor of Social Policy who inadvertently shares his name.

Anyway, I clearly recall an incident in class when the Alleyn’s Stephen Jenkins was waxing lyrical about his latest trip to Tibet.

The incident has been brought back to my mind lately, because I have been Ogblogging the rather wonderful though gruelling trip that Janie and I made to Tibet in 2002 – click here or below for a sample page – feel free to read, look at the eye candy pictures and divert yourself from whatever you are supposed to be doing – it’s what Stephen Jenkins would have wanted:

Nepal, Tibet & Kerala Day Eight: Gyantse To Shigatse, 14 April 2002

In truth, I always liked Mr Jenkins’s tales of far-flung travel the best. I found the psychic and UFO stories hard to believe, I found the idea of ley-lines intriguing but unconvincing, but I did enjoy the tales from his travels. They were believable, enviable even…and I felt I was learning something useful…even if it wasn’t particularly useful for the purposes of progressing to O-level English or history.

Anyway, during a long Stephen Jenkins anecdote about his recent visit to Tibet, Sandy Rowswell chimed in by saying words to the effect of,

“sir, I don’t believe you. I don’t believe that you have ever been to Tibet.”

There was a hush in the classroom. One glance at Stephen Jenkins’s face and the self-styled sobriquet “Mr Murder” now looked very apt. Sandy Rowswell was ejected from the class and told in no uncertain terms that his punishment would be swift and merciless afterwards.

It seemed such a daft challenge to me. Of all the things Mr Jenkins waffled on about, the travels element was the only manifestly plausible aspect.

I don’t think Sandy Rowswell really got the idea of overseas travel…nor the idea of tempering one’s remarks about a subject whether one “gets it” or not.

My only other recollection of him was for another ill-considered remark, in 1979, soon after we confirmed that I was to join Anil Biltoo and his family in Mauritius that summer – a wonderful, life-changing experience for me that cemented a love of travel:

Confirmed Mauritius, The Overcrowded Barracoon, 10 April 1979

  I recall Sandy Rowswell approaching me and saying,

I hear you are going to Mauritius with Biltoo this summer?

When I confirmed that fact, Sandy Rowswell replied,

You wouldn’t catch me going to a place like that, having to stay in mud huts.

I laughed and shrugged it off, but word of this exchange must have reached Anil Biltoo from other sources, because Anil sheepishly raised the matter with me, pointing out that his family did not live in mud huts. I recall telling Anil that I really didn’t mind what sort of accommodation we’d be having.

There is a rumour that Sandy Rowswell went into the diplomatic service after leaving Alleyn’s. OK, the source of that rumour is the preceding sentence of this article, but a rumour is a rumour.

Returning to the Tibet veracity incident, I have no real reason to assume it took place on 18 May 1976, but while skimming my diary for clues, I did enjoy the entry for that day.

Great tennis won 6-4 6-4 with Driscoll.

Does that mean I beat Paul Driscoll 6-4 6-4 at singles, or does it mean that, partnering with Paul Driscoll, we beat some unfortunate others 6-4, 6-4? There is only one person in the entire world who might possibly remember the event (because I sure as hell cannot) – so I’m shouting out to Paul who will no doubt confirm a similar blank on this one. He probably doesn’t even remember that there was no water polo the next day, despite water polo having been far more his thing than mine..

But I am now digressing more than a typical Stephen Jenkins lesson. Click the link below for a chance to buy Stephen Jenkins book – you know you want to.

Welcome To 3BJ, The First Three Weeks Of My Third Year At Alleyn’s, Ending With My First Sighting Of Fawlty Towers, 7 to 27 September 1975

Mike Jones ponders our imminent arrival in his class – thanks Mike for the photo

I’ve been finding it difficult to start writing up my third year at Alleyn’s; 1975/1976. My diary for the 1974/1975 academic year was full of juicy details of my activities.

But it seems, after all the excitement of my 1975 summer, I returned to school in September 1975 in a different mood – at least in the matter of keeping my diary. I’m needing to rely more on my fading memory for this period of my life and hope for some informed comment from readers.

For example, whereas I wrote down the “cast list” for my 1S and 2AK years, I had “grown out of” doing that by the 3BJ era – which is a blithering shame.

Also, I think I was under the parental…by which I mean maternal…cosh, having made a mess of my year end exams that summer and finding myself in a B stream class. “Get the back up to the A stream,” was the familial message, with some new rules at home to encourage homework and discourage loafing.

