Confirmed Mauritius, The Overcrowded Barracoon, 10 April 1979

So this was the day that I confirmed that I would spend five weeks of the summer of 1979 in Mauritius.

The kind Biltoo family gave me an extraordinary opportunity, in 1979, to visit the beautiful island of Mauritius as a family guest, not as a regular tourist, for five weeks, along with Anil (my school friend at Alleyn’s) and his father Dat. It proved to be a life-changing, life-enhancing experience for me; an act of wonderful generosity and hospitality on the part of that family.

I have written up the visit extensively, starting here:

First Letter From Mauritius, 16 July 1979

There is a placeholder posting with links to photos and film – click here or below:

Mauritius, July & August 1979, Overview, Summary and Picture Links

As far as I can tell, this is the one and only one reference to my trip to Mauritius in my diary, prior to the visit:

Saw Anil today. Confirmed Mauritius…

I want to use this date to record my thoughts about VS Naipaul’s extensive essay/article about Mauritius, written in the early 1970s, The Overcrowded Barracoon.

Actually I cannot remember when I read The Overcrowded Barracoon at Dat Biltoo’s request. I am fairly sure that Dat more or less insisted that I read the article before making my decision as to whether or not to join the Biltoo family for five weeks in Mauritius.

It’s not a very complimentary piece. Perhaps Dat thought it would put me off. Or rather, that if it did put me off that it would be better that I didn’t join them. Or rather, that if the essay sparked my interest rather than put me off, that I would be a suitable companion for them. It did the latter; I was fascinated.

I think Dat lent me the book and I think that both my parents read the article too.

I remember thinking that the politics of that island sounded incredibly complicated and I remember not really understanding many of the points that VS Naipaul was making. For example, his comments about South Africa and Mauritius not being a place that would appeal to the anti-apartheid protester only made sense to me once I got to Mauritius.

In fact, the only point from the article that really stuck in my mind for 40 years was the notion that young, unmarried women of South Asian origin were chaperoned on Mauritius. Perhaps that point stuck because chasing girls formed a fairly major chunk of my brain space by the spring of 1979. I was 16 for goodness sake. Perhaps that point stuck because my father warned me quite sternly to be careful in my behaviour towards girls.

I do recall asking Dat some questions about the article before we went and that he answered my questions kindly, with brevity, mostly in the style of “you’ll see when we get there”. He was right.

I also recall one of my questions relating to the swastika symbol which I found perturbing but which Dat explained is a good Hindu symbol that had been misappropriated and used as an evil symbol by the Nazis.

On rereading The Overcrowded Barracoon 40 years later (August 2019) I realise what an insightful yet flawed essay that article was. The thoughts on Mauritian post-independence politics were fascinating, with the benefit of my direct experience and then hindsight in the following years.

But I think VS Naipaul’s derision about hopes for the tourism industry and the risk of overcrowding on the island have proved misguided. Naipaul was sniffy at the idea that Mauritius might increase its annual tourist footfall from 20,000 per annum to 300,000 per annum. Within 50 years of independence, Mauritius was happily accommodating over 1.3 Million tourists per annum. The population has also grown, from c800,000 to just over 1.3 Million. Almost exactly one tourist visit per Mauritian resident from 2016 onwards.

Whether or not the place is now overcrowded is a matter for conjecture, but it is certainly no longer a de facto slave colony, nor is it dependent upon munificence from dodgy neighbours and/or former colonial powers. Indeed Mauritius is now perceived as an economic success story and a major tourist destination.

But I had the opportunity to visit the nascent independent Island state (just over 10 years after independence) through and with a large, diverse Mauritian family. As my travelogues attest, that was a very special experience for a 16 tear old kid. I shall be forever grateful to the Biltoo family for giving me that experience.

An Evening At The George Canning, 8 April 1979

I enjoyed several evenings of beer and music with mates from Alleyn’s at the George Canning pub, Effra Road, Brixton.

