Tag: Alleyn’s

Me Mugged, Mum Knifed…All In A 10 Day Stretch Around Alleyn’s School & Camberwell in Late February 1975

DeepAI Imagines The 01 Once Daily Streatham Hill To London Bridge

We had our own special train that took us from Streatham Hill directly to North Dulwich (and then on to London Bridge). A great service for us Alleyn’s kids from Streatham Hill, not needing to change. It was even named/numbered the 01, perhaps in honour of its once a day status.

Of course it was not just for us Alleyn’s kids; there were kids from other schools – Tulse Hill Comp. and William Penn to name but two – on that train too. No self-respecting adults rode on that train as far as I can remember.

In the early days, there were very few of us from Alleyn’s who got on at the start of that run – possibly just me and Andy Levinson. We loved the fact that we could see the train in the siding and that it pulled into the station, seemingly for us.

Andy a couple of years later

Latterly for sure Rupert Jefferies, Justin Sutton and I think one or two others from Alleyn’s joined the train at Streatham Hill, but those guys I think started after the “mugging” described below.

Friday 21 February 1975 – “mugged” on train. TV Sportstown, Rhoda, Porridge and MASH v good.

I remember a fair bit about the incident, although I don’t think I could identify the brace of assailants now. In those days, British Rail had 10×10 person compartment carriages on those suburban trains. Andy and I usually had a compartment to ourselves, but on this occasion we were joined by two larger lads. They seemed well big to us, but we were 12; they might have been 15 or 16.

Hey boys, they shouted, have you got any money…and we said…

…very little. We had very little money. We were schoolboys who had no need for money on a regular school day, so I suspect we had a couple of bob between us. (That’s 10p if younger readers are unfamiliar with the terminology).

We gave them what little we had and then, I remember this so clearly, the assailants sort-of boxed…pretty much just slapped, our ears, perhaps in frustration at the paucity of their haul and/or possibly because our suits betrayed the fact that we were from a posh school.

Ultra-violence it wasn’t, which is why my diary entry used the term “mugged” rather than, for example, MUGGED.

Saturday 22 February 19 75 – TV Doctor Who, Walt Disney. David Aarons – Monopoly, I won. [He] taught me gin rummy.

Two Saturdays in a row my parents must have gone out, two Saturdays in a row David Aarons (one of Lionel & Dina Aarons’s children) came around. Mum and dad must have been fitting in a few socials ahead of mum going in for her hip replacement.

At age 12-and-a-half, I clearly didn’t have it in me to use the term “babysitting” in my diary, but that is what this would have been. David could have only just turned 16 by then. Prior to David, it was quite often one of his big sisters, Ruth or Judith, who would babysit for me. They had probably outgrown that role by then – indeed one of them at least was probably already at University by then. I don’t think the fourth Aarons “kid”, Robert, ever babysat for me.

I remember those sessions with David well. My perception was that he treated me more like a grown up than his sisters. Possibly I WAS quite a bit more grown up with him, or at least a fair bit closer to his age and stage of life. I do remember him teaching me games, although I had quite forgotten that he set me on the road to Gin Rummy. I remember him using some choice phrases that I liked and emulated for a while. I especially liked:

Expletive deleted…

…when indicated a desire to swear but the restraint to avoid doing so. I still use that one occasionally. I was saddened to learn that he died of brain cancer tragically young.

Sunday 23 February 1975 – classes good. Chinese good. Came home after lunch. TV The Great War, Who Do You Do.

Monday 24 February 1975 – went to visit mum in hospital. TV Goodies, Call My Bluff.

Tuesday 25 February 1975 – went to visit mum again. Rather uneventful day. Saw muggers in next door café.

Dad couldn’t cook to save his life, so while mum was in hospital having her hip replacement, we ate almost every night in restaurants and cafes – either in Streatham, Camberwell or somewhere inbetween.

I recall the fact that I spotted the previous week’s assailants in a cafe just a few days later and pointed the fact out to my dad. It was one of those moments when you realise that your dad is not the all-embracing protector that your childhood assumes him to be. I can’t remember exactly what dad said, but it would have been something along the lines of…

…put it out of your mind, son.

It’s possible that he didn’t believe that I had really spotted the right guys. After all, even the police had a lousy reputation for identifying and nailing the right young criminals in such circumstances.But I’m equally sure that dad would have, quite rightly, felt loathe to take on such a situation.