You wouldn’t have messed with my mum either. Cruel spectacles.

I’m not convinced that sparse diarising was entirely necessary in my mission to do better at school that year. But the diarising was more sparse and the school results were better.

Here are the first three weeks of September:

I realise that most of that is beyond legibility and/or interpretation, so here goes with my best efforts.

Sunday, 7 September 1975 – Rosh Hashanah [Jewish New Year, day two in this instance].

Monday, 8 September 1975 – uneventful day.

Tuesday, 9 September 1975 – last day [of school holidays. Not the end of the world.] Stuart and Andy [both from our street – Stuart Harris was not a relation and was a Whitgiftian, Andy Levinson was a fellow Alleyn’s pupil].

Wednesday, 10 September 1975 – first day [of school]. 3BJ. Mr Jones.

Thursday, 11 September 1975–1st proper day at school.

Friday, 12 September 1975 – school good. TV Dad’s Army, Liver Birds.

Saturday, 13 September 1975 – school morn. After library. TV Gambit, Dick Emery, Kojak.

Sunday, 14 September 1975 – Kol Nidre [evening prayers to herald the Day of Atonement] in evening.

Monday, 15 September 1975 – Yom Kippur [Day of Atonement].

Tuesday, 16 September 1975 – catching up only today.

Wednesday, 17 September 1975 – uneventful day. Good results school.

Thursday, 18 September 1975 – more good results. TV $6 million man, Two Ronnies, Man About The House.

Friday, 19 September 1975 – uneventful day. TV Dad’s Army, Liver Birds, Stanley Baxter III.

Saturday, 20 September 1975 – school morning. TV Generation Game.

Sunday, 21 September 1975 – no classes. Dined at Feld’s. TV Upstairs Downstairs.

Monday, 22 September 1975 – school OK. TV Goodies, Angels, Waltons etc.

Tuesday, 23 September 1975 – did swimming good. Telepathy. TV Pink Panther

Wednesday, 24 September 1975 – swimming. Went to Aviv meeting [one of mum’s charities. I cannot imagine why I went with her, unless dad had something on that evening and mum didn’t want to fork out for a sitter!].

Thursday, 25 September 1975. Got CCF [Combined Cadet Force] kit. TV Two Ronnies, Man About The House, Morecombe & Wise.

Friday 26 September 1975 – uneventful. TV Invisible Man, Dad’s Army, Liver Birds, Fosters Tower [sic – that can only be Fawlty Towers]

Saturday, 27 September 1975 – school morning. TV Dick Emery, Kojak.

Hard to believe that I didn’t even register the name Fawlty Towers correctly when I first saw it.

It was the episode about The Builders and I remember it tickling me no end. My parents didn’t like it much. Dad found Basil Fawlty irritating, reminding him of some of the twerps he had to deal with in running his business. You can decide for yourselves, if you hadn’t made up your minds already – see embed below.

An Uneventful Week (Apart From Watching The Test) Before Starting My Third Year At Alleyn’s, 1 to 6 September 1975

So much wrong with that technique – but the enthusiasm is there for all to see

After all the excitement of my summer, I went into a very subdued diary mood for some weeks/months after our return.

This diary page, which covers the week between returning from Europe and school restarting, sets the tone.

It barely needs transcribing, but I am a diligent transcriber:

Monday, 1 September 1975 settled in. Watched test. Went to library. [TV] Angels, The High Chaparral.

Tuesday, 2 August 1975 – uneventful day. TV Tarzan, New York, Quo Vadis.

Wednesday, 3 August 1975 – uneventful

Thursday, 4 September 1975 – uneventful

Friday, 5 September 1975 – uneventful

Saturday, 6 September 1975 – Rosh Hashanah [Jewish New Year].

I think we need to do some more forensics on that cricket photo. Here’s a link to the test match scorecard. The umpires were Tom Spencer and Dickie Bird (whom I had the honour and pleasure to meet once – some 40 years after the events of this piece):

A Visit To Leeds For Yorkshire v Middlesex, Headingley, 8 to 10 June 2015

I’m 98% sure that the umpire on the TV screen is Tom Spencer and I’m 100% sure that the wicket-keeper was Rod Marsh, who kept all day that Monday.

The unmistakable stoopy stance of Umpire Spencer on the TV screen.

But who batting? Yes, me, obviously, in front of the screen. I mean on the screen. I have narrowed it down to being John Snow or Barry Wood and I think the answer is John Snow. Cricket lovers – chime in with your thoughts.

