Alleyn’s – Ian Louis Harris

Cous Cous Club Christmas Dinner At Souk, 17 December 2025

The Cous Cous Club is a gathering of Alleyn’s Old Boys from the mid to late 1970s – most of whom I have therefore known for over 50 years at the time of writing. In fact many of us have been gathering occasionally and informally in this way for decades.

It was one of Rohan Candappa’s ideas to name and brand a well established thing that previously had no sense of brand identity. Rohan used to be in advertising, but now does this sort of thing in his spare time.

I missed the inaugural meeting of the Cous Cous Club at Souk back in early autumn. I was in the USA, talking at the International Tennis Hall of Fame about events 150 years ago, at another of my clubs, that led to the codification of tennis into the modern game as we know it:

1875 And All That

Still, despite the fact that I might easily confuse CCC and MCC in future conversations, Rohan invited me to join the Cous Cous Club for its first Christmas dinner and naturally I said “yes please”.

I was the first to arrive at the restaurant. Most of the party had gathered at a nearby hostelry for a pre-dinner drink, whereas I was coming hot foot from a prior engagement.

My earlier appointment had been a meeting with Professor Tim Connell, to plan my slot at the Gresham Society soirée, which this time will be in mid January rather than during the pre Christmas mêlée. I usually grace the soirée with late medieval music…sometimes more genuine than other times:

Gresham Society Soirée, Including Þe Fair Weather Canticle, 12 December 2022

As the Cous Cous Club was on my mind, I teased Tim with the notion that I was planning, for Gresham Society, a sing-along of very, very old songs: Slade, Sweet, T-Rex, Rod…

But once I realised that Tim was close to tears and/or apoplexy at this thought, I showed him the early 17th century material, with a Gresham College connection, which I actually have in mind for the soirée sing-along. Tim then cheered up and calmed down.

Anyway, point is, as first to arrive at Souk, I got to chat with the charming and friendly waiter who was to be our main host for the evening. When I explained to him what the Cous Cous Club was, and the antiquity of our shared experience, the waiter was quite blown away. I suspect that young waiter has been on the planet for less half the time we Alleyn’s Old Boys have known each other.

No pressure…

…I said to the waiter, who just beamed, knowing that he and his colleagues would be able to cope with whatever collective curve balls our group of old boys might throw at them.

Then the main gang turned up from the pub, followed by a trickle of late-comers.

So who was there?…

…I hear multiple readers cry. Let’s call the register. This is school, after all, even if it is 50+ years on:

Nick Wahla
Rohan Candappa
Claire Brooke
Paul Driscoll
Simon Ryan
Andy Feeley
Dave Leach
Steve Butterworth
Perry Harley
John Eltham
Me (obvs).

Rohan provided each of us with a fez…apart from John Eltham who, always one of the keenest scouts, had brought his own. Rohan also awarded me my Cous Cous Club membership badge, which felt a bit like being inducted into The Tufty Club, but without first having to cross the road safely.

There were a couple of notable absences, not least Lisa Pavlovsky and Dave Wellbrook. That led, naturally, to those absent friends getting the hardest time of the evening. That might seem unfair, as they had no opportunity on the night to defend themselves, but life isn’t fair. The fact that life isn’t fair is a lesson you learn early at the very best schools. You also learn it at Alleyn’s. And you especially learn that lesson at the Cous Cous Club.

Claire Brooke had come all the way from Harrogate for the evening. Rohan felt, with some justification, that a wrong from the first gathering needed to be put right.

At the early Autumn inaugural Cous Cous Club gathering, Rohan had awarded Lisa Pavlovsky with a trophy recognising her as the first female House Captain at Alleyn’s School.

Lisa, awarded, beaming, early autumn 2025. Photo “borrowed” from Facebook.

But soon after that first event, it emerged that Claire Brooke had been the first female House Captain, albeit a joint one, the previous year. Rohan felt obliged to put matters right:

Claire, beaming, with her revenge trophy, awarded by Rohan, December 2025

Chat soon turned to sport and tales of derring-do gone by. As usual, John Eltham and Nigel Boatswain reminded me about my infeasibly successful/lucky stint in goal against them (Cribbs v Duttons) although the exact details of that story keep changing in people’s memories.

Exciting news, gang – I have actually found a diary reference to that glorious day on the football pitch, which might well be my only such diary entry in all the years I kept diaries. To be Ogblogged in the fullness of time – watch that space.

Then there was reference to the question “who was the youngest grandfather”, as Andy Feeley has recently become one of those. My arithmetical brain worked out that Dave Leach must have first become a grandfather when he was younger than Andy Feeley is now…which I think is right…but apparently that wasn’t the question. Andy Feeley was the youngest person in the room who is now a grandfather.

My confusion was deemed to be Wellbrookian, which turned the conversation to thoughts of Dave Wellbrook and why he wasn’t with us.

Has the lurgy…

…was as close to a polite answer as we got.

Dave Unwellbrook, then…

…I bet no-one had ever made that joke before.

Talk then naturally turned to Wellbrook’s recent treading of the boards, which several (braver than me) Cous Cous Club members had witnessed.

Wellbrook’s self-image, from Facebook. Is this acting, the method or something entirely other?

Nick Wahla’s review was an absolute classic. I paraphrase:

Wellbrook was very much himself in that performance, but he occasionally lapsed into real acting.

Praise indeed. Nick – you really should turn your hand to being a theatre critic.

Out of nowhere, Perry Harley related a story to me about him meeting Mungo Jerry while on holiday in Bournemouth. Perry wondered whether I remembered any Mungo Jerry songs other than “In the Summertime”.

