This current piece shows H Ackgrass’s third column, which was published in May 1984. Somewhat irritatingly, I have the carbon copy of this one, which was more or less reproduced in full, but not the second, pruned one. I set out my grievance in excruciating detail at the start of this third column. Quentin chose to publish the grievance in full.
Here it is, firstly in its published form, from Page 11 of Concourse May 1984, then in its unexpurgated (not that it was much expurgated) carbon copy form.
If by any chance some readers want to know what Steve Cleary had to say in complaint about my second column, here is a copy of the letter as published in the same edition of Concourse:
Amongst my Keele papers I also have the original of Steve Cleary’s letter to Concourse. I cannot fathom how that came into my possession. Either Steve placed a copy in the “Ha” pigeon hole for Hackgrass to pick up or possibly genial Uncle Quentin gave it to me as a souvenir once I outed myself as Hackgrass in the summer of 1985. Steve might know…and Steve might, by now, have forgiven me.
…I received a surprising amount of correspondence about it. One very kind piece of correspondence from Philip Lucas, responding to my bemoaning the fact that I had a copy of the old constitution my labours were replacing but not the magnum opus I helped to produce, said:
…would you like my original copies of the 1984 Constitution and Standing Orders…? I am happy to post them to you.
Another, from Malcolm Cornelius, stated that he recalled working with me on proof-reading that revised constitution document. I remembered that too, when reminded. Heck, now that the document itself has arrived, we have documentary evidence that Malcolm’s assertion was true.
No wonder Malcolm and I were exploring ways of imbibing coffee and whiskey jointly too!
Many readers are no doubt itching to read bits of the 1984 Constitution and Standing Orders, not least because it is a proto-example of gender-neutral drafting.
I am in retrospect proud of myself for taking on such a dull yet useful task. I believe firmly that Malcolm Cornelius and I should qualify for Honorary Life Membership of The Dull Men’s Club by dint of having done this. I might even write to the doyens of that club requesting same. The only nagging question about that, of course, is whether Malcolm and I should insist on the club changing its name to “The Dull Persons’ Club” or “The Dull People’s Club” before we would accept the honour.
Parenthetically, and with characteristic proof-reading pedantry, I now far prefer the word “people” to the word “persons”, the former feeling more like flowing English to me, the latter feeling more like a sub-editor’s short-cut to a gender neutral word.
Back then we could have taken our lead from Depeche Mode, of all people, who were in the Top Ten around that time with the following hymn to diversity:
Last Thursday (by which I mean 25 April 2024), driving home quite late in the evening, I heard a short anthropological programme on BBC Radio 4 entitled “Why Do We Procrastinate?”.
The programme made me think about my procrastination-ridden period 40 years ago, when I should have been revising more profoundly for my finals than I managed. It also reminded me that I wanted soon to publish the second part of my mini-series, based on that experience, “How not to revise for your finals at Keele”.
I must get that piece written and out this weekend,
I thought to myself. But guess what? A different idea hove into my my mind and I wrote something completely different instead.
Having got to Monday, I then resolved to procrastinate yet longer. But that would be too straightforward. So, this evening, I have decided to put off my procrastination until tomorrow and write the piece right now.
Peace, Love & Procrastination, 21st Century style
Trying Revising In Liverpool
Liverpool from across the Mersey
Thursday, 12 April 1984 – Left Keele after sorting out various business. Arrived [at Bobbie Scully’s place in Wallasey] late afternoon – had dinner – did a little work – went to a pub after.
Friday, 13 April 1984 – Very little today – walking dog etc. eating etc. Went Liverpool in eve – didn’t do much – not feeling so good.
Saturday 14 April 1984 – Not feeling too well today – very little work – walked dog etc etc – went to local pub in eve – worked and watched film after.
Sunday, 15 April 1984 – Rose quite late – packed etc – left Liverpool after lunch – got home [Streatham]. Picked up to eat – did little.
It’s quite possible that I set my standards of diligence and industry a little higher now than I did in 1984, but I would rate my performance, in the matter of doing plenty of revision during those few days on Merseyside, as dismal.
Might London have worked better?
Trying Revising In London
London – could I possibly end up even deeper in the poo?
Monday, 16 April 1984 – Did little work today – G[randma] Jenny and U[ncle] Louis came over for Seder Night.
Tuesday, 17 April 1984 – Did some work – went shopping after. Fairly easy day today – easy evening.
Wednesday, 18 April 1984 – Did some work today – went to Kingston Liberal Seder with Grandma Jenny and Uncle Louis in evening.
Thursday, 19 April 1984 – Worked quite hard today – did little else in fact apart from work.
Friday, 20 April 1984 – Did a little work today – went out for Indian meal – family came over an evening.
