I wonder whether Angus Wilson would have seen the funny side of this?
As it happens I wasn’t working on Monday (the previous day). In fact, Janie and I had just got home from a specialist’s rather gloomy prognosis on my right hip (“got to go”) and were just heading off to play tennis…
…yes I know those two phrases seem incongruous, but if the hip is more or less worn out I might as well wear it out completely before it goes…
…when I picked up an utterly unexpected e-mail from the Royal Court Theatre.
…I found you from your website, as you wrote about Mark Rosenblatt’s Giant.
I’m reaching out from the Royal Court Theatre’s Living Archive, where we’re working on a series of events called Beyond the Library and I’m hoping you might be able to help us with a last-minute facilitation opportunity tomorrow at 5.30pm.
I know this is very out of the blue and very short notice, but we’d be grateful for your consideration…
Included was the script for The Mulberry Bush and a Facilitator Guide.
It was obvious to me that someone had pulled out at the last minute and that the Royal Court was a bit desperate. There was a modest fee to be had, but not at the level that would get me out of bed unless I was interested/intrigued. I was interested/intrigued.
I picked up the phone and explained, truthfully, that my primary emotion was one of imposter syndrome at the thought of helping them with this. Yes, I am a seasoned facilitator, but normally for organisational/strategic topics, not the arts. Yes, I was familiar with Giant. And yes, as it happens, I have read some Angus Wilson in my time – probably more than 40 years ago. But I have never read or seen The Mulberry Bush.
I’m sure you’ll be great at it. Don’t worry about not being an arts facilitator. We’re looking for diversity in our pool of facilitators.
I suppose I offer diversity from your regular drama facilitator, but perhaps not the kind of diversity you are looking for in your stats.
Janie thought I’d get a buzz out of doing it and was prepared to put up with me hijacking the afternoon to prepare the event, so I said yes.
Janie even did some research for me, finding this excellent documentary about Angus Wilson:
I enjoyed reading The Mulberry Bush and then did some digging into how it was received when it was first shown at The Royal Court. Spoiler alert: it was not received well. I was reminded that I have heard of the play simply because it was the very first play that George Devine put on in 1956 when he started up the English Stage Company at the Royal Court. It actually felt like an extraordinary honour to be facilitating the Royal Court’s event on the topic of that seminal production.
Anyway, I got my facilitator notes ready and sent them across on the Monday evening – here they are if you want to read them, and then got on with my other activities for the next 20 hours or so.
Coincidentally, my other activities that Tuesday morning included going through my Autumn 1984 diaries, where I discovered my very first visit to the Royal Court. 8 December 1984, to see The Pope’s Wedding – what a cast! That Living Archive looks like a fabulous project, btw, and I shall no doubt be contributing observations from my 40 years or so of visiting The Royal Court.
When I got to the flat, I was able to locate my copy of Hemlock & After by Angus Wilson, but I didn’t have time to do more than skim it.
Still, I was one step ahead of my victims…I mean, the attendees, and that one step ahead seemed to be enough to get me through on the evening.
It was a pretty lively, bright bunch; a mixture of drama students, young folk new to working in theatre, writers and a few more senior folk who were just interested in having a book club style discussion.
Everyone contributed and I thought the quality of the discussion was very high. But then, what would I know? I’m not really an arts facilitator. The feedback was good, so I think it went well.
Also, I note, that the Beyond The Library series, which had plenty of spaces left for the November & December sessions when I looked on the Tuesday, has now (by Sunday) sold out. I understand that The Royal Court is considering extending the idea into 2025, so watch that space if you are interested in future such events.
It was hard work preparing, at such short notice, a discussion around a play I had never read or seen before. I fed back that 28 days would be a more suitable advanced notice than 28 hours under normal circumstances. But then, as Angus Wilson said in No Laughing Matter:
“Life isn’t just to be found, you have to work for it.”
Totally genuine picture taken on the night in question
I needed to get one more Ogblog piece in before the end of the 2023/24 tax year, obviously, so have chosen briefly to write up the Ivan Shakespeare Dinner which took place on 4 April 2024.
These gatherings of former NewsRevue writers (most of us relics from the 1990s) are a source of great joy. As Graham said at the end of the dinner,
I laugh far more at one of these evenings than I would if I paid to see almost any comedy show in town.
We’ve been enjoying these events for decades now – a couple of examples below:
John Random is our ringleader for these get togethers. In real life John might not be the most organised person I know, but oh boy is he better than all the rest of us put together in the matter of organising these gatherings.
As the years have gone on, it’s not just been Ivan we have been memorialising but several other “fallen” from our ranks. On this occasion, Barry brought a little memorial photograph tribute, which was lacking a picture of at least one of the fallen and which lacks room for any additional pictures. Either hope way in excess of expectation, or Barry plans to cram in some smaller pictures when the time comes.
John deferred on the quizzing this time, allowing Colin and Graham to confound us with some good quizzy offerings. Graham’s revolved around hit song lyrics, which he (and Sue) expected me to smash [did you see what I did there?] but I came up well short on that game, failing similarly on Colin’s quiz. I don’t think I am much of a solo quizzer to be honest. I work better as part of a team…
Anyway, Ivan Shakespeare dinners are not primarily about the quizzing, they are about mirth and convivial dining. I think I’m reasonably good at that.
Colin commented that we don’t often take pictures at these events, which I realised is true. The six of us who gathered this evening: Barry, Colin, Graham, John, Mark, and me – might never again comprise the exact group of an actual Ivan Shakespeare dinner. So obviously the event needed to be commemorated with a picture – see headline and below.
Proof…not that proof should be needed…that we are all absolutely fine.
There is no reason for anyone to question the veracity of this picture. My plea, should the gutter press start to delve deeply where they are not wanted, is to scream, “leave us alone FFS”.
Everything I want to say about this matter is covered in the King Cricket piece that I wrote up in my capacity as Ged Ladd.
Alex “King Cricket” Bowden was clearly taken with the piece, as I submitted it on 21 March 2024 and it went up on King Cricket less than a month later.
…Rohan decided to try the National Theatre foyer bars as a venue this time around – cunningly timed with two quite long plays at the Olivier and Lyttelton both starting at 19:30. That gave us ample time to perform in the relative quiet between the start of the plays and the intervals.
The relative quiet was rather noisily broken by the bar staff hoovering up around us, very early in the reading of Geraldine’s piece, but we’ll put that temporary disturbance aside. The venue worked.
And we can all honestly claim now that we have performed at The National Theatre.
Rohan threaded our pieces together, as is his way. In this instance, with the topic “The Phone Call”, Rohan’s thread covered Alexander Graham Bell‘s innovation, the practical telephone. Also the contribution of the lesser known but colourful Florentine, Antonio Meucci, who largely invented that communication method before Bell, but was too polite to patent the critically novel elements of the technology he had discovered.
Geraldine’s piece came first. A charming throwback to 1973, Geraldine recounted her mother’s almost infeasibly regular long-distance calls to Geraldine (who had escaped to New York). Geraldine’s mum persistently tried, in vain, to persuade her daughter to return to “Hicksville” and resume the “normal” life into which Geraldine had, to her mother’s perception, been born.
Rohan then reminded us all that Alexander Graham Bell’s first phone call was to an employee who awaited his call…
Mr. Watson—Come here—I want to see you
…starting the mighty tradition of bosses using such devices to issue instructions to underlings.
Rohan was rather sniffy about my ability to follow a simple instruction – i.e. to write a story about a phone call. I cannot imagine what Rohan’s beef might have been.
The Phone Call by Ian Harris
We don’t go out so much anymore. Not since the pandemic. It’s not a fear of infection or anything like that. It’s just that we have got out of the habit. It now takes something especially interesting or unusual to lure us back to the theatre or concert hall.
One such interesting concert caught our eyes recently – a concert of African chamber music at the Wigmore Hall, led by Tunde Jegede, who is both a virtuoso kora player and a classically-trained cellist. The kora is a large West-African 21-stringed plucking instrument, sometimes described as a cross between a lute and a harp.
Janie and I like the Wigmore Hall. It is one of the few remaining public spaces where we still normally bring down the average age of the audience quite significantly. But we soon saw, on arrival at the Wigmore Hall for the kora concert, that this audience was different. Only sparsely populated with “the usual suspects”, the average age of the audience was, horror of horrors, below ours.
The front row still had a comfortingly senior look. Next to Janie was a beaming, white-haired woman you might have got from central casting had you requested “a left-over hippy”. The woman was very friendly and chatty – clearly not part of the regular front row mafia. Familiar with the kora – she had spent time in West Africa when younger – she was a fan of Tunde Jegede’s playing but had not previously managed to see him play live. She was, as the young folk say, super-excited.
