I’ve either mislaid or never had the programme for this one, sadly, so I needed to do a bit of on-line searching.
The log makes it clear that i went to see this play with Bobbie and that we both thought it was “really good”.
I do remember enjoying it and I especially remember an early scene in which Maggie Smith, as a tour guide, starts making up the history when her memory fails her and/or the reality doesn’t seem interesting enough.
These days I quite often hear the Lord’s tour guides explaining the history of real tennis to a tour group while I play. Sometimes they are pretty accurate and sometimes they indeed dwell into fiction. On one recent occasion (February 2019) they told the group that the charming woman I was playing against, whose handicap is some 10 points less impressive than my modest handicap, is a former open champion and one of the finest players in the world. We both lifted our performances a little to try and impress.
“Fantasy floods in where fact leaves a vacuum”, as Lettice puts it in the play, Lettice and Lovage, which is the very thing I am digressing away from writing about here.
Apparently it opened in October 1987 so we got in fairly early in its long West End run. It was at the Globe Theatre – i.e. the West End Globe, not the Shakespeare facsimile thing that didn’t yet exist in 1988…obvs.
By all accounts it was a big hit – hence the long run and subsequent Broadway run too.
Maggie Smith was terrific as was Margaret Tyzack as her foil/nemesis. I don’t in truth remember what the supporting cast was like – probably just fine. Michael Blakemore directed it, which is usually a very good sign.
By all accounts, including his own, Shaffer wrote the Lettice part with Maggie Smith in mind, which makes sense:
I recall that the play was both funny and thought-provoking about issues of conservation, history and the grey areas between historical fact and fiction.
Sometimes people like me have a pivotal moment in their self-education about music. I discovered this week (writing in February 2018) that mine was on 31 October 1987.
You’ll need to roll with this one, dear reader, it is a somewhat convoluted tale but in the end it is riddled with strange coincidences twixt 2018 and 1987. I hope this piece has some interesting general insights too.
…and spotted that the William Byrd specific concert would include “Though Amaryllis Dance In Green”. I remembered that song fondly as one of the first Tudor period songs I had heard and liked. I could even recall the tune and many of the words. I sought and found a simplified transcription of the music for lute on-line and decided that it would be a good example for me to work on with Ian Pittaway to further transcribe for solo voice and Tudor guitar.
On the day of the Gresham lecture, my mind began to wander (during the journey home after work I hasten to add, not during the lecture or work) about that song. I knew I still had a recording of it and would have kept notes on who was performing it.
It is extraordinary what memory can do. My mind latched on to that late 1980’s period and I was pretty sure I heard the music while I was getting ready for some professional exams.
I enjoyed a Saturday morning Radio 3 programme back then which played new releases and gave some interesting background on the recordings. But I also wanted to get my homework out of the way, so I tended to spool the radio show onto the trusty reel-to-reel and listen to it later in the day.
One week there had been a morning dedicated to early music and I remembered that some of the music had blown me away…
…to such an extent that I had edited that spool and preserved the recordings…
…then digitised it some 20 years or more later.
In fact, the recording that had really blown me away from that morning’s show was Josquin Des Prez and my records tell me that it was the Hilliard Ensemble.
…and as I am promoting the material so flagrantly for the Hilliards…and have of course now bought a copy of the album for myself, assuaging my guilt for the home taping…I’ll guess they won’t mind that I have uploaded my rather worn-sounding track – the one that blew me away – Ave Maria:
It really is a lovely recording of the piece. I have heard several others since and (perhaps it’s me) but that Hilliard recording of it is something very special.
When I got home to find all this out, there was a really nice message waiting for me (us) on Facebook from Ros Elliot, an old friend of Janie’s who now lives in Turkey. I recalled that Ros’s brother Paul used to sing with the Hillard Ensemble and of course, it transpired with a little e-digging, is indeed singing on that very album of Josquin music.
Also on that same old tape of mine, as I expected, was Though Amaryllis…which was also a recording by the Hilliard Ensemble. The Byrd was released the same year as the Josquin; 1987. Now available as part of a double-album of Byrd and Dowland…yes of course I procured this one too. Only available in CD form for now – click here or below:
So, given that the Hilliards got a sale and an advert out of me for this album too, I’m going to guess that they’ll be OK with the worn-sounding Though Amaryllis file going up for you to sample:
So then all I needed was my diary and the trusty BBC Genome project to resolve exactly when this introduction to Early Music happened.
