With thanks to Alison Shindler for the photo, taken somewhere between Glasgow & Preston, 12 October 1980. Me, Simon Jacobs, Caroline Freeman, Lauren Sterling, Emma Cohen, Warren, Maxine…
Not only did I throw myself into student life I also continued attempting to serve on the National Executive of BBYO.
Here’s an extract from my diary from what should have been my first weekend at Keele:
Saturday 11 October 1980 – Lecture by Vice Chancellor -> Glasgow -> open house -> hosts for din-dins -> disco/dance till v late (feeling ill)
Sunday 12 October 1980 – YCC (non quorate in morning – farcical) -> hosts lunch -> installation -> home with Londoners (as far as Preston) – went to bar on return.
Un-named hosts in Glasgow – apologies to whoever it was and thank you for your hospitality.
I suspect that my feeling ill had something to do with the copious quantity of drinking I’d been doing to prepare for and in my first few days at Keele; nothing to do with Glasgow BBYO.
I don’t clearly recall what a YCC was but I’m sure it was very important and certainly must have been farcical without a quorum.
Preston to Keele on a Sunday evening would have been a non-trivial journey in those days. I’m guessing Crewe and then a cab.
…before knuckling down to a week of being Jewish & BBYOish all over again.
Monday 27 October 1980 – not bad day. Relaxing evening, good fun (Clive Lawton – J Soc etc.)
This picture of Clive from Portsmouth BBYO in 1979. In the summer of 1980 he mentored me (informally) when I was working at Hillel House.
Tuesday 28 October 1980. Not bad day. Went straight after politics to Scarborough [Northern Region Convention] – film, casino etc. Jay’s resigning.
Scarborough 2014 (it hasn’t changed all that much, but it is in colour now)Jay in 1979
Wednesday 29 October 1980 – slept well. Speakers (Janice [Leberman – Rebecca Lowi’s successor], mayor, divorce) programme, AGM, cunted votes, installations, life [membership for those who had served]. (felt ill went to bed)
Feeling ill seemed to be par for my course those weeks. I think I was overdoing everything, frankly.
Thursday 30 October 1980 – left v early. Got back just in time for law. Guiness [sic] evening – good fun. Went to Mike’s for coffee.
I think Mike was one of Simon Jacobs’s friends in those early days; perhaps from his hall of residence or perhaps from one of his courses.
Friday 31 October 1980 – Good day. Went home after history. Good journey, enjoyed it.
Saturday 1 November 1980 – Left house fairly early, went SR [Southern region] convention – skits, songs etc.
Sunday 2 November 1980 – SR Convention – business, reports, AGM, v good. (Got all in who wanted). Installation awards, life, went home…
Monday 3 November 1980 …Ben’s van [must be Ben Davidson, whom I knew from Alleyn’s School and who was at Keele] got back (around 4?0 Late start in morn. Easy day.
In truth I remember little about those regional conventions, but that doesn’t stop other former BBYOniks with better memories or who were better placed to remember those particular conventions to chip in with details.
To be honest, I don’t even remember whether that Southern Region one was in Brighton or Oxford or possibly even somewhere else.
I have no idea why Princess Margaret loomed so large at Keele University, but throughout my time at Keele our titular Chancellor was the source of countless controversies in absentia…which is indeed the manner in which I chose to receive my degree in 1984.
Indeed, it was along with fellow fresher Simon Jacobs that I took my seat at my first Students’ Union UGM…the first of a great many as it turned out…on 20 October 1980.
I don’t remember all that much about that first UGM, other than the hoo-ha that was the Princess Margaret controversy.
There were no doubt student political machinations involved in the matter dating back to before our time. But in short, it seemed, the new union sabbaticals had invited Princess Margaret to the Union’s Christmas Ball without seeking approval for such a manoeuvre from the whole committee nor from a UGM which is (or at least was) the sovereign body of the union.
Trying to recall how I felt about it, looking back on the event almost exactly forty years later, I don’t think I saw the matter as especially newsworthy or even all that controversial on the night itself. It just felt like good debate with some political theatre thrown in…and we even got to vote. The argument that the student ball would be far more restricted if HRH attended and that anyway she probably didn’t really want to come to our student ball seemed the most convincing to us and indeed to the majority of those who bothered to turn up, listen and vote.
