Jo, Janie & Max admiring the spread before we descend upon it & devour it
We spent a very enjoyable evening with several of The Jams.
As well as those depicted above, Kim was also there, but she did not want to be photgraphed for some reason. Perhaps Kim had told Micky she was going out for a wild night of clubbing and didn’t want him to know that she was, instead, having a decorous evening at our place. Joking apart, Micky was unfortunately unable to join us for the evening. He’d have loved the food.
Actually the central dish had presented us with some logisitcal issues. Janie set her heart on cooking a fusion prawn dish of a part-Peruvian. part-Japanese nature. It required Aji Amarillo paste as a vital ingredient; yellow aji being central to Peruvian cuisine.
To that end, Janie sent me a message on Thursday afternoon asking me to order a bottle of a particular paste through Amazon for her, which I did.
On Friday afternoon I received a message reading…
…arrggh…
…with some photos, one of which is shown below.
A Prime example of Aji Amarillo, glass and bubble wrap
I ordered another bottle on next day delivery and complained about the first bottle – the latter problem no doubt being a battle to come as the trader in question seems to have no mechnaism for refunds without physically returning broken glass and gunge to them, which I refused to do.
Anyway, a pristine bottle of the requisite condiment arrived about three hours before the guests. Timely.
But it wasn’t all prawns and aji amarillo…
…oh no…
…there were starters of smoked salmon open sandiches together with some cheesy nibbles and raw vegetables.
Neither Jo nor Max had been to Noddyland before, so they got a guided tour early in the evening, during the drinks and nibbles session.
For the main meal, as well as the prawns, there were patatas a lo pobre, cauliflower cheese (for Kim) and a massive tomato & mango salad…
A colourful spread, to say the least
…as well as breads. The latter, together with crackers, went well with the cheeses (thank you for the cheeses, Kim) that followed the main course.
Max Jamilly had just been awarded his PhD in synthetic biology. I made the mistake of addressing him as Mr Jamilly just the once…then, when corrected, as Dr Jamilly. We agreed that I might be the first person to have spoken that mistake and the first person to have addressed him correctly as Dr Jamilly. It’s always good to be first.
Jo and Kim are planning a trip to Jamaica, so we discussed that and I tried to help out with some varied Caribbean music. Kim tried to convince us that Cuba is not in the Caribbean, but on that point (as on a few other subjects) she found herself outvoted for some reason.
In fact we five chatted about all manner of subjects and were shocked when we realised how late it was, at which point Kim, Jo and Max called time on the proceedings.
What a very enjoyable evening it had been and gosh how it flew by.
Almost certainly not the actual wheelchair involved in the story Stephen B Calvert Clariosophic [CC BY-SA (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)]
What a story.
Athena Stevens, playwright and performer, was born with athetoid cerebral palsy.
And she is ballsy.
But in 2015 she suffered a devastating incident at the hands of British Airways, when the airline accepted her as a passenger on a plane that was too small for her motorised wheelchair, despite having been informed of the chair’s dimensions, causing Athena extreme humiliation and severe consequential harm. Worse yet, her wheelchair was destroyed in the incident.
This play, Scrounger, is a two-hander which makes light and dark in equal measure about this incident and its aftermath; a dramatised true story.
Athena Stevens starts the piece by “calling the audience out”, as she puts it in the playtext, reproaching us for our enlightened, left-leaningness.
It’s an interesting start.
Then she reproaches a “late-comer”, who the audience might be forgiven for taking at face value. Smug me, I realised this must be the other member of the cast, whereas Daisy, bless her, was taken in until the deceit was made obvious.
A rollercoaster piece ensues. The sense of injustice in the way that Athena was treated is palpable.
Yet, there is something about Athena’s immediate full-on social media and then media attack on BA which seemed, to me, counter productive.
I have only ever been driven to complain about relatively trivial or minor issues. I was reminded of my extensive correpsondence with Garuda Indonesia 25+ years ago:
My method in such circumstances, as indeed was Rohan’s in his rather Kafkaesque situation, is to threaten the faceless bureaucracy with public exposure of their jobsworthiness.