Off the top of my head, I mentioned “Alright Alright Alright” and “Long Legged Woman Dressed In Black”, which raised much mirth and some scepticism too.

It was hard to disabuse Perry and friends of the scepticism, as neither Perry nor I could get our smartphones to connect to the outside world.

Strange how my memory instantly dredged up these tunes and lyrics from that era, way back when we all first met.

Rohan shot a short clip of video that evening, which I can share with you, dear, long-suffering readers:

I wondered, on seeing that clip, whether I might now, after all these years, be even more gobby than Nick Wahla. Now THERE’S a thought.

Yet, I was hugely honoured to read, on Facebook, that Rich Davies – who is hiding in Canada, blaming a little bit of slightly inclement weather for his absence from the evening – had awarded me the Golden Camel for looking the most Moroccan amongst us. That might have had something to do with the fact that I was the last to remove my fez hat.

Anyway, in case it isn’t clear by now, it was great to see everyone and I’m pretty sure we all had a great time.

Thanks, Rohan, for being such a stalwart organiser of great get-togethers. Much appreciated. And so well branded.

Merry Cousmas everybody.

Guest Piece By Andy Dwelly: Memories Of & Thoughts On Stephen Jenkins – Alleyn’s School Teacher Extraordinaire

Stephen Jenkins in Combined Cadet Force (CCF) garb, c1975

Andy Dwelly and I were both at Alleyn’s School between 1973 and 1980. We were in the same class for one year only, in 2AK, 1974/75. But both of us, separately, experienced the phenomenon that was the “teaching style” of Mr Jenkins. In Andy’s case, as a nipper in 1C. In my case, in the third, fourth and fifth years. I have written a little about Stephen Jenkins previously and will no doubt write more as my diary trawl 1975-1978 unfolds.

Meanwhile, Andy has written the following charming, informative and thoughtful essay about the man. I am honoured and delighted that Andy has asked me to publish this piece on Ogblog.

Some memories of my life around 1973 recently resurfaced and I found myself curious about our most unusual teacher, Mr. Jenkins, or Mr. Murder as he introduced himself to class 1C in 1973. That research led to Ian’s blog and the fact that Mr Jenkin’s given name was Stephen. That was something that I’d either forgotten – or given the distance between masters and boys, never actually knew. That name turned out to be the key that reveals some things about this uncommon individual that are still available to us.

I’m older now than he was when he taught us, and although I’m sure he would have regarded it as gross impudence, I’m going to refer to him as Stephen from now on. I’m interested in the individual and I’m perfectly willing to speculate where actual facts are unavailable. There are known facts though.

Stephen was born in 1920 so he would have been in his early fifties when we first encountered him.

Given his birth year, he must have been involved in the 2nd World War in some kind of military capacity and presumably stayed in the army for some time after. He was in fact Lieutenant-Colonel Anthony Stephen Jenkins. In practical terms that means he probably would have been the commanding officer of a battalion – perhaps three to four hundred men.

If you needed to find him, to hand in some late homework for example, he could invariably be found in the CCF storage rooms in the basement level of the main school.

I was surprised when Ian pointed out that he was appointed head of the CCF in 1975, and was also in charge of a variety of other extra-curricular activities including fencing, wargames, photography, and he was house master of Brown’s as well. I wasn’t in Brown’s, so I don’t know how much of an active part he played in that area of the school, but I can report that in several years of war gaming including some rather good tank battles – I never saw him.

Eric Randall – most in our era would have associated Eric, rather than Mr Jenkins, as the CCF’s leader. Also to note, I (Ian) would have processed this picture through the Photographic Society, within which I was highly active for some years, but I don’t remember ever seeing Mr Jenkins there.

One notable characteristic of the man was that he could rhapsodise for hours on something that most reasonable people would regard as an insignificant detail. On one occasion he got started on the best way to take notes and he carefully went over his personal highly evolved system of note taking and notebooks. This included the one he carried around with him all the time, and the larger one where details got transferred to at appropriate moments. There might have been even more significant notebooks in a strict hierarchy that were used in special ways.

For some reason I have the impression that he used various coloured pens as well. Unfortunately I did not learn much more about the Fertile Crescent that I think was the actual subject of the lesson. I did learn that he had a great many notebooks and I developed a distinct impression that he would soon be checking up on us to make sure we were all carrying small notebooks as well. That last one must have struck a chord as inevitably I do happen to do that these days.

Editor’s notebook and editor’s note thereon: “I think I have spotted a pattern here, Andy”.

He was married in 1969 to a wholly remarkable woman, Thelma Hewitt. She died in 2019 and her obituary in The Times reveals perhaps more than Stephen would have liked about his own life. She certainly saw something special in him.

Stephen claimed a working knowledge of three oriental languages. Tibetan, Mongolian, and Manchu. He also had a personal interest in the Maya and said he was familiar enough with their hieroglyphs and dialects to be able to translate them. He once set me a “project” of finding out what I could about the Maya and marked me down when all I could actually locate were facts about the Aztecs. I’m inclined to take both these claims at face value.

Tikal in northern Guatemala – a magnificent Mayan site

He did in fact visit Mongolia and I suspect Tibet, around 1970 for an extended period. This was one of two claimed visits though I can find no record of the other one. Rowswell showed admirable independence of thought when he publicly doubted this story…

When Fellow Pupil Sandy Rowswell Challenged Our Alleyn’s Schoolmaster Stephen “Mr Murder” Jenkins On The Veracity Of His Tales Of Visiting Tibet, Possibly Spring 1976

Rowswell was however, completely wrong.