Saturday 21 April 1984 – Did a little work & taping today. Paul came over in evening.
Sunday, 22 April 1984 – Did very little work today. Makro [Charlton] in morning – big Carretto [Italian Restaurant in Streatham] lunch in afternoon – did little else all day apart from write up dad’s books.
Monday, 23 April 1984 – Did some work today – went for walk with dad in afternoon – evening taped and spoke to people.
“All work and no joy makes Jack a dull boy”, says Grandma Jenny
Hmmm. The Liverpool experiment was no more than one out of ten on the revision front. London possibly scores four out of ten.
Still, Passover and Easter are now done. Time to return to Keele and see the thing through on campus.
Trying Revising At Keele
Keele – I’m trying to remember what that building was for. 😉
Tuesday, 24 April 1984 – Came back to Keele today – went to the union for a drink at last orders.
Wednesday, 25 April 1984 – Tried to do some work – shopped – went to Ashley etc – last orders in union.
Thursday 26 April 1984 – did a little work today – Bobbie came back late afternoon – did little for rest of day.
Friday, 27 April 1984 – Got up quite late. Went shopping in Newcastle – did some work in the evening.
Saturday 28 April 1984 – Tried to do some work today – went over to Bobbie’s – fairly lazy evening.
Sunday, 29 April 1984 – Did a little work today – went and had a game of tennis with Pudding [Alan Gorman aka The Great Yorkshire Pudding] in early evening – went over to Bobbie’s in eve.
Monday, 30 April 1984 – Did some work today (not much) – did a little more over at Bobbie’s in evening.
Let’s not worry too much about this, folks. My first Law paper was set for 19 May, so there were still 18 revision days until then. But let’s also be honest about it; I seemed to be finding distractions wherever I went. Worse yet, those tennis courts were oh so enticing whenever I looked out of my Barnes L54 window and Alan “Great Yorkshire Pudding” Gorman was often on hand to help me get some much needed fresh air and exercise.
DALL-E image depicting me and Alan dallying
Part Three will follow when I can procrastinate no longer and write up the first three weeks of May 1984. Don’t hold your breath, but I’m aiming for publishing it three weeks hence.
Monday, 11 April 1984 – Finished project. Went library etc. Went to Newcastle with Ashley to food co-op thing – got back late.
My Keele economics project was a bit of a magnum opus. I set out to try to model the pharmaceutical industry, only to learn very rapidly that the apparent cost drivers (i.e. those that were visible in the public domain) had little to do with the actual costs and where actual economic activity took place – rather they were the product of tax planning devices to ensure that profits were maximised in nations with low rates of corporate taxation. Who knew?
I get heartburn just from the thought of writing up that darned project
I remember sheepishly asking Joe Nellis (latterly Professor Joe Nellis at Cranfield) early in the process whether I had screwed up by making a naïve choice of question? Joe simply advised me to “tell it how it is” and the dissertation can still do very well. Which it did.
“Went library” will have been part of the convoluted process in those days of ensuring that a project report was typed up and copied appropriately. I think I typed my own but had to pay for copies in the library.
I’ll scan the document and place it in the public domain at some point. If any reader is desperate to see it, pip me an e-mail message requesting that I upload it – that will induce me to do it sooner rather than later.
Ashley Fletcher
The evening at the food co-operative with Ashley was an unforgettable experience.
The meeting was in a pub’s snug or upstairs room, I forget which, much like Careless Talk meetings. Indeed many of the participants were from that group and a lot were Keele students, researchers and/or graduates. Bob and Sally were there, although this was not “Bob and Sally’s thing”, not that they considered Careless Talk to be “Bob & Sally’s thing” either. Also , I think, Simon and Theo. In addition, a fairly motley collection of local folk in search of cheap bulk food.
The group had been going for a while, although neither Ashley nor I had visited it before. I am pretty sure this was the one and only visit for both of us.
The group and had named itself “Esamrek”, which was a play on the name of the local wholefood store, Kermase, the idea being that the co-operative would reverse the worst excesses of Kermase (i.e. its desire to make profit from selling food).
I was not at one with this economic position, even back then. I was keen to shine a light on excess profits made by Big Pharma, not least by their trick of playing the global taxation game, but I was not against the idea of a retailer making a turn of profit by retailing food.
The first item for debate at the Esamrek meeting was the name of the group itself, which several members found cumbersome and/or tiresome. The debate on the name was quite lively. I recall Bob (even though it was not Bob and Sally’s thing) trying to steer the discussion towards “groundswells” and “the sense of the meeting” a few times, just as he would at a Careless Talk meeting.
One member, who I can only describe as a left-over hippy type by look and sound, at one point said:
…we should name the group Pan Foods, because Pan is the god of the sun and of the earth.