Athena Stevens, by contrast, went straight to the social media (and then the regular media), which I think was always likely to result in the unjust bureaucracy digging its heels in and taking its time over its responses.
Perhaps Athena’s is the modern way with social media and in any case I do sympathise with her very specific and difficult situation. But one part of her story, which adds to the darkness of it, is the way this matter caused a breakdown in her relationship with her boyfriend. She wanted to seek legal advice as well, whereas he wanted her to stick solely with the media campaign; he felt that going to the law was (I paraphrase) “too aggressive”.
My view, for what it is worth, is that a media camapaign is at least as aggressive, if not more so, than asserting formally that the other party has been negligent.
But as a piece of drama, the story unfolds wonderfully well, with some clever devices of deisgn and trickery along the way. Athena Stevens is a very good writer and she wrote this story with great gusto.
There are some great lines in the play. After her humiliation at Heathrow, BA Uber Athena (Scrounger) home.
I wanted the ride home to be quiet, but the driver turns on LBC.
There is no level of hell, which cannot sink further…with the addition of an LBC broadcast.
Athena Stevens’s performance is also something to behold, as indeed is the performance of Leigh Quinn, who played a plethora of other parts with great energy and skill.
Janie and I thought this a superb piece and a great start to our 2020 theatre-going. It’s been well received and quite widely reviewed. So you don’t need to take our words for it – click here for the reviews and stuff.
Our first outing of the decade was a visit to Mike and Marianna Smith’s house; an opportunity to eat together, make some music together and to see their kids, Eva and Bob, now that they are teenagers.
For those Ogblog readers who don’t know…
…and who are looking for somebody to blame for my music-making…
…it was Mike Smith who got me into the idea of playing the four-string guitar.
Mike makes & refurbishes stringed instruments of many varieties – the picture below depicts Mike playing a mandola, with a cello-like thing made from a half-baked mandolin by his side:
The pictures imply that Mariana did all the cooking and that Mike and I did all the playing, but that would be unfair on Mike (who prepared much of the delicious Mexican meal we enjoyed) and indeed on Eva, who is cultivating pie making skills, as illustrated above.
Bob & Eva chilling in gadget corner
We also spent plenty of time chatting too, about the kids school activities, Mike’s latest initiatives and learning some more about Mariana’s Slovak family and background.
One strange coincidence vis-a-vis the music and Mariana. Amongst other things, I was tinkling the renaissance song Belle Qui Tiens Ma Vie, which I am currently working on with Ian Pittaway, my early music teacher.
Ian has added an annex to that essay about the Czechoslovakian folk group, Spirituál kvintet, who wrote and recorded a “Czechoslovakian protest” version of this song in the 1960s:
On discovering the coincidental link between the song and Mariana’s origins, I sent the link to Mike and Mariana. In typically subdued language, Mariana resonded:
I was slightly blown away by Spirituál Kvintet’s Pavana…
12 January 2020: Marcena & the Neighbours
As if we didn’t eat and drink enough with friends and neighbours in December, Marcena very kindly invited us in for drinks and nibbles on the second Sunday of the decade.
Coincidentally, Marcena’s centrepiece was also Mexican, a very tasty tacos dish, although there were also potatoes and chicken cutlets which bore the hallmarks of her southern Asian and southern African backgrounds.
Ged, Daisy, Marcena & IsabelMarcena, Isabel, Joy & Piers
It was a very enjoyable evening. Janie (Daisy) tried to construct an alternative narrative for everyone else’s life…
…in fact at one point I wondered whether the full moon a couple of evenings earlier had got to her…
Any howl you might hear is likely me pretending to be a dog, in a vain attempt to scare a cat away from tormenting our visiting birds
…but in the end the truth would out and we all found out a bit more about each other, over some very tasty food and wine.
Chilled times.