…which yielded the next coincidence. The same broadcast had included Christopher Page with Gothic Voices singing, amongst other things, Ian Pittaway’s favorites Westron wynde and Hey nony nonyno. Clearly those didn’t make the cut on my edited tape. Perhaps I missed the start of the show…or perhaps those songs were too alien for my ears at that time.
…but dad did like the secular Josquin tracks very much; and the Byrd. Mum didn’t get early music at all. Chopin, Strauss (the waltz ones) and Tchaikovsky for her.
Momentous stuff in late 1987 – it really was the day that early music found me – and some wonderful coincidences in early 2018 while I found that momentous day again.
Busy day at work – went to piano recital with Jilly in evening at QEH.
This one stumped me as I didn’t keep a programme and had no record of it on my other logs. Not even Gemini could help me, but I guessed correctly that the Queen Elizabeth Hall might advertise concerts through listings and found the atatched detailed one in The Daily Telegraph through my Newspapers.com subscription.
What is it about visits to theatres named Theatre Royal with Bobbie Scully, I wondered?
My log records the following from our 1986 visit to the Theatre Royal Haymarket:
This production was notable for the overlapping dialog to speed it up. Despite that mercy, we attended on one of the hottest days of the year and the air conditioning was poor or non existent. Quite literally, a fight broke out in the audience (just in front of us) at one point. Luvvie rage?
Ah yes, I remember it well.
I liked Jonathan Miller’s idea to use overlapping dialogue. While Long Day’s Journey is regarded as a great play, it is normally incredibly long for a play in which pretty much nothing happens. The overlapping dialogue shortens the play a fair bit. Further, it added a sense of realism to the drama. A family pretty much at war with itself probably would comprise people speaking a lot without really listening to anything the others are saying.
This was a Broadway production on transfer to the West End – the Haymarket was doing quite a few of those back then.
Jack Lemmon played the lead in this production and I thought he was very good.
A young unknown (to us) named Kevin Spacey played James Jr – I thought he overacted a fair bit, but then what do I know. In fairness, when Janie and I saw him 10-12 years later play the lead, Hicky, in The Iceman Cometh, I felt he had come on leaps and bounds as an actor.
As for the heat and the poor air conditioning and the flight – that for sure is my most abiding memory of the Long Day’s Journey evening.
The fight broke out towards the end of the interval. I think someone simply stepped on someone’s foot while trying to get back to their seat. So much so normal in those poorly designed, ludicrously-expensive-yet-space-restricted-seats in theatres housed in illustrious 19th century buildings such as the Theatre Royal Haymarket.
I seem to recall that both of the combatants were Americans. Perhaps the stomper was belatedly or insufficiently apologetic to the stompee, but anyway they actually stood there fighting for a while.
I especially remember a rather camp usher rushing to the end of the offending row, waving his arms and shouting,
Stop it! Stop it at once! Please stop fighting!…
…as if arm waving and pleas were likely to stop a couple of audience rage pugilists at that stage of the dispute.
I don’t suppose the fight lasted all that long, nor was anyone seriosuly hurt. Nor did either of the antagonists refuse to sit close to the other once they had calmed down – I think they were only two or three seats away from each other. Far enough, I suppose.
I do recall Bobbie and I deciding that the fight was the most action-packed dramatic incident of the evening. Long Day’s Journey is, in truth, a play in which almost nothing happens.
I had logged this incorrectly as 4 August but actually we went 16 August.
My diary also reminds me that Bobbie and I went to Inigo Jones for a pre-theatre meal, which I describe as:
…fab nouvelle cuisine meal.
Remember Inigo Jones restaurant in Covent Garden? Remember nouvelle cuisine?
I also note that we…
…had coffee at Swiss…
…[i..e. The Swiss Centre] after the show.
Bobbie might now remember some or all about the evening, but last time I asked (17 February 2020) she drew a blank, other than remembering having seen this production with me.
Wednesday 16 July – Fairly hectic day at work – met Annalisa for lunch. Met Bobbie after work – had meal at Mayflower & went on to Woody Allen Film after – v nice.
Mayflower was one of the better Chinese restautrants in Chinatown – now (writing in 2020) resurrected as New Mayflower.
The Woody Allen film in question would have been Hannah And Her Sisters, which went on general release in the UK a couple of days later. No doubt we went to a preview at the Curzon West End (just opposite the Mayflower).
I still think Hannah And Her Sisters is a great movie. But gone are the days that I’d complain about a hectic day at work in which I had lunch with a friend and left work early enough to have a meal and then see a movie. Such a snowflakey-sense-of-entitlement-youngster, I was.