Wednesday 26 February 1975 – went into Uncle Cyril’s cos of operation, went to [Cyril’s] shop, masala yum yum, played chess and I won!

Uncle Cyril in this instance is our next door neighbour Cyril Barnett. This was probably the first time that Cyril and his wife Marion took me in the back of their van up to Chalk Farm to deliver stock to his shop and have a treat at Marine Ices as a reward for helping them.

What would “elf & safety” say about a 12 year old kid rattling around in the back of a van with a whole load of shutters on rails? We could probably have Cyril and Marion taken away in chains for that today, but back then we all rolled with such risks and I rather enjoyed the thrill of those van rides…

Cyril: proof positive that you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs

…and I absolutely loved Marine Ices masala-flavoured ice cream. I fear the place has now gone, so you’ll just have to take my word for it.

Thursday, 27 February 1975 – visited mummy after shop. Dinner, “Adam’s Ribs”. TV The Roman Way, Dave Allen At Large.

”Dinner Adam’s Ribs” is a reference to a segment in MASH, where one of the characters was dreaming about his favourite Chinese spare ribs restaurant, which was named Adam’s Ribs. After visiting mum in Kings College Hospital, Dad and I found a Chinese restaurant in Camberwell where we both thought the spare ribs especially fine, so we declared that they were Adam’s Ribs.

Friday 28 February 1975 – Went to shop. Visited mummy. TV Porridge and MASH..

Saturday 1 March 1975 – Went to Andrew after school. Played snooker. Visited mummy again.

Mum was in hospital for 10 days or so, I think, having her Stanmore inserted.

It is strange sitting writing this article in the clinic, almost 50 years to the day that mum had her hip replaced, having just yesterday had mine replaced. She got 40 years out of hers, I doubt if I’ll need or want 40 years out of mine!

A Private Lesson In Arthroplasty, Hockey, Supervising Entrance Exams, Viola Mooted, A Field Trip To Kew Gardens & Far Too Much TV: Alleyn’s School & Beyond In The First Half Of February 1975

Arnold & Leatrice Levene…Interesting!

Let’s be honest – my handwriting did not improve during my Alleyn’s years

Sunday 2 February 1975 – classes good. Grandma Anne for tea. TV Film: Bueno Sera, Mrs Campbell.

Monday 3 February 1975– Fives good. TV Likely Lads, Alias Smith and Jones v good.

Tuesday 4 February 1975 – classes good. Went to Uncle Arnold’s. Very interesting. TV The Mighty Continent.

“Uncle Arnold’s” means Arnold Levene‘s house. Arnold, Leatrice and their several children (some of whom, especially Rachel and Caroline, will crop up at times in my diaries) lived in Abbotswood Road, about five minutes walk from our place. Arnold & Leatrice were good friends with my parents.

“Uncle Arnold” was a consultant pathologist at the Royal Marsden and also had a side-line as a coroner’s pathologist.

I remember this visit incredibly clearly for the “interesting” episode to which i refer. Arnold had learnt that my mother was due to have total hip arthroplasty later in February.

Presumably, while undertaking a post mortem around that time, he uncovered a Stanmore prosthetic hip, the very type my mother was due to have. Arnold must have thought that it would “do the boy good” to see the exact type of hip joint that his mother was about to receive, so he presented me with that rather gory trophy on this visit, explaining in great detail how such prosthetics work.

This image borrowed from the journal article linked here on fair use grounds to help educate readers.

Mum was more than a little horrified. Dad was more than a little amused. “What’s Ian supposed to do with that?”, asked mum, pointing at the prosthetic which still showed some visible signs of its recent physical location.

He should take it to school, to show his schoolmates, and thereafter use it as a doorstop…

…was Arnold’s typically blunt reply.

I took Arnold’s advice for many decades, although it also lived tucked away in drawers at times, when Resting from doorstop duties. But at some point a few years ago, Janie decided that the item spooked her, so I either deep filed it very deeply indeed (I cannot find it) or I agreed to part company with it.

Which is a shame, as, 50 years later, I am about to get a prosthetic hip joint of my own. And although mine will be all ceramic and quite possibly pink, I’d quite like to see “old, faithful Stan” again. Not sure I’d want to wear a second hand one, though.

Sounds as though “trying hockey” was a good idea for me

Wednesday 5 February 1975 – Hockey v good. 3-2 us, I scored two of the three. TV Anna and the King, Top Crown and Till Death Us Do Part.

