NH & Co is Newman Harris & Co, SB is Stanley Bloom. I don’t recall where we went for lunch.
Had leaving do in eve. Drinks at Phoenix. Meal at Melati.
I’ll write more about Newman Harris elsewhere no doubt. The Phoenix on Cavendish Square was often the pub of choice by virtue of being the nearest, not the dearest. Thirty years on, a Google search finds the description…
…Shabby chic pub with worn-in tables…
…which surely applied back then too.
Melati was one of my favourite South-East Asian eateries back then – gone now it seems:
The location would have pleased the several South-East Asian colleagues I had at NH&Co and also would have pleased me as an echo of my “leaving do” ten years earlier when, as a 15 year old finishing my first holiday job, at NH, we went to a Malaysian restaurant named Rasa Sayang – I believe long gone and unrelated to any current restaurant of that name.
I cannot remember who joined me for the 1988 leaving do, but I shall list a few names of those I am pretty sure would have been there. Ashley Michaels, Mike and Sandra King, Dilip Vora, Terry, Duncan, Lelash Shah, Varsha Yadav…
…perhaps someone who was there and who has a phenomenal memory will stumble across this piece and help fill in the details.
The exact details of this gathering will doubtless be lost in the mists of time, but…
went to Sharani [sic] & Mark’s
…must mean that the gathering started at their place, which, from memory, was in Gibson Square. Apologies to Shirani for spelling her name wrong in my diary.
…must mean Bobbie (who was my link with this crowd; Bobbie & Shirani were fellow law reporters). The crowd probably included Ying Hui Tan, Peter (Ying Hui’s then beau), Maria (who ended up living in Clanricarde Gardens years later) Paul McGrath (Maria’s then beau) and possibly some others.
I’m going to guess that the purpose of the gathering was to celebrate Bobbie’s birthday with her. I’m also going to guess that it was a very jolly evening with good food and wine.
This production started its life at the Cottesloe, then went on tour and then returned to the National at the Olivier. Bobbie and I caught it on its return.
I recall not much liking this play. We had seen a cast comprising mostly this ensemble perform The Tempest some months earlier, which I had loved. I think it was that experience that drew us to Cymbeline.
I also realised by then that I prefer smaller spaces than the Olivier – there was a comparatively impersonal feel to the Cymbeline and I remember wondering whether I would have liked it more in the Cottesloe.
Still, it was a fine production with an excellent cast. I wonder what Bobbie thought of it and/or recalls about it?
Below is Michael Billington’s Guardian review of Cymbeline:
This was my last week working for Newman Harris, I was doing exam marking for Financial Training college to make a few extra bucks and on the preceding Monday my parents went on holiday. How do I remember all that?:
I think the meal at Le Caprice was my parents’ idea – to celebrate my qualification as a Chartered Accountant along with Uncle Michael, Auntie Pam, Stanley Bloom and his good lady (Sharit?).
Le Caprice was a trendy place even then – I’m not quite sure what would have made mum and dad choose it. Perhaps to show off a bit. Perhaps because they had heard that it was a restaurant that was able to cope with fussy eaters…we had at least one in our party that day in Auntie Pam.
Roll the clock forward 30 years and I note that Kim likes that place, perhaps for similar “trendy but able to cope with a fussy eater” reasons.
I don’t believe any photos were taken that evening to mark the occasion – such meals were not seen to be the thing of photos necessarily back then. But it is just possible that I’ll stumble across some pictures when I delve into dad’s “late works” box of negatives and prints, which still awaits my trawl.
“Kates” means Kate (Susan) Fricker’s place. I’m pretty sure Kate was, at that time, living in a pied-à-terre flat in Hampstead, part of the house that had been the family home before her family moved to York.
Evenings with Kate were always pleasant. We both enjoyed cooking and eating good food. We both liked decent wine and we would always have interesting conversations. I’m sure that Saturday evening would have been such an evening.
I’m guessing that we would have both been in celebratory mode, work-wise, at that time – Kate was called to the bar around the time I qualified.
What a super production this was. I remember being much taken with it, although, strangely, while I clearly recall seeing this with Bobbie, I did not recall Ashley joining us for this one. But the diary is clear:
I’m pretty sure this production was in the round and I remember feeling a sense of claustrophobia being so close to the action and the intense dilemmas and pain of the central characters.