The first half of the concert was truly magical. Tunde had brought with him a posse of chamber musicians from Lagos, together with a wonderful percussionist. We were transported by the music, not least the entrancing sound of Tunde’s kora-playing.
During the interval, our friendly neighbour said that she was delighted with the live music experience and thrilled that we had enjoyed it. She recommended and wrote down the names of a couple of Tunde’s albums for us to follow up, which we did.
I wondered what those silky-sounding kora strings are made of. Our otherwise-expert neighbour didn’t know. More or less at that moment, Tunde came on to the stage to rearrange the setting for the second half of the concert. As he was standing, with his kora, about three yards away from me, it seemed only polite to ask him about the strings.
I was expecting the answer to be something along the lines of, “skin from an antelope’s anus or a sitatunga’s scrotum“. But instead, Tunde simply said, “Nylon”. “Just Nylon”, I asked, hoping for more enlightenment. “Just Nylon”, said Tunde, gently.
The second half of the concert was also good but less to our taste. Tunde didn’t play his kora – instead he demonstrated his skills as a cellist. The fusion theme was retained, as the pieces were arrangements of traditional African music, but to us the real magic had been the kora.
I tried to work out the common theme in Tunde’s unusual choice of devices for his multi-instrumentalism. I concluded that Tunde likes making music while holding his instrument between his legs.
525 WORDS
I smiled to myself as I hit the save button and e-mailed my piece to Rohan Candappa for review.
Ninety minutes later, my iPhone buzzed.
It was Rohan.
“Ian, old chap”, said Rohan. “A charming vignette, but it has nothing to do with the subject and title – The Phone Call”.
“I beg to differ”, I said. “The piece is absolutely about The Phone Call”. The introductory story about the kora concert is a MacGuffin. The main story is about the phone call.
“Well”, said Rohan, “I did consider e-mailing you, but then…”
“…never explain”, I interrupted. “You and I have collaborated on and off for over 50 years now, Rohan. Many things don’t need to be said.”
It seemed that everyone else was able to understand and obey a simple instruction from Rohan…even Jan.
Strangely, Jan, like Geraldine, had set her story in 1973. Without conferring. The central conceit of Jan’s story, which revolved around an uprooted little girl whose family had recently moved to a different town, was a troubling phone call aimed at one or both parents, inadvertently picked up by the little girl.
Similarly strange was the structural similarity between Jan’s and Julie’s story, which was also about a troubling phone call picked up by someone other than the intended recipient of the call. Julie’s was not set in a particular bygone year, but the details within the story suggested 1970s as well.
David’s story was about a character who bought a vintage GPO rotary telephone through the internet and, as a result, got a phone call more than he had bargained for.
All of The Phone Call stories were charming, thought-provoking and enjoyable to hear. It was also very pleasing to spend time with the ThreadMash gang again, even though we were a somewhat depleted group on this occasion.
Sadly, Kay, who was going to join us, was unable to attend due to the recent death of her mother. Yet Kay made a charming contribution to the collection of stories by e-mail a couple of days later:
“Here is my belated contribution to “The Call”. In the endless process of clearing out my mum’s house, we found the tin in which I used to save my phone money when I was a kid. Like many others, I was expected to pay for my calls!”
They say a picture is worth a thousand words and my goodness that picture of Kay’s is worth at least that many. But Rohan had instructed us to limit our stories to a maximum of 800 words. Honestly, some people can’t comply with the simplest of instructions from the ThreadMaster.
The building “set back” with a turret in the above picture is the original Tudor-period covered tennis court at Hampton Court Palace, with several walls remaining, one of which is part of the current, Stuart-period covered court, which is on the site of the original uncovered court.
Thanks to Janie for most of the pictures and all the videos (apart from the professional highlights vid).
Whose idea was it to have a real tennis-themed event at Hampton Court? As the event proved to be a great success, Tim Connell is claiming full responsibility for the idea. Meanwhile, I am claiming at least to have inspired the idea with my lockdown webinar, Tennis Around The Time Of Thomas Gresham, in 2020.
Full credit to Tim for the timing of the event – he insisted that we try to find a sweet spot between the summer holidays and the weather turning autumnal. A hostage to fortune, perhaps, but the timing worked brilliantly, as we were blessed with a sunny but not too hot afternoon for the event.
The good people at the Royal Tennis Court, Hampton Court (RTCHC) were incredibly helpful in allowing us to hold the event and facilitating same, from the initial conversation I had about it with Lesley Ronaldson the previous autumn right through to the day itself. Thanks to all named below plus Nick Wood, the RTCHC Head Professional, without whose blessing none of this would have been possible.
The History Of The Court & Explaining The Game, David Best, Lesley Ronaldson & Jack Josephs
Yours truly introducing David Best
Lesley very kindly suggested that David Best, who wrote THE book on the history of the Royal Tennis Court, speak to our group on that topic. David even more kindly agreed to speak and also to join in our brief “exhibition” to demonstrate the game.
RTCHC’s junior professional, Jack Josephs, did most of the game explaining. Two years ago, when I first met Jack at Middlesex University’s court, he was a complete newbie!
Both Lesley and Jack talked a lot of balls…I mean, talked a lot ABOUT balls
After hearing about it, Gresham Society members and guests were invited to have a go. Surprisingly, many tried…
Unsurprisingly, few succeeded. It is a fiendishly difficult game, even for moderately talented regular enthusiasts. For neophytes it is even harder than that.
Basil’s first ever hit of a Real Tennis ball skimmed beautifully over the net. The second did not – Basil claims that it was poorly delivered.Tim & Bobbie; “close but no cigar” in the matter of hitting the ball over the netJanie’s technique looks wanting, but she landed chases with each of her goes
Then a short exhibition, during which David Best and I, ably assisted by a professional on each side – thank you Jack & thank you Scott Blaber – demonstrated through a short match how it should and shouldn’t be done. Lesley supplied the commentary, as did the players when at the service end.
Janie shot very little video of the exhibition match…”thank goodness” I hear many readers cry…but here is a short snippet to give you an idea:
If you want to see what the game looks like at the highest level, the following six minute reel of highlights shows the very top professionals at play:
Tea & Cake
Then, for the Gresham Society visitors and their guests it was time for tea and cake. In truth I hadn’t realised, when the RTCHC people said that they would lay on tea and cake, that “Lesley Ronaldson’s home made cake” is what they meant.
Had I known that, I wouldn’t have teased Lesley by e-mail a couple of days before with the words:
No pressure, but my wife, Janie, will be judging the whole event on her piece of cake.
Former US Open Champions / World Championship Finalists are not deterred such entreaties. As we know, champions adjust and pressure is a privilege.
Lesley “pulled off a blinder” in the matter of the home made cakes, to such an extent that Janie was too busy enjoying the tea break to photograph same until most of the sweet delicacies had been well and truly devoured.
The weather was simply glorious at that stage of the afternoon, allowing the visitors to enjoy the wonderful tea and cakes in the garden – hence the barren look of the dining room in the above photo.
The visitors took some marshalling back into the dedans gallery for the final part of the visit, a performance symposium, led by yours truly, on the topic of “Hampton Court, Tennis, Gresham, Music & Drama”.
The performance was ably supported by Jack Carter and Reuben Ard, tennis-playing music graduate / research students from Middlesex University Real Tennis Club and a couple of guest appearances from Tim and Pilar Connell. Also providing praiseworthy support were the visitors, most of whom sang along with the help of their scripts/song sheets. Click here for a pdf of those extracts.
I was particularly impressed that people sang along so well to “In Darkness Let Me Paint It Black” – see final embed below.
Janie got busy with the video app on her phone during the performances, so several highlights and lowlights were recorded. Below only the highlights as YouTube embeds.
I would recommend, if you were to choose only one highlight, Reuben Ard’s performance of William Byrd’s Earl of Salisbury Pavan, which was really quite magical performed in that wonderful setting on “electric virginals”:
Word is, most if not all of the visitors thoroughly enjoyed their afternoon at Royal Tennis Court, Hampton Court. Thanks again to our hosts, who made us feel so welcome and steered the event to sweet success.
Around the time that Thomas Gresham was born, c1519, Henry VIII was still a relatively young monarch, about 27 years old, although he had already been king for some 10 years.
Indeed, around the time of Thomas Gresham’s birth, a wonderful manuscript of polyphony was produced, known colloquially as the Henry VIII Manuscript. In British Library circles it is known as MS 31922. If you think “circa 1519” is a bit vague for the birth of Thomas Gresham, dig “circa 1510-1520” for the Henry VIII manuscript. Probably c1518.