Pretty busy at work today. Went to LC [Laurence Corner] etc.
Met Graham Watson for a drink – Mike came too (is leaving office).
(Met Jon Graham on way home).
Earlyish night.
I hasten to add that Laurence Corner was, for me, work – not a fun outing at lunchtime. Mike (he who was leaving the office) must be Mike King, who, by that time, I think was doing much of the work on the Laurence Corner account and who was, presumably, handing over some of the reins to me.
Graham Watson was an old friend from school. I vaguely recall running into him in London and thus meeting up. Coincidentally Jon graham was also a friend from school and (if I recall correctly) I didn’t realise he was still hanging in Streatham until this chance encounter. Jon and I met up again more than once, IIRC. I’m not sure whether Graham and I did. Perhaps Graham gave me the bumps…again!
Several years earlier, Graham Watson & Paul Deacon giving me the bumps, Tim Church feigns a lack of interest, picture “borrowed” from Paul’s facebook posting with grateful thanks.
With thanks to Martin Cook, from whom I have “borrowed” the above photograph, depicting Wayne Manhood with soccer ball and trophy, front-centre. Link available only to Alleyn’s Facebook alumni – hence the crossed-out appearance of this link..
Prescript
This posting has generated a lot of discussion on the Alleyn’s 1970s Alumni Facebook Group, not least people pointing out that Wayne died 1985 or 1986 – consensus coalescing around 1986. As I have said on the group:
It’s extraordinary how memory plays tricks. I so clearly remember a maudlin conversation with Jimmy Bateman about the fragility of life on that very first occasion that he and I went to that UCL Bar and then The Sun, summer 1981, but I now realise THAT conversation must have been triggered by the sudden death of my uncle a few weeks earlier…
…I’ll update/correct the blog piece once I have gathered more thoughts – not least my own. Some of the comments are very moving and so many interesting thoughts. Thanks again.
Below is that updated piece, with the original, jumbled piece below that, just for the record.
21 February 2020 – A Better Informed Reminiscence Of How I learnt the News Of Wayne Manhood’s Demise
The collective brains of the Alleyn’s School alums suggest strongly that the tragic event happened in the spring or summer of 1986. At that time, less than a year after I had come down from Keele, I was spending almost all of my time with Keele friends and work colleagues. In fact my first reference for meeting up with anyone from school in 1986 was late June, when I met up with Andrew (Andy) Levinson in Streatham:
What I now know for sure though is that, despite my suggestion that I clearly remembered the event of learning the news about Wayne, the truth of the matter is that I do NOT recall the actual learning of the news. What lives on, though, is the effect the news had on me. The first one of our generation to go. The senselessness of it. Those emotions unquestionably stuck.
As Steve Butterworth so eloquently put it in the e-mail he sent me – I’m sure he won’t mind me reproducing these words:
…It was not fair but Wayne was the unlucky one that night.
I still visualise the flowers that we’re strapped to the offending lamppost that he crashed into, when travelling on the South Circular!
I expect you’re right about June, as the sun shone brightly at his funeral, but the year was 1986.
None of the above detail (or at least my memory of it!) changes the sentiments in your piece. Thank you for that.
Below is the original, flawed, jumbled-memory piece below unchanged, just for the record.
My 13 February 2020 “Original”, Jumbled Memory Posting
I’m not entirely sure why this tragic event has popped into my head lately. Possibly because I have recently learnt of the demise, or near demise, of several contemporaries (from walks of life other than school).
Wayne Manhood was the first of my contemporaries I learnt had died.
People of our parents’ generation often talk about “remembering what they were doing when they learnt that John F Kennedy had died”. My generation has a similar thing with “the day Princess Diana died”. My guess is that many people from my Alleyn’s School cohort can remember what they were doing when they learnt that Wayne Manhood had died.
I learnt that Wayne Manhood had died from James “Jimmy” Bateman in a bar in UCL, where Jimmy was doing a holiday job in a bubble chamber research laboratory.
I’m pretty sure it was the first time we thus met up that summer, 30 June 1981, because I think the tragic event had occurred before I got back from University. But I will stand corrected if I have got the actual dates confused.
Don’t ask what I’d been doing in Braintree, Essex that day. That’s a different story.