Stephen Jenkins went to Mongolia alone – ostensibly sent by the British Council. He returned several months later in very poor health and only able to walk slowly. He was nursed back to health by Thelma and he must have partly recovered by the time we knew him. Unfortunately the Gobi desert, a few hundred kilometres to the south was used throughout the 60s for above ground nuclear tests by China.

His condition was poorly understood at the time but I speculate that at some point he may have been exposed to a significant amount of radioactive fallout. His death from bone cancer in the ’90s might have been caused by this. I don’t have an exact date although it was probably in or near Wisbech in Cambridgeshire.

I think some of these factors might explain both the slightly fierce personality that he displayed and his disinclination to actually teach. If he had been invalided out of some senior military position he would have effectively gone from a job with a great deal of responsibility and respect to trying to teach a class of thirty or so unruly south London boys in a subject that he had training in, but no very special interest. On top of this he was not entirely well. I have to acknowledge that in terms of actually teaching he was far from the most able. I suspect some very senior strings may have been pulled to get him the position. Of course that’s pure speculation on my part.

What he was interested in was a very esoteric form of Buddhism, UFOs, ley-lines, and ghosts.

Given the Christian-centric nature of Alleyn’s he certainly downplayed his own spiritual beliefs but as he claimed to have been instructed in both the theory and practice of Tantric rituals in Mongolia, I have no doubt that he was effectively a practising Buddhist. The other obsessions (they really were obsessions) seem to have gained their power from this.

These are bold claims. Where’s the evidence?

The first is from the relatively brief obit about Thelma, published here – just click.

Mostly about Thelma naturally but Stephen gets a look in.

The rest are from his book – The Undiscovered Country – which was recently reissued by somebody or other at around £17 on Amazon.

It’s very densely written but reading through it certainly gives you a flavour of the man and his era. It’s a reprographic copy of the 1982 edition I think. The pictures are very poor quality but it’s an interesting read. This reveals his age, his language abilities, his interests, and something of what he was doing while he was in Mongolia. He doesn’t give a lot of personal details but they are there. If you want to get it, don’t confuse him with the Cornish poet of the same name. Amazon certainly has.

If you cast your mind back to the actual cultural situation in 1973, ideas similar to his were having a rather public moment. Lyall Watson’s Supernature had just been published. Dr. Who in the form of the third Doctor had spent his final six episodes partly in a Buddhist monastery in Somerset. [Stephen was certainly aware of Dr. Who]. Uri Geller had bent spoons on Blue Peter. The Sunday Times had published a full colour story on Kirlian photography and auras in their Sunday Supplement. These were just the tip of the Age of Aquarius iceberg.

Samding Monastery, Yomdrok, Tibet. Editor’s note: Janie and I have been to Tibet. Really…honestly…

I can certainly forgive Stephen for his enthusiasms and he was working in a situation that surely wouldn’t have welcomed some of his more obscure views. Given the things he was prepared to talk about, it seems strange to claim that he was actually relatively reticent, but he was and we can hardly blame him.

Certainly one or two of the other staff must have been aware at some level of what an odd duck he actually was. I recall that we were occasionally asked by various incredulous staff members what outlandish tale he had come up with in the previous lesson. The one that actually sticks in my mind was his claim that he owned a cat that could talk. I was never able to tell if he was serious with that one or simply playing with our heads. I’m also very fond of his description of the instantly deep frozen mammoths around the size of Alsatian dogs that had been discovered in Siberia – were they actually mammoths?

Thanks Stephen. Godspeed.

Just a final editor’s note…or footnote. Stephen Jenkins clearly had a long association with Alleyn’s School, having been a pupil there and having taught there for many years before his Central Asian adventures/misadventures and his years teaching us.

This is a link to the above archive photograph from 1967, on Mirrorpix, where this image and others are licensable. It depicts Stephen Jenkins with singer/actor Gary Miller and his sons, ahead of a production of Hamlet at the school. Clearly Stephen Jenkins was properly active with the Drama Society at that time. And in the great Stephen Jenkins tradition of going off at a tangent – Gary Miller’s biggest hit was the theme music to the Adventures of Robin Hood. Try listening to the following YouTube and then getting that tune out of your head.

Once again, many thanks to Andy Dwelly for this corker of a guest piece.

Found Him! An E-mail Interview With Ian Sandbrook, 50 Years After 1S At Alleyn’s School, 6 November 2023

2020 Image “borrowed” from the bowels of the Endelienta Arts website

On the morning of Rohan Candappa’s small gathering of 1S chaps in late October…

A Small Gathering Of Alleyn’s Chaps Who Started In The Class 1S Fifty Years Ago, 26 October 2023

…I thought I’d try to track down Mr Sandbrook, and indeed, a few day’s later, as reported in the above piece, I received a message from “Ian” addressed to “Ian”. Eventually it dawned on me that “Mr Sandbrook” and “Harris” were now, a mere 50 years later, on first name terms.

A few days after that, in response to my somewhat inquisitive follow-up, Ian wrote the following charming tour d’horizon of the past 50 years and a few Alleyn’s memories from his perspective.

Ian has kindly granted me permission to publish it here. It is reproduced below verbartim.

I’ve never been good at the alumni thing; I have lost touch with people with whom I have been close as I have moved to other places and situations and I have found that the few reunions I have attended have been rather hard work. But that hasn’t stopped me from wondering – frequently – what became of individuals who, somewhat unpredictably, surface from the past and come into brief but often quite sharp focus for a while.