The manuscript contains 109 pieces, including 20 songs and 13 instrumentals attributed to Henry VIII. If you have a DIAMM (Digital Image Archive of Medieval Music) registration you can peruse the whole book on-line here.
Question for the audience: would anyone care to name one or more of Henry VIII’s compositions?
No, not Greensleeves. But we shall come back to Greensleeves.
We have no reason to doubt the attribution of the Manuscript’s 33 pieces to Henry VIII. Some of those pieces are adaptations of existing works and others were doubtlessly written in collaboration with tutors, although Henry alone gets the credit.
Probably the best known of Henry VIII’s compositions is Pastime With Good Company. Let’s give that one a go.
Pastime with good company I love and shall until I die; Grudge who lust, but none deny, So God be pleased, thus live will I. For my pastance, Hunt, sing, and dance. My heart is set: All goodly sport For my comfort, Who shall me let?
Youth must have some dalliance, Of good or illé, some pastance; Company methinks then best All thoughts and fancies to dejest: For idleness Is chief mistress Of vices all. Then who can say But mirth and play Is best of all?
Company with honesty Is virtue vices to flee: Company is good and ill But every man hath his free will. The best ensue, The worst eschew, My mind shall be: Virtue to use, Vice to refuse, Shall I use me.
Oxford Camerata under Jeremy Summerly (a visiting Gresham professor of music) have recorded Pastime With Good Company – you can hear that recording by clicking here or below:
Henry VIII’s composing days, to the extent that we have a written record of them, seem to have petered out by 1520 and his mortal coil was shed in 1547. Which brings us to the inconvenient truth – it is utterly implausible that Henry VIII composed the song, or even heard the tune of Greensleeves.
Greensleeves
Greensleeves was first registered at The London Stationer’s Company on 3 September 1580 by Richard Jones: “A Newe Northen Dittye of ye Ladye Greene Sleves”. It was the first but not the only ballad with Greensleeves in the title to be registered that month. Actually, in broadside ballad registration terms, a veritable epidemic of this new term, Greensleeves, broke out in early September 1580 and continued quite relentlessly for several years.
We cannot be sure whether any of the surviving lyrics were part of that initial 1580 bout of registration, but there is a very early surviving version of the song from 1584 in an anthology, A Handful of Pleasant Delights. In that book the song is entitled:
A New Courtly Sonnet of the Lady Green Sleeves. To the new tune of Green Sleeves.
While it is entirely possible that tunes akin to the tune we now know as Greensleeves and lyrics akin to the 1580s lyrics might have been around for a while ahead of publication, it is unlikely that anything we might recognise as Greensleeves was around much before 1580.
While mid 16th century musical development will have come too late for Henry VIII, it is likely that Sir Thomas Gresham will have heard music in that style, during his several long stays in the low countries between 1543 and 1567. In particular, in the 1560s, when Gresham was Ambassador Plenipotentiary to Duchess Margaret of Parma, Antwerp and Brussels were melting pots of European culture. Burgon, in his Life and Times of Thomas Gresham, translates from a contemporary account of Antwerp by Lodovico Guicciardini, Description dc Tout le Pais Bas, &c. 1568:
It was not uncommon…to meet with a lady who could converse in five, six, or even seven different languages…
…on every side, and at all hours, were to be seen signs of festivity and merriment ; there was a constant succession of gay assemblies, nuptials, and dances ; while music, singing, and cheerful sounds prevailed in every street.
Sounds like my kind of town.
Whether it was this steeping in European music culture that inspired Thomas Gresham to endow music professorship, we’ll never know. Burgon thought it explained the choice of music for a professorship, whereas John Guy, in the most recent biography of Thomas Gresham, suggests that music (as a subset of astronomy) was part of the standard curriculum at Oxford and Cambridge in the late Tudor period and therefore not especially noteworthy.
We’ll also never know whether Thomas Gresham, who died in 1579, ever heard Greensleeves. It is, in my view, extremely unlikely that he heard either the specific tune or one of the lyrics that we now think of as Greensleeves, but it is highly likely that Thomas Gresham would have heard some progressive music of that kind, whether he liked it or not.
But what of the lyrics? I realised, when preparing this event, that I had never really listened to or thought about the words of Greensleeves. Of course I knew that the song was about a man who has courted a lady and not got anywhere, but I hadn’t REALLY thought about the words. I’m guessing that most of you have given this matter similarly little thought.
Your song sheets have got the first two and the last three verses of the 1584 version of the song. I have omitted the twelve middle verses, which I’ll explain when we get there.
Feel free to join in the chorus.
VERSE ONE
Alas, my love, ye do me wrong, To cast me off discourteously;
And I have loved you so long, Delighting in your company.
CHORUS
Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight, Greensleeves was my heart of gold, and who but Lady Greensleeves?
VERSE TWO
I have been ready at your hand, To grant whatever you would crave, I have both waged life and land, your love and goodwill for to have.
CHORUS
Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight, Greensleeves was my heart of gold, and who but Lady Greensleeves?
The next twelve verses describe in great detail the gifts that the unsuccessful suitor has heaped upon the lady in question. To paraphrase:
“kerchers to thy head”,
“board and bed”,
“petticoats of the best”,
“jewels to thy chest”,
“a smock of silk”,
“a girdle of gold”,
“pearls”,
“a purse”,
“gilt knives”,
“a pin case”,
“crimson stockings of silk”,
“pumps as white as was the milk”,
“a gown of the grassy green”,
“sleeves of satin” for “our harvest queen”,
“garters decorated with gold and silver”,
“a gelding”,
“servant men clothed in green”,
“dainties to eat”…
…”and a cuddly toy…didn’t she do well?
I described these inventory list verses to my young singing teacher, Lydia White, who said:
The word Ick had not featured in my vocabulary until that moment, but I hardly needed to look up the definition to know what it means.
The singer/suitor, it seems to me, is utterly unsuited to the business of courtship. he knows how to let the lady and the listeners know how wealthy he is and how badly he feels he has been treated, without any self-awareness or understanding of what love is. He is pathetic and pitiful. Let’s sing the last three verses, which includes some language that sounds strangely modern, but I have not tinkered with the words – just a little with the spelling:
Let’s sing the rest of the song now.
VERSE FIFTEEN
Thou couldst desire no earthly thing, But still thou hadst it readily; Thy music still to play and sing, And yet thou wouldst not love me.
CHORUS
Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight, Greensleeves was my heart of gold, and who but Lady Greensleeves?
VERSE SIXTEEN
And who did pay for all this gear, That thou didst spend when pleased thee?
Even I that am rejected here, And thou distainst to love me.
CHORUS
Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight, Greensleeves was my heart of gold, and who but Lady Greensleeves?
VERSE SEVENTEEN
Well, I will pray to God on high, That thou my constancy must see, And yet that once before I die, Thou wilt vouchsafe to love me.
OUTRO
Greensleeves now farewell, adieu,
God I pray to prosper thee;
For I am still thy lover true,
Come once again and love me.
The Famous Victories Of Henry V
The difficulties we have attributing authorship of Tudor works is not confined to songs. It also applies to many plays. As does the desire to leap to the conclusion that someone famous must have written any interesting piece.
There is a famous scene in Shakespeare’s Henry V in which the Dauphin has sent a sarcastic gift of tennis balls to the new monarch, which snowballs the plot, via regal anger, to the Battle of Agincourt and English victory.
An anonymous earlier play, “The Famous Victories of Henry V”, includes that exact plot line – indeed many of the plot lines that unfold in Shakespeare’s second Henriad – Henry IV Parts One and Two plus Henry V.
The Famous Victories was probably written c1583. It must have been written by/before 1588, as there are accounts of William Knell and Richard Tarlton appearing for Queen Elizabeth’s Men in this play; both of those actors died in 1588. The play was first entered in the Stationers’ register in 1594, while the earliest surviving version was published in 1598. Here is a link to a full transcript of the play.
In “The Famous Victories”, the ton of tennis balls story arises in a long, pivotal ninth scene, set at Westminster Abbey, just after the coronation of Henry V. King Henry rejects his old friends, including Sir John “Jockey” Oldcastle – the Falstaff character – then turns his attention to seeking the Archbishop of Canterbury and others’ counsel on seizing the French crown. Henry’s counsellors sound hawkish, before introducing the Archbishop of Bourges who has brought with him an offer of money, the hand of Princess Katherine (which Henry desired) and a gift from the Dauphin:
ARCHBISHOP: And it please your Maiestie, My Lord Prince Dolphin greets you well, With this present.
[He deliuereth a Tunne of Tennis Balles.]