Neither Jimmy nor I knew Wayne Manhood all that well…but everyone in our year knew Wayne. Almost everyone in the school knew Wayne Manhood, not least because he represented the school in so many sports. And also because he was an outgoing and thoroughly nice fellow. Wayne and I had been in the same class in the first year:
In truth, I don’t remember whether or not we were in the same class again after that. Was he in 4AT/5AT? Someone out there will know.
In the later years, I only really remember talking to him at cricket matches, on those rare occasions that he wasn’t on the field of play for more or less the whole match. He could bat, could Wayne, much as he could play football and field hockey to very high schoolboy levels.
I remember Wayne encouraging me to play cricket rather than score and umpire so much, refuting my suggestions that I was no good, wisely saying that I could enjoy playing that game (and other games) at a reasonable level.
Yes, it was Jimmy Bateman who broke the news to me that Wayne had died. I’m not sure how he had heard the news, nor even how much detail he was able to share with me. I still don’t know much about what happened. A night out with some old boys from the school. A motorcycle. A fiendish bend in the road in Forest Hill. Am I remembering this correctly? Others might correct me or add detail. The detail matters little.
I remember Jimmy Bateman and I sinking quite a few beers that night. We’d no doubt have done that anyway. I suspect we started in the UCL bar and progressed on to The Sun in Lamb’s Conduit Street, a favourite real ale pub with a fine selection of ales back then (no more, in February 2020), which I continued to frequent for many years.
I remember the song David Watts as an earworm for the news of Wayne’s death. I had acquired a second-hand copy of All Mod Cons by The Jam a few weeks earlier and had been listening to it a lot in the preceding weeks. It was not the tone of envy nor the gay subtext of the David Watts song that resonanted about Wayne, of course, but the notion of a boy most likely from school, a young fellow who was good at everything he attempted:
…he is the captain of the team…
… I dream I could fight like David Watts…
Lead the school team to victory,
and take my exams and pass the lot…
Of course, we are a lucky generation. My father, who was 20 when the second world war started, lost many friends who were in the flower of their youth. Our grandparents’ generation similarly lost so many of their young in one or other of the world wars.
But in some ways, the very fact that losing a compadre at such a tender age was so rare in our generation made Wayne’s death all the more tragic, unexpected and shocking. Life isn’t fair and life is fragile. I hadn’t yet reached the age of 19 in June 1981, but I learnt a little more about those aspects of life when I learnt about Wayne Manhood’s death.
It will soon be 40 years since my cohort left Alleyn’s School. It makes no sense that Wayne saw hardly any of that time.
I have no idea why this subject popped into my head a week or so ago and refused to budge without me writing it up. But write it up I now have. I very much welcome other people’s memories of Wayne Manhood and his passing.
Saturday 28 June – Worked hard today – went to Levinsons briefly – [squiggle] etc. Mainly work.
Sunday 29 June – Did exam in morning – went to G [Grandma] Jenny in afternoon – watched cup final early evening – went for drink with Andrew after – met Mary etc.
I was working hard at that time, doing my accountancy exams (presumably that Sunday morning thing was a self-administered mock) while working full time and helping to bring dad’s business (he had sold the shop in Feburary) to a graceful closure with the tax authorities.
This was still less than a year after I left Keele; my diaries suggest that I almost exclusively spent my spare time with old friends from Keele apart from my work crowd and some of my old BBYO crowd.
This reference to spending time with Andrew Levinson is the first reference to an old friend from the street or school in 1986 (unless I’ve missed something on the skim).
“Mary etc.” I think must be a lovely young woman I knew at Keele named Mary Keevil who kept popping up wherever I happened to be in that first year after I left Keele. I remember bumping into her when I was doing accountancy courses in Latimer Road and also that she ended up in Streatham for a while.
I dread to think where Andrew and I went for that drink and therefore where Mary etc. were also hanging out back then – our end of Streatham was not great for pubs and I doubt if we wandered far. Horse and Groom most likely – it’s had a makeover fairly recently (he writes in 2020) but was well grimey back then.
Photo Mart 1986, reimagined by Nano Banana 2.1 from a mid 1950s image
During this fortnight, we said goodbye to Dad’s shop, Photo Mart, which had been his business empire for best part of 33 years. That seems like a heck of a long time, until I realise that I started my own business empire more than 32 years ago now.
Dad’s shop – a relatively tranquil place, mid 1950s
I don’t think Dad’s place changed much over the decades. That site is now a rock bar, Project Orange. “Trendy” according to CAMRA , which, although an authority on real ale, might not be an authority on trendiness.
Anyway…
…here’s what I wrote in my diary around that time.