Thursday 6 February 1975 – classes good. TV The Roman Way, After That…This, The Two Ronnies.

Friday 7 February 1975 – PE good. TV Sportstown. Chico and the Man, Nellie (not on your) and MASH.

Saturday, 8 February 1975 – got nasty cold. Went shopping. TV Doctor Who, Disney, Pot Black, Jane Eyre and Kojak v good.

Sunday 9 February 1975 – still bad cold. Missed classes. TV Who Do You Do!?!?!?

Monday 10 February 1975 – prepared for entrance exams. TV Likely Lads, Smith and Jones, Goodies, Call My Bluff.

Tuesday, 11 February 1975 – entrance exam – Tindale. V good. TV. MacMillan & Wife, Androcles & The Lion film.

I vaguely recall helping to supervise entrance exams and feeling very grown up that we second years were entrusted with the enormous responsibility of “sitting there”. Trevor Tindale no doubt made the role feel terribly important and will have marshalled us in his inimitable and positive manner, hence the name check.

Androcles and the Lion was one of those “of their time” 1950s epic movies, starring Jean Simmons & Victor Mature. My dad loved GB Shaw’s writing, which is probably why we watched it.

“Whatever you do, don’t mention the Roman-Parthian wars…”.

The so-called-AI app that I use to turn my dictation into text, named that film “Andrew Cleese & the Lion”, which I rather like as an alternative. John’s brother, presumably?

Wednesday 12 February 1975 – Chapel (no). TV Top Crown, Till Death Us Do Part.

Thursday 13 February 1975 – could learn viola. TV the Roman Way, The Two Ronnies.

To understand why “could learn viola” is a funny line, you need to understand how utterly awful I was at playing the violin. The noise was excruciating.

My mother wanted me to play, because I come from a long line of elite violinists…

Turn It Up To Max & Spit: The Baltic Origins Of My Mother’s (Marcus) Family Revealed

That particular bit of the family talent gene pool didn’t make it to me. Nor did a switch to viola do anything other than lower the tone even further. [Did you see what I did there?]

Deeper doo-doo

Friday 14 February 1975 – field day. Kew Gardens. ‘Green grows my bogling fork”. Went to Paul’s after, great day. TV Sportstown, Paper Moon and MASH v good.

In truth I remember little about the field trip to Kew Gardens. I don’t think it was our first choice. Gardens have never really been my thing…neither have outdoor places when the weather is cold been my thing.

But I do remember Paul Deacon teaching me the “Green Grows My Bogling Fork” song…

…aka Green Grow My Nadgers Oh

Paul Deacon might choose to explain himself or comment further upon the inexplicable.

Saturday 15 February 1975 – half term, uneventful. TV Doctor Who, Walt Disney, David Aarons – Monopoly.

Sunday, 16 February 1975 – classes talk. Afternoon went with Ida Manny and Anthony. TV Who Do You Do? Kalooki.

Monday 17 February 1975 – uneventful. Played with games etc. TV Likely Lads, Alias Smith & Jones, Goodies and Call My Bluff.

Tuesday, 18 February 1975 – went shopping, classes good. TV McMillan and Wife, The Mighty Continent.

I’ll write up the David Aarons story next time, as he came around again the following Saturday.

I cannot get that wretched Green Grows My Bogling Fork song out of my head again now. Thank you, Paul Deacon!

I wonder whether one should use a Chamley or a Stanmore prosthetic hip as a bogling fork? Surely some medical people among my readership can advice.

After Soccer At Alleyn’s: Barton Found In 2025, Plus Soccer-Free (Trying Hockey & Playing Fives) Remainder Of January 1975 For Me

Is that Chris Grant and others trying hockey in this 1975/76 picture?

This article is a sequel to my recent piece about the first half of January 1975 which involved what must surely be the worst defeat I ever suffered on a football pitch:

The End Of The Hols & Start Of Lent Term 1975 At Alleyn’s, During Which My Poor Little Class, 2AK, Got Mauled On The Soccer Field

That article was enhanced by some timely correspondence from the antipodes, with Nigel Allott, who more-or-less confessed to being the goalie in that match. Whether his family’s flight to the antipodes a year or so later was connected with that humiliation is a matter purely for conjecture. I find it hard to imagine any other reason to emigrate to New Zealand in 1976. ?