I was reminded of it (April 2017) while writing up the party and rambling events of the following (Easter) weekend of April 1979 – click here – by spotting the following diary entry from the previous weekend, 8 April:

Went to George Canning in eve

No information in that diary entry on who my companions were that evening. I remember going to the George Canning with Jim Bateman more than once and also I’m pretty sure Mark Stevens. Perhaps also Paul Deacon and/or Graham Majin on at least one occasion; others joined us too, I think, on one visit or another. This aspect of my memory needs help.

But I do remember those evenings at the George Canning reasonably well.

In 1979, the pub looked more like the 1905 picture from this urban history site than the 2003 picture – click here – even though colour photography had just about emerged by 1979 (albeit not often in my camera).

As I recall it, the music on all my visits was British Rhythm & Blues – click here – much like the first albums by bands like the Rolling Stones, Manfred Mann, The Moody Blues, the Animals etc. Whether that R&B was the style of the place always or whether that was merely what you got on the nights we could afford, I don’t know.

But we could afford these evenings on a bit of saved pocket money. The beer was just a few pence more than normal, but if you eked out two pints over the evening you could still get a whole evening of beer and music for a quid.

The George Canning type of pub wasn’t a salubrious environment back then. I’m talking about 1979 Brixton, not the hipster “south-Shoreditch-like” inner London neighbourhood of today.

Indeed I don’t suppose my mum would have approved of us going there had she realised what a dive this pub was at that time; but Effra Road was also the location of the Brixton Shule (synagogue), so (in her mind) what could possibly go wrong just a hundred yards or so up the road from there?

From our point of view, it always felt safe and welcoming enough. The nights we went to the place, it was mostly populated by people who were there for a few beers and some music. Perhaps a few old regulars bemoaning the noise, but on the whole there was a sense of shared music-following purpose.

The place is now far more venue than drinking house; Hootananny Brixton – click here to see the site.

“Over 21s only” it says at the top of the web site…that might have proved to be a bit of a problem for us 16/17 year-olds.

Not bad reviews on Yelp for the current venue – click here.

Not so sure about it as a hostel if TripAdvisor reviews are to be believed – click here.

But looking back to 1979, other old friend’s memories of those outings to the George Canning would be most welcome.

Update: when I shared this piece on the Alleyn’s 1970s Facebook Group, both Mark Stevens and Neil Voce owned up to having been part of that scene.

Mark Stevens wrote:

I used to go and see a blues band there – the Southsiders…I think they were the band that pushed me towards blues more than anything else…

Neil Voce wrote:

Definitely used to go to see them at the George Canning as it was and the two brewers in Clapham

BBYO National Convention 29 December 1978 to 1 January 1979

As I write on 31 December 2018, I find it hard to believe that it is 40 years since I attended the BBYO National Convention 1978/1979, my second National Convention.

I took loads of black and white photographs at that 1978/1979 convention – four rolls of film by my reckoning. At some point, someone must have taken some photographs for me:

Incontrovertible evidence that I wore baggy flares in those days. This is the Streatham clan performing some sort of a skit. We all look like we could do with a good meal.
I’m not sure where this busker came from or which day this picture was taken, but the poor fellow (like many of us) looks as though he needed a good meal and some decent clothes. We must all hope that he went on to make something of his life:

Jeffrey Spector in skittish mode

On 31 December 1978, Jeffrey Spector, who is sadly no longer with us, was installed as the National president for 1979. Although I didn’t know it then, some months later I was co-opted onto Jeffrey’s National Executive to edit the magazine for the last few months of 1979. It was an honour and privilege for me to have worked with him (and others of course) in that capacity.

I’m not too sure what was happening at this juncture but I am pretty sure this was taken on Jeffrey’s installation day and would have been part of that day’s ceremony/procedure.

There’s loads that I’d like to write about this convention and other BBYO happenings, but I think I should consult with others before delving into details.

One abiding memory of this particular convention is the extremely cold and snowy weather over New Year that year. Some scallywags took full advantage:


You can take the lad out of South London…

My diary for the three days (29 to 31 December) simply reads:

29 December: CONVENTION

30 December: SHEER

31 December: MAGIC

Whereas my diary entry for 1 January 1979 reads:

1 January: Return from convention. Cold – both sorts.

I feel immensely fortunate that I had the opportunity to share my youth with the terrific bunch of people I met through BBYO.