HENRY 5: What a guilded Tunne? … I pray you my Lord of Yorke, looke what is in it?
YORKE: And it please your Grace, Here is a Carpet and a Tunne of Tennis balles.
HENRY 5: A Tunne of Tennis balles? I pray you good my Lord Archbishop, What might the meaning therof be?
ARCHBISHOP: And it please you my Lord, A messenger you know, ought to keepe close his message, And specially an Embassador.
HENRY 5: But I know that you may declare your message … To a king: the law of Armes allowes no lesse.
ARCHBISHOP: My Lord hearing of your wildnesse before your Fathers death, sent you this my good Lord, Meaning that you are more fitter for a Tennis Court Then a field, and more fitter for a Carpet then the Camp.
HENRY 5: My lord prince Dolphin is very pleasant with me: But tel him, that in steed of balles of leather, We wil tosse him balles of brasse and yron, Yea such balles as neuer were tost in France, The proudest Tennis Court shall rue it, … I, and thou Prince of Burges shall rue it.
This earlier play returns to the tennis ball motif several times later in the play. But in truth the dialogue is unexceptional. Shakespeare tackles the tennis ball story in Act One Scene 2 of Henry V, deploying his exceptionally rich command of language:
FIRST AMBASSADOR Thus, then, in few. Your highness, lately sending into France, Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right Of your great predecessor, King Edward the Third. In answer of which claim, the prince our master Says that you savour too much of your youth, And bids you be advised there’s nought in France That can be with a nimble galliard won; You cannot revel into dukedoms there. He therefore sends you, meeter for your spirit, This tun of treasure; and, in lieu of this, Desires you let the dukedoms that you claim Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin speaks.
KING HENRY V: What treasure, uncle?
EXETER: Tennis-balls, my liege.
KING HENRY V: We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us; His present and your pains we thank you for: When we have march’d our rackets to these balls, We will, in France, by God’s grace, play a set Shall strike his father’s crown into the hazard. Tell him he hath made a match with such a wrangler That all the courts of France will be disturb’d With chaces. And we understand him well, How he comes o’er us with our wilder days, Not measuring what use we made of them. We never valued this poor seat of England; And therefore, living hence, did give ourself To barbarous licence; as ’tis ever common That men are merriest when they are from home. But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state, Be like a king and show my sail of greatness When I do rouse me in my throne of France: For that I have laid by my majesty And plodded like a man for working-days, But I will rise there with so full a glory That I will dazzle all the eyes of France, Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us. And tell the pleasant prince this mock of his Hath turn’d his balls to gun-stones; and his soul Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful vengeance That shall fly with them…
Scary.
In the Famous Victories play, at the end of Scene 12, King Henry reprises his verbal volleys about the tennis balls [did you see what I did there?], ahead of a rather corny Scene 13 in which French soldiers talk incomprehensibly in mock French.
In Shakespeare’s Henry V Act 4, Scene 4, Pistol encounters a surrendering French soldier:
PISTOL Yield, cur.
FRENCH SOLDIER Je pense que vous êtes le gentilhomme de bonne qualité.
PISTOL Qualtitie calmie custure me. Art thou a gentleman? What is thy name? Discuss.
FRENCH SOLDIER Ô Seigneur Dieu!
PISTOL O, Seigneur Dew should be a gentleman. Perpend my words, O Seigneur Dew, and mark: O Seigneur Dew, thou diest on point of fox, except, O Seigneur, thou do give to me egregious ransom.
FRENCH SOLDIER Ô, prenez miséricorde! Ayez pitié de moi!
PISTOL Moy shall not serve…
I’m glad to report, following several further rounds of corny misunderstanding, that Pistol spares the poor French soldier for the modest fee of 200 gold coins.
Caleno Custure Me was first registered at Stationer’s Register in 1582 but the earliest surviving version, like Greensleeves, is in A Handful of Pleasant Delights. It’s quite a lengthy song if you sing all the verses – this abbreviated version works well. Feel free to join in the Caleno Custere Me lines once you get the hang of this simple but charming tune.
VERSE ONE
When as I view your comely grace, Caleno Custure Me;
Your golden hair, your angel’s face, Caleno Custure Me.
VERSE TWO
With in myself then I can say, Caleno Custure Me;
The night is gone, behold the day, Caleno Custure Me.
VERSE THREE
Then how dare I with boldened face, Caleno Custure Me;
Presume to crave or wish your grace? Caleno Custure Me.
VERSE FOUR
And thus amazed as I stand, Caleno Custure Me;
Not feeling sense, nor moving hand. Caleno Custure Me.
VERSE FIVE
My soul with silence moving sense, Caleno Custure Me;
Doth wish for thee with reverence. Caleno Custure Me.
VERSE SIX
Long life, and virtue you possess:, Caleno Custure Me;
To match those gifts of worthiness. Caleno Custure Me.
REPRISE
When as I view your comely grace, Caleno Custure Me;
Your golden hair, your angel’s face, Caleno Custure Me.
Theatrical Performance At Hampton Court Palace
Before we move on to the only Shakespeare play that has a discernible Gresham connection, mentions tennis and has a music element for us to enjoy, I’d like to explore the notion that Hampton Court Palace hosted theatrical performances in Elizabethan times.
I knew that troupes of players had put on Court performances in Elizabethan times and suspected that the idea of such performances in the Great Hall at Hampton Court Palace would not have been brand new in Christmas 1603.
Could I find evidence of theatrical performance at Hampton Court Palace in Elizabethan times?
My cursory searches drew a blank. I decided to consult Chat GPT on the matter. I won’t bother you with the largely nonsensical answers that the automaton tried out on me. But it did suggest that I seek advice on sources from experts in the history of Hampton Court Palace and suggested one sources itself: Philip Henslowe‘s diary.
Possibly I should have thought of that source myself. Philip Henslowe was father-in-law to actor-manager Edward Alleyn and I am an alum of Alleyn’s School. But I thought of that diary as a Jacobean artefact and I hadn’t twigged that Henslowe started keeping his records in 1591.
Thirty quid was a splendid haul for a three night gig in those days. Three pounds in takings for a night at The Rose Theatre was close to a top.
As for additional research materials, I must thank Lesley Ronaldson, Sarah Slater and Sandy Rhodes at Hampton Court Palace for their help in digging out sources and information for me. Several of the sources listed in the appendix below are thanks to them.
The early 1590s was a confused and confusing time for the theatrical companies. The Earl of Leicester’s Men had been disbanded soon after Leicester’s death in late 1588. Bubonic plague caused considerable disruption in 1592 and even more so in 1593. Companies were merging and cross-fertilising with each other just to survive. In late 1592 Lord Strange’s Men and The Admiral’s Men were united under Henslowe’s management.
We don’t know which plays Lord Strange’s men put on at Hampton Court Palace that Christmas of 1592/3, but we do know from Philip Henslowe’s diaries that their repertoire over that disrupted period mostly comprised:
Tamburlaine The Great & The Jew Of Malta by Christopher Marlowe;
Henry VI (part of parts unspecified) by William Shakespeare.
The 1592 revels at Hampton Court Palace almost certainly will have starred Richard Burbage and William Kempe, who both joined Lord Strange’s Men in 1592 plus Edward Alleyn, who married Henslowe’s daughter that year. It is even possible that William Shakespeare performed in that season, but his role with Henslowe’s companies at that time is undocumented and unclear.
Thomas Gresham, Tennis, Hamlet & Walsingham
Neither do we know which plays were put on at Hampton Court Palace by Shakespeare’s lot for the new King James Christmas 1603. But there is a strong suspicion that Hamlet would have been one of them. It was new at the time and might well have seemed pertinent to the newly-succeeded King and his Danish Queen.
…might recall that the only reference to tennis in any biography of Sir Thomas Gresham refers to 1561 correspondence from Sir William Cecil, whose son, Thomas, took sanctuary at Thomas Gresham’s place in Antwerp having got himself into a spot of bother in Paris.
“I see, in the end,” said the disapproving father in a letter to the errant youth’s tutor, Windebank on 4 November 1561, “my sone shall come home lyke a spendyng sott, mete to kepe a tenniss court.”
Cecil was not referring to a grand court like that at Hampton Court Palace, of course, nor even to the more modest (yet still quite grand) court in his own home on The Strand. He was referring to the lowly tavern and gambling den sort of tennis court, for which trades folk sought (but were often denied) licences.
What is widely believed and is almost certainly true is that the character of Polonius in Hamlet was based on William Cecil and the character of Laertes, Polonius’s ne’er-do-well son abroad, based on the young Thomas Cecil. Scholars have suggested the Cecil connection for a great many reasons. For our purposes, Act Two Scene One of Hamlet has the sole mention of tennis in Hamlet, in a context that is reminiscent of the sole mention of tennis in Thomas Gresham’s biographies.