But then, a few days after publication, in mid-January 2025, a coincidental encounter with another prominent Alleyn’s Old Boy Goalie, Simon Barton.

Finding Barton, Hidden In Plain Sight

For those of you who don’t follow Ogblog comprehensively, I should explain that my sports enthusiasm since school has focussed on cricket and tennis – latterly that most wonderful sport real tennis, which I took up in 2016.

I have even managed some modicum of success at real tennis, not least on the following occasion:

Finally…Unprecedented Success At Tennis, The Queen’s Club, 11 May & 27 May 2022

Real tennis is a friendly, welcoming game. Enthusiasts encourage new players, for whom our fiendishly complex game is always extremely difficult at first. We use handicapping, which helps us to play “mixed ability / mixed experience” games. At Lord’s, which is my home court, I curate club nights, which are convivial and friendly. The mini matches we play are competitive, but with a very small “c”.

Recently I have encountered a relative newbie – a chap named Simon Barton, whom I partnered in a friendly game of doubles the other other day. In the sort of locker room chat that goes on in places such as the MCC locker room, Simon mentioned that he was to play a golf match the following week against the Old Alleynians, to which I instinctively said:

ah, great, make sure you sock it to them!

When Simon wondered why I said that and I explained that I am an AOB, he exclaimed…

…so am I!…

…and of course we started swapping Alleyn’s stories.

The coincidence is all the more strange, because a quick trawl of the Scribblerus resources I have been mining for pictures of late, revealed Simon’s name underneath the “goalies eye view” picture I used in my early January 1975 piece, linked above:

Once Simon has gained a bit more experience at real tennis and once I have recovered from my impending hip replacement surgery, I hope we can represent the AOBs in The Cattermull Cup, which is THE handicap school alumni tournament for real tennis. Target – spring 2026.

Second Half Of January 1975 – When I Mercifully Switched Away From Footie

Sunday, 19 January 1975 – Classes morning. Afternoon [Grandma] Jenny and Doris [Marcus – widow of my mother’s cousin Harry]. Very nice change [from seeing my Harris grandma, Anne]. TV Planet of the Apes.

Monday, 20 January 1975 – Games choice – hockey. TV Likely Lads, Smith and Jones, Call My Bluff, Churchill’s People.

Tuesday 21 January 1975 – uneventful. Classes good. TV The Mighty continent on World War II – very interesting.

Wednesday, 22 January 1975 – Fives – great tuition from Mr Tindale. Evening went to Peacock club to arrange Bar mitzvah [party].

Thursday, 23 January 1975 – classes good. TV Roman Way, After That…This and The Two Ronnies- very good

Friday, 24 January 1975 – Biology – petri dishes. TV Sportstown, MASH.

Saturday 25 January 1975 – Exeat [i.e. no Saturday morning school]. Went to Shule. Afternoon uneventful. TV Doctor Who, Generation Game, Pot Black.

It’s interesting, to me, that I was noting the content of biology classes at that time. Chris Liffen was our 2AK biology teacher. I remember that he was strict and could be tetchy if he thought you were being lazy or lazy-minded, but he took great pains to try to make the lessons interesting, which clearly worked with me and inspired me to jot down a reminder of the content in my diary. Don’t try to quiz me on topics such as petri dishes, bacteria and/or milk.

Not quite this level of fives

Sunday, 26 January 1975 – Classes good. Kalloki 4p

Monday, 27 January 1975 – Tu BiShvat [a sort-of ecological Jewish festival – I had to Google it], so went to classes. TV Alias Smith Jones, Call My Bluff, Churchill’s People.

Tuesday, 28 January 1975 – No classes because of yesterday – otherwise uneventful. [I love the way the absence of an activity was the most…indeed the only…eventful thing I could mention that day]

Wednesday 29 January 1975 – Fives v good. Alan [Cooke] and I beat Tug & Athaide, and Barnett & Friersen. I beat Fred and Alan 15-10 TV Till Death Us Do Part

Thursday 30 January 1975 – Classes v good. TV After That…This and The Two Ronnies

Friday 31 January 1975 – Uneventful. Biology bacteria and milk. TV Sportstown and MASH and Rhoda v good.

Saturday 1 February 1975 – School morning. Afternoon played on my own. TV Doctor Who, Generation Game, Jane Eyre and Kojak.