It was an unusual match, as they had put aside six days for that Oval test match, used all six but still ended up with a draw.

I sense that even I lost interest after a burst of watching (and having my photo taken), probably quite early on the Monday.

Anyone know what game this is/was?

As an only child, one of my favourite pastimes was working out how to play solitaire versions of the board games in my collection. I have no idea what this game was, let alone how I had worked out a solitaire version of it. My favourite solitaire game was my very own version of Cluedo – the conceit of the solitaire version is long-since forgotten but I remember being fascinated by it for some while.

I suspect that the test match was on the TV while I was indulging in this additional activity. In that respect, I don’t suppose I have changed much, although the additional activity has changed.

As for the TV viewing – I don’t remember the TV drama Angels about student nurses at all. But I certainly remember The High Chaparral. My dad was very keen on it too. Do you fancy getting the theme tune stuck in your head – only click the YouTube embed if you do.

On rehearing The High Chaparral theme, it sounds very much like Joe Meek’s extraordinary instrumental Telstar (famously performed by the Tornados), in the style of Elmer Bernstein’s wonderful theme music for The Magnificent Seven.

I learn, on doing a little further research, that the resemblance between The High Chaparral theme and Telstar has been discussed at length over the decades. One surprising thing, to me, is that I didn’t notice the similarity when Paul Deacon first played me Telstar, which must have been around or very soon after my High Chaparral watching era.

Ironically and tragically, Joe Meek never saw the royalties for Telstar, as a French composer, Jean Ledrut, sued Meek for plagiarism – without success but to some extent understandably – on account of La Marche d’Austerlitz.

Meek died just three weeks before that law suit was found in his favour. Thus he never got a chance to test his own claim against David Rose, who composed The High Chaparral theme, if indeed Meek would have chosen to try such a claim.

Thoughts on these matters will, as always, be much appreciated, whether from my contemporaries or indeed from anyone who stumbles across this page and has a view on any of these topics.

Getting Ready To Go On Holiday After My Big Day, 11 to 16 August 1975

It seems I spent a fair bit of time with Andy Levinson in the few days between my Bar Mitzvah and going on holiday. Here’s the transcript of the headline picture’s diary scribble

Monday, 11 August 1975 – Andy all day. TV Star Trek, My Honourable Mrs, Yuri Geller and psycho film.

Actually the “psycho film” was Pressure Point with Bobby Darin & Sidney Poitier:

Tuesday, 12 August 1975 – Andy morning. TV Tarzan. Uncle Dick in the evening.

Guess who’s coming to dinner? Uncle Dick! He wasn’t my uncle, but was, I think, next door neighbour Rose Beech’s brother. Very nice chap who had been a POW during the war and needed careful feeding as a result. I’m guessing the the Beeches went away straight after my Bar Mitzvah and mum promised to feed Dick at least once in the days before we also went away.

It was that sort of neighbourliness in that area in those days.

Wednesday, 13 August 1975 – uneventful day. All OK.

Thursday, 14 August 1975 – went to West End to get tickets.

Friday 15 August 1975 – fired Jeanette. Went to Grandma Anne’s.

What on earth can “fired Jeanette” mean? I can only surmise that she was our cleaner for a short while, as I have no recollection of her. Mrs Nugent “Nu-Nu” was our cleaner for many years – most of childhood, followed by Mrs Main who also stuck with mum (and vice versa) for donkey’s years. I’ll guess that Jeanette was one that didn’t work out between the two I remember.

Just to be clear, it will not have been me who did the firing. It will have been mum. I just dutifully recorded the HR proceedings in my diary.

Saturday 16 August 1975 – uneventful. Preparation. TV [Sgt.] Bilko and Crown Court.

I don’t mention watching Days One to Three of the Headingley test, but I know I watched some of it. On the Saturday, Bilko was on the TV before the start of play; Crown Court after stumps. What else would I have done on an uneventful day?

The reason I am sure I saw some of it is that I recall my sense of horror when I learnt, on holiday, what had occurred while I was away from the match after those first three days. England looked very well placed at that stage.

Trigger warning: only look at the final scorecard – linked here – if you are sufficiently robust and/or if word of this ridiculous denouement has reached you previously.