There are other clues to Polonius being based William Cecil. In Act One Scene Three, Polonius sets out “a few precepts” for Laertes ahead of his travels – for all the good they did in the matter of encouraging Laertes to behave himself. William Cecil wrote a treatise of precepts “to his son”, which was published subsequent to Hamlet but its existence would almost certainly have been known to the same insiders whose gossip about the Cecil family was in Shakespeare’s orbit.
While William Cecil’s daughter, Anne, did not have an entirely Ophelia-like story, she did have a tempestuous marriage/relationship with Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford and she did die tragically young.
Ophelia sings several songs in Act 4 Scene 5, known as “Ophelia’s mad scene”. The first of those songs, “How Should I Your True Love Know” is based on an Elizabethan ballad tune, Walsingham. The tune is by our old friend, Anon, the origins of the tune and various lyrics steeped in mystery.
Here is a relatively simple lute version of that tune:
The root lyric is believed to be this couplet:
As I went to Walsingham, to the shrine with speed Met I with a jolly palmer, in a pilgrim’s weed
The Walsingham lyric, from there, in its various versions, takes the form of dialogue between pilgrims, one seeking their missing loved one and the other responding.
HOW SHOULD I YOUR TRUE LOVE KNOW?
Let’s have a go at the song, using the Ophelia lyrics from Hamlet, but rather than having Ophelia in her derangement sing both parts, we’ll try the question and response as a duet:
OPHELIA: ‘As you came from the holy land of Walsingham
Met you not with my true love by the way you came?’
PALMER: ‘How should I your true love know from another one?’
OPHELIA: ‘By his cockle hat and staff and his sandal shoon’
PALMER: ‘He is dead and gone, lady, he is dead and gone At his head a grass green turf, at his heels a stone
‘White his shroud as the mountain snow, larded with sweet flow’rs Which bewept to the grave did go with true love showers’
I must say, if that’s what a jolly palmer sounds like, I’m glad I have never met with a miserable palmer.
Because Walsingham was a popular pilgrimage site until the monasteries were disestablished in the 1530s, some music historians assumed the song to be early Tudor. But there is no evidence of the tune until the late Tudor period, at which time many major composers had a go at producing versions and variations on the tune.
William Byrd produced a piece for virginals (keyboard), 22 Variations entitled “Have with Yow to Walsingame”.
Not to be outdone, John Bull (who was the first Gresham Professor of Music), produced 30 Variations on Walsingham.
John Dowland had a modest go at a version of the tune for the lute…
The on-line transcription of my blog has links to good recordings of those several instrumental versions.
Rather than inundate you with variations and versions of Walsingham, we’d like to close with three pieces, one example by each of those three composers, all three relevant to today’s event.
William Byrd – Earl Of Salisbury Pavan
While William Cecil, Thomas Cecil and Anne Cecil all found their way into a tennis-related subplot of Hamlet, one famous member of the Cecil family, Robert Cecil, was omitted. Robert Cecil was a powerful man even before his father’s death in 1598, at which point he took over from his late father as Lord Privy Seal. His power and status increased under James 1st, ennobled in James’s accession year and made Earl of Salisbury in 1605.
The story goes that Salisbury protected William Byrd when threatened with eviction from his home at Stondon Massey.
William Byrd’s final resting place at St Peter & St Paul Church, Stondon Massey
Whether that story is true and whether it was for that reason that Byrd dedicated this pavan to the Earl of Salisbury we’ll never know, but the piece is very charming and beautiful nonetheless, on pretty much any instrument. As one further tennis connection, by the way, one of the Earl of Salisbury’s grand homes, Hatfield House, today houses a rather splendid real tennis court.
William Byrd’s domestic difficulties were probably connected with his recusant Catholicism, or at least his patronage by people, such as the Petre family in neighbouring Ingatestone, who were notable recusants.
John Bull – Dr Bull’s My Selfe
John Bull, the first Gresham professor of music, claimed similar persecution for his beliefs, when he fled England, for Flanders, in 1613, although it seems far more likely that his misdemeanours were carnal rather than theological. Sadly much of Bull’s music was lost or fliched by other composers when he fled, although we do still have his wonderful Walsingham variations, some extraordinary canons, the suggestion that he might well have written the national anthem, plus a splendid little piece known as Dr Bull’s My Selfe, a piece dedicated to his favourite person – a very early example of a selfie – in this case a musical one.
John Bull had a naughty boy track record from the outset as Gresham Professor of Music. He was indicted for criminal damage at Gresham House soon after taking up his Gresham College chair in 1597. We do not know the outcome to that case.
We do know that he was required to give up his chair in 1607, most likely on the grounds that he had to get married in a hurry, just a couple of weeks before his eventual bride gave birth.
His flight to Flanders six years after that appears to be a result of incurring the wrath of George Abbot, Archbishop of Canterbury, this time with Bull having been accused of adulty. Abbot had recently said of Bull:
“the man hath more music than honesty and is as famous for marring of virginity as he is for fingering of organs and virginals.”
Let us put to one side the Archbishop’s unfortunate choice of words to modern ears. It does seem that John Bull found it hard to “keep himselfie to himselfie”.
I am probably over-using my imagination when I listen to Dr Bull’s My Selfe, but I envisage Bull using this short piece as his theme tune at the start of each of his Gresham Lectures. It has a theme tune ring to it.
John Dowland – Now Oh Now I Needs Must Part (The Frog Galliard)
Legend has it that John Dowland was mightily miffed when his application to be lutenist to the court of Queen Elizabeth was turned down in 1594. So he might well have been similarly miffed when John Bull was selected to be the first Gresham professor of music ahead of Dowland in 1597. The following year Dowland took up a highly-paid post at the Court of Christian IV of Denmark, who subsequently also took on John Bull in the latter’s flee to Europe years.
Dowland is said to have believed that it was his recusant religious beliefs that stood in his way with Queen Elizabeth, but that particular matter did not seem to hold back several other performing arts types.
More likely it was because the Queen liked upbeat performance pieces and upbeat performers. Dowland was reputedly downbeat in character and is best known for his melancholy songs, with titles such as “Flow my tears”, “I saw my Lady weepe” and “In darkness let me dwell”.
Dowland’s first book of songs came out in the Gresham College inaugural year, 1597. Now Oh Now I Needs Must Part, from that book, is a personal favourite of mine.
The instrumental version is known as The Frog Galliard for reasons rumoured to be connected with one of Queen Elizabeth’s suitors, François, Duke of Anjou and Alençon, whom she referred to as “her Frog”.
Coincidentally, François, Duke of Anjou, the youngest son of Henry II of France, was named after his late uncle François, Duke of Brittany, a Dauphin who died in mysterious circumstances in 1536 following refreshments after a rigorous game of tennis “pré[s] d’Ainay“. This is yet one more example of a great French tradition of regal deaths in the aftermath of tennis, going back as far as the untimely demise of Louis X “The Quarrelsome” in 1316, as reported in several of my earlier pieces on tennis e.g. Horrible Histories.
Also coincidentally, the courtly intrigue surrounding the potential match between Queen Elisabeth and François “The Frog”, which played out for some five years between 1574 and 1579, seems to have kicked off in the immediate aftermath of one of The Queen’s visits to Thomas Gresham at Osterley, in February 1574:
Feb 18,Thur OSTERLEY, Middlesex; Sir Thomas Gresham.
Court news. Feb 20, La Mothe [French ambassador Bertrand de Salignac de la Mothe-Fénelon] to Catherine de Medici [François, Duke of Anjou’s mum]: “Francis Walsingham told me he had never seen the Queen so well disposed to marriage as at present, and he thought everything could be accomplished by a private interview. He said the Duke should regard the Queen’s heart as a strong castle which he might boldly carry by storm. He would lend any assistance in his power.”
Feb 20,Sat HAMPTON COURT. On February 20 two Revels Officers hired ‘two geldings to Osterley and to Hampton Court to know my Lord Chamberlain’s pleasure, and back again to St John’s’. St John’s Clerkenwell, the Revels Office.
It seems that Thomas Gresham was not averse to a bit of theatre. In the above instance, presumably lending or giving some props to the revels. On at least one occasion it is documented that Gresham hosted theatrical entertainments at Osterley.
On one occasion [at Osterley]]there was a play by Thomas Churchyard, who wrote entertainments in the 1570s for several of the Queen’s progresses, as at Bristol and Norwich. In Churchyard’s Challenge (1593) he lists his printed works, but without dates. One item is: ‘The devices of war and a play at Osterley, her Highness being at Sir Thomas Gresham’s’. The play is not extant.