So this 50 year-old blast from the past is quite a strange experience. I am very gratified to think that our trip to Scapino proved to be significant in some way; and I am amused that my ruse about looking for spelling errors on the blackboard has stuck in your memories. Funny to think too about how much has moved on – not many blackboards around in schools these days. Seeing the full form list of 1S set my synapses singing, although sadly only with tiny snatches of song.

I was only at Alleyns for 2 years, although they feel, in retrospect, to have been rich and full years. The salient memories were to do with the feel of the classrooms, hockey, snooker, the flat I shared with Dr Dave Wallace in Calton Avenue, particular staff such as Barry Banson, Colin Rowse, Paul Kingman – to name just a few.

Oddly enough, it was because of my role as the first-year form tutor of 1S that I moved on. I had decided that it would be a good idea to visit one or two of the schools from whom members of the class had come. Heber Primary School, in East Dulwich (which was rather rougher and tougher then than the somewhat gentrified district that it is now) was one of these. When I went to visit, the headteacher there persuaded me that I should switch to primary teaching and, cutting a longer story short, this is what I did. From there I moved into headship (at Rosendale Juniors, not far away) and on into the ILEA inspectorate. Thence to Hampshire’s school inspection and advisory service and then, eventually, to become Director of Education in Southampton. I completed my paid career with a five year freelance period as interim director of children’s services in various local authorities and as an educational consultant.

You did well to find me via Endelienta Arts. When I was a consultant in the noughties, I had a website which included a full CV. But the education consultant market contracted sharply in 2010 when austerity cut sharply into local authority budgets. My wife and I moved to North Cornwall, which we had come to know and love after my playing annually in the St Endellion Easter (classical music) Festival (also since 1973). While we were there, we helped to set up a new charity, Endelienta Arts, to run a year-round arts programme to complement the music festivals. Endelienta Arts is alive and well, responsible for regular concerts across the music genres, the North Cornwall Book Festival, reflective days, and a thriving arts outreach programme.

We moved to Lewes in December 2020 – mid lockdown – because we wanted to be closer to our grandchildren who are in Brighton and Tottenham. I’m still involved with the St Endellion Festivals in Cornwall but we are building a life in Lewes – singing in a choir, being a school governor, doing various bits of voluntary work, tending an allotment, lots of walking on the Downs, lots of culture – very much enjoying being part of a (slightly quirky) 15-minute community.

This is probably enough to answer the “I wonder what happened to him ?” question. Thank you for going to the trouble to make contact – and for the work that you do to keep the 1S community alive. As I said when I responded initially, it is gratifying to discover that one has left little bits of legacy in one’s slipstream – but it is only through the likes of you that I get to make such discoveries !

My very best wishes to all who might remember me from my brief but rewarding time at Alleyns.

I really enjoyed and was moved reading this note. Janie liked it too when I read it out to her. I feel sure that many Alleyn’s 1970s alums will appreciate the note. Thank you, Ian.

But there is just one small thing, Sir…I mean, Ian. I have spotted a spelling mistake in your e-mail. The same mistake appears twice. Does that mean I can claim 10p or 20p?

*No-one likes a cocky little 11-year-old. Worse yet, one who is still cocky after all these years*.

God’s Gift, Pure Genius, Or Both? Annex To Alleyn’s School Class Of 1980 Virtual Buttery 3, 20 January 2021

When I reviewed last week’s virtual gathering, I forgot to mention Paul Driscoll’s anecdote about the optional “prefect’s blazer” available to those of us who attained such giddy heights at Alleyn’s School. The blazer was emblazoned (pun intended) with the school crest and motto.

That motto was God’s Gift. Edward Alleyn no doubt meant that motto to symbolise education. But the phrase has a sarcastic meaning in modern parlance; e.g. “he think’s he’s God’s gift.” And as Rohan Candappa so ably puts it, “We are Alleyn’s. If you cut us we bleed sarcasm.”

Unsurprisingly, very few of us took up the offer of this optional, distinguishing garment. Beyond the sarcasm, such an emblem had every chance to land us in a heap near North Dulwich railway station, where the Billy Biros (pupils from William Penn School) needed little excuse to isolate an outlier from the Alleyn’s herd, taking severe retribution for invented sleights and offenses.

The main senior school uniform was a two-piece or three-piece suit. I have only one picture of myself wearing mine:

Me And Wendy Robbins, Autumn 1979, Westminster Bridge

I was reminded of all of this by a posting on Facebook in the Keele University alums area.

In the late 1980s, just a few years after a left Keele, when Guinness had a particular advertising slogan on the go, some fine folk in the University of Keele Students’ Union produced the following tee-shirt.

It dawned on me that I am a very rare example of someone eligible to wear not only the Alleyn’s God’s Gift blazer but also the Keele Pure Genius tee-shirt underneath the blazer.

In the dying moments of the Trump US presidency, this suitably modest mental image should be shared with the world and saved for posterity.

It’s just a shame I was unable to model the two garments together back then. I would have looked magnificent; indeed it would have been the best look ever, anywhere, for anyone.

But Me No Butteries, Virtual Buttery Gathering Of Alleyn’s Alums, 14 January 2021

This lockdown business is nobody’s idea of fun, but Rohan Candappa has been putting in some hard yards in setting up some meaningful distractions and social interactions.