Indeed, to add to the chilledness of the past two-three weeks, I also enjoyed:
a couple of music lessons with Ian Pittaway,
a jamming evening with DJ on 14 January at my place, with some yummy grub from Speck,
several games of real tennis at Lord’s, including club night on 16 January.
This piece is a response to the news that Nick R Thomas has died. It culminates with two personal memories, including a sound file of one of my favourite Nick R Thomas comedy pieces.
I met Nick in 1992, when I first started writing for NewsRevue. He was a seasoned comedy writer by then, having been writing News Huddlines, Week Ending and various other stuff of that kind for a couple of years.
Like many of the regular NewsRevue writers at that time, Nick encouraged me and other keen amateurs when we joined the NewsRevue pack. Many of us got involved at that time or, as I think was the case with Nick R Thomas, cemented that collaborative writers friendship around NewsRevue in the early 1990s. We started to describe ourselves as “the class of ’92”.
Most of us had become less actively involved with NewsRevue by the turn of the century, but kept in touch with each other through occasional dinners known as Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinners, in honour of the first of our cohort to pass.
Although Nick R Thomas had moved to Bournemouth, he was for some time one of the more regular attendees at those dinners and was great company at those, presumably taking an infeasibly late train home quite often or occasionally staying up in London to join us.
My second memory is of Nick as lyricist…but not businessman. In the early 1990s, many of us were approached by the west-country singer/comedian Ben Murphy for material. Ben performed and recorded much of our stuff.
Ben always needed badgering for the money, but (until the inevitable, final small bad debt) always paid me in the end, in order to obtain more material.
I always assumed that everyone else from NewsRevue must have been handling Ben the same way.
But I recall a conversation with Nick R Thomas some years later (probably around 2004 when we had the 25th anniversary of NewsRevue), when Ben’s name came up and Nick told me that Ben had never paid him. Nick had always assumed that no-one got paid by Ben. I’m not sure how often Nick sent Ben yet more material without first receiving (and banking and clearing) Ben’s cheque for the previous batch.
I think this story proves that Nick was a natural for the arts, whiereas I was a natural for commerce.
Anyway, what does survive (something money could not retrospectively buy) is Ben’s recording of one of my favourite Nick R Thomas lyrics; The Bald Song.
Nick R Thomas was a fine comedy writer and was one of the good guys. I, together with a great many others, will miss him.
Ensemble Marsyas, who specialise in baroque music with Irish and Scottish connections, have taken up a short residency at The Wigmore Hall. This is the first of their concerts, which has a Scottish – hence Hogmanay – connection.
Only one of the works performed was by an actual Scot; a rather fascinating sounding chap named Thomas Erskine, 6th Earl Of Kellie. We’ll have to call him a late baroque composer I think.
Indeed, some in the Early Music community might fret at great length if I were to describe the rather charming Erskine Overture (or short symphony) as early music, as it was composed as recently as 1761.
But I contest that it is, by definition, “Early” music by virtue of being music composed by an Earl. Or should I describe it as Earlish music?
Be that as it may, the rest of the concert was music by Arne, Handel and Barsanti.
Francesco Barsanti might be described as an honorary Scot, a gentleman of Italian origin who spent several years in Edinburgh (where he composed much of his oeuvre) and who married a Scottish woman, before returning to London. We heard several of Barsanti’s adaptations of Scottish folk tunes as well as a couple of his concerti grossi.
There’s very little Ensemble Marsyas music on the web, but the following short snippets are charming. I especially commend the seventh, Handel’s How Beautiful Are The Feet from The Messiah, as very suitable for the season…
… and also for Janie’s chosen profession; podiatry (with a fair swathe of her clientele being at least as interested in the appearance as in the health of their feet).
But I digress.
Sadly, the expected mezzo-soprano Katie Bray was ill with meningitis, which is really serious but we were told on the night that she is recovering well.