“Siri…Alexa…am I the god of the sun and of the earth?”
This statement somewhat silenced the group. I remember thinking that Pan was not exactly the god of those things, but, unsure what he was the god of, and in any case unsure whether that point was relevant to the debate, I decided (wisely I think) not to chime in on this point.
I remember a conversation with Ashley afterwards about this type of factual nit-picking, in which Ashley posited a business idea: a telephone helpline (premium rate naturally), staffed by brainy youngsters armed with encyclopaedias, to which this type of debate might be put and resolved. Ashley’s considered view was that pub debates up and down the country would very naturally resort to such a service and that the business could rake it in. That idea might have done rather well, especially in the early days of the mobile phone, only to do very badly very rapidly once Alta Vista and Google emerged.
Most amusing to me, though, were the debates about what to order and in what quantities. The group was too loosey-goosey libertarian to take firm orders in advance or anything like that, so they were planning based on the sense of the meeting and people’s vague notion of how much of such-and-such a product they might want at some point in the not-too-distant future.
Ashley threw a cat amongst the pigeons a few times by “naively” questioning the exact variant chosen for a particular product. For example, there was a presumption that the order would be for wholegrain rice. Ashley chimed in…
…I don’t really like wholegrain rice so I wouldn’t go for that. I might be interested in white rice…
…at which point several people then admitted that they quite like white rice and hadn’t eaten any of it for a while…not since they started buying infeasibly large quantities of wholegrain rice via the co-operative…
…while others were persistent in their desire for the wholegrain.
A similar debate ensued around brown pasta and so on the meeting went.
My recollection is that the group ended up in a state of some confusion, given that the only way the co-operative could achieve ultra low prices was through buying very large quantities of a very small range of products.
The notion of a supermarket with buying power and the ability to offer a wide range of products all at once, to me, seemed a rational solution to this micro-economic problem. There might have been a whole second economics dissertation in that.
I do recall laughing with Ashley about that meeting afterwards. Rather than a dissertation, Ashley thought there might be a Mike Leigh style play in the story of that evening.
The meaning of this image for this story will become apparent if you read on!
Forty years after the event, I can still give myself the collywobbles by reading my diary entries for the weeks approaching my finals at Keele. Economics and Law, just in case you were wondering.
I never have been much use at revising for exams. These were important exams to say the least. I sense that I distinguished myself for these big ones by being proportionately dreadful at knuckling down to revision.
I was, at least, quite brutally honest in my diary as to what I was – and wasn’t – doing around that time.
This multi-part article on how not to revise for your finals might serve as an object lesson to students everywhere.
Let’s start with a transcription from my diary for the first 10 days of April 1984:
Sunday 1 April 1984 – Got up late! Did little all day – Viv [Robinson] came round in afternoon – had nice meal and early night.
Monday 2 April 1984 – Got up quite late – Ashley [Fletcher] came round. Went into town – shopped and went to Ashley’s – Bobbie [Scully] left – easyish evening – went Union with Mel [Melissa Oliveck] for last orders – early night.
Tuesday, 3 April 1984 – Tried to do some work today – not too successfully. Went to Union in the evening with Mel.
Wednesday, 4 April 1984 – Late start – intermittent work – went to union with Malcolm [Cormelius] in the evening.
Thursday, 5 April 1984 – Did some work today – intermittently -big demo against Police Bill [which became the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984]. Went to KRA in evening with Malcolm.
Friday, 6 April 1984 – worked quite hard today – shopped etc – went to Union in eve – had a bop!
Saturday, 7 April 1984 – busyish day. Worked quite hard on project today. Went to union in eve – disco etc.
Sunday, 8 April 1984 – Worked on project today after late start. Visited Q92 [my Malay friends] etc. Went to Union for last orders.
Monday, 9 April 1984 = Shopped and worked today. Went to KRA with Malc, Farm [Chris Spencer] and Mel – nice evening.
Tuesday, 10 April 1984 – Worked hard on project all day. Went to Careless Talk meeting in evening, then union, then K41 do.
Some points to note here. Firstly, there are some references to working hard, but they are unquestionably linked to finishing my project – i.e. my Economics dissertation on the Economics of the Pharmaceutical Industry. I am proud of that piece of work, which achieved a first class mark, but in truth it should have been finished before revision time came around in April 1984.
My flat, Barnes L54, had just two of us regular residents: me and Chris “Farmer” Spencer. Pete Wild’s girlfriend, Melissa Oliveck, was there, at least for that first chunk of the vacation, while Malcolm Cornelius was occupying Alan “Great Yorkshire Pudding” Gorman’s room.
One aspect, unmentioned in the diary but which I remember very clearly, was a short-lived tradition of making Irish coffee at the end of the evening on return from the Union. I was reminded of this a couple of weeks ago (March 2024) when my wife, Janie, ordered an Irish coffee after our meal in Petworth (see headline image and below).