The Flickr album link that follows (the picture below) takes you to all the black and white photos I took and/or that were taken on my camera during that convention. Trigger warning – there are more than 140 pictures:

BBYO MN VU (19)

Twelfth Night, The Aftermath, 17 December 1978

Image of 1970s-looking youngsters, a collaboration between me and & Dall-E

I also have a recollection about the after show party, to add to the voluminous piece on my Twelfth Night Production experience.

I had invited my extant (and soon to be ex) squeeze to the last night and the after show party. She told me she was especially impressed with Nathan Ariss’s Feste – a perfectly reasonable review, as I recall his performance was somewhat of a highlight. But at the party she seemed to put quite a lot of effort into letting Nathan know how impressed she had been. Nathan seemed in no rush to restore the natural dating order of things either. I let the girl know what I thought and I think that might have been my penultimate date with her. And it was a really really serious relationship – it had been going on for at least 5 or 6 weeks by then so was probably our 8th or 9th date.

I’m over it now. I really am.

I shared this recollection with the Alleyn’s Facebook group and made my peace with Nathan Ariss all these years later, not that there was ever an absence of peace at the time; I’m sure he was blissfully unaware of the matter back then.

Indeed, reflecting on the matter decades later, Nathan confused my lass with some other lass who had chatted him up/been chatted up by him at that party.  

What a carry on – teenagers – honestly.

Twelfth Night, Alleyn’s School, 12, 14, 15 & 16 December 1978

Malvolio (Martin Brassell), Sir Toby Belch (Chris Grant) & Fabian (David Wellbrook). Thanks to Paul Hamer for extracting from Scriblerus.

Squeaky Newton (John Newton, the Deputy Head) tapped me up for this production, but I didn’t want to act again after the Andorra experience, which I had enjoyed but which had convinced me that, while I loved theatre, the boards weren’t really for me. But Squeaky persevered and suggested that I help with the production behind the scenes. I realised that I wanted to do that. He also suggested that I take a small part, Valentine, otherwise I’d feel a bit spare on the nights of the actual show.

Then, with various droppings out (Mark Stevens was originally cast as Antonio) I ended up with two parts and a fairly sizeable one in Antonio with only about four week’s notice for that one.

Meanwhile, I was so blasé about this production I didn’t mention it in my diary at all until a passing mention of “rehearsal” on Friday 17 November before going on to the grandmothers’ (yes, that apostrophe is in the right place, I did the rounds that night, “G Jenny for dinner, then on to G Anne”) places.

Occasional mentions of rehearsals for the rest of November, then best part of 2 weeks with no diary entries at all – very rare – but I guess the play and my other commitments were keeping me a bit too busy.

Next entry is 8 December “rehearsal for play till late”, then:

  • 10 December “dress rehearsal went quite well for 12th Night”,
  • 11 December “day of ignoring school play completely” (not really completely, because I mention the play in my diary entry),
  • 12 December “12th Night matinee then on to BBYO (youth club) with makeup on still”,
  • 13 December “day off from play”,
  • 14 December “12th Night first proper night, very good”,
  • 15 December “most important night of play – went brilliantly”,
  • 16 December “went to school with Julie – last night of play – party afterwards which went on until one”.

I also have a small recollection of the after show party and its impact on the rest of my life – to follow/linked here.

Two more recollections about the production itself.   Neil Kendrick, who was one of the officers, discombobulated one night and forgot to say the “away sir”…or whatever line it was that got Paddy Gray, me and him off the stage. I recall that Paddy and I needed to concoct some ad lib business to get the three of us the heck off the stage that night!!

Because I was late to the part of Antonio, I had limited time to learn lines and rehearse the part. Squeaky had also choreographed a brief sword fight with Sir Toby Belch (Chris Grant) before the law arrives, for which Chris and I were under-rehearsed.