Our substitute for the evening was Helen Charlston. An aficionado sitting next to us let out a whoop of delight at the mention of her name as the sub. The aficionado informed us that Helen Charlston has recently won a Handel singing award and is an outstanding young performer. Here is a video of one of her award-winning Handel performances:
Apart from substituting in something (I think another Handel aria) for the second of the Arne songs, she sang the same repertoire as we expected from Katie Bray.
The singing was very much a highlight, as was the horn playing of Alec Frank-Gemmill and Joe Walters throughout the concert. Scott Bywater’s timpani playing during the Barsanti concerti grossi was also a special performance.
Peter Whelan led, from one of the two harpsichords, with great charm and beaming smiles. Turns out he is also an accomplished bassoonist, not that we got to see the bassoon side of Peter Whelan on the night.
Still, feast your eyes on this – an earlier incarnation of Ensemble Marsyas with a good shot of Peter Whelan and isn’t that the boy Thomas Dunford of all people on the lute there – I do declare it is:
In short, they come across as a happy ensemble, does Ensemble Marsyas, enjoying making music together and delighting the audience.
Have another lug-hole full of Helen Charlston singing competitive Handel – this time an Italian aria, in similar style to the singing we heard in the concert:
I think she probably sounds even more assured now than she did when she won that 2018 competition.
In short, Baroque Hogmanay was a super concert on which to end our year – indeed our decade – of concert-going.
If you liked the previous book, My Good Friend, then I can thoroughly recommend it as a continuation and progression from that book, with a couple of actual My Good Friend stories (i.e. stories about the self-same friend); Day Tipper and Xenon. Also there are a few My Good Friend-like stories, about other friends…
…cripes, Wellbrook has more than one friend?…
…such as Edinburgh Fringe (hello John), Fancy Dress (hello Leigh) and Fashion Fail (hello chaps).
That earlier version of Fashion Fail was the first of several pieces that David piloted at Rohan Candappa’s Threadmash, which is described in the foreword to the above piece.
There are several autobiographical pieces in this new book, ranging in tone from the gently touching Metempsychosis through the black comedy of Blood On The Cobbles (both about the aftermath of David’s father dying) to the profoundly heartfelt and moving God I Owe You One, which David bravely recited with terrific effect at the second Threadmash.
A personal favourite of mine in this new collection is Crèche; far less momentous and dramatic than the other autobiographical stories, but I thought it beautifully written and very charming.
In addition, David is broadening his scope in this collection with some pure fiction, playing with genres away from his comfort zone. To my taste the best of those is The Gift, which I had the honour to recite at Threadmash Four in November (if you click that link you’ll find my The Gift, not David’s).
David’s story, The Gift, is more Dahlian than Wellbrookian; a sort-of horror story with twists.
In the two-part story The Visitor, David again plays with twists and weirdness, while ultimately (in my view) reprising some of the themes from his personal stories when he returns to conclude the Visitor story and also the book, right at the end of the collection.
I also very much enjoyed Ennui, which is a spoof absurdist play by a spoof obscure absurdist playwright within a story about going to the theatre with his wife. I’m not sure what the Trafalgar Studios ever did to upset David as I’m sure that place does not deserve to be the only genuine thing named in the story. Perhaps Trafalgar Studios refused to publish one of David’s on-line reviews…
…which brings me neatly back to Amazon, the place I am still boycotting in publishing reviews terms but of course am not boycotting from the point of view of them selling David’s (nor my, nor anyone else’s) books.
As the years go on, Janie and I have fewer dependents and fewer commitments at this time of year. It is nice to have some time off after the mad rush of work and events at the end of the working year, but we felt this year that we would also like to do something for the community.
Janie did some asking around and basically all roads for Christmas time itself seemed to point towards Crisis. Local projects for homeless and vulnerable people tend to close and/or switch their resources towards the Crisis This Christmas programme, in London for sure, also in several other parts of the UK as well, I believe.
Here is a short Crisis promo video from Christmas 2018:
We thought we might have left it a bit late for volunteering, but as it turned out, by phoning and asking what Crisis particularly needed, we discovered that the night of 25th into 26th December was proving especially hard to staff up with volunteers this year, so we volunteered for that.