This play, its morality and injustices came to my mind so many years later, in the late teenies, when the British gutter press started to brand anti-Brexit folk as “Enemies of the People”. Although I had seen a good production of the play subsequent to this 1988 production, it is Tom Wilkinson’s agonies, witnessed at close quarters so long ago, that sprang into my mind.
We three won’t simply have parted company at the doors of the Young Vic, that’s for sure. I’m guessing we might have taken a late meal at the Archduke or perhaps RSJs at that time. Anyone remember?
Postscript: Ashley Fletcher has chimed in to deny all involvement in this particular evening. The Ashley mention must have been Ashley Michaels, my (by then former) colleague from Newman Harris. I’ll pick Bobbie’s brain if/when I get the chance, but I suspect she’ll do that, “I can’t even remember what I did last week” routine.
Fortunately my subscription to the clippings service yields some retained memory – here is Michael ratcliffe’s Observer review:
I led a pretty lively existence between passing my accountancy finals and starting the next major chapter of my life, but this particular week was surprisingly quiet – at least as far as my diary is concerned.
I remember the function at Chartered Accountants’ Hall quite well, writing some 30 years later. I didn’t feel a strong sense of affinity or identity with that group, nor did I feel that I had achieved all that much in qualifying, other than a stepping stone to bigger and better things. Whereas some of the people I chatted to at the function seemed to be in thrall to their achievement and to the physical symbols of the profession…which I suppose was the main purpose of the function.
My meeting with Brian Fraiman on 2 April would have been in his capacity as client and mine as professional; I was doing a small assignment for his legal firm, Fremont, at that time. Our subsequent engagements have all been the other way around.
I do not recall the Enterprise Forum evening at all. It won’t be anything to do with the modern Tory Party Enterprise Forum thingie, which didn’t even exist back then. Goodness knows what this 1980s Enterprise Forum even was.
I used to visit Grandma Jenny after work fairly regularly – probably not noted in the diary every time – but these particular weeks I made more notes than usual and my Thursday visit gets a mention.
I’ll write more about her on a more appropriate occasion than simply one of my after work visits towards the end of her life. She was lovely.
Grandma Jenny no doubt gave me some chicken soup from a tin and at that time was possibly still able to make something substantial for me to eat, although she was going blind. I probably helped her to wade through her post, which was mostly requests for charity which she could ill afford but which she acquiesced to if the ask was right; about half of the requests.
Wow – this was a real experience in the theatre. Only a short piece – not even half an hour long – Bobbie and I will have both traipsed to the National after work, spending far more time traipsing than watching. But the memory of this piece lingers long in the memory.
I subsequently saw the piece again, in a double bill with Ashes To Ashes at the Royal Court, with Janie second time around. It is a very strong piece and no doubt can still shock and make the audience realise how bad regimes exert their power in part through the suppression and abuse of language.
What an honour to have seen the first production of this important, though short, piece of drama.
Everyone remembers their first time and I was lucky enough to have my first experience with the wonderful actress, Lindsay Duncan.
Seeing Hedda Gabler, I’m talking about – what did you think I meant?
This was another midweek theatre visit with Bobbie, during that brief period of a few months when I was between qualifying and moving on to my next, fully-fledged career.
I rated this experience as “very good” in my log and why not? Lindsay Duncan as Hedda, Jonathan Coy as Tesman, Dermot Crowley as Lovborg…
Most unusually, I have been to see this play with Janie on (at the time of writing) three further occasions. I guess that Lindsay Duncan as Hedda is a bit like a highly addictive drug – you keep chasing that first high, hoping to experience it again. In truth, it did take us a while to land a really good production; the one at the Almeida in 2005 – all to be written up in future Ogblogs.
But back in October 1988, I was already a bit of an Ibsen fan and for sure was really taken with this production. Trevor Nunn had a hand in it, apparently…
..who’d have thought, back then in 1988, that I’d end up meeting Trevor Nunn socially a few years later? Another matter for another Ogblog piece.
At the time of writing, strangely, I have recently seen Alun Armstrong again, I think for the first time in those 30 years, in The Cane at the Royal Court:
Billington on Mrs Klein Fri, Aug 12, 1988 – 26 · The Guardian (London, Greater London, England) · Newspapers.com
Ratcliffe on Mrs Klein Sun, Aug 14, 1988 – 37 · The Observer (London, Greater London, England) · Newspapers.com