One night, I think the first proper performance, unsurprisingly the fight went awry. Perhaps I got over-excited and forced too hard, or perhaps Chris wasn’t holding on tight enough to his sword. It’s too late now for blame or recriminations. Chris went on to be head boy and on the Board of Sport England, so let’s guess it was my fault.

Anyway, Chris’s sword flew out of his hand and over the edge of the stage. I remember listening out for a yelp from an impaled member of the audience, but I don’t think the sword had actually gone very far. Still, there we were, Chris and me, all dressed up, no place to go with our fight. The law weren’t expecting to come on to stop the fight for another 30 seconds or so. Another ad-lib classic, mercifully lost to posterity.

“Did you get good notices?” I hear you cry. Pretty good, it turns out. My recollection was that I had been damned with some faint praise, but in November 2020 Paul Hamer (thanks, Paul) dug out and dusted off his Scriblerus (as it were) to uncover the following rather charming notice by Chris Chivers, an English master who did not generally look kindly upon my slovenly approach to formal grammar. 

With many thanks also to Mike Jones, who somehow survived being my form master and teaching me geography in the third year, preserved the programme and uploaded it to our Alleyn’s Facebook Group.

Twelfth Night Page One
Twelfth Night Page Two
Twelfth Night Page Three
Twelfth Night Page Four

Going Steady With A Girl, Her Name Is Julie, November-December 1978

A couple of recent happenings and one imminent happening at the time of writing, mid-October 2017, triggered this early romance memory and some musical connections.

The imminent thing is the pilot of a new piece on Halloween Night 2017 (I don’t think we should read anything into the date) by my old school friend, Rohan Candappa. Rohan describes his nascent piece thus:

What I’m going to perform is a show called ‘What Listening To 10,000 Love Songs Has taught Me About Love’. It’s an exploration of love, and music, and how the two intertwine. it’s also about how our lives have a soundtrack. And how the songs on that soundtrack can both contain and convey so much meaning, so much of who we are.

As it happens, a few months ago (April 2017), Rohan gave me permission to publish a written “party piece” of his here on Ogblog, which I suspect has some of the emerging themes for his performance piece. Here is a link to my cover note and link to Rohan’s (well worth a read) piece, which includes links to several of my own “party pieces” and some music links.

In one of my party pieces, describing my November 1978 party, I alluded to my progression, at that very party, from random tonsil hockey player to a somewhat steadier approach to romance.

Julie was the first person I described as my girlfriend and with whom I described myself as “going steady”. This comparatively deep and meaningful relationship lasted a full five weeks, possibly even slightly longer. So this was a really serious relationship, until it all started going awry, at the post Twelfth Night party at Alleyn’s School just before Christmas – reported on Ogblog here.

The other recent event which helped conjured up these vivid 1978 memories is more obscure. Janie and I have been listening to John Shuttleworth’s Lounge Music on Radio 4 / iPlayer. It is very silly, but Janie and I enjoy the nonsense and of course novelty/comedy music has been very much my thing since I was a youngster. I only recently discovered the fact that John Shuttleworth is the alter-ego of Graham Fellows, who first found fame as Jilted John, back in that very same autumn of 1978.

I was relentlessly teased at the time by friends who knew I was “going steady” with “a girl, her name is Julie…” with excerpts from both sides of the Jilted John record.

Now look, I must be fair on my old friends from Streatham BBYO (the youth club where Julie and I hung out in those days) and my old friends from Alleyn’s School. If one of my pals had been following, almost word for word, the trajectory of Jilted John’s hapless romances, I’d have been up there leading the teasing myself.

But the upshot is, when I look back on the soundtrack of that first steady romance of mine, the only music I can truly connect with it is that Jilted John record.

Perhaps that Jilted John record really is an “exploration of love, and music, and how the two intertwine”?

Or perhaps in my case it “contains and conveys so much meaning, so much of who I am.”

If so, oh dear.

Anyway, try both sides of the record; I must admit to enjoying hearing both again after all this time.