“You were a role model…on how NOT to revise…”
I recalled that we were trying to get work done for our finals, so were not spending much time in the bar. Instead, Malcolm and I tried many different ways to prepare the Irish coffee in the flat – all in the interests of science of course.
I remarked to the maître d’ in Petworth that Malcolm and I had concluded that the essential component to make the cream float nicely was the sugar content within the coffee. The maître d’ explained that, to get a full-on Irish coffee to look the way the coffee looks in our photos, you also need to bring each ingredient to the right temperature before combining and use cream with the right fat content.
Back to the drawing board, Malc.
The woeful tale of my attempts to revise for finals will continue soon, after a short interlude next time, to describe a visit that Ashley Fletcher and I made to a Keeley food collective group in Newcastle.
In October 2017 (just before I wrote this piece), Janie went to have a tarot reading. This reminded me that I used to read tarot cards for people at Keele, quite regularly.
I cannot remember who gave me my deck back in the student days, but possibly it was Liza O’Connor, although I have sneaking suspicion I had the deck before I met her. Really I’m not sure.
My tarot deck
I never mastered the full deck, but I did familiarise myself with the major cards and their meanings both ways up. Indeed, if you look at my deck, you can see some signs of wear about the 22 major cards (and the instruction booklet) but not much of that about the 56 minor cards. I also familiarised myself with one or two questioning patterns.
Those who know me to be sceptical about all matters non-scientific might find it a little odd that I read the tarot at all. Let me try to explain.
People would come to me with a question or problem in mind. I wouldn’t ask them what the question/problem was; I even recommended that they keep it to themselves. I wouldn’t even try to use the cards to ascertain what the questioner’s question/problem was. I would simply get the questioner to shuffle and chose cards for each position, then I would explain what each card meant in the position it landed on the table.
My sceptical take on it was simply this. If people were struggling with a question or problem, hearing my generic explanation of what the tarot cards mean in the respective positions enabled the questioner to interpret the cards as they saw fit.
That interpretation was the questioners’ brains coming to terms with their own issues and in a sense resolving or deciding the matters through their own interpretation of what the tarot reading was indicating. I was merely explaining what tarot cards in various positions might mean.
In short, people were making their own decisions or solving their own problems through the mechanism of the tarot cards helping them to think about their choices or issues differently.
Anyway, loads of people liked what I did with tarot. There weren’t quite queues out of the flat and into the corridor. I wasn’t earning huge fortunes (or indeed any money) from tarot. But I did get bought plenty of drinks and was cooked plenty of good meals in return for my tarot readings.
One particularly good source of “business” was the Malay community in the Barnes flats. I had a Malay flatmate in the form of Ahmed Mohd Isa in Barnes M65 for two terms in the first half of 1982. He was supposed to be my continuing flatmate when we were relocated to Barnes L54 (due to M Block’s demolition) but Ahmed’s academic career didn’t survive his Part One finals. I did share L54 with Hamzah Shawal, (from Brunei) who was scheduled to join us for the 1982/83 academic year and who, like Ahmed, was good friends with the main Malay pack who lived in Barnes Q92 and with whom I had already become friendly during Ahmed’s time.
Although quite strict Muslims, those Barnes Q92 guys were interested in mysticism (Malay style Islam has/had some interesting mystical legends which the guys used to share with me) and liked my tarot readings. Not least, I think, because I specifically rejected any religious, quasi-religious or pagan interpretation on it which might otherwise have made tarot seem haram to them.
More importantly, in the matter of fair exchange between honourable students, those Malay guys could really cook. I absolutely loved their Malay-style curries, often prepared with flavoursome mutton or goat from one of the Halal butchers in Stoke, where a substantial Muslim community had started to take form by the early 1980s. I had acquired a taste for Malaysian food as early as 1978 when I worked with several Malaysian folks at Newman Harris in the school holidays – another story for another Ogblog piece.
The matter of my tarot readings was so much part of what I did in those days, it doesn’t seem to get mentioned in the diaries at all – or if it does I couldn’t find a reference easily. It would have been part of, “I visited so-and-so” or “so-and-so visited us”, in much the same way as the diary doesn’t mention what we ate, what we drank or what we talked about either.
I have picked out two diary examples which I think almost certainly will have involved tarot readings:
15 April 1983…played tennis with Hamzah, Yazzid & Bai in afternoon – stayed in eve…
I’ll cover the tennis aspect of this April 1983 period in a separate piece, as reading that page has brought back some long forgotten aspects of my rehabilitation from glandular fever in part through playing tennis.