Wednesday 29 January 1986 – Returned from Keele first thing – had a sedate day at work & got some work done. Very tired in evening – went to bed quite early.
Thursday 30 January 1986 – Went to Golders Green for stocktake in morning – quite interesting. Spent afternoon in the office. Had a lazy evening in this evening.
Forty years on, I find terms like “sedate” to describe a day in the office and “quite interesting” to describe a stocktake in Golders Green somewhat impenetrable.
Friday 31 January 1986 – Work in office all day – except for rushing off to VL [Laurence Corner] for wages panic. Had a drink with Mike, Sandra, Terry + others after work. Mum + Dad went out in eve – had dinner listened to records etc, watched A Taste of Honey on TV.
I was reading plays like they were going out of fashion at that time and remember that I had really liked A Taste Of Honey by Shelagh Delaney. I don’t usually much like film versions of plays, but I thought this one was the dog’s bollocks…and still do.
Saturday 1 February 1986 – Rose early + went to shop with dad. Went through books, etc. Bought 2 pairs of trousers in Streatham + had lunch + then did some more work. Had a lazy evening at home pretty tired.
Gosh I remember buying those trousers, in a so-called boutique in Streatham. I was trying to smarten up a bit, but I don’t think I did anything like as good a job on myself as Nano Banana’s reimagining of me in my new trousers. I certainly didn’t dare to go quite that bright in colour in those days.
Me in trendy trousers, reimagined by Nano Banana 2.1
Sunday 2 February 1986 – Rose quite early – sorted out photographs etc. Had Italian lunch + then went to G[randma] Jenny in afternoon for tea. Went from Streatham to Kate [Fricker]’s place for supper – John [White] & Andy [Crawford] were there – phoned Pady [Jalali] & had bagels etc – had plenty to drink. Missed last tube train + stayed over.
What Kate was doing in Hampstead rather than Keele in early February I really couldn’t say. perhaps seeking some quiet study away from Keele during term time! In any case, that gathering sounds like it was fun.
Monday 3 February 1986 – Went home very early -> work after. Pretty tired at office but work OK. Had an early night.
uesday 4 February 1986 – Work OK – in office today. Lazy evening at home – did nothing very useful.
Wednesday 5 February 1986 – In office today – quite busy today. Had a quiet evening in.
Thursday 6 February 1986 – [No entry]
Friday 7 February 1986 – [No entry]
Saturday 8 February 1986 – Went to the library in morning -> Dad’s shop to sort out books etc – for last time. Quite tired in evening – stayed at home + did nothing.
Yup, we took those books of account home and I spent several evenings finishing off dad’s accounts and doing the sole-trader-closing-down tax returns, which was a money saver for dad and good “proper practice” towards my exams for me.
Sunday 9 February 1986 – Went to U[ncle] Josh [Moliver] stone setting – back to Sadie’s -> to Briegals [Jacqueline & Len] after with cousins etc for wine. Met Petra – went for Indonesian – very nice meal – came back late to stay after.
Josh Moliver centre back with arms stretched. From the front working back – Hannah Green (nee Pizan), Hazel Jacobs (nee Moliver), Jacquie Briegal (nee Moliver), Sidney Pizan, behind right, Sadie Moliver.
Josh was a lovely fellow whom I (and I am sure all who knew him well) remember(ed) warmly. All those depicted in the above 1936 picture (with thanks to Sidney Pizan) are no longer with us. Coincidentally, I attended Jacquie Briegal’s stone setting only a couple of weeks before writing up this article, in the autumn of 2026.
Not sure where exactly Petra and I dined that evening, but I’m guessing Bali on Edgware Road. Petra might remember.
Monday 10 February 1986 – Saw Petra off – went to cafe – read for a while. Work OK – quite tired tho! Had a lazy evening & early night.
Tuesday 11 February 1986 – Work OK – had to go to [tax] Commissioners meeting in Woolwich in morning – OK. Stayed in eve.
The tax commissioners in Woolwich would have been a client assignment, I hasten to add. I hadn’t (and didn’t) get dad into a tax pickle by doing his closing years tax returns.
Saturday 25 January 1986 – Got up reasonably early – tried to do some work – went to Newcastle for tea + did some shopping, went round to L49 for a while + then went home. Had chicken in yellow bean sauce for dinner – (I cooked) + turned in reasonably early.