Parenthetically, I’m sure I can hear the riff from the 1980 classic, “Stand Down Margaret” by The Beat in “Going Steady”. Stand Down Margaret has its own place in my life’s soundtrack, a little bit later in my young life, from the University days.

Also parenthetically, Going Steady was originally the A-Side of the record…

…but the Jilted John side went down better on radio play and became the A-side. The “Julie” story is within the better known side of the record – Jilted John:

Abandoned By My Parents, The Only Thing For It Was To Party, 11 to 12 November 1978

8 November 1978 – Mum and Dad left first thing for Israel. School OK – cooked myself a delishous [sic] dinner.

Crumbs – my folks didn’t hang around – I had only turned 16 six weeks before they disappeared off on holiday and left me entirely on my tod.

9 November 1978 – School OK, played fives. Went next door for dinner. Linda came round later.

What a good sort Linda has always been. The diary shows many visits from Linda during those few weeks of parental absence. I’m sure Linda’s caring instincts were already in full force and she wanted to make sure I was OK on my own in that house.

10 November 1978 – School boring. Went to Auntie Pam’s for Indian dinner

11 November 1978 – Developed and printed in morning with Linda in morning. Got ready for party. Threw fantastic party…

…though I said so myself. The self-confidence, the certainty of opinion. Writing now (March 2017) I’d describe it as a positively Trumpian diary entry.

12 November 1978 It went on until approximately 6:15 in the morning…

…that’s a very specific, approximate timing from Ian Junior…

…went in evening to Stanmore installation (boring) and dance (great).

More certainty of opinion! I can only apologise to the Stanmore club members. In mitigation, I had discovered tonsil hockey earlier that year and was probably keen to try out my skills at the post installation party, hence my boredom during the official ceremony and my delight at the dance. Judging by the diary hieroglyphics and my memory this was a successful evening (indeed a very successful weekend) by my main criterion of success during that era.

13 November 1978 – Got home in the early hours to find an apple pie bed.

I have tried hard to extract confessions for this one; I have got precisely nowhere.

Possible culprits?

More likely culprits

The Double Dealer by William Congreve, Olivier Theatre, 12 October 1978

What a memorable day and special event; a group of us from Alleyn’s School saw The Double Dealer at the Olivier Theatre, having earlier been given a backstage tour of the National and a few weeks before before that been given the opportunity to “workshop” some of the scenes from The Double Dealer with National Theatre understudies and assistant directors.

Yet, so many years on, I struggled to remember much detail about the day of the theatre visit itself. My diary is not much help:

Thursday: Went to Curtain Theatre – Hillel House – Olivier Theatre. Great day.

So there you have it. Great day. What else would I need to write down? After all, it was such a memorable day I would remember every intricate detail – right? Wrong.

I am writing this Ogblog piece on 12 December 2018, the morning before I shall see The Double Dealer again, for the first time in over 40 years. I might recover some more memories of this 1978 day while watching at the Orange Tree Theatre, but I doubt it. 

So I decided to “shout out” to my old school mates yesterday, hoping that some would chip in with memories of their own. That proved to be a good shout. Here’s Simon Ryan – who in fact shared lots of memories of our Lower 6th drama course – several of which will pop up in other Ogblog pieces in the fullness of time:

The trip to the National Theatre was a Thursday afternoon matinee at the National Theatre’s Olivier Theatre. Dorothy Tutin had a lead role. The supporting actors from the afternoon’s main show, included Gawn Grainger and Glyn Grain (Duncan Foord and I laughed at them rather than with them, I remember).

It was most definitely part of the Drama AO level course run by Mike Lempriere.

Can’t remember the details about other schools attending.

I remember Dan O’Neill knew the guy who gave us the backstage tour and relayed to us that he needed us to give him a favourable review to help him out. (Dan O’Neill’s elder brother, Hugh and the guy who ran the Bear Pit whose name eludes me, (Stephen Fry? ) but who looked rather like a Restoration fop with long curly black hair, both worked at the NT which is why he had an inside track.