One of the largest residential Crisis centres is at a confidential location not at all far from us, so it was an easy decision to opt for that one.
Janie and I meticulously watched the training videos and read the training manual over the weekend ahead of our stint.
I can understand why that particular night shift is a tough one for Crisis to staff; we ate light and stayed off the drink on Christmas Day (some would claim that as a personal bonus) and of course there is no public transport that day, so the fact we are quite close to the location and have wheels helped us get to the location for a 22:00 shift briefing.
Janie and I are not exactly naturals for being general volunteers in a situation that requires volunteers relentlessly to do what they are told. We are used to self-starting, we are used to leading rather than following and (in Janie’s case) independent rather than team working.
Yet the volunteer set up at Crisis seemed to operate like a well oiled machine at our location and on our night. We were told in our pre-shift briefing that the centre was close to capacity with over 240 guests that night. We were told that the 25th to 26th night is sometimes busy by night shift standards, as centres tend to be close to full capacity and the guests have just enjoyed the unusually stimulating day of Christmas itself.
We were also told our shift was down on the preferred number of volunteers (indeed several volunteers from our centre needed to move to another centre which was severely under-staffed), so our shift was staffed by 60 when they would normally aim for 80 to 85. As a result, our breaks would be short and we’d sometimes need to cover a bit more ground than Crisis would ideally choose.
In truth, we enjoyed the fact that we were constantly busy and we had no great desire for long breaks. We did get breaks of sufficient length to freshen up and grab a coffee, which was all we really needed.
We said we wanted to pair as much as possible (all general volunteer sessions are staffed in pairs) and they were able to keep us paired for all but one of our sessions, which worked well.
Janie and I learnt that we can spend a 10 hour shift working together and still talking to each other (just about) by the end of it. More than 27 years together and we’re still learning…
Joking apart, we got a lot out of the experience. A lot of the tasks are relatively low level work but the really important aspect of it is interacting with the guests and helping them to have a positive experience over the holiday days.
The benefits of that experience, hopefully come to fruition in the subsequent days when many – better fed and rested than usual – can take advantage of advisory services which can help get them back on their feet. Some can’t or won’t progress from their life on the streets, but a fair number will.
Talking to the guests was an insightful experience for us too. Some didn’t want to talk about themselves but many did choose to open up to us. Several had fascinating stories; the diversity of backgrounds and experiences they described constantly surprised us.
The post shift review was a very positive experience for us. The shift leaders said they thought we (as a group) had done espcially well, as we had been a relatively small team and that the night, to some extent as a result of our work, had been unusually calm for the Christmas-into-Boxing-Day night.
There had been a few incidents, but they had all been handled well. The most heartwarming story from our shift was the homeless person that one of the outside patrols found sleeping nearby. When he woke up they engaged with him; he had no idea that he was sleeping so close to a Crisis centre. Unusually (as the residential centres normally work on a referral basis only) he was admitted to the centre and hopefully is now benefiting from the services Crisis can offer.
Janie and I are not easily impressed but we did come out of the experience feeling that Crisis is well-organised and doing excellent work for the homeless, not only but especially at this time of year.
I’m gutted that the powers that be declined my chosen headline:
Ollis Not Lost.
Pearls…pearls…
If by any chance the MCC website doesn’t let non-members into the tennis section, here is a scrape of the report, allowing Dedanists and other friends of tennis, Iain Harvey and/or James McDermott to read all about it.
This time around, 2019, the programme looked like this:
Unfortunately, my magnum opus for 2019, which marks Sir Thomas Gresham’s 500th birthday, hence The Sir Thomas Gresham 500th Anniversary Song And Dance, was accidentally misnamed as the Sir Richard Gresham themed performance I gave in 2017. But I was able to put people right on that point pretty easily.
But before all of that, Michael Mainelli made a brief appearance to leave soiréeistas in no doubt that the show was about to begin, when he blasted our lug-holes with the sound of his bagpipes.