But almost without question those guys will have hung around after tennis, Hamzah would have cooked one of his curries (which also weren’t bad, but not quite up to the Q92 cookery standard) and I’d have done some tarot readings.
8 April 1984 – worked on project today after late start. Visited Q92 etc. Went to Union for last orders.
The “project” will have been my economics dissertation on the pharmaceutical industry. More peripheral stories around that project will follow elsewhere.
“Q92 etc.” will undoubtedly have been one of those excellent meals and me reading the tarot.
“Union for last orders” will undoubtedly have meant me parting company with Yazzid, Bai and the others; those Q92 guys didn’t grace the union at night.
It is amazing what a simple conversation with Janie about tarot, 30+ years later, can trigger off in the memory.
Now Janie is nagging me to mug up on my tarot and give her a reading. I feel a sense of great trepidation about that.
But, oh boy, Janie can cook too…and once she’s read this piece…I suspect that my grub rations will be at risk unless I do as she asks.
Meanwhile, if anyone out there remembers how I got started with tarot or remembers being on the other side of one of my readings, I’d love to hear your recollections.
Janie’s not at all sure about the look of that Fool card
Forty years ago (he says, writing in March 2024), while I was at Keele, my relationship with the City of London was rather different from the way it is now:
Sunday, 18 March 1984 – Got up quite early – did very little today – visited people etc. Evening – went union and left late!
Monday, 19 March 1984 – Busyish day – shopped etc. Went union etc. Wrote essay – went to visit Bobbie for a while.
Tuesday, 20 March 1984 – Rose quite early – several visitors (Malcolm [Cornelius], Simon [probably Legg at that time], Bobbie [Scully, to be sure] etc) – sluggish day – shopped, washed, then cooked a big meal in evening. Very pleasant.
Wednesday, 21st of March 1984- Rose quite late – came home in afternoon – lazy eve and spoke to friends etc.
“Came home” meant returned to my parents’ house in Streatham. In order to try and catch up with my preparation for finals, I decided to retreat to London for a few days for private study. How well did that work?
Thursday, 22 March 1984 – Did a little work today – shopped etc. Stayed in evening – did a little work.
Friday, 23 March 1984 – Lazyish day – did a little work etc. Fairly lazy evening in.
Saturday, 24 March 1984 – Easyish day – did some work – Paul came over in afternoon – did some work evening.
Hmm, not bad. What about the next few days?
Sunday, 25 March 1984 – Did little work – rowed with mother – went to Surbiton to see Grandma Jenny and Uncle Louis. Had a Chinese dinner. Met [guess… Jimmy Bateman] in the eve at R&C [Rose & Crown – Jimmy liked that place] – early night.
Monday, 26 March 1984 – Got up quite early – worked hard both day and evening. Little hive of industry.
Tuesday, 27 March 1984 – Busy day – rose early, met Caroline [Freeman, now Curtis] for lunch – went on to Newman Harris in afternoon , and went on to Andrea [Dean]’s for dinner etc – late night.
Wednesday, 28 March 1984– left Teddington quite early – had lunch – left London – rotten journey (no LT) to Keele, went Thorns and union to sort out tomorrow
“Rowed with mother” would undoubtedly have been about the sabbatical. We hadn’t been on the best of terms since “Liza-gate” the previous year…
… and now mum had become convinced that I was hell-bent on becoming a perpetual student who would never, in her terms, start earning a proper living. Worse yet, I was going to turn into a “union man”, like her brother Harry, whom she considered to be a person who would always choose armchair-agitating over actually working. (I paraphrase).
“Went to Newman Harris” would have been a simple and satisfactory expedient to explain what I was doing and keep my job offer there open for an additional 12 months, which they were more than happy to do.
Not only a City of London connection across forty years, but also a National Physical Laboratory (NPL) in Teddington connection. Andrea lived in Bushy House at that time, as her dad, Paul, was Director of the NPL. Forty years later, I was hoity-toitying with the NPL crowd in Horizon 22:
Thursday, 29 March 1984 – Got up at 7 am – went to Silverdale for Stop The City lines – played Risk and Scrabble, and got pissed on home brew! Got home pretty late.
I remember this day very clearly. “Silverdale” meant Simon [Legg] and Theo’s place. I was drafted in to help them act as logistics co-ordinators and a helpline for those students who went to London to join in the Stop the City protest – this being, I believe the second of them.
I was asked to help because I was studying civil liberties law and there was a train of thought that the police might over-exert their authority and be open to challenge during the protest.
In practice, especially in those days without mobile phones, the reality was that the protesters were “on their own” down in London, with insufficient access to phones to enable any co-ordination or requests for on-the-fly legal advice.
I don’t think Simon & Theo’s phone rang once during the whole day. Hence, despite the crack of dawn start, all we did was play Risk and Scrabble while ploughing through a fair chunk of Simon’s most recent batch of home brewed beer.