My Very Brief Junior Career As A Limbo Dancer, The Peacock Club, 10 August 1975

This event came to me as a memory flash while in e-conversation with Rohan Candappa in December 2020 on the topic of that “limbo period” between Christmas and New Year. Rohan pointed out:

Limbo is a strangely schizophrenic word. It’s either a time when nothing is going on, or the most extreme dance you can imagine.

Suddenly it all came flooding back to me. The dinner & dance the day after my Barmitzvah. The Peacock Club in Streatham. The limbo dancer my parents arranged as entertainment for said evening. My limbo dancing “career”, not just remembered but I knew for sure that I have photographs.

Why the choice of limbo dancer for a Barmitzvah party? The answer to that question is truly lost in the mists of time. Some would suggest that it was a very “South London” choice. Others that it was an inappropriate choice steeped in cultural appropriation.

My guess is that someone dad knew through his photographic shop business was connected with the charming young lady in question.

Dorothy.

I know that she is/was named Dorothy because the pictures in my parent’s memory book / photo album have clearly been labelled “Dorothy”.

[Infantile readers may insert their own version of the joke revolving around the idea that “Ian was a friend of Dorothy when he was thirteen years old” here.]

Dorothy [Thinks]: What a funny little boy he is.
Ian [Thinks]: I could be in here…whatever “being in” might be.

Dorothy showed us how it should be done.

Steve Lytton was one of several people who had a go. Unfortunately for him, his photo survived and has lived peacefully in my parent’s memory book for 45 years and counting:

Friends from the neighbourhood and school might recognise Andy Levinson in the background of the above and following picture. He’s hiding behind is mum. It seems he didn’t have a go at limbo dancing.

My technique showing real promise there. If only I had persevered with the practice, I could have been a contender.

Then Dorothy started to show off.

I mean, really, was that completely necessary?

Seriously, I do remember Dorothy being sweet with me and making the whole event feel special. She was clearly very talented at limbo dancing.

One day I’ll write up other aspects of my Barmitzvah. Sadly, for lovers of music and theology, there is a recording of me singing my rite of passage passage and I’ll feel Ogblog-honour bound to upload it, if only for the sake of completeness.

Anyway, the limbo dancing was great fun. Dad clearly felt that he had pulled off a blinder by booking Dorothy…

…while mum did far more dancing than was good for her, just three months after having a hip replacement:

Update/Footnote Post Publication

I managed to track down and get in touch with Steve Lytton after publishing this piece – it seemed only polite to let him know that his youthful limbo dancing efforts were now in the public domain.

It was really nice to catch up with Steve and e-chat after so many years.

One thing that Steve said solved at least part of the “why a limbo dancer at my Barmitzvah party” mystery:

…what a coincidence. We had a limbo dancer at MY Barmitzvah party…

…said Steve. The penny dropped. We had a limbo dancer at my celebration because I/we had so much enjoyed the limbo dancer at his, a year or so earlier. So the question now really should be, “why did Steve have a limbo dancer at his Barmitzvah party?” Or maybe it was simply the fashion for such parties at that time.

A Bit More Outdoor Activity Ahead Of My Big Day, 3 to 8 August 1975

Common people – Tooting Commons

It seems that I got out a bit more in the days running up to the day of my Bar Mitzvah. Just as well, as it was a heatwave week apparently. It seems that the Levinson family had been away for a couple of weeks and had now returned.

Sunday, 3 August 1975 – Uneventful. More presents, dined at Chippy. Grandma Anne and Andrew [Levinson] came home today.

Monday, 4 August 1975 – played with Andy [Levinson]. Dentist – no trouble. TV Star Trek, My Honourable Mrs, Hiroshima.

Tuesday, 5 August 1975 – Andy morning, afternoon uneventful. Test draw. TV Test and Inspector Clouseau.

Day Five of that test match cannot have been exciting viewing and must have been disappointing for little me.

Wednesday, 6 August 1975 – went to Brixton and Grandma Jenny. TV The Shadow, The Rough and the Smooth. Four pressies.

I have no recollection of the sitcom The Rough and the Smooth. That might be a telling fact about it.

Thursday, 7 August 1975 – went to Box Hill, private swimming pool etc. Ida trouble. TV All in the Family.

I have a very vague memory of being taken out by Uncle Manny & Auntie Ida that day. I think the “trouble” resulted because they didn’t drop me back to our house but expected me to walk home from their place, about 15-20 minutes walk, which resulted in my mum having a bit of a hissy about that.

The irony of seeing a programme “All in the Family” after that is not wasted on me. I don’t think that sitcom found much favour in our household either.