This “Virtual Buttery” session was the third such gathering of the Alleyn’s School “Class of 1980”. I wrote up the first of those gatherings in the autumn:

A Virtual Gathering Of People Who Left Alleyn’s School In 1980, 12 November 2020

It wouldn’t be Alleyn’s School without homework. For this third session, Rohan (egged on by Nick Wahla) asked some exam questions:

Nick Wahla’s suggested a question to ponder: “What advice would you give to someone about to leave Alleyn’s?”
It’s a good question, and one which I am obviously going to claim credit for. But I’d also like to twist it around a bit. My question is: “What advice would you give yourself if you could go back and talk to yourself on the day you left Alleyn’s?

I chose to answer this question by Ogblogging about the day I left Alleyn’s School…

The Day I Left (Alleyn’s) School, 27 June 1980

…and confessing to the music I was putting onto my mix tapes at that time:

Mix Tapes From Around The Time That I Left Alleyn’s School, Late May To 28 June 1980

Anyway, loads of people turned up again…but not Nick Wahla – he of the exam question. Typical.

I took the headline screen grab more than an hour into the event, so several people had already come and gone by then.

Again we had participation from across the globe:

Neal “Mr” Townley in Sydney,
Andrew Sullivan in Phnom Penh,
Richard Hollingshead in Washington (desperately trying to convince us and himself that Washington State is a long, long way from security-alert-ridden Washington DC),
Paul Deacon and Rich “The Rock” Davis claiming to be in Ontario’s freezing cold lockdown, although I have a sneaking suspicion that they might actually be sunning themselves in the Caribbean, as seems to be the Ontario way,
Mark Rathbone, claiming to be in Purley, then Purely and eventually confessing to living in Kenley, a totally different place noted for famous current and former residents such as Des O’Connor, Peter Cushing, Harry Worth, Karl Popper (ironically, given this empirical falsification of the “Mark Rathbone lives in Purley” theory) and Douglas Bader – all together now – Da, da-da, da-da-da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da-da-da…or do I mean da-da, da-da-da-da-da, da-da, da-da-da-da-da-da-da…?

…I digress.

It is hard to summarise the answers to the exam questions, not least because everyone had a slightly different take on them. One theme that ran through the answers is learning quickly post school how to be yourself and follow your heart/instincts in what you want to become. Many of us suspect that we had more freedom to “find our own way” back in 1980 than pupils finishing their ‘A’ levels have now – as the route from school to career via university seems to be a more defined path now.

Some raised the matter of careers advice (it’s lack or paucity), others the more informal aspects such as teachers instilling us with confidence, arrogance or in some cases diffidence.

Naturally this led the conversation on to discussion about memorable teachers, good, bad or indifferent. Mr Jones got off pretty lightly considering he wasn’t there…

…which is more than can be said for David Wellbrook, who should have known better than to defy the wishes of Rohan Candappa by going AWOL, if Rohan’s opening remarks were anything to go by. Rohan’s willingness to turn on a loyal follower for the slightest slight is almost Trumpian in its intensity.

But then, as Rohan pointed out when the conversation turned to the vexed question of teasing, banting or bullying, we weren’t saints back then and we are hopefully a bit more grown up about it now. Well it was easy for him to say that AFTER the invective of his opening remarks.

Heck, I’m kidding. It was fun again and it seemed astonishing when Rohan pointed out that those of us who were around for the whole event had been gassing and listening for two hours.

Bumping Into Old Friends Forty-Four Years Later, 15 September 2020

Tim Church (far left), Graham Watson (left bumper), Paul Deacon (right bumper)

A couple of years ago, I wrote a piece about some schoolboy silliness from the 1970s, mostly revolving around my friend Paul Deacon, which included the above photograph:

Execution Scenes, Coin Tossers And Miscellaneous Silliness Recorded With Paul Deacon, 12 April 1977

In that piece, I promised to follow up the “bumps incident” in a further Ogblog piece, but subsequently that idea got mislaid amongst other musings and postings.

This morning, I woke up to discover this posting, from Paul Deacon, on my Facebook page; click here.

For those who don’t like clicking and/or object to Facebook, the following quote are Paul’s words on the matter:

Ian, with your recent birthday I thought of this legendary photograph of the ‘bumps’. However, with our advancing years it’s time to leave the school quad and visit pastures new.
[Several doctored versions of the above picture are displayed]
Which one appeals?

Thank you, Paul, for reminding me to write up the original incident. The time of year is apposite. It would have been around this time of year, I suspect September 1976.

My recollection is that we had witnessed somebody being given the bumps on their birthday; that was the tradition at our school and no doubt at many other schools past, present (even in these heath & safety, socially distancing, snowflakey times) and future.

Unfortunately, I chose to volunteer the information that, as my birthday takes place towards the end of the school summer holidays, I had always been spared the ritual humiliation of receiving the bumps.

Some 44 years later, I still have not mastered the art of keeping my mouth shut when it really matters. But I have got a bit better at that art. The bumps incident, so brilliantly recorded for posterity by an (as yet) uncredited photographer, was one of many salutary lessons.

There’s a lot to like about the headline photograph. Paul Deacon seems hardly able to manage my weight in the matter of deploying the bumps, Paul’s growth spurt arriving a bit later than most of ours, Graham Watson’s perhaps a bit earlier. Tim Church is feigning disconnection from the incident, but I am pretty sure he was egging the lads on or at least enjoying the show. One (as yet) unidentified boy depicted is either oblivious or indifferent to the whole matter, reading the notice boards. Another day, another schoolkid getting the bumps. This was not a special or unusual scene at Alleyn’s back then.

Anyway, Paul has relocated the central subject-matter in several eye-catching ways and asked me to choose a favourite. So here is a scrape of all five of Paul’s. I have added titles of my own and marked Paul’s homework.