Extract from The Daily Mirror Diary Page, 22 October 1980. Click the picture link above to see the whole page, including a piece about Mick Jagger describing him as an ageing rock star…he was 37 back then.
The Daily Mirror saw it a little differently. We’d been at Keele for less than a fortnight and already we were “bolshie students” and “little devils”. Yay!!
A week or so later, the student newspaper, Concourse, covered the story in a far more balanced manner:
I was still on the National Executive of BBYO and spent my first weekend in Glasgow. Travelling to and from Glasgow from Keele for the weekend is not a brilliant idea but according to the diary I got back to Keele early enough on the Sunday evening to show up at the Union bar. Yes, really that is what the Sunday entry (below) says.
Monday 13 October – First lectures – OK. Went to Union in evening. Quiet day.
Tuesday 14 October – Lectures OK, Politics OK. Went to drama workshop in eve – good.
I was doing the Foundation Year (FY). In those days most Keele undergraduates did four year courses, starting with FY. It is was a wonderful course which helped me to learn how to learn and also enabled me to decide what to study for my degree. Politics was one of my two sessional courses (the other was History).
Simon Jacobs did a three year degree without FY. Simon and I threw ourselves into the drama workshop in our first term.
Simon Jacobs throwing himself into something, 1979
…or, if anything ever goes awry with the above Wirral Festival link, click here for a scrape thereof.
Several of us who had enjoyed doing drama at school wanted to do a bit of performance stuff without getting involved in the formalities of the drama society and full scale productions. This group proved to be just the ticket for us. We were very lucky to be led by someone of Brian Rawlins’s quality for such a group. That story ends with this piece of street theatre…
Wednesday 15 October 1980 – dull lectures today. (??) Pleasent [sic] afternoon. Went to J-Soc & Freshers Ball till very very late.
Didn’t take long for the novelty of foundation year lectures to wear off, did it?
Our Freshers Ball was supposed to be headlined by Gary Glitter, but apparently he fell ill, so Alvin Stardust was wheeled out at the last minute as a replacement. This event was long before Gary Glitter’s infamy as a child sex offender, of course. Indeed Glitter did show up at one of the balls I attended some time later in my Keele journey. Unlike Glitter, there was nothing edgy about Alvin Stardust, neither in performance nor, as far as we know, in real life.
There are two Concourse pieces about the Freshers Ball. The first one a damning news piece with no byline…
…the second a rather more upbeat music review by Dave Lee. Do you know who wrote the first piece, Dave? If so, do tell.
Dave Lee talks highly of Glass Torpedoes. I certainly recall enjoying the warm up act more than the Alvin gig. Embedded below is the Glass Torpedoes Peel Session from earlier that year:
Dave Lee also talks up the Tour de Force gig in Room 14 upstairs, which I also vaguely recall enjoying more than Alvin. I have managed to find some interesting material on the former, including a rare recording on the following embedded vid.
Thursday 16 October 1980 – V tired today. Law v good. Got some letters written, received some letters as well. Went to bar with Simon in evening.
Law was a four week topic with Michael Whincup. We needed to do several such topics during FY. So inspired by that law topic was I, that ended up switching to study law (along with economics) as my degree the following three years.
Going to the bar with Simon in those early weeks/months of Keele not only included beer drinking but invariably a few games of table football. I have no pictures of me playing table football with Simon, sadly, but more than a quarter of a century later, when visiting Jinka in the South Omo Region of Ethiopia, I learnt that I hadn’t mis-spent that aspect of my youth at all; I was able to call on the skills acquired in those all-too-frequent games in the Keele Students’ Union to great effect:
Friday 17 October 1980 – Not bad lectures today. Disco in eve, bad.
Saturday 18 October 1980 – Easy day. Went to disco in eve, good.
How was I assessing the discos in those days? I doubt if I was doing the “disco aficionado” thing at that stage. Admittedly, I had experienced an Ian Levine special at Mecca in Blackpool by then…and a few good ones in London no doubt. But my guess is that “bad” and “good” would have been determined by the extent to which I had managed to perk up any interest among the female freshers who were still in the market by the Friday and Saturday of that week.