The home brew bucket and paraphernalia looked a bit like this.
Simon’s theory was that his home brew did not give you a hangover, however much of it you drank, because it entirely lacked the hangover-inducing additives that come with the deal in mass produced beer. In my case, only up to a point, Mr Legg. But then we did drink rather a lot of home brew that day.
Despite my more-or-less-non-existent involvement, it is quite possible that I remain guilty of a capital crime in the City of London for even offering to assist such a protest from afar. Cruel, unusual and bizarre medieval laws have a dreadful tendency to crawl out of the woodwork in the square mile. Whether or not the Lord Mayor could or would grant me clemency in such circumstances I have no idea, but, as I am Freeman of the City, I am entitled to be hanged with a silken rope rather than a cheap and scratchy one, which is a very reassuring thought.
Returning to the end of March 1984 – the rest of that week was tame:
Friday, 30 March 1984 – Got up quite early – went union – and library. Bobbie arrived – cooked meal for B, Malc. and Ruth – early night.
Saturday, 31 March 1984 – Lazy day – Rose late – shopped. Lazed around – had nice meal in eve after quick visit to union.
Not exactly finals overdrive then. I don’t think I ever made it to overdrive, to be honest, as the next few weeks of diaries will attest.
“Welcome To The Top Table”. Picture 1985, with thanks to Mark Ellicott
I claim in my diary not to remember much about this week…John White reports similarly from his diary when he ran successfully for the sabbatical Union Secretary role a couple of weeks earlier…
..yet there are several aspects of that election week that I remember very clearly, forty years later.
The Story So Far…
Just to summarise the story so far – I was quietly trying to ensure that the Union Committee for 84/85 would be a lot more effective and less chaotic than the 83/84 team, which was beset with ructions and (often self-inflicted) problems.
My dream team for 84/85 included my girlfriend, Bobbie Scully, as Education and Welfare sabbatical. Bobbie had other plans and turned out to be better at the Machiavellian stuff than me, ganging up with other friends to turn the tables on me.
I saw Bobbie at the Gresham Society dinner earlier this week (writing in March 2024) and warned her that I would be writing up the story of her stitching me up for this role.
Quite right, except the truth of it was that you tried to stitch me up and the easiest way out of it was for me to stitch you up instead
That’s clear.
A late Renaissance petard. There’s me, setting it off, about to be hoist by it, while Malcolm Cornelius and Bobbie Scully watch from a safe distance
…held me back from campaigning until the last few days of the race.
Other Random Memories Prior To Canvassing
I recall that there were 11 nominations for the role of Education & Welfare that year and all of us remained in the race and appeared on the ballot paper. That was believed to be a record back then and might still be a record.
I hoped to get endorsement from the Liberals and Labour…although I was a member of neither…on the basis that the position is apolitical, no-one amongst the 11 candidates was a member of either party and that my political leanings were (are) unattached liberal-left. The Liberals went for it without fuss…my flat, Barnes L54 was sort-of “Liberals Central” with Pete Wild living there and Melissa Oliveck hanging out there with Pete much of the time.
It was much harder to persuade Labour to endorse me. I had been a member of Labour Club until a year or two previous but had not identified enough with the local MP nor the party line to feel comfortable with formal alignment. One of the candidates decided to try to carpetbag Labour endorsement by joining Labour Club. Truda Smith, by then head of Labour Club, thought that was good enough. Frank Dillon, presumably thinking differently, took it upon himself as Secretary of Labour club to come round and see me in Barnes L54, give me a good grilling and decide who to propose for Labour endorsement. It was the first time I had a long chat with Frank, but for sure it was not the last.
Frank did not say, “Ian Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship…”
…but I did get the Labour endorsement and it was the beginning of a friendship with Frank that has endured.
The Legwork Campaign Began
Sunday 11 March 1984 – Started canvassing this afternoon- hard work. Went to KRA with Vivian in evening after.
Monday 12 March 1984 – Canvassed hard today – went to UGM in evening – left early – went over to Bobbie’s – came back.
Tuesday 13 March 1984 – Hard canvassing all day today – refecs, rooms, etc. V tiring – popped in to see B after for a while.
Wednesday 14 March 1984 – Canvassed hard all day – went Union in eve with Bobbie – came back.
I recall getting advice from Dr Scott on whether my rubella presented a risk to anyone – he gave me a rule to follow ahead of going door to door, which I think would have enabled me to start on the Saturday but I waited until the Sunday “to be sure”. That didn’t prevent one “spoiler” rumour that I was spreading rubella and might cause birth defects were I to infect a pregnant woman while canvassing, rendering me utterly unsuited to a welfare post. I remember being furious about that one.