I have awarded Paul an A* for those five pictures; I think they are wonderful. Unfortunately the Ofqual algorithm has downgraded Paul’s GCSE Photography to Grade U.

Nevertheless, the winner for me is that last one: Down To Earth With A Bump.

Many thanks again, Paul.

School Dinners Again, Informal Alleyn’s Alums In The City, 28 November 2019

It was about time for another of our regularly-occasional gatherings of the old school clan, so, sure enough, an e-mail came through from John Eltham several weeks ago organising this evening for us.

More than a dozen of us gathered again, most for drinks at the Walrus & Carpenter plus dinner at The Rajasthan, while a handful came to just one or other of the venues.

This felt like a bit of a homecoming to regular City venues, as the last such gathering at this time of year was relocated to different venues, for some reason:

An Award-Winning Evening During Which I Hung Out With The Alleyn’s Old Boys Crowd, Sripur Restaurant, 6 December 2018

Anyway, my need to be in the City this week cunnningly conspired to coincide with this day, so I simply wandered over to The Walrus after work.

The group was already well gathered in the cunningly hidden dowstairs bar. Mostly comprising the usual suspects, the group also included Nick Wahla for the first time. Nick was in my class in the second and third years – here’s some evidence of the former:

My Second Class At Alleyn’s School, 2AK, And Some Nicknames, guessing 1 January 1975

According to the above piece, Nick’s nickname (if you can get your head round the idea of someone named “Nick” having a nickname), was “Gob”. It’s almost impossible to imagine why Nick might ever have been known as Gob. My guess is that the epithet “Gob” was handed down to Nick by our form master, Tony King, rather than an authentic compadre’s moniker.

Mr King, purveyor of synthetic sobriquets

In the Rajasthan, I ended up at the “breezy door” end of the room, next to Nick Wahla and opposite David Wellbrook, who for once in his life was being too polite that evening to promote his latest e-book – click here or the picture link below:

Soon we were joined by Mike Jones, who, coincidentally, had been form master to all three of us in our third year. Simon Ryan enocuraged the whole table to stand up and say, “good evening, Sir” to Mike, which I’m certain caused Mike not one jot of embarrassment.

We did a bit of 3BJ reminiscing at our end of the table…and why not? I particularly remembered Nick Wahla giving “Cyril” Vaughan a hard time in our Latin classes, but Nick claimed not to remember Cyril at all and went all “innocentia effecit imitatio” on the matter of Latin disruption, while admitting to having achieved a record low in his Latin exam. 8%.

Now I’m not saying that Nick was the main or only protagonist in the matter of Cyril baiting. Heaven knows, I personally pulled the “varnishing a stash of chalk and swapping the varnished variety for all the serviceable chalk” stunt…I am now prepared at this late stage to confess to that one…perhaps my best ever practical joke…especially the cunningly hidden addtional piece of varnished chalk waiting to be discovered in the master’s desk drawer…

…but I do distinctly remember Paul Deacon’s impersonation of Cyril, which was excellent vocally, normally comprising phrases such as, “…Wahla, please put that hand grenade down, there’s a good fellow…now Wahla, please don’t pick up that machine gun in place of the hand grenade, be a nice chap…”

If we’re really lucky Paul might chime in with a Cyril voice file to enhance this memory.

Bunch of clowns, we were and I’m sure the masters took great pains at the time to tell us that we wouldn’t be able to make a living in the real world writing silly jokes, speaking in funny voices and/or by having the gift of the gab.

Nick Wahla is now deploying his gift of the gab in the world of market research; he warned us all that no shopping visit nor even the supposed security of our own homes would make us safe from a possible approach by Nick at unsuspecting moments in our lives. It’s a minor miracle, it seems, that none of us have yet encountered Nick and his clip board in the field.

Meanwhile we ate Indian food, most people drank Cobra beer, while three of us (me, David Leach and Lisa Pavlovsky) braved the Indian Shiraz – I’m not sure we’ll be making that mistake with that particular wine again – my bad idea.

There was lots of chat.

At the end of the meal, it transpired that it was Paul Driscoll’s birthday and so David Wellbrook hurriedly cajoled the waiting staff into arranging a token birthday sweet, with which to embarrass Paul.

David Wellbrook uploaded a video of the resulting merriment onto Facebook – click here if you dare.

In that vid you can see an excitable-looking me (not sufficiently sedated with wine – one glass of that Shiraz was more than enough for me) jumping up to take the following picture:

As always, it was great to see the gang and especially nice to see Nick Wahla again after all these years. Astonishingly, he was too polite to ask a range of questions about the evening, so I shall provide the answers here.

On a scale of 1 to 10, where 1 is “totally dissatisfied” and 10 is “totally satisfied”, I would give the following scores:
* quality of food, drink and service 6/10
* quality of company and feeling of bon-homie 11/10

As always, a great evening. Many thanks to John Eltham who always takes on the unenviable task of trying to herd our bunch of Alleyn-cats for these get togethers.

Is It Better With Or Without? by Rohan Candappa, The Gladstone Arms, 18 June 2019

In late May, I got this slightly strange message from Rohan Candappa:

Ian, are you around on 18 June? I’m doing a reading of a new piece of work about getting an eye test and the meaning of life at The Gladstone.

As it happened, that afternoon was the only slot I had available to go into the City to do City-based work stuff and that evening also happened to be a free evening.