Sunday 26 January 1986 – Again got up fairly early + tried to get some work done + read paper. Went over to Kate [Fricker, now Susan] in afternoon – Petra followed, as Ruth [Miller] did a bunk. Went home + had gevikeltekraut for dinner but not too pleasant evening thereafter.
I can’t remember who was living in L49 that year. Hayward Burt and Pete Wild were still in L54 – my old flat, I’m pretty sure. Something tells me that Ali Dabbs might have moved to L-Block Barnes that year.
As for the cooking, I took credit for the chicken in yellow bean sauce (mine would have had fewer peppers in it). I’m guessing that Petra cooked the gevikeltekraut, although it might have been a Benita Wishart special, that dish. I don’t expect either of them to remember.
That weekend’s cooking illustrated with help from Nano Banana 2.1
Monday 27 January 1986 – Tired today – went to town for a while – did a little work etc. The afternoon was again rather strained but went to the AGM in evening + got rather drunk there. Fairly late night.
Tuesday 28 January 1986 – Again quite tired – did a little work – went to town at noon – met Ashley [Fletcher], came back to Petra’s etc. Went to Pinocchio’s for dinner in the evening – had trouble getting back but managed to do so. Very nice evening, lateish night.
Wednesday 29 January 1986 – Returned from Keele first thing – had a sedate day at work & got some work done. Very tired in evening – went to bed quite early.
Thank goodness Ashley got a mention in the diaries – he gets most upset if he is absent from Keele-related diary entries from that era.
I sense that the strain of the long distance relationship was starting to tell on both me and Petra, based on these diary notes. Perhaps more tellingly, I was starting to sense that student life was now for other people, not for me.
One thing I particularly remember was finding the prevailing chart music that season especially trite. While the students were no doubt digging A-ha, Dire Straits & Billy Ocean, all riding high in the charts…
…I found those tracks intensely irritating at that time and, strangely, returning to them, still do.
My music listening was orienting towards big, big, symphonies around that time. I mentioned Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony in an earlier piece about returning to Keele. I also especially remember the strains of Bruckner’s Fourth echoing around my head in those days, as I stood on those cold railway platforms and sat in those trains back and forth [did you see what I did there?] to Keele.
It’s not as far away from student-oriented rock music as some readers might think. The riff in Seven Nation Army by the White Stripes is surely based on the motif from Bruckner’s Fifth, which is almost too cool for school…or too much of a steal for Keele.
Saturday 18 January 1986 – Busy day – did quite a lot of shopping, got hair cut went to Brixton etc. Went up West in evening, met Bobbie, went to see My Beautiful Laundrette + then had a Vietnamese meal. Very nice evening.
In the absence of my diary, I’d have sworn that I saw My Beautiful Laundrette with John White, but clearly I saw it with Bobbie. I remember thinking it a truly excellent film.
The restaurant we ate in afterwards was almost without question Saigon in Frith Street, which was pretty much the only Vietnamese Restaurant up west in those days.
Sunday 19 January 1986 – Rose fairly early + had large Chinese lunch with folks + lazyish afternoon & evening at home taping, reading etc.
Monday 20 January 1986 – At work in Sam Phillips factory this week – not too pleasant really. Had a lazy evening tonight.
Tuesday 21 January 1986 – Still at factory in Finsbury Park – working quite hard. Had a quiet evening at home.
Wednesday 22 January 1986 – Working at factory in Finsbury Park today. Went into town to meet John [White] after work – Andy [Crawford] was there too. Went to Punch & Judy – had a few drinks then on to Kowloon restaurant – got home quite late.
Thursday 23 January 1986 – Working in Finsbury Park today – which is OK if you like that sort of thing. Quite tired + had a lazyish evening in this evening – watched some TV etc.
I really didn’t like working in that Finsbury Park garment factory, did I? And who could blame me? It was cold and far from friendly.
Friday 24 January 1986 – Work or went to Finsbury Park in morning – rushed back met Caroline [Freeman, now Curtis] for lunch – worked in office in afternoon. Went to Euston – had a drink – went up to Keele – arrived late & very tired. Petra [Wilson] cooked mussels (delicious) in evening – very nice.
I had arranged a short break in Keele for the next few days, which included the AGM, which was one of those events that the previous committee was “expected” to attend, as this “order” from the Union attests:
Michael Ratcliffe On Lettice Sun, Nov 1, 1987 – 22 · The Observer (London, Greater London, England) · Newspapers.com
Billington On Lettice Thu, Oct 29, 1987 – 22 · The Guardian (London, Greater London, England) · Newspapers.com