Returning to Now Oh Now I Needs Must Part/The Frog Galliard, while the song and tune has no known connection with Shakespeare, when I appeared in and helped produce Twelfth Night at Alleyn’s School 45 years ago, our Deputy Headmaster/Director, John “Squeaky” Newton, insisted on us using this song/tune as a theme for the production. This piece has long had a place in my heart and makes a suitable closing number.
VERSE ONE
Now, O now, I needs must part, Parting though I absent mourn. Absence can no joy impart Joy once fled cannot return. While I live I needs must love, Love lives not when Hope is gone. Now at last Despair doth prove, Love divided loveth none.
Sad despair doth drive me hence, This despair unkindness sends. If that parting be offence, It is she which then offends.
VERSE TWO
Dear, when I am from thee gone, Gone are all my joys at once. I loved thee and thee alone, In whose love I joyed once. And although your sight I leave, Sight wherein my joys do lie, Till that death do sense bereave, Never shall affection die.
Sad despair doth drive me hence, This despair unkindness sends. If that parting be offence, It is she which then offends.
VERSE THREE
Dear if I do not return Love and I shall die together, For my absence never mourn, Whom you might have joyed ever. Part we must, though now I die. Die I do to part with you. Him despair doth cause to lie, Who both lived and died true.
Sad despair doth drive me hence, This despair unkindness sends. If that parting be offence, It is she which then offends.
Encore? – In Darkness Let Me Dwell:
To cheer everyone up, an even darker Dowland number, but in a rock and roll stylee. In Darkness Let Me Dwell…or perhaps more accurately, In Darkness Let Me Paint It Black:
VERSE ONE
In darkness let me dwell, the ground shall sorrow be,
The roof despair to bar all cheerful light from me,
The walls of marble black that moistened still shall weep,
My music hellish jarring sounds to banish friendly sleep:
VERSE TWO
Thus wedded to my woes, and bedded in my tomb
O let me living die till death doth come, till death doth come.
My dainties grief shall be, and tears my poisoned wine,
My sighs the air through which my panting heart shall pine,
VERSE THREE
My robes my mind shall suit exceeding blackest night,
My study shall be tragic thoughts sad fancy to delight,
Pale ghosts and frightful shades shall my acquaintance be:
Tennis: A Cultural History, Heiner Gillmeister, A&C Black, 1998 or Tennis A Cultural History (Second edition), Heiner Gillmeister, Equinox Publishing Ltd, 2017
Real Tennis Today and Yesterday, John Shneerson, Ronaldson Publications, 2015
Willis Faber Book Of Tennis & Rackets, Lord Aberdare, Hutchinson, 1980
Reminiscing today about Tom, the so-called manager of the place, took me back to my scanty notes I made about his ludicrous bragging. I decided to ask ChatGPT to help me flesh out the story, 17 years on. Make of it what you will.
Tom’s Own Words In 2006
“I was a millionaire at 21…a multi-millionaire at 24…lost it all at 33. I’ve been out with Miss Jamaica, Miss Bromsgrove, the lot. I had an Aston Martin – would cost about £125,000 today. Do fast cars while you’re young, young man, you won’t fancy it once you are your dad’s age. I made a million when a million was real money. When a million was really a million…”
My Initial Brief To ChatGPT
My friends and I stayed at a terrible hotel once, where the manager was a braggard and an old bore named Tom. Here are some of the things he said: [see "Tom's Own Words" above]. Tom's stories were completely implausible. Please generate dialogue between an earnest investigator trying to get the truth out of Tom and the answers that Tom might give to those questions.
ChatGPT’s Initial Answers
Investigator: Good afternoon, Tom. I hope you’re doing well. I wanted to talk to you about some of the stories you’ve shared with my friends and me. They were quite intriguing, to say the least. You mentioned being a millionaire at 21. Could you tell me more about that?
Tom: Ah, yes, my young friend, those were the days! I had a real knack for business, you see. I started my own company at a young age and made some shrewd investments. By the time I turned 21, I had accumulated quite a fortune.
Investigator: That’s remarkable, Tom. Can you share any details about the business you started or the investments you made?
Tom: Well, you see, it was a rather niche market. I established a company that dealt with importing exotic goods from faraway lands. My keen eye for unique products allowed me to tap into a market hungry for the extraordinary. As for my investments, I dabbled in real estate and stocks, making some fortunate choices along the way.
Investigator: Impressive, Tom. And you mentioned becoming a multi-millionaire at 24. What led to that significant increase in your wealth?
Tom: Ah, yes, my friend, that was a turning point in my life. By that time, my business had expanded, and I had ventured into different sectors, including technology and entertainment. I struck gold with some savvy investments and became a multi-millionaire in no time.
Investigator: That sounds incredible, Tom. Can you share any specific ventures or investments that contributed to your success?
Tom: Oh, my memory is a bit hazy on the specifics, you see. But trust me, it was a combination of visionary investments in emerging markets and strategic partnerships that propelled me to new heights. I was always ahead of the curve, spotting trends before they became mainstream.
Investigator: I see. You also mentioned losing it all at 33. That must have been quite a setback. Can you shed some light on what happened?
Tom: Ah, yes, a rather unfortunate turn of events, I must say. The economic landscape changed, and I made some ill-fated decisions. There were some risky ventures and unforeseen circumstances that ultimately led to my financial downfall. But it’s not about the money, my friend. It’s about the experiences and lessons learned along the way.
Investigator: Indeed, experiences and lessons are invaluable. Now, about your claim of dating Miss Jamaica and Miss Bromsgrove, among others. That’s quite impressive. How did you manage to attract such remarkable companions?
Tom: (Chuckles) Ah, well, my friend, in my younger days, I had a certain charm about me. I frequented social events and mingled with high-profile individuals. It was through these interactions that I had the pleasure of spending time with some extraordinary women, including those you mentioned. Life was quite the adventure, I must say.
Investigator: Fascinating, Tom. And what about your Aston Martin? That’s a luxurious car, indeed. How did you come to possess such a prestigious vehicle?
Tom: Ah, the Aston Martin! A symbol of my youthful exuberance. I was fortunate enough to acquire it during a time when I had the means to indulge in such extravagances. It was a testament to my success, a reward for my hard work and ambition.
Investigator: I see. Finally, you mentioned making a million when a million was real money. Could you elaborate on that?
Tom: Ah, those were different times, my friend. Back then, the value of a million pounds held much greater significance. It was a benchmark of success, a milestone that only a few could achieve. Today, with inflation and the changing…
Investigator: Ah, I see. So, Tom, it seems like you’ve had quite a remarkable journey filled with ups and downs. However, I must admit that some of the details you’ve shared raise a few questions. For instance, the timeline of your achievements and the specific events you mentioned seem somewhat implausible. Is there any chance that you might have exaggerated or embellished certain aspects of your stories?
Tom: My dear investigator, I assure you that every word I’ve spoken is rooted in truth. Memories can fade, and the specifics may become blurred over time, but the essence of my experiences remains intact. Sometimes, the grandeur of the stories we tell is what keeps the magic alive.
Investigator: I understand the allure of storytelling, Tom, but it’s crucial for me to ascertain the accuracy of the information. If you could provide any concrete evidence or additional details that support your claims, it would greatly help in establishing the authenticity of your experiences.
Tom: Ah, evidence, you say? Unfortunately, my dear investigator, the passage of time has a way of eroding physical proof. But what I can offer you is the wisdom gained from a life well-lived. The lessons I learned, the people I met, and the experiences that shaped me—those are the intangible treasures that far surpass any material evidence.
Investigator: I appreciate your perspective, Tom, but as an investigator, my duty is to seek tangible facts and verifiable information. Without any concrete evidence or corroborating accounts, it becomes challenging to validate the extraordinary nature of your stories. Is there anything else you can provide that might lend credibility to your claims?
Tom: I understand your position, investigator, and I respect your dedication to seeking the truth. While I may not possess concrete evidence that meets your standards, I hope you can find value in the lessons embedded within my tales. Sometimes, the purpose of storytelling is not merely to convey facts but to inspire, entertain, and ignite the imagination.
Investigator: Your point about the power of storytelling is valid, Tom. Stories indeed have the ability to captivate and inspire. However, it’s important to strike a balance between the allure of tales and the integrity of the information being presented. I’ll take your words into consideration as I continue my investigation.
Tom: I appreciate your open-mindedness, investigator. Life is a tapestry woven with truth, embellishments, and a touch of fantasy. If my stories have sparked curiosity or brought a glimmer of wonder into your world, then perhaps they have served their purpose. Remember, the journey is often as significant as the destination.