Not that I had really worked out what to do about it when I got a bit lucky. As much as anything else, I was committed to traipsing up and down the country for the rest of that term still. I do recall getting friendly that week with a pretty girl with a turned up nose from the North-East named Jo. Her father was a vicar and she was even more shy with that sort of stuff than I was. We didn’t get far. I think we went back to her place for a cup of coffee and had…coffee. But we remained smiling, nodding acquaintances for several years at Keele. Bless. That pleasing non-event might well have been after the “good” disco.
I saw Keele University for the very first time on 8 October 1980. I entered through the main gates, on the bus from Stoke, carrying a suitcase and a holdall; less stuff than I would take with me for a weekend these days.
[“These days” means almost exactly 40 years later at the time of writing].
I stayed at Keele for five years.
It was Simon Jacobs’s fault. (Simon, right, trying to look cool and uninterested).
It was Simon Jacobs’s fault that I was there. No ifs no buts no maybes.
It happened like this.
Both Simon and I had made a similar mess of our A levels. We’d both thrown ourselves into BBYO at a local level (Pinner in his case, Streatham mine) and at a national level as well; we were both on the National Executive and indeed that summer I had been running the office after the sole full-timer, Rebecca Lowi, had left.
Simon started to address the educational “oops, what happens next?” problem far quicker than I did. On one unsung occasion in mid-to-late August 1980 Simon popped in to see me at the office at Hillel House, after he had visited Keele.
It seems like a really nice University. It’s small and friendly, the campus has large and very attractive grounds…and…they’ve offered me a place, even with my crummy A levels. You should give it a try.
I phoned Keele the next morning. I explained my predicament. The official I spoke with sounded quite promising.
Sure – come and have a look in the next week or so and we’ll have a chat about what we might be able to offer you with your so-called crummy A levels.
I demurred.
That might be a bit difficult. I am running this office all by myself and we have our annual National leadership training course starting next week and a bit of a governance crisis going on at the same time. You come highly recommended to me by Simon, whom I trust, so if you have a place for me I’m sure it will work out well for me and for Keele.
The Keele official demurred…slightly.
Well, that is a rather unusual request, but I suppose you have described a rather unusual predicament…let’s see what we can do…
I recall being asked to provide character references from senior teachers at my school, Alleyn’s, which wasn’t too difficult for me to achieve. Thank you, Colin Page; house master, games master, nice guy and teacher whom, I believe, never actually taught me academically-speaking. Not quite sure what he organised for me, but it worked.
My diary on Wednesday 10 September notes:
…good day (possible good news from Keele)…
I think that might be the news that I had a place subject to references.
Then Monday 15 September:
Got back from Nottingham [BBYO that was, not University hunting] – phoned Keele – in.
So when I entered through the gates on that bus with my measly bags, all I knew about the place was Simon’s review from his interview/tour day and the correspondence the University sent me between accepting me and my arrival.
Still, by 8 October, Simon had been there for a few days, so he was an expert already. He recalls being taken up at the weekend by his parents. That must have been the Sunday, because my diary says that Simon (along with several others) spent Saturday at the Harris residence in Streatham, but Simon wasn’t among those who stayed over.
Wednesday 8 October. Left home early. Easy journey. Registered. Met Simon, easyish day. Disco in evening v good.
That first day of Keele reads a bit Adrian Mole.
Thursday 9 October. Tons to do. Sorting things out. Saw Supercharge in evening.
No comment on Supercharge there. I do recall buying, for a very modest sum, one of their albums, Local Lads Make Good, in Record & Tape Exchange later that academic year. I realised on listening to it that they worked better live than they did on album…and I recalled that they hadn’t worked all that well for me live. They were fun, it was Freshers’ Week and we were all up for pretty much any live music.
I have subsequently found the micro review of the Supercharge concert from Concourse, the student newspaper – see below. I don’t think Christine was impressed.
Friday 10 October. Lots to do today. Sorting things out. Evening down union & singing songs avec Simon.
Cripes. I’d been at University for fewer than 72 hours and already I was clipping phrases such as “down Union”…
…and where did the phrase “avec Simon” come from? Was it an in joke from the evening – perhaps we had sung a French song or parodied the French chanteur style.
I recall the singing taking place in the Walter Moberly Hall. Certainly on more than one occasion and I’m pretty sure that evening must have been the first. Simon was itching to play the piano, so after a drink or two (and almost certainly a game or three of table football) we went in search of a piano for Simon to play and discovered that the Walter Moberly Hall was left open in the evenings for the convenience of scallywags like ourselves.