Friday, 8 August 1975 – common in morning. Flowers to shule in afternoon / shule evening. Still a heatwave.

Creative Avoidance During The School Holidays, With Alan Cooke, William Gilbert, Arthur Sullivan & The Telly, Not Least The Ashes: Last Two Weeks Of July 1975

Shouldn’t you be doing…something else, Harris?

This period of the summer of 1975 is the first documented example of my unquestionably masterful deployment of creative avoidance…that thing otherwise known as procrastination.

My Bar Mitzvah (the Jewish coming of age ritual) was coming up on 9 August. I was all-but grounded by my mum – I should imagine in part to focus on my preparation and in part for fear of misfortune befalling me ahead of the big day.

This is how I occupied myself:

I know you need a transcript with explanations, dear, reader, just give me a moment…

Sunday, 20 July 1975 – [Hebrew classes] prize day. Got best pupil cup! I am the greatest. Went to Makro. Two hour wait.

It was quite a surprise to win a star pupil prize at Brixton cheder. More than a year earlier, I had confessed to the Rabbi that I didn’t believe in God and wondered whether, in those circumstances, it was appropriate for me to progress with my Bar Mitzvah. Rabbi Ginsbury “explained” that it was. That story is told in this linked piece – here and below:

“Freed At Last, Freed At Last…”: Brixton Cheder In Early 1974

Monday 21 July 1975 – uneventful. Did some recording etc. TV Star Trek, My Honourable Mrs.

Tuesday 22 July 1975 – more recording. Uneventful.

Wednesday 23 July 1975 – Alan [Cooke] came. Lovely day. TV BA and LC [Bud Abbot & Lou Costello] in The Noose Hangs High

Well done, Cookie. You were clearly deemed to be safe enough company, at least if you came over to our place, for me to have some respite from my Bar Mitzvah preparations…not that I see any sign of preparations in the diary.

The phrase “lovely day” tells me that this must have been a real highlight for me during that period. I suspect that we spent some of the time playing that makeshift game of ours, where we set up Hot Wheels tracks and flat pack cowboy town houses, using the hot wheels cars to demolish the houses. We brought new meaning to the term “creative destruction”. Such a shame we couldn’t video our activities on smart phones in those days – those Hot Wheels demolition runs must have looked so cool…

…which is more than can be said, most likely, for the Abbot and Costello film. That pairing never did, for me, what Laurel & Hardy and/or The Marx Brothers could do.

Thursday, 24 July 1975 – went to Brixton. Had haircut. Saw Grandma Jenny.

Friday 25 July 1975 – uneventful day. More recording. TV Mahler’s 8th and Ten from the Twenties.

That broadcast of Mahler’s 8th, which was the first night of the Proms that year, was a memorably big deal in our household. It was a simultaneous broadcast on TV and stereo radio, which dad was very keen to experience to the full. I do recall my mother’s verdict on Mahler – I paraphrase:

not for me – too much going on. Mahler is music for culture vultures.

You can judge for yourselves, as the recording of that very concert is available on YouTube:

Saturday 26 July 1975 – shule in morning. Shopping afternoon. TV Crown Court.

Sunday, 27 July 1975 – went to Makro. Got typewriter and paper. TV Italians, Robin Hood.

That very first typewriter of mine, which was not of the highest quality, played an essential role in my clandestine “career” as a gossip columnist at Keele several years later:

The Immaculate Conception Of H. Ackgrass: At Keele With Pete Wild & On Merseyside With Bobbie Scully, Early January 1984

Monday 28 July 1975 – cleared out room. TV Star Trek, My Honourable Mrs, The Happy Catastrophe.

Tuesday 29 July 1975 – went shopping in morning, got more WSG and ASS [William S Gilbert & Arthur S Sullivan] records. TV Time Detective, Al Jolsen.

Wednesday, 30 July 1975 – had haircut, more WSG and ASS. Two presents, all okay.

I had almost forgotten about my obsession with Gilbert & Sullivan that summer. I am sure that it was partly distraction activity from what must have felt like a trial by July, i.e. the impending “trial by ordeal” of my Bar Mitzvah, but also because I had enjoyed school productions such as Trial By Jury and knew that my parents were warm to the material too.

I wasn’t buying the records – heaven forbid – I was borrowing them from the library and scraping them onto tape. I was also reading about the Gilbert & Sullivan genre and memorising some of the patter songs. The evolution of my taping habit can be seen on the following sheet. The labours of that fortnight being tapes 8 to 14:

Thursday, 31 July 1975 watched cricket – England collapse and come back. WSG & ASS. Routine.