Investigator: Thank you for your perspective, Tom. I will keep that in mind as I proceed. If there’s anything else you’d like to share or any additional information that might support your claims, please don’t hesitate to let me know.
Next I Tried A Different Tack To Try To Get More Out Of Tom Via ChatGPT
Rather than an investigator, can we see what happens if my wife, Janie, were to ask Tom the questions. She is not a professional psychotherapist, but people tend to open up to her and tell her the truth when she asks them open questions. She would ask her questions earnestly but not inquisitively like the investigator. She would delve a little deeper into his psyche, but in a non-threatening way.
ChatGPT Responded With This Dialogue Between Janie & Tom
Wife (Janie): Good afternoon, Tom. I hope you’re doing well today. I wanted to have a chat with you because I find your stories quite intriguing. They seem to reflect a life filled with ups and downs, successes and setbacks. I’m curious to understand more about the emotions and experiences behind those stories. Can you share with me how it felt to be a millionaire at such a young age?
Tom: Well, hello there, Janie. It’s kind of you to take an interest in my experiences. Being a millionaire at a young age was a mix of excitement, pride, and a sense of accomplishment. I felt like I had the world at my feet, that I was invincible in a way. There was a certain thrill in achieving financial success early on, but it also came with its own set of challenges and responsibilities.
Janie: It sounds like it was a significant milestone for you, Tom. With success often come lessons. Can you tell me about any valuable lessons or insights you gained during that time?
Tom: Absolutely, Janie. One of the most valuable lessons I learned was the importance of humility and staying grounded. Money can be a powerful force, and it’s easy to get carried away. I realized that wealth alone does not bring lasting happiness or fulfillment. It’s the relationships we cultivate, the experiences we cherish, and the impact we have on others that truly matter.
Janie: That’s a profound realization, Tom. It speaks to the deeper meaning and purpose in life. Now, when you mentioned losing it all at 33, I can only imagine the emotional toll it must have taken. Can you share how that experience affected you on a personal level?
Tom: (Pauses) Losing everything was undoubtedly a devastating blow, Janie. It was a period of immense challenge and introspection. I faced feelings of regret, disappointment, and even self-doubt. But it was also a transformative time, a chance to reassess my priorities and rediscover my inner strength. It taught me resilience and the importance of bouncing back from adversity.
Janie: It takes great strength to rebuild after such a setback, Tom. Did that experience change your perspective on wealth and success?
Tom: Absolutely, Janie. Losing it all forced me to redefine my definition of success. I realized that true wealth goes beyond material possessions. It lies in the richness of our experiences, the depth of our connections, and the positive impact we have on the world around us. It shifted my focus from solely chasing financial gain to finding fulfillment in more meaningful aspects of life.
Janie: It sounds like you underwent a profound transformation, Tom. Relationships play a significant role in our lives. When you mentioned dating remarkable women like Miss Jamaica and Miss Bromsgrove, what do you think attracted them to you?
Tom: (Chuckles) Well, Janie, I believe it was a combination of factors. I’ve always been fascinated by people, their stories, and their dreams. I genuinely enjoyed connecting with others on a deeper level, listening to them, and understanding their perspectives. I think that genuine interest in others and a desire to make them feel valued and heard played a part in attracting remarkable women into my life.
Janie: That’s lovely, Tom. It seems like your genuine curiosity and empathy created meaningful connections. Now, about the Aston Martin you mentioned, what significance did it hold for you beyond its luxurious appeal?
Tom: Ah, the Aston Martin. It was more than just a car, Janie. It represented a symbol of achievement, a tangible reminder of my hard work and success. But it also served as a reminder to savor life’s pleasures and to appreciate the beauty and craftsmanship that can exist in the world. It was a source of joy
Finally, I Asked ChatGPT To Use A Blunter Instrument On Tom And His Boasts
Cool. Can we now imagine that Tom's pyramid of piffle has been exposed as nonsense. Please produce a 500 word confession and statement of truth from Tom.
ChatGPT Then Produced This
Tom: I must admit, it seems my elaborate tales have finally caught up with me. I can no longer hide behind the smoke and mirrors of my exaggerations and fabrications. It’s time to come clean, to strip away the layers of falsehood and present you with the truth.
The truth is, I was never a millionaire at 21 or a multi-millionaire at 24. Those were mere fantasies, figments of my imagination crafted to create an aura of success and grandeur. I indulged in the allure of being someone I wasn’t, weaving tales to captivate and impress those around me.
The Aston Martin I mentioned? It was nothing more than a fleeting dream, a symbol of status that I never possessed. I let my imagination run wild, painting a picture of a glamorous lifestyle that was far removed from reality. The truth is, I’ve never owned such a luxurious car or experienced the thrill of driving it.
As for my supposed encounters with Miss Jamaica, Miss Bromsgrove, and other remarkable women, they were nothing more than fabrications. I embellished my interactions, seeking to enhance my own image and portray myself as someone who attracted extraordinary companions. But the truth is, my romantic endeavors were far more ordinary and unremarkable.
I understand that my stories may have captivated and entertained, but I deeply regret misleading those who trusted my words. I was driven by a need for validation, a desire to be seen as someone remarkable and accomplished. In doing so, I lost sight of the genuine connections and honest interactions that bring true fulfillment.
I apologize for the deception and disappointment caused by my tales. It’s time to face the truth, to embrace humility, and to learn from my mistakes. I hope that, in acknowledging the truth, I can rebuild trust and approach life with a newfound authenticity.
From this moment forward, I pledge to embrace honesty, to celebrate the beauty of genuine experiences, and to find meaning in the simplicity of truth. My journey may not have been as extraordinary as the stories I once wove, but it is an honest one, filled with lessons, growth, and the potential for genuine connections.
Thank you for listening and allowing me to come clean. It is a humbling experience, but one that I believe will lead me towards a more authentic and fulfilling path.
Image bot DALL-E imagining ChatGPT writing a cricket match report with me
I thought it would be an interesting wheeze to collaborate with ChatGPT, the OpenAI chatbot on everyone’s lips, to see what would happen if I trained it to write a whimsical cricket match report for the King Cricket website. Just in case you don’t know, my nom de plume for such things is Ged Ladd.
I chose the first match of the 2023 cricket season at Lord’s, which will, as it happens, be a County Championship match between Middlesex & Essex.
I trained ChatGPT with three examples of my previously submitted King Cricket match reports, two of which were about similar visits to Lord’s with my friend Charles “Charley The Gent Malloy” Bartlett. (The third is as yet unpublished). For those who like to delve, here are links to the two Charley The Gent ones:
I then provided the following instruction set for a piece named “The First Day Of The Cricket Season”:
comedy, 300 words, on no account mention the cricket itself.
That last instruction is a King Cricket website rule – match reports for professional matches should not mention the cricket itself, whereas reports on our own amateur efforts are encouraged to go in to excruciating detail.
Predictably hilarious results followed. I allowed ChatGPT a few tries, the best of which King Cricket published:
Click through and form your own view on the extent to which ChatGPT is ready to take over from human writers like me. Bert, a regular comment-provider on the King Cricket website was in no doubt:
“…Well, that’s that. Time to pack up and go home. We, as a species, are now redundant, completely replaceable with AI bots.
It was all there. Ged’s sense of the moment, his use of pathos, and of course his acute sense of humour. There is literally no reason for him to exist anymore. No reason. Literally…
I’d be genuinely interested to know what people think about this. But, just in case you were worrying/wondering, I’m not ready to “throw in the towel” and/or “hang up my keyboard” just yet.
Gresham Professors Singing The Gresham Professors’ Song, With Thanks To Basil Bezuidenhout for the pictures and the “live music” video
Was it really three years ago that we last enjoyed one of these soirées? Yup. Last year’s event had to be postponed at the last minute.
The only good news about that delay was that the Gresham music professor, Jeremy Summerly, who was unavailable to attend in person last year, was available this year. Splendid news in particular because his deep knowledge about and insights into early music were especially welcome in the matter of the piece that I had “uncovered in autograph manuscript form”, just before the pandemic.
Long lost medieval canticle? We’ll return to this later
Fortunately for all concerned, we had professional musicians to entertain us for the first half of the show, before we Greshamistas got the opportunity to ruin everything.
Actually, before the professionals got the chance to entertain us, the noisiest amateur of us all, Michael Mainelli, piped us in to Barnard’s Inn Hall in the now traditional style.
Michael at full blast. Thoir an aire yer cluasan, folks
Someone once asked me if I ever duet with Michael. My reply:
What would be the point? You’d only hear Michael.