I thought that Simon meant John Fry (not Stephen). John was the Journeyman in the Bear Pit’s production Andorra with us earlier that yearand no doubt went on to further Bear Pit glories later. I didn’t recall the foppish hair…probably because Simon was thinking of Tom Fry. Robert Kelly recalls:

The Bear Pit guy was Tom Fry (not Stephen Fry) and he had a younger brother John… Tom Fry was just as you describe, I thought he was the coolest thing I had ever seen when I first saw him. In fact he may still be…

It is interesting that Simon particularly remembers Dorothy Tutin‘s role. I did remember that, but I particularly remember the production for Ralph Richardson, not least because my parents went on and on about it being such an honour for me to see Ralph Richardson perform on the stage, albeit in his dotage.

Coincidentally, I have recently come across Ralph Richardson in a different context; on of the tennis professionals at Lord’s pointed out to me the similarity between my real tennis bag and that of Sir Ralph’s as exhibited in the main reception at Lord’s: 

Sir Ralph’s kit. The legend with the exhibit reads, “…Although not a very gifted player, Sir Ralph was a devotee of real tennis…”
My kit. Mercifully, no legend provided with my exhibit. 

But I digress. My point really is…what a cast! I mean, yes I know I am about to shout, WHAT A CAST!

The Theatricalia entry, with cast and crew for this production of The Double Dealer, can be found here.

Here are just some of the names (beyond Dorothy Tutin and Ralph Richardson) from the cast list who, in my view, either were or went on to be stars of stage and screen:

  • Nicky Henson
  • Dermot Crowley
  • Judi Bowker
  • Brenda Blethyn
  • Sara Kestelman
  • Robert Stephens
  • Michael Bryant
  • Janet Whiteside

Naturally, I am unable to assess how good a production or collection of performances that really was – it was the first time I had seen a major production of anything. I was completely star struck and stage struck by the whole experience. I thought it was simply the most amazing thing I had ever seen on the stage. Frankly, at that time, it unquestionably was. I guess I would be still be thrilled by that production if I could see it now.

Here’s Jerry Moore, talking about the Drama course generally as well as his memory of that particular outing:

It was an enjoyable course and really developed my enthusiasm for the theatre. Mike [Lempriere] was an excellent teacher but I remember he didn’t like Dorothy Tutin.

Funnily enough, I remember being disappointed with Dorothy Tutin too – but perhaps I was simply absorbing what my drama teacher had said and reflecting it as my own opinion. Anyway, what did we know? Dorothy Tutin picked up an Olivier Award that year for that performance.

The other thing I have done, prior to seeing the play again in December 2018, is actually read the whole play, for the first time.

What a simple, singular, linear plot. Just hints of subplot – Lady Pliant’s intrigues (although they are all connected to the main plot) and the parenthetic dalliance between Brisk and Lady Froth – with which I had so much fun a few weeks earlier at the rehearsal rooms. But oh so simple a storyline for a play of that period.

Congrieve recognises the simplicity in his (typically late 17th Century style) self-effacing dedication. To be fair, he was only 24 when he wrote this play and I think I can see signs of greater things to come.

Here is a link to the full text of the play from Project Gutenberg – free and available to all.

The music in the 1978 production was a new score by Harrison Birtwistle. I cannot find a source for that, but here is the overture from original score, by Henry Purcell:

I’d love to hear more memories and recollections, either from people who were part of our school party or indeed anyone else who remembers this production.

To echo Jerry Moore’s words, this was one of the main events that forged my lifelong enthusiasm for and love of the theatre. I realise that I was incredibly privileged to be allowed this experience and shall always be grateful for it.

Working With National Theatre Cast And Crew “Workshopping” Extracts From The Double Dealer, Curtain Theatre, 22 September 1978

A simply wonderful experience through the school, spread over two dates. In October we had a backstage tour at the National Theatre and then saw a matinee of The Double Dealer at the Olivier Theatre.

But firstly, on this September day, several of us visited the Curtain Theatre, a place the National Theatre must have been using as rehearsal space at that time, where we had the opportunity to work with understudies and assistant directors, “workshopping” some scenes from The Double Dealer.