Michael Mainelli on bagpipes? Well I’ll be blowed!
Mercifully, Part 1 of the soirée was a highly professional and entertaining set by David Jones and Sian Millett, which gave us all plenty of time to recover from the lug-hole blasting and listen to the superb talents of this pair, who are very much becoming Gresham Society soirée favourites.
David & Sian as seen in 2017
David demonstrated his vocal versality with material ranging from lieder to Lehrer. David’s rendering of Hochländisches Wiegenlied by Robert Schumann was a particular delight, not least David’s rendering of the non-Germanic word, “Carlisle” mid song, as was David’s perennial Tom Lehrer favourite The Elements Song, which David can peform better than anyone else I have ever seen attempt it.
Sian’s talents range from grand opera to musicals. Her rendition of Mon Coeur S’ouvre A Ta Voix, with David accompanying on piano rather than the more traditional orchestra backing, brought out the beauty of the melody and the words to my ears, enabling me to enjoy hearing that aria afresh. No recording of Sian and David’s performance, sadly, but those who want now to hear the aria might enjoy the 1961 Callas recording below.
Returning to Sian’s performances, her flirty rendition of I Cain’t Say No was great fun and went down very well with the audience.
Sitting in front of me was Bobbie Scully, with whom I had, in 1984, suffered an unfortunate fit of the giggles, when we accidentally attended a stilted Rodgers and Hammerstein recital, learn more by clicking here or the block below.
For the avoidance of doubt, Sian Millett’s soirée performance was absolutely nothing like the stilted recital of the mid 1980s; the audience laughter during Sian’s I Cain’t Say No was very much WITH Sian rather than AT Sian.
The tone changes for Part 2 of the soirée, which brings amateur talent and enthusiasm from within the Gresham Society to the fore. As if to lull us all into a false sense of security, the first couple of items – Robin Wilson on the recorder, followed by a recitation from Under Milk Wood by Martin Perkins – were suitably talent-filled and dignified.
Then it was my turn.
Actually, despite appearances, a fair bit of scholarship went into my piece. I discovered, quite by chance, while researching “Ding Dong Merrily On High” last year for the Z/Yen seasonal function, that Jehan Tabourot, aka Thoinot Arbeau, was a contemporary of Sir Thomas Gresham, the former being listed as either 1519 or 1520 in all sources I could find. Tabourot (under the pseudonym Arbeau) wrote, in the late 16th century, a book, Orchésographie, comprising dance tunes and dance moves he recalled from his youth.
Branle de L’Official, the tune that subsequently was used for Ding Dong Merrily On High, is one such dance from Arbeau’s Orchésographie.
The really strange coincidence about this, is that when I discovered the temporal connection between “Arbeau” and Sir Thomas Gresham, my Googling led me immediately to Ian Pittaway’s website and this superb article:
Ian is my early music teacher. We had been talking in late 2017 about me possibly using Coventry Carol for the 2019 Gresham Society bash, but the Arbeau song and dance possibilities seemed to good an idea to miss.
…and just over a year later I inflicted same on the Gresham Society – except this time I had tailored the words to suit Thomas Gresham’s 500th birthday.
It would probably be to the benefit of all mankind if the Gresham Society soirée performance of this piece were lost in the mists of time, but unfortunately Basil Bezuidenhout had an accident with his mobile phone and inadvertently video recorded the darned thing.
I must say, the singing from the assembled throng sounds rather good, which is more than can be said for my singing that evening.
For the dance, I ever so slightly simplified the dance moves from this actual facsimile of the 1589 book:
Again, Basil had a mishap with his phone and the dance is recorded for all posterity:
Not much can go wrong in a dance like that, although I notice a couple of us ended up the wrong way round with our partners at the end of the first movement. Many thanks to David Jones for accompanying us on “virginals” and to Sian Millett for her delightful rendering of my silly words while we danced.