Who loves ya, baby? inkknife_2000 (7.5 million views +), CC BY-SA 2.0

More important questions than “who loves ya, baby?”:

  1. Who was nicknamed Tug?
  2. Who was nicknamed Fred?

Answers in the comments (or by private message if guesses).

Update On The Exam Questions

I really should read my own resources before asking questions. According to my 1974/75 class names list, “Pullinger” was known as “Tug”. I suspect also that “Fred” doesn’t read Fred at all, but reads “Brad” for Dave Bradshaw:

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

Still prepared to be corrected on such points.

The End Of The Hols & Start Of Lent Term 1975 At Alleyn’s, During Which My Poor Little Class, 2AK, Got Mauled On The Soccer Field

Unable To Face It – picture from a 1970s Scribblerus

OK, which of you horrible other classes led to my humiliating diary confession:

Monday 13 January 1975 – lost football match 16-1…

Was it you, 2BJ? Or more likely you, 2BM? Surely not 2AS? If no-one owns up to this, I might have to put all of you into detention.

16-1. How must that have felt at the time?

All was lost, but that the heavens fought…

…that’s what I probably said at the time…or words to that effect

Coincidentally, I received some cheery correspondence the other day (just shy of 50 years after the events described in this article), from Nigel Allott, who was in 1s and 2AK with us “back then”, but fled England with his family for New Zealand of all places about a year after The Carnage Match.

What is it with New Zealand and Alleyn’s alums named Nigel? Sir Nigel Godfrey might choose to help answer this question.

Anyway, Nigel Allott writes:

I’ve just stumbled across your site while browsing other Alleyn’s information. I am the Allott that appears in your diary class lists. We left for New Zealand after the first term of Year 3, but I remember a few of the class well, and enjoyed my time at Alleyn’s.

Given that I was planning this article at the time, I thought it only polite, as part of my reply, to ask Nigel about THAT match:

…Do you remember us (2AK) losing a football match 16-1 to another class on 13 January?  That must have been a tough score line to take…

Nigel responded:

I can’t remember the football match, but it is likely I was in goal watching the ball go past. I knew so little about football when I started at Alleyns that I was always put in goal because it kept me facing the right way!

I do remember enjoying field trips along the South Downs, although there was one field trip when our bus slid off the M4 on black ice near Heathrow (we might have been going somewhere else that time).

Yes, I have written up one of those field trips:

Alleyn’s School First Year (1S) Field Trip With John Clarke, 22 to 24 June 1974

As for keeping goal, which became my gig on the rare occasions I played football after that season, I suspect that it was only Nigel’s superior skills at lobbying for the goalie role that kept me and my two left feet away from it until Nigel and family abandoned the school. My memories of house football in the year or two following 2AK are solely about me being in goal.

A terrified-goalie’s-eye view, another 1970s Scribblerus picture

I hope it wasn’t the humiliating 16-1 defeat at football that drove Nigel and his family to flee to the furthest-flung corner of the dominions, where word of this sporting humiliation would probably not have reached…until now.

Let’s trawl the rest of my diary around that time. It wasn’t all about losing football matches 16-1. But, I mean, 16-1?! I wonder who scored the one? No, I’m over it again now.

Sunday, 5 January 1975 – Classes morning. Afternoon Grandma Anne Kalooki lost 5p. TV Planet of the Apes, Colombo, and No honestly. V good.

Monday, 6 January 1975 – Cloudy. Morning uneventful. Afternoon Andrew [Levinson]. TV Likely Lads, Alias Smith and Jones, Call My Bluff, and Churchill’s People.

Tuesday, 7 January 1975 – Fair. Went shopping in morning. Played in afternoon. TV film Right Left and Centre with Ian Carmichael and Alistair Sims v good.

Actually that film was called Left, Right & Centre. You can watch it on Daily Motion if you wish:

Wednesday, 8 January 1975 – Returned to school. TV Benny Hill v good indeed.

Thursday, 9 January 1975 – Classes good. Improved on model aeroplane – Cessna Skywagon.

Ah, the model kit that Auntie Pam and Uncle Michael gave me was a balsa wood Cessna Skywagon kit. The kit looked a bit like this. I vaguely recall the smell of the glue being the best bit of this exercise from my point of view. Not really ideal for cack-handed 12-year-olds, balsa wood model airplanes.

Friday 10 January 1975 – PE – swam butterfly. Nearly finished model. TV Rhoda and MASH v good.