Friday: Went to Curtain theatre (acted through restoration) Fantastic time there

That’s all the kid wrote, folks. And so far (writing more than 40 years later, 12 December 2018), my shout out to my fellow pupils has drawn a blank on this element of the experience, but has confirmed that this experience was part of a Drama AO level course several of us were taking with Michael (Mike) Lempriere.

I have a strong recollection of girls from another school (I think Mary Datchelor? or was it St Martins Girls?) being involved on that initial workshop day. The actors/understudies, who were getting us to workshop bits of the play, were trying to get us (and to some extent succeeding in getting us) flirting in a Restoration style, mostly by telling the boys that the girls really did fancy them and vice versa. 

I was allocated the part of Brisk in a fairly short scene (a minor subplot in an otherwise fairly linear play) in which Brisk reveals his (formerly only faintly disguised) passion towards Lady Froth and finds that the physical attraction is reciprocated.

I shall attempt to replicate below the dialogue between a 16-year-old me (at that time only fairly recently acquainted with the physical pleasures of tonsil-hockey and fumbling with girls in the real world) and the actor who was helping me with my costume and preparing me / egging me on, before I tried out the scene with the mystery girl from another school.

ACTOR: Have you noticed the way she’s been looking at you all morning?

ME: No?

ACTOR: I think she must really fancy you.

ME: I don’t think so?

ACTOR: Oh yes, I really do think so. Anyway, she’s a lovely looking girl.

ME: Do you think so?

ACTOR: Oh yes, a buxom wench with a touch of the gypsy about her if I’m not at all mistaken. You should have some fun acting out this scene with her…

I mean, honestly, if the political correctness and #MeToo movements got hold of this stuff, all the institutions and individuals involved would have a lot of explaining to do.

Here is the scene I acted out with the mystery school girl, who was doubtless being egged on by her actress/dresser as much as I was. The extract below is extracted from and linked to the Project Gutenberg version of the play; a project which I commend to anyone who wants to retrieve and read out of copyright texts for free:

SCENE VI.
[To him] Lady Froth.
BRISK [Sings, walking about.]  ‘I’m sick with love,’ ha, ha, ha, ‘prithee, come cure me.  I’m sick with,’ etc.  O ye powers!  O my Lady Froth, my Lady Froth, my Lady Froth!  Heigho!  Break heart; gods, I thank you.  [Stands musing with his arms across.]
LADY FROTH.  O heavens, Mr. Brisk!  What’s the matter?
BRISK.  My Lady Froth!  Your ladyship’s most humble servant.  The matter, madam?  Nothing, madam, nothing at all, egad.  I was fallen into the most agreeable amusement in the whole province of contemplation: that’s all—(I’ll seem to conceal my passion, and that will look like respect.)  [Aside.]
LADY FROTH.  Bless me, why did you call out upon me so loud?
BRISK.  O Lord, I, madam!  I beseech your ladyship—when?
LADY FROTH.  Just now as I came in, bless me, why, don’t you know it?
BRISK.  Not I, let me perish.  But did I?  Strange!  I confess your ladyship was in my thoughts; and I was in a sort of dream that did in a manner represent a very pleasing object to my imagination, but—but did I indeed?—To see how love and murder will out.  But did I really name my Lady Froth?
LADY FROTH.  Three times aloud, as I love letters.  But did you talk of love?  O Parnassus!  Who would have thought Mr. Brisk could have been in love, ha, ha, ha.  O heavens, I thought you could have no mistress but the Nine Muses.
BRISK.  No more I have, egad, for I adore ’em all in your ladyship.  Let me perish, I don’t know whether to be splenetic, or airy upon’t; the deuce take me if I can tell whether I am glad or sorry that your ladyship has made the discovery.
LADY FROTH.  O be merry by all means.  Prince Volscius in love!  Ha, ha, ha.
BRISK.  O barbarous, to turn me into ridicule!  Yet, ha, ha, ha.  The deuce take me, I can’t help laughing myself, ha, ha, ha; yet by heavens, I have a violent passion for your ladyship, seriously.
LADY FROTH.  Seriously?  Ha, ha, ha.
BRISK.  Seriously, ha, ha, ha.  Gad I have, for all I laugh.
LADY FROTH.  Ha, ha, ha!  What d’ye think I laugh at?  Ha, ha, ha.
BRISK.  Me, egad, ha, ha.
LADY FROTH.  No, the deuce take me if I don’t laugh at myself; for hang me if I have not a violent passion for Mr. Brisk, ha, ha, ha.
BRISK.  Seriously?
LADY FROTH.  Seriously, ha, ha, ha.
BRISK.  That’s well enough; let me perish, ha, ha, ha.  O miraculous; what a happy discovery.  Ah my dear charming Lady Froth!
LADY FROTH.  Oh my adored Mr. Brisk!  [Embrace.]