Also, it was going to be a good opportunity to see old school friends, whom I had meticulously avoided seeing at the formal school 400th anniversary reunion a few days earlier, by sending a video of a mock-Jacobean musical performance rather than attending in person:

In Darkness Let Me Dwell, A Musical Setting To Honour The Founding Of Edward Alleyn’s College Of God’s Gift 400 Years Ago, 13 June 2019

As it turned out, the day became a flurry of unwanted activity (not least a hoo-ha with Axa PPP regarding Janie) and then a bit of a rush to complete my City work, but still I got to The Glad in time for a pie, drink and chat with the pre-show diners, not least Johnny Eltham and Rich “The Rock” Davis.

Johnny Eltham was in especially skittish mood that evening, making some unusually disparaging remarks about my Jacobean music and mode. The Rock was his usually Rock-like self.

Others in attendance that evening included Paul Driscoll, Simon Ryan, Steve Butterworth, Dave French, Terry Bush, Jan and her friend Charmaigne, David Wellbrook and we were also blessed by the presence of The Right Reverend Sir Nigel Godfrey.

Last but not least, some minutes into Rohan’s performance, the late Nigel Boatswain arrived.

Something a bit misty-optic-like about the lighting

The setting; an Optometrist’s practice, is not exactly home turf for me, as I don’t yet need anything to adjust my eyes and have only had my eyes tested twice in that regard.

The phrase, “is it better with or without”, used many times, apparently, in the search for the optimal optical specification, provided the basis for Rohan to wander off on an existential angst-fest in which the said search might be a proxy for the meaning of life.

As is always the case with Rohan’s work, the narrative takes you into some detailed areas about which you have thought little, then makes you think about some big stuff and also at times makes you laugh a lot.

For reasons that seemed to make sense at the time but to which I cannot really back track, Rohan ended up getting the audience, led by John Eltham, to sing (or rather, “dah-da-da”) the theme to The Great Escape.

I feel bound to say that Johnny Eltham’s efforts dah-da-da-ing that particular tune ranged from poor on melody/harmony to utterly dire on rhythm. Elmer Bernstein was no doubt turning in his grave. And after all those back-handed compliments and disparaging remarks from Johnny about my Jacobean musical efforts too.

We have ways and means of making you sing…

Before his performance, Rohan made some moving impromptu remarks, not least praising our visitors from the Great Dominions, Nigel Godfrey for his sterling work raising funds for the Christchurch massacre victims and Rich “The Rock” for the success of his personal battles against cancer.

After his performance, Rohan told the assembled throng about Threadmash and asked David Wellbrook to retell his moving piece on the subject of Lost and Found from Threadmash 2 (below currently is my piece from that Threadmash – but I might at some stage persuade David to let me publish his Threadmash 2 piece as a guest piece:

In Search Of Lost Time and Found Memories, A Performance Piece For The Second Theadmash, Gladstone Arms, 28 March 2019

It was a very stimulating evening and/but I was really quite tired once the performances were over, so I made my excuses and left promptly. Terry also left at the same time as me, so we had a chance to chat pleasantly until we parted company at Bank, where east is east and west is west.

So is life better with or without evenings like this? With – no question. Thanks, Rohan.

In Darkness Let Me Dwell, A Musical Setting To Honour The Founding Of Edward Alleyn’s College Of God’s Gift 400 Years Ago, 13 June 2019

Unfortunately I shall not be attending the formal celebrations of Alleyn’s (my old school’s) founding 400 years ago, but I thought I would, instead, upload a suitably Jacobean piece.

My mind turned to the beautiful, tragic verse, In Darkness Let Me Dwell, which was well-known and much used in the Jacobean period.

The first known setting was by John Cooper (aka Giovanni Coprario – don’t ask!), published in 1606. The best-known setting is by John Dowland, published in 1610. Loads of people no doubt set the verse to music.

The mournful piece would still have been popular in 1619 and highly appropriate that year, as the English Queen, Anne of Denmark, died that spring. Anne had been a great patron of the arts; indeed she patronised John Dowland. She was also said to enjoy theatre, such that she (unlike King James I by all accounts) even tended to stay awake during plays.

So Edward Alleyn might well also have mourned the passing of Anne. It is even possible that it was Anne’s passing that triggered King James I to sign the Letters Patent that founded Alleyn’s College of God’s Gift in June 1619. The matter had been mired in bureaucracy and politicking for several years prior to the theatre-loving Queen’s passing.

So, I went in search of a suitable musical setting for 1619 and discovered a rare scrap of music that had been recently discovered in the cellar of an inn located in the Darent Valley lowlands.

It might well have been written in 1619…or do I mean 1966 – anyway it certainly sounds ridiculously old and I’m sure it comes from a year with all 1s, 6s and 9s in it.

If you would like to hear the original settings of In Darkness Let Me Dwell, please click here or below for some tasty videos of some pretty competent musicians. Yes, arguably even more competent than me.

Annex To My In Darkness Let Me Dwell Performance, 13 June 2019

My Good Friend by David Wellbrook, Starting My New Year With A Rejection, An Appeal And A Kurt Denial, 1 January 2019

Actually I ended 2018 reading the following short Kindle book by my old Alleyn’s school buddy, David Wellbrook.

I would like to recommend David’s book, My Good Friend, highly to anyone who cares to pay attention to my opinion.