Of course, Simon has subsequently gone on to have a glittering avocational musical career, with album launches…
…and more recently his latest album, from lockdown, which is previewed on the following track:
Coincidentally, Janie and I had arranged to visit Simon 10 October 2020 in blissful ignorance of the fact that it was 40 years since he and I had started Keele. It was only some chat on Facebook that alerted me to the “anniversary”.
OK, so it seems that I somehow managed to blag my way in to Keele University…with a little help from my friends (in particular Simon Jacobs) and teachers (in particular Colin Page).
I returned alone from a week in Bournemouth with my parents (a one anecdote story about that trip will appear on Ogblog in the fullness of time), while my parents went on to explore the South-West of England for a week.
So, I had the run of Woodfield Avenue for my second and last week of holiday before steeling myself to the arduous task of student life.
I needed to do some training to get fit for the specific Herculean labours that the early part of my student life was likely to involve.
Fortunately I had plenty of friends to help me. Here, with just a little shame as well as pride, is my diary of that week.
Sunday 28 September. Left [Bournemouth] for London with [Dina? Nina?]. Advisors doobrie. Simon & Caroline came back. Went out for food. Drank.
SimonMe & Caroline
Out for food in Streatham in those days probably meant Italian at Il Caretto or Chinese at the Blue Whatnot. I’ll guess Il Caretto.
29 September 1980. Simon & Caroline left. Went to Grandmas. Easy evening.
Not sure if there is an apostrophe catastrophe there, as it is quite possible…even likely…that I did a round trip of both Grandmas; Anne and Jenny.
Grandma AnneGrandma Jenny
Tuesday 30 September 1980. Went to office. Helped Jay [Marks]. Came home., read, slept.
A relatively gentle start to my training. One evening on, two evenings off. A bit feeble, actually. Then, mercifully, my friends rallied around and matters got serious.
Wednesday 1 October 1980. Easyish day. Simon came over early evening, stayed over, drank.
Thank you, Simon.
Thursday 2 October 1980. Simon left. Easy day. Lewis [Sykes, I assume] came over – stayed over, drank.
Picture “borrowed” from David Menashe. I’m sure David won’t mind, but if there is ever a blank space where the picture once lived, then you’ll know that David did mind..
Friday 3 October 1980. Lewis remained. Anil came over. Anil & Lewis stayed. Drank.
Anil. Yup, I’m sure we smoked too.
Saturday 4 October 1980. Anil & Lewis left. Simon, Caroline, Richard [Marks, I assume], A.N. Other [I can only apologise to this forgotten person], Melisa [yes, I remember Melisa, Hendon BBYO I think, but I shall need to do some more archaeology on my archive], came over, & Andrea & Wendy who stayed. Drank.
RichardAndreaWendy
I am wondering what we drank. My dad usually had a handy stock of more than half-decent Bulgarian red wines in those days, as he was friendly with his importer neighbour near the shop on St John’s Hill, Battersea. I’m guessing that dad left me a case for that week with a nod and a wink. He was that kind of dad.
Forty years later, I’m still in touch with most of the people who helped me train that week. Thank you so much, folks, for helping me prepare for University. So kind and the kindness is not forgotten.
I do hope that residents and lovers of Bournemouth forgive me for my damning four word review of the place…or at least understand the context of that diary statement from the 18-year-old me.
I was eagerly anticipating the next phase of my life by late September and I don’t think I was especially keen on a “Jewish holidays” stay in Bournemouth with my parents and Grandma Anne.
The compromise we agreed (not least because I had BBYO commitments) was that I would join them for a week in Bournemouth and then travel back to London for a Sunday commitment and then my own holiday week “training to be a student”:
I went to the Bournemouth BBYO meeting on the Sunday. The phrase “nothing to do here” was clearly a reference to Bournemouth as a town, not the warm hospitality I was no doubt afforded by the youth group there.
I suspect that the phrase “there’s nothing to do here” was handed to me by one or more of the BBYO-niks when I asked them on the Sunday for suggestions that might spice up my week.
We stayed at the Cumberland on this occasion, as evidenced by the photo below.