I also recall some low-level attempts to spoil my campaign by the Tories, who saw me as a Union insider and a leftie at that. I particularly remember Laura Helm and one of her Tory pals trying to delay me and/or honey-trap me by flirting with me and inviting me in when I went to Laura’s door. Didn’t work. I dread to think what might have happened had I taken the bait. I remember Laura telling me after the election that she sensed that I would win it from the way I handled that stunt.
Laura second from left, with “the Tory crowd” – thanks Mark Ellicott for the picture
I also remember Duncan Baldwin, with whom I studied both Economics and Law, telling me that he was going to vote for me despite the difference in our political views, because he sensed that I would be honest and diligent, which he felt was what the Union needed. I remember being moved by that statement and also thinking that I would be well-placed if there were plenty of others who thought like Duncan.
I also remember my Malay friends telling me that they were not going to vote because they wouldn’t be around the following year and that they felt that the matter should be determined by those who would be living with the consequences of that vote. An interesting morality, not one that I shared but I understood it. I thought that factor might run against me if there were too many of my friends who felt that way.
I hadn’t set foot in a refectory for years, but chose to eat in them while canvassing. One person in the refectory told me that they were going to vote for me because I removed my plates and bowls from the tray rather than scoffing from the tray. I didn’t read too much psephology into that event but never forgot the strange exchange.
I oriented my campaign to some extent to encourage overseas students to vote. I felt that they got a raw deal and that there were interests of theirs that I could advocate, both on the education and welfare side of things. Blessing Odatuwa and Bobbie’s friend Lara from Lindsay K Block lobbied the Cameroonian and Nigerian communities (respectively) for me. I knew Tony Wong and others from the Chinese student community well, following several years of joint activities – Bobbie was also well connected with that crowd.
Election Days And Aftermath
Thursday 15 March 1984 – Whole day in concourse – very tiring. Went to J-Soc and on to Union after with Bobbie – came back after.
Friday 16 March 1984 – Big day – Concourse all day (charades at end!!) – result – won – don’t remember much!! Bobbie came back.
Saturday 17 March 1984 – Rose quite late – went off to Lichfield etc – went to restaurant in Hanley -> Union after -> Bobiie’s.
“Don’t remember much” is not quite true.
I do remember Bobbie’s friend Lara, in the concourse, trying to badger some of her fellow Nigerian students into voting for me. Bobbie berated Lara for being overly persuasive – she was virtually dragging reluctant people towards the ballot box – but Lara said, “a bit of political thuggery never did any harm”. She was 18 or 19 years old.
I’m not sure what I mean by “charades”. I was being ultra careful to do everything by the spirit as well as the letter of the rules. At one point, because there was a shortage of people to staff the ballot boxes, I noticed that both Bobbie and Annalisa were the pair on the boxes. Given that they were both actively part of my team, that felt wrong. I remember raising an objection myself, suggesting to Vivian that she must replace one of them in a hurry, only for all the other candidates to tell Vivian not to bother and me not to worry…they trusted Bobbie and Annalisa to behave impartially on the ballot boxes. That’s what happens when you are trustworthy.
Annalisa – a card carrying member of the Union
But hanging around in the concourse was rather dull, especially towards the end of a two-day election, by which time most people had either voted or long-since decided not to bother to vote. So perhaps we actually played charades, as I do remember a good feeling among the candidates…
…at least, there was certainly a good feeling among the candidates before we played charades.
The count took ages, not least because there were eleven candidates and counting was done using the single transferrable vote system. Malcolm Cornelius could explain to you in excruciating detail how that works. Ask him…go on, ask him.
Actually, the voting was quite close among the ten other people in the election, who I think all landed somewhere between 40 and 100 first votes. I landed just over 200. Thus I think the eliminations did need to be done one by one., which is very time-consuming.
I recall being nervous and fretting that I might have needed more first votes than I got in order to win the election, thinking that I might have been a “marmite candidate” who mostly landed only first preferences. At one point I remember Bobbie taking me aside and telling me, long before the result was called, that I should relax because I’d won.
ME: But I might not have enough second preferences…
BOBBIE: Yes you do.
ME: What makes you so sure?
BOBBIE: Because I sat on those blinking ballot boxes for hours and most people did their voting in front of me.
Of course Bobbie as right – the transfers landed in similar proportions to the first votes and my margin kept increasing.
The tallying might have looked a bit like this, only with younger people and no Gerald Ford pipe
The only thing I really remember about the celebrations was being descended upon by the gang from my old Lindsay F Block: Richard van Baaren, Benedict Coldstream and Bob Schumacher, who carried me aloft around the main bar for a while, much to my fearful chagrin. Big units, those guys, they were never going to drop me.