Mercifully for all our ears, the professional team of David Jones and Sofia Kirwan-Baez soon established a pleasant tone to proceedings, both treating us to their fine keyboard skills as well as their excellent voices, with Part 1 of the show.
Sofia has a fine operatic voice, which really came to the fore when she sang the Massenet and the Puccini. David always entertains, not least with his “party piece”, Lehrer’s Elements Song, in which he subtly switches from “Harvard” to “Barnard’s” for the punchline. Also a lovely rendition of Misty, although I can never hear that song any more without thinking of the Gresham Society visit to the London Mithraeum and my resulting Mithras version of that song:
Part 2 of the programme was a different affair, of course, with some regular and irregular antics.
Tim Connell updated a couple of literary standards, deliberately lowering our intellectual and linguistic standards in so doing, aided and abetted by Frank Cox & Mike DudgeonMaths Professors Wilson & Hart taught us how to sing numerical carols. Turns out, it’s as easy as 1-2-3…as long as 4-5-6-7 and 8 are also in your repertoire, naturally. Tristis opus non est beatus, as PC Wilson might put it.
As for my little offering, Þe Fair Weather Canticle, it had been long in the process between “rediscovering” and performing.
I supplied Professor Jeremy Summerly with a copy of the “autograph” and a demo recording, the latter you can see below:
Professor Summerly very kindly gave this opus more than its fair share of scholarly attention, helping the audience to understand the historical significance of my “discovery” with a professorial dissertation on the piece. Unfortunately, that mini-lecture, a masterpiece in its own right, was not recorded for posterity on the night, but I do have some of Jeremy’s notes, which I can share with readers:
Of necessity, discoveries of new sources in the field of early music are less and less frequent as time goes on. All musicologists dream of finding a source of forgotten music, even more so a fragment that might fill in significant holes in our understanding of music history.
Yet such a discovery has been made recently. It is hardly surprising that such a fragment might turn up on the site of a medieval coaching inn, and even less surprising that this inn should be located in Middle England.
The musico-poetic gem þe Fair Weather Canticle, like much early music, surprises us through its apparent modernity. Like the brightly-coloured decoration of a medieval ceiling, or the dissonant harmonies and boldly-contrasting texts of a medieval motet, there is something shockingly modern about this ancient canticle.
Scholars will need time to consider the implications of this newly-found piece within the pre-Baroque jigsaw.
Meanwhile, the words and music should be enjoyed for what they represent: a perplexingly polystylistic mesh of jumbled ideologies and opaque thinking.
Professor Summerly then went on to examine the words of the canticle, noticing some astounding…in some cases shocking…similarities between those words and the words of subsequently well-known songs from periods ranging from the 12th to 17th centuries. In one case, even the 20th.
Finally, Professor Summerly, being an expert on early music, provided some historical context to my performance on an original instrument, which he kindly described as:
a rare and fascinating example of a gittern-ulele, an instrument probably of similar vintage to the canticle.
The instrument has an exceptionally sweet sound in the hands of an appropriate musician…or so we are led to believe, if only such a virtuoso performer could be found.
In the right hands, this gittern-ulele would quite possibly be, to the guitar-family, what Paganini’s Il Cannone Guarnerius is to the violin.
As for the gittern-ulele performance you are about to hear, many of you will surely be moved to tears when listening to the sound of this extraordinary old git?”
It was hard for me to follow that introduction, but I tried, after a subdued start. Basil recorded the moment for posterity – for which I am grateful. It is not every day that my work is professorially conducted, but the triumphant chorus at the end benefitted greatly from Professor Summerly’s expertise, as I had my hands full at the time:
For those who would like to study the words or are crazy enough to try singing along with the vids, here are the words:
Sumer is icumen in, þe nymphs and shepherds dance Bryd one brere, groweth sed and bloweth med And don’t you know, amarylis dance in green–ee-ee-een.
Lightly whipping o’er þe dales, with wreaths of rose and laurel, Fair nymphs tipping, with fauns and satyrs tripping Mister Blue Sky is living here today hey, hey hey.
Mister Blue Sky please tell us why, you were retired from mortals sight, stars too dim of light.
Hey you with þe angels face, bright, arise, awake, awake! About her charret, with all admiring strains as today, all creatures now are merry… (…merry merry merry, merry merry merry merry, merry merry, merry, merry merry merry merry merry merry minded.)
Mister Blue Sky please tell us why, you were retired from mortals sight, stars too dim of light.
Hey there mister blue, who likes to love, lhude sing cuccu, Nauer nu, ne swik thu, sing hey nonny nonny nu.
Mirie it is while sumer ilast, in darkness let me fast, Flow my tears, fairwell all joys for years, Never mind, I joy not in early, I joy not in early bliss.
Mister Blue Sky please tell us why, you were retired from mortals sight, stars too dim of light. Ba ba, ba ba ba ba, ba ba, ba ba ba ba, ba ba, ba ba ba ba, ba, ba x2
After the show, there was plenty of time for eating, drinking, chatting and making merry, as is the case at any good soirée. The Gresham Society Soirée is certainly always a good one.
Mike Hodd – photo by John Burns (Random), taken in 2010 at an Ivan Shakespeare Dinner at Cafe Rouge, Maida Vale
Since 1992, NewsRevue has been part of my life. For the first several years, in the 1990s, as a writer for (and regular attender at) the show. Latterly, through the enduring friendships and sense that “NewsRevue Writing Alum” is an integral part of my identity.
I, together with countless others who have been involved with the show over the decades, owe a huge debt of gratitude to Mike Hodd, who died on 19 September 2022.
Mike Hodd was one of the founders of NewsRevue in 1979. But Mike’s role went way beyond founding. By the time I came along, 12 and a half years later, Mike wrote little if anything for the show himself. But Mike was a regular presence as a mentor and friend to those who were or had been involved with the show.
Mike gave me lots of encouragement when I first started writing for NewsRevue. Also beyond those early months. I especially remember Mike heaping praise on one of my songs, about Bill Clinton and his priapic nature:
I also remember Mike telling me that the above lyric reminded him of one of his own, presumably about some earlier licentious politician, which Mike had written to the tune of Son Of Hickory Holler’s Tramp by O C Smith. I recall Mike’s delight when I told him that I was familiar with that track and thought it suitable for such a song.
If anyone out there by chance has a copy of Mike’s “Hickory Holler’s Tramp” lyric, I (and no doubt many other NewsRevueistas) would love to see it.
John Random and I are currently excavating the Chris Stanton NewsRevue script archive. So far we have only recovered one “original Hodd” which i replicate below.
Just in case anyone reading this doesn’t remember the Karin B incident from 1988, it was an Italian barge loaded with hazardous waste bound for Nigeria, perceived by the public, once word of the practice leaked out, as a dodgy idea commercially, morally and environmentally.
Which brings me on to the other side of Mike Hodd, which was his actual career as a Professorial expert on development economics and the economics of corruption. Mike wore his incisive intelligence lightly and politely when discussing any topic, even those upon which he was an expert.
After I and my “NewsRevue Class of ’92” cohort stopped writing, we continued meeting up regularly for Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinners, which Mike Hodd would quite often join.
Thus Mike became a mentor in ways other than comedy. Indeed, in the correspondence following the above 2009 gathering, Random described him as Mike “MaHoddma” Ghandi.
Mike was exceptionally generous in his mentoring. When I mentioned in passing in late 2005 that Janie and I would be going to Ethiopia on holiday soon, Mike asked me if I had read Remote People by Evelyn Waugh, which at that time I had not. The next time I saw Mike, he slipped a copy into my hand.
Thanks to Mike, a proud possession which I read avidly then and at times dip into still
Another example – when I saw Mike after my own “economics plus” effort, The Price Of Fish, was published in 2011, Mike quietly commended the book and told me that he had bought multiple copies of it to give away to his friends.
Almost everyone who knew him reasonably well has a favourite anecdote about Mike, but there tends to be a common theme to those stories. Mike’s warmth, generosity, intelligence, sense of humour and ability to laugh at himself clearly shines through.
The last time I saw Mike was at that previously-mentioned Newsrevue 40th Anniversary event, at which he delivered a coupe of comedic pieces, including a stand-up routine making comedy out of his own Parkinson’s condition. Brave comedy, delivered without self pity and with supreme comedic timing. A fitting memory of Mike Hodd.
Mulberry Bush Birmingham Post 06 Apr 1956, Fri The Birmingham Post (Birmingham, West Midlands, England) Newspapers.com
Tynan Mulberry Bush 08 Apr 1956, Sun The Observer (London, Greater London, England) Newspapers.com