Did I mean that England’s batting collapse was routine? Or that England’s batting collapsing and then coming back was routine? Or that me doing more taping and memorising of Gilbert & Sullivan material was now routine?

Actually there was nothing routine about that second Ashes Test, which was at Lord’s.

I wouldn’t have realised it at the time, but the unusually long time it took for debutant David Steele to appear at the crease when the first wicket fell, was due to his getting lost in the pavilion, on his way from the home dressing room to the Long Room, by descending further than he should have done into the basement.

That is one of my favourite Lord’s stories – a location/anecdote that I point out as a matter of course to any guest that I am showing around the Lord’s pavilion. Which is something I do with some regularity these days. Routine in fact.

Friday, 1 August 1975 – watched cricket – England OK. WSG & ASS of course.

Saturday 2 August 1975 – went to shule. Found dad’s watch. Heatwave.

Dad was good at mislaying watches. The 1975 “reported incident” will have been his beloved Omega watch. But I remember he had a “scientific” watch that he hid before going on holiday in the mid 1970s (perhaps 1975 or 1976) and never found again. Janie and I discovered it in his “muck room” (workshop) when clearing the house in 2012!

I have asked Gemini what the weather was like in London on 2 August 1975. It replied:

On 2 August 1975, London was at the beginning of a significant heatwave, with temperatures widely reaching around 32°C (89.6°F) by that date or shortly after.

Things were certainly hotting-up a week before my Bar Mitzvah.

But where in my diary is any mention of me preparing, other than going to shule on the Saturday mornings leading up to the big day? Presumably, in my 12-and-a bit year-old, secular mind, the words and music of WS Gilbert and Arthur S Sullivan were ample preparation for Hebrew recitative from the testaments.

“A wandering minstrel, I, a thing of shreds and patches…”

The First Week Of The School Summer Holidays, 13 to 19 July 1975

Yes, I know, you can’t read it. I’ll transcribe it below. Not a lot went on. My main purpose for the next few weeks was to be ready for my Bar Mitzvah, which was a big thing. Between times, it seems I did a lot of taping and watching television and not much going outside and enjoying the summer.

Sunday, 13 July 1975 – classes good. Played boule with dad. TV West Side Story.

Monday 14 July 1975 went to West End. Had bar mitzvah test. Passed with flying colours. TV Star Trek, My Honourable Mrs.

Tuesday, 15 July 1975 – classes good. Last lesson with Morris. TV The Gold Diggers of 1935.

Wednesday, 16 July 1975 played with Andy. Made more recordings. Got a case. Deciding holiday.

Thursday, 17 July 1975 – made more recordings, TV Apollo – Soyuz link up – landmark, Three Comedies of Marriage.

Friday, 18 July 1975 – another uneventful day. Went to Uncle Cyril [next door], more tapes etc, TV Main Chance.

Saturday 19 July 1975 – went to shule in morning. Uneventful afternoon. TV The Jokers, Crown Court.

The tapes I was making, colluding with “Uncle” Cyril Barnett next door, were a mixture of gramophone records and reel-to-reel tapes of his.

One box set of gramophone records comprised a collection: Herbert Von Karajan Karajan Conducts The Popular Classics. I taped the whole collection apart from:

  • those items I already had (I had been given a box set of Tchaikovsky Ballet Suites for my Bar Mitzvah)
  • Mozart’s Ave Verum Corpus, which my mum would have deemed inappropriate – not least for a kid who was about to have his Bar Mitzvah. Mum’s attempts to dissuade me from Christian sacred music failed dismally, as my interest in early music (although not religion per se) blossomed later, but that’s another set of stories.

Here is a link to a YouTube Music playlist of the von Karajan collection as I recorded it (i.e. in the sequence I recorded the items)

The other material mostly comprised albums from musicals of the 1960s. I’ll trawl my lists for those and playlist them separately. One of them, I recall, was Fiddler on the Roof sung in Yiddish, which pleased Grandma Anne no end. It does sound appropriate (albeit a bit weird to the untrained ear) given the context of the musical. It occurs to me, of course, that you can find pretty much anything on YouTube music, and of course that obscure thing was no exception. Here’s a link if you are curious – I’ll listen to it some other time, for old time’s sake – although I think this recording is a more recent album.