Anthony Hodson and David Jones then briefly brought a sense of decorum back to the proceedings with a rendition of the Elgar Romance for Bassoon & Piano, but then Robin Wilson and Tim Connell led the soirée past the point of no return in the matter of decorum. Song sheets that cover some of the residual malarky can be seen by clicking this link.
No such nonsense as the above 2017 rendition of Tinniat Tintinnabulum, dear me no. This year, instead, Robin Wilson lead us in a more ballad-like latin canticle, Reno Erat Rudolphus Nasum Rubrum Habebat
After all that, the assembled Gresham Society stalwarts needed reviving with a great deal of food and wine…
…so it was just as well that there were indeed plentiful supplies of both, enabling the remainder of the evening to become a highly convivial party. There was eating, drinking, chatting, laughing and general merriment, without, by that stage, the fear of imminent music, song or dance from over-enthusiastic soiréeistas.
As ever in the company of Gresham Society folk, a thoroughly warm-hearted and enjoyable time was had by all.
We thought it would be a good idea to have a meal together after the Trustees meeting this time. We have been gathering now since 2017 planning non-turf pitch and net facilities for London’s parks, without ever breaking bread together…until this evening.
The Three Cranes location in the City worked well for me, giving me the opportunity to clear some work at the office (yes, believe it or not I did also do some work in this event-filled week) before the Trustees meeting at the Three Cranes, which was followed by the joyous meal and libations.
This evening was an excellent opportunity to all get to know each other a bit better. Not just we Trustees, but also the England and Wales Cricket Board (ECB) people who have been working tirelessly on our intiiative (and participation cricket more generally), plus Ed Griffiths and his team who have been doing so much wonderful pro bono work on behalf of the LCT over the years.
One of many good thoughts that emerged from the evening is that we still haven’t actually watched any professional cricket together; we’re hoping to put that right during the 2020 season.
A very enjoyable evening.
Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Dinner & Trophy Match, Spaghetti House Holborn, Thursday 12 December 2019
One NewsRevue alum who, sadly, only just made it a few months beyond the 20th anniverary of that show was Ivan Shakespeare. We “Class Of ’92” types who were NewsRevue contemporaries of Ivan meet on an irregular occasional basis, three or four times a year, to keep in touch with each other, eat, trade jokes, share bizarre quizzes and also to remember Ivan. We’ve been doing that since mid 2000, a few months after Ivan died.
In the seasonal version of our gathering, the stakes increase markedly and we play one of the quizzes for The Ivan Shakespeare Memorial Trophy. I am proud to be the donor of the original Memorial Trophy, which was first contested in 2002, about 18 months after the dinners started.
It’s a bit like The Ashes, but for comedy writers rather than for cricketers.
Much like The Ashes, the trophy is a thing of exquisite gimcrackness; it’s absence of taste simply has to be seen to be believed:
Observant readers will see that I won that trophy once; in 2004Some real names from the world of quizzing on there: Hugh Ryecroft for one, Barry Grossman being another.
The problem is, unlike The Ashes, the trophy is inscribed with the winner’s name each year…
…and the original trophy is running out of sensible places for the embazoning of the winner’s name…
…OK, there never were sensible places for the emblazoning, but now we are even running out of silly places to inscribe.
The solution: a new trophy. Acquired through the sort of tenacity that only Graham Robertson could possibly deploy – an eBay purchase which he needed to make twice because the first eBay vendor of tasteless out-of-date royal gimcrack merchandise took Graham’s money and did a runner.
The assembled alums at our new spiritual venue, The Spaghetti House in Holborn, decreed that Mark Keegan, who won the original trophy three times, should become “steward-for-life” of the original trophy.
Mark Keegan, delighted with his original trophy. Graham Robertson looks on, enviously.Barry Grossman shows off the new trophy……then wears one for the team by winning the new trophy this year
As usual I came quite close but no cigar for me in the trophy stakes since 2004. Barry Grossman scooped the glittering prize this year – with sincere commiserations to Barry – he could have been an also-ran, but instead…
It wasn’t all quizzes and trophies; oh no, no, no, no, no, no no. There was plenty of time for eating, drinking, topical humour and some sense-of-irony-sapping politics on what was, after all, an election night.