Saturday, 11 January 1975 – School in morning. Bonfire in afternoon. TV ?!!!

I let the side down there, not noting the viewing. BBC Genome to the rescue. I’m going to guess Pot Black, Lulu and Kojak.

Sunday, 12 January 1975 – Classes morning. Afternoon Grandma Anne at home. Kalooki 19p. TV Planet of the Apes, film Billy Liar v good.

I vaguely remember doing Billy Liar in class, either with Ian Sandbrook in 1S or Michael Lempriere in 2AK. I don’t suppose we were able to give it the Tom Courtney treatment in class. here’s the film trailer.

I remember at one time, a few years later, my mother wondered out loud whether I should apply to “work for Keith Waterhouse”. As I was dabbling with comedy writing at the time, I thought she might, uncharacteristically, be encouraging me to pursue my avocation ahead of knuckling down to a reputable job. Then I realised that mum must have been confusing Keith Waterhouse with Price Waterhouse.

Monday 13 January 1975 – Lost football match 16 –1. TV Likely Lads, Alias Smith and Jones, Call My Bluff and Churchill’s People.

Tuesday, 14 January 1975 – Rouse switched with handicraft. [50 years later, I have no idea what that means]. Classes good. TV, The Mighty Continent.

Wednesday 15 January 1975 – Fives v good. TV Till Death Us Do Part.

Thursday, 16 January 1975 – Physics good. No drama. Classes good. TV After That…This and The Two Ronnies

Friday, 17 January 1975 – Biology – bacteria. TV Sportstown, MASH.

Saturday 18 January 1975 – School morning. Afternoon uneventful. TV Pot Black, Thriller and Kojak.

Actually, the diary entry the following Monday provides some unintentional comedy in the light of the 16-1 defeat at soccer.

…games choice – hockey…

After a 16-1 defeat at soccer, switching to hockey instead seems like a sound move.

Actually, I now have a sneaking suspicion that my 2 December diary entry which mentions “extra with Rothbart” after the football, see the following linked piece…

The Return Of The 12-Year-Old Alleyn’s Diarist, Late November To Early December 1974

…might well have been a taster of hockey with Bernard Rothbart to encourage some of us to switch to his favoured sport. No doubt he had spotted a glimmer of talent for “hard ball and stick” games…or more likely Mr Rothbart had spotted an utter absence of talent for footy-type games.

“Try hockey, kid. Maybe, just maybe you could be a contender.” Another 1970s Scribblerus image.

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

I have already published a piece about my first class, 1S and the names/nicknames I recorded at the back of my 1974 diary – click here.

In the same notes space at the back of my 1975 Letts Schoolboys Diary, I recorded the names and nicknames of the boys in my second class, 2AK:

1974-diary-2ak_0001

This material is even harder to decipher than the 1S equivalent – my use of bold tempo pens playing havoc with the thin paper of those diaries.  So, I set the text out below – apologies for replicated spelling errors, inability to decipher errors and for some of the ghastly nicknames:

Allott

Athaide

Bateman – Batman

Bedford – Bedders

Bradshaw – Brad

Brassell

Dalloway – Dallers

Deacon – Doormouse

Dwelly – Bone

Feeley

Forrest

French – Frog

Geere – Gottle

Goodwin

Gurney – LEFT

Handy

Hanton – Brucy

Harris

Hollingshead – Beachhead?

Jennings – Jumbo, Juggernaut, Jet

Johnson

Kelly

Masson – Chimpy (thanks to David French for the correction).

Pullinger – Tug

Proctor – Superproc

Reeves

Rowswell – Sandy

Spence – Spike

Stevens

Wahla – Gob

I don’t think Gurney was nicknamed “Left”, I think that is a note to say that he left the school.

Now many of the above nicknames are weaker and thinner than a supermodel on a crash diet. I know some of them were genuinely used, but I find it hard to believe that all of them had common currency…

…and surely the rest of us must have had nicknames of some sort at one time or another. My work in early 1975 was only part done and then I got bored – typical kid.

Surely some people out there can help fill in the blanks or put matters right, even after all these years? Comments and suggestions, please. Those from other classes are welcome to add their names and nicknames to the pile.