I say, “I would like to”, rather than “I have recommended”, because Amazon, in their (absence of) wisdom, chose to reject the following review, which I submitted this morning:

An Exceptionally Good “Merry Pranks” Chapbook

This is a chapbook in the Renaissance sense of the word – i.e. a short, inexpensive booklet or short book. As it happens, it is also a “chap book” in the more modern sense, as it is a comedic set of anecdotes about the scrapes two young chaps – inseparable friends, who manage to get each other into (and sometimes out of) trouble.
Imagine a version of “Till Eulenspiegel’s Merry Pranks” with two central practical joker characters and you are starting to get the picture.

The adventures of this pair of twenty-somethings, David Wellbrook and his “Good Friend”, in the 1980s, mostly occurred either when they went on holiday together or when they were chasing opportunities to make a quick buck and/or score with young women.
The identity of My Good Friend appears to be a closely guarded secret. Some sources suggest that he is now a knight of the realm. Other sources suggest that he is an ordained minister of the Church. It is also rumoured that he was transported to the antipodes before the end of the 1980s, where he remains at large. On my reading of this laugh-out-loud short book, it is quite possible that “My Good Friend” today is all of those things and more besides.

More than just funny, the book is ultimately warm and charming. Read it and you’ll no doubt wish that you had spent your school days growing up with these clowns. I know I did.

Within about one minute of my submission, I received the following e-mail rejection:

Thank you for submitting a customer review on Amazon. After carefully reviewing your submission, your review could not be posted to the website. While we appreciate your time and comments, reviews must adhere to the following guidelines:
http://www.amazon.co.uk/review-guidelines

I felt quite put out by that rejection, for several reasons:

It was nigh-on impossible for someone to have really read, by which I mean read, thought about and cognitively digested, the content of my review in the short interval between my posting and the rejection notice;
I have submitted several Amazon reviews in the past and never been rejected before;
I carefully read the review guidelines and could not work out which element of the guidelines I was deemed to have breached;
I did feel that the one review that Amazon has published so far for this book, by Derin, was, in my opinion, while amusing and a nice bit of fun amongst old friends, in breach of several of the guidelines…unlike mine. Here is a scrape of Derin’s review which might well bite the Amazonian dust if by chance Amazon wonks start crawling all over this incident:

So, I decided to appeal to Amazon customer service in order to have the injustice reversed. I wrote as follows:

I am horrified that you have rejected my thoughtful and well-crafted review for this book – see below. The review was rejected within seconds, so I do not believe that someone gave it due consideration at all, whereas, I’m sure you can tell, the review is well-written and honest.

Frankly, if you do not reconsider and choose instead to publish the review I shall never review anything on Amazon again.
Here is the reference number that came with the rude e-mail from you – thereafter the content I sent: Reference A1F83G8C2ARO7P-RKQCVM2C9B62D.

A couple of hours later I received the following Kurt reply:

Hello Mr Ian L Harris,
This is Kurt from Amazon Customer Care.
I apologise if your feel that your review of “My Good Friend” by David Wellbrook has been rejected.
Thank you for taking the time to provide not only a well thought out but also a heartfelt review of one of our Kindle Titles.

We do not wish to make you feel rejected and sincerely how that you continue to provide both Amazon and Amazon Customers with more of your book reviews.
It always helps customers like yourself to find the right title for themselves and helps Amazon find the right title types to provide to loyal customers like you.
We hope you continue your Kindle reading and heartfelt review.
If you require any other assistance, we can be reached 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. You can contact us by following the link below:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/help/customer/contact-us
Thank you for taking time to contact Amazon.
Your feedback is helping us build Earth’s Most Customer-Centric Company.
Warmest regards,
Kurt C
Amazon.co.uk

So that’s it then. My appeal has been denied. The use of English in the denial note is so awful, it cannot even be an entirely algorithmic decision (I figure the original rejection decision might well have been).

So please allow me, in my own space, to unpick that travesty of an e-mail reply from customer services.

…I apologise if your feel that your review of “My Good Friend” by David Wellbrook has been rejected…
I don’t FEEL that it has been rejected; it HAS been rejected.

…We do not wish to make you feel rejected and sincerely how that you continue to provide both Amazon and Amazon Customers with more of your book reviews…
I think you mean “hope” not “how”, but there is no point hoping, Kurt. When I said, “if you do not reconsider and choose instead to publish the review I shall never review anything on Amazon again“, I meant it.

…It always helps customers like yourself to find the right title for themselves and helps Amazon find the right title types to provide to loyal customers like you...
I see. So you want me to write reviews, which you will publish or reject at your algorithmic whim, so that you can sell me and other people more stuff. Well, I think I told you before that you have blown that deal with me and it should come as no surprise that the deal is still blown. Now with brass knobs on

… Your feedback is helping us build Earth’s Most Customer-Centric Company…
I am hoping against hope that Amazon’s corporate behaviour today is not the Earth’s most customer centric stuff.

…Warmest regards,
Kurt C …
Well, I guess it was a pun to describe the denial note as Kurt, as I suppose there is an attempt at courtesy, but to milk a similar pun, it is an “empty Kurt C” as far as I am concerned.

So, my dear friends, there it is, my first rejection of 2019 and it wasn’t even past noon on the 1st of January.

I tried to help David Wellbrook in his quest to storm the world of electronic publishing, but I failed to get past the first hurdle.

In similar circumstances, David’s “Good Friend”, The Right Reverend Sir Nigel Godfrey, would, by now, no doubt, not only have had his review published but also been given a year’s free subscription to Amazon Ultra Platinum Prime for his trouble…

…oh darn, I think I’ve just blown the Good Friend’s cover.

Anyway, it is possible that more potential but undecided readers will land here than on that crummy Amazon Review area. So if you are one of those potential readers…

…here’s another link through which you can procure David’s book:

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