It was fun and I recall rather well what the good-looking girl looked like. I also recall that she and I had a friendly conversation afterwards, got on quite well, but I think we both realised that the play was the thing and we didn’t actually fancy each other. Predictably hilarious results averted, no thanks to the mischievous National Theatre team.

In my case, it was probably as much a useful lesson for my next real world teenage wooing experience (which was becoming a more regular feature of my leisure time by that time) as it was a lesson in how to act.

Sadly, I cannot find any information online regarding the “modern” Curtain Theatre – i.e. the place that the National was using as rehearsal space in the late 1970s. Nothing to do with the Tudor/Jacobean period Curtain Theatre. Perhaps someone who knows about it will stumble across this piece and fill in some details.

One other extraordinary thing (to me) that I have discovered about this day, is when it happened. Because according to the Theatricalia entry for the National Theatre production of The Double Dealer, 22 September 1978 was the first preview night for the production.

It seems to me extraordinary that the National Theatre made so much resource available on the day of the opening night for a bunch of schoolkids from a couple of South London schools. Perhaps this was due to the connections that Alleyn’s had or perhaps that was the way of things – by opening night a lot of people had completed their role with the main cast and could move on to sub-projects such as trying to make sixteen-year-old boys and girls even friskier with each other than they would have been without help.

It really was a most memorable day and it made the subsequent experience – seeing The Double Dealer, including Nicky Henson and Brenda Blethyn act out the scene I had worked on a few week’s earlier – all the more special and thrilling. 

I already had the drama bug to some extent, of course, but this was one of the main experiences that cemented my lifelong enthusiasm for and love of the theatre.

An Unusual French Lesson, Alleyn’s School, c5 June 1978

I had a strange Alleyn’s School memory flash this morning (26 April 2017) while walking between meetings.

It must have been triggered by a conversation over the weekend in which a French gentleman named Bertrand was mentioned. I started to refer to the gentleman as Plastic Bertrand, unwittingly. (Yes, I know Plastic Bertrand is Belgian).

Then the memory flash. Summer 1978. A few weeks before our French ‘O’ level.

Our French teacher, the late lamented Trevor Tindale, had clearly become aware that the song “Ça plane pour moi” by Plastic Bertrand was riding high in the pop charts.

Naturally our ‘O’ level chances would be enhanced if we understood the idioms in the lyrics of that song. Also our grades might be enhanced if we thought carefully about improving the lyrics’ dodgy grammar and Franglais.

So we spent a few minutes in class deconstructing Ça plane pour moi.

Please don’t quiz me now on all the nuances of all the words and phrases. I don’t want to shame other less able students.

But still I should in all modesty report that I’m pretty sure I still know what “wham, bam, mon chat splatch” means. I can also make a pretty good fist of translating, “you are the king of the divan”.

I’m guessing c5 June 1978, as the song didn’t reach the top 10 until the preceding (half term) week and I’m fairly sure Trevor didn’t lighten the tone of the class this way just before the ‘O’ level.

If anyone else remembers this happening, I’d love to read some comments on it.

To jog memories further, here is a video of Plastic Bertrand singing the song with the lyrics all over the screen:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EfqGecFhaTc