To Summarise…
I got elected as sabbatical Education & Welfare Officer in March 1984. I tried to keep my promises when in office between June 1984 and June 1985.
The extract from Concourse that follows contains the second published column. Unfortunately, I either failed to keep or mislaid my carbon copy of the submission. That second column was cruelly edited, as my whinge in the third column (May 1984) attests.
Unless I find the carbon copy misplaced amongst other papers (vaguely possible but unlikely 40+ years hence) we shall never know the detail of the scurrilous scribbles that were edited out, nor shall we discover which good jokes were cruelly pinched and inserted into other people’s articles in that March 1984 edition of Concourse. Naughty Uncle Quentin (Quentin Reubens, then editor of Concourse).
Anyway, here is the column that did get published on Page Seven of the March 1984 Concourse.
Answer: They all strangely find their way into one week of my diary.
Quite a week, that first full week of March 1984. Once the decision was made that I’d run for Education & Welfare, the campaign went into overdrive. What could possibly go wrong?
Sunday 4 March 1984
Rose quite early – worked a little – spent afternoon in dark room with Annalisa [de Mercur] etc. Popped over to Bobbie’s in eve.
Monday, 5 March 1984
Busy working on manifesto today – got quite a bit done – constitutional committee in the evening – went over to Bobbies after.
Tuesday, 6 March 1984
Not feeling very well today – worked on manifesto today – almost done – went over to Bobbie’s – really felt ghastly!
Wednesday, 7 March 1984
Worked on manifesto today – covered in German Measles. today. Took it fairly easy.
The reason the manifesto was such a time consuming matter was a decision, taken jointly with my campaign manager, Malcolm Cornelius, to produce both the manifesto and leaflet (known as a supplementary manifesto) using digital technology. I wrote this up several years ago in the following piece, click here or the image link below:
Word processing on a University mainframe in 1984 was a non-trivial matter, believe me. Malcolm, who was pretty geeky back then and possibly remains so, could probably explain in excruciating detail what we had to go through to get that job done. Ask him. Go on, ask him.
I merely remember a lot of trial and error and also remember not feeling at all well throughout the process, probably because I had Rubella, commonly known as German Measles.
Younger readers, please do not berate my parents for failing to have me vaccinated – our generation didn’t have a vaccination for Rubella. What was supposed to happen was that you had the disease as a child and then never got it again because the instance of having the disease effectively vaccinated you. Some of us were careless enough to avoid the disease until the fourth year at University – or even longer in some cases – then get it at an inconvenient time…which for me this unquestionably was.
It would have been so much worse had the Rubella presented before the photo shoot. Any spots you might detect on the images from the shoot are either dust or my regular spots and blotches, which were quite numerous when I was in my very early twenties.Please let us not discuss THAT tie.
Thursday, 8 March 1984
Still not very well – spots disappearing – busyish, but took it fairly easy. Finished manifesto etc. Bobbie came over later.
Friday, 9 March 1984
Feeling a bit better today – Bobbie went away – manifesto’s in and supp’s out.– Social Sec election & big appeal over VP internal.
Saturday 10 March still quite tired – has an easy day today – went to Andrea’s party in eve – on to union briefly.
Right, so not only did Bobbie abandon me to run that election…the one I had hoped she’d be running for…but she went away for the weekend ahead of my campaign proper starting. In retrospect I don’t blame her at all, but I do remember feeling a bit miffed at the time.
Although I was a candidate for the following week’s election, I was still Chair of Election Appeals for that week’s election. I sense that the Social Secretary election went smoothly…
Here’s me with Pady Jalali, who won that election. Image Summer 1985 with thanks to Mark Ellicott
…whereas the VP Internal election had some element of hoo-ha attached to it, probably long-since forgotten by all concerned. Hayward Burt won that election and it is just possible that he remembers the hoo-ha.
Me and Hayward in the summer of 1985 – thanks Mark Ellicott for the picture
Ironically, the challenge probably came from the Tories, as Hayward was, in those days, one of the “Liberals with infeasibly strange names”. Hayward now can be found through more Conservative channels. I wonder whether he remembers what the shenanigans were on this occasion. I’ll send this piece to him and ask him.
Update: Hayward Replies…
Thanks for the heads up and the photo (I used to be thin! who knew?)
The controversy rings no bells at all, the result was v close between me and the Labour Club chap and I remember being absolutely knacked with all the door knocking.
“Andrea’s party” on the Saturday will have been Andrea Collins’ (now Woodhouse’s) party. Strangely, a Facebook birthday reminder for Andrea popped up on my FB tab while I was in the process of producing this piece.
Malcolm might have been unusually geeky back then but in many ways we are all geeks now, forty years on.
I’ll send Andrea a “Happy Birthday” message by dint of a link to this piece – Happy Birthday Andrea!