Until I found the above photo, helpfully labelled “The Cumberland” by my mum, I mistakenly thought we had stayed at the New Ambassador, as we had three years earlier – a mini-holiday from 1977 that I shall certainly write up in the fullness of time.
But whereas the fifteen-year-old me had revelled in the company of fellow youngsters in a Jewish hotel during the half-term week of October 1977, this 1980 visit was clearly not to my taste.
To add to the boredom factor for me, this holiday coincided with Sukkot, which, to religious Jews, is a major festival, observed strictly at kosher hotels such as the Cumberland (or New Ambassador, come to that).
The food would have been plentiful and all-inclusive; breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner, with several courses both to lunch and dinner. Grandma Anne will have massively over-eaten, especially at lunchtime. Then, every day, she would have gone through the four stages of post-lunch gastro-grief: irritability, wind, sleep and finally hope (i.e. hope for a few hands of kalooki before tea and cakes are served).
On the main Sukkot festival days (the Thursday and Friday that year) plus shabbat (Saturday every week), games like kalooki were forbidden, thus worsening Grandma’s afternoon mood when her kalooki hopes were dashed.
Grandma Anne – “I’m forcing myself to eat”
Still, a week in “Borschtmouth” was quite a pleasant change for someone, like Grandma Anne, in their late 80’s.
But not what I was looking for in my early 18’s.
In fact, if we go by the diary, nothing at all memorable happened during that week in Bournemouth. But I have one very strong, abiding memory from that trip.
Master Blaster Jamming Revolving Doors
Image “borrowed” from a defunct catawiki listing on fair use basis for identification
Neither my parents nor I were particularly interested in the religious holiday element of the visit. Grandma Anne was a rabbi’s daughter and dad had been raised in a very traditional Jewish household. Mum far less so. Once I had shown little and diminishing interest in the religious side of things, our household had become pretty secular.
Anyway; we had one mission while we were in Bournemouth which was to sort out my combined 18th birthday and going away to University gift. I wanted a ghetto blaster, so I could listen to radio and cassettes in the confined space I knew was to be my lot for several years at University.
Having left matters until late in the week, mum, dad and I hatched a cunning plan to get this piece of shopping done during Sukkot. The hotel basically acted as a synagogue for such a high-holiday and the vast majority of residents – not least all of the religious ones – would attend the service.
We worked out that we would have plenty of time to sneak out of the hotel, procure a suitable item and get back with the booty while all the religious lot were still ensconced in ritual and prayer…
…except that…
…shopping expeditions with my family were never particularly timely affairs and this purchase required thought and due diligence.
I bought a Philips Spatial Stereo Ghettoblaster/Boombox (see above picture) and very pleased with it I was too, all packaged up in its great big box .
We realised that we had cut it a bit fine and hurried back to the hotel.
Get yer skates on, Dad!
We realised that we had goofed as we saw people started to come out of the makeshift hotel synagogue. But rather than slowing down and unobtrusively braving our way in by sneaking through the doors and up the stairs while the assembled frummers were preoccupied with chat and thoughts of lunch…
…we panicked. In our rush, Dad and I got in the same section of the revolving door – a potentially door-jamming mistake at the best of times, but with the additional space-taking-device that was my ghetto-blaster in its box, we were stuck.
Not as posh-looking as this one, but you get the gist
Mum tried to rectify matters by pulling the revolving door in the reverse direction, but revolving doors don’t work like that – or at least this one certainly didn’t. I think a receptionist spotted our embarrassing circumstances and helped to rescue us. Goodness only knows how many people saw us and if any of those who might have seen us really cared. No-one said anything to us about it.
In later months and years, mum, dad and I would joke about the incident. It would have made a good scene in a sit-com or sketch in a comedy TV show.
Just in case some readers don’t realise what a suitable headline phrase “Master Blaster Jamming” is to describe the revolving doors story…and just in case some other readers want to hear the song Master Blaster (Jammin’) again, the following Stevie Wonder smash was all over the airwaves at that time and was for sure one of my welcomed earworms at the time:
So good, that track.
Anyway, I had my ghetto blaster and it gave me good service at Keele for my first two or three years, until I traded it up for an armour-plated Grundig one…but that’s another story.
Master Blaster Jamming…We’ll Be Jamming The Revolving Door…