Moving swiftly on from the will-to-live-depleting topics back to the humour section, John Random produced another set of personalised Christmas crackers this year, based on the BBC Radio 4 programme In Our Time with Melvyn Bragg.
My cracker contained a note posing the intriguing question:
What do you call a deer with no eyes?
Frankly, I had no idea and would gladly have said, “no idea”, but for the answer provided, which instead said, in Braggian tones:
With me to discuss what you call a deer with no eyes, I have Ian Harris, Professor of Mammalian Opthalmology at Gresham College and author of In Darkness Let me Dwell – and Professor Jonny Hurst from the University of Manchester, author of Champagne Super Over: Oasis In Popular Culture.
There is sort-of a tradition in recent years for at least one person’s order to go horribly wrong at the festive dinner. This year it Barry Grossman who suffered the indignity of being brought his main at starter time and a starter-sized portion of his chosen main at main course time. The nice waiter did his best to sort things out.
Ironically, Barry went on to win the quiz, as did Jonny Hurst in 2017 when it was his turn to be the brunt of the ritual service humiliation – in those days at Cafe Rogues in Holborn not far from the scene of this year’s crime. That year, 2017, John Random’s personalised crackers had been based on the Moral Maze. He likes his thinky-Radio-4 programmes, does our John.
Anyway, the night of 12 December 2019 will surely be remembered as a great night for NewsRevue alums…and Tories…ironically.
Z/Yen Seasonal Lunch, The Old Bailey, Friday 13 December 2019
Z/Yen team gathered in the Alderman & Sheriff’s apartment
In the world of crime fiction, criminals have a regular, unfortunate tendancy; returning to the scene of the crime. Whether that is true in the real world or not I have no idea. Nor do I have the faintest idea what that point might have to do with this section of this piece.
Anyway, just three days after the Z/Yen Alumni function at The Old Bailey, the current Z/Yen team regrouped in that astonishing building for the staff seasonal lunch.
On this occasion we found ourselves in the smaller function room, used daily for the judges pre-luncheon drinks, after enjoying our pre-lunch drinks in Michael and Elisabeth’s apartment. Once again Sean, their footman, proved his skills as a photographer – thanks Sean.
The meal was a very good one; smoked trout fillet, followed by a posh duck dish, followed by an apple tart-like desert.
The wines tasted suspiciously like those excellent wines we’d enjoyed earlier in the week and seemed suspiciously well food-matched for the lunch, thanks to the combined skills of Gordon Clunie and (in all modesty) me.
Linda produced one of her fiendish seasonal quizzes – let’s not even talk about how badly Simon Mills and I did as a so-called team on that one.
Secret Santa visited (I got some baritone ukulele strings) and Santa also brought everyone a small box of super posh chocolates.
Then the traditional Z/Yen seasonal sing song. Being exceptionally woke for a boomer, I again recycled a previous effort this year, cunningly adding a topical reference ensuring that no-one would realise that it was recycled…
…unless they looked at the copyright years and/or version numbers and/or read this piece. Here is the 2019 version of The 12 Days Of Z/Yen Training. Excellent, was the performance, especially the “Five Forces” motif, which brought tears to my eyes each time around.
It is a fascinating musical phenomenon that this particular song works in so many different keys: C, C#, B, D, D#, A, E, G#, G, F & F#…all at the same time…at least, it did that afternoon.
After the formalities, plenty of informalities with some additional quizzing, singing, chatting and libations until it was chucking out time at The Old Bailey.
Chucking out time at The Old Bailey on a Friday afternoon works remarkably quickly and effectively:
You are welcome to stay on downstairs if you wish…but no-one will be here with the keys to your cell until Monday morning…
…everyone scarpers sharpish at that juncture.
Some ventured on for more libations at a local hostelry, but after five events in five days, all I could think about was getting home and lying down for a good few hours.