End Term At Alleyn’s, A Big Moka & An Aufruf, 8 to 14 December 1974

Angela & John Kessler, this photo just nine months after their wedding

The diary page for this week is as colourful as it is (almost) unintelligible:

It is my profound belief that, although artificial intelligence can read the charred remains of 2000-year-old Herculaneum scrolls, the technology would still struggle to make sense of my diabolical writing and spelling from 1974

Allow me to try to interpret the above scrawl for you:

Sunday, 8 December 1974 – First light in play [Hanukah play at chedar, presumably]. Dined at Schmidt’s. The Great War, Sykes, David Copperfield and A Change Of Ground.

Monday, 9 December 1974 – Last full day of term. Uneventful. TV Waltons, Call My Bluff, and Horizon v good indeed.

Tuesday 10 December 1974 – Christmas dinner v good. Classes rehearsal. Mission Impossible and Rhoda v good.

Wednesday, 11 December 1974 – Rather uneventful. Left school 2 o’clock, Carol rehearsal. Disappearing World – Ongka’s Big Moka Rather amusing?????

I don’t much review television programmes (probably just as well given the amount of TV I was watching back then), but a few years ago I wrote up my memories of Ongka’s Big Moka, because it had such a profound effect on me, sparking my interest in South-East Asia/Oceania.

Ongka’s Big Moka, Television Documentary, 11 December 1974

Thursday, 12 December 1974 – Left school 2:20 carol service. Classes good. TV Mastermind good.

Friday, 13 December 1974 – Broke up today. Not a very good report…

…hardly surprising given the amount of TV I was watching in the evenings when I should have been doing my homework. Honestly…

TV Dad’s Army, Ken Dodd and MASH v good.

Saturday, 14 December 1974 – Went to ooof roof [John & Angela’s aufruf]. Meal was excellent. TV Run Wild Run Free film, Stanley Baxter, and Candid Camera very good indeed

I didn’t at the time spot the juxtaposition of watching the Melanesian tribal ceremony, Ongka’s Big Moka, and, a few days later, attending the Jewish tribal ceremony that was Angela and John’s aufruf. For those who don’t like to click, the aufruf is a tradition of calling up the groom in synagogue on the Saturday before the wedding.

I am glad that I gave that aufruf meal an “excellent” review 50 years ago, as that should please Angela and John ahead of their impending golden wedding anniversary. I do remember enjoying the aufruf event very much, conversing with the grown ups and feeling a little more grown up myself for the experience. I distinctly remember finding the film Run Wild Run Free rather childish and mawkish, perhaps in comparison.

What might seem a lot less grown up…and might please Angela and John a bit less, is my abiding memory that I insisted, in the build up to the day, on pronouncing the word “aufruf”…

woof-woof

…to the extent that I recall mum telling me, wagging finger style, that I was not to make that silly joke at the event.

I’m the curator of my own jokes now, mum

I, A Critic: Why Use 800 Words When 8 Words Might Do?, Alleyn’s School Bear Pit, The Lesson by Eugène Ionesco & The Real Inspector Hound by Tom Stoppard, 7 December 1974

Images scraped with loving care from Alleyn’s Scriblerus

I went with my parents on the Saturday evening to see the last night of that year’s Bear Pit production; a double-header no less – The Lesson & The Real Inspector Hound.

Let us gloss over the monumental water polo victory in the morning…11-7 that reads, just in case you are finding my handwriting a little hard to read.

Let us not linger over the fact that the 12-year-old me thought it important to say that I thought the Generation Game was good…

…whereas 12-year-old me failed completely to mention that Barry White – “The Walrus Of Love” – “The Pachyderm Of Passion” – was riding high at the top of the charts at that time with this classic sound:

No. Let us please focus on Bear Pit production for December 1974. My job back then as a juvenile critic was to be clear, incisive and decisive in my opinions. I think I achieved that:

Bear Pit. The Lesson – boring. Inspector Hound – good.

The late, great, Trevor Tindale spent at lest 100 times as many words saying…if I have understood the thrust of his argument correctly…more or less exactly the same thing in Scriblerus some months later.

If you prefer to read Scriblerus pages from pdfs, here is a scrape of those two pages as a pdf.

But you might not want all that detail:

The Lesson – boring.

The Real Inspector Hound -good.

The Return Of The 12-Year-Old Alleyn’s Diarist, Late November To Early December 1974

Tony King, Form Master Of 2AK

Some readers might recall an intense period of 11-year-old diary writing, which ran out of steam towards the end of April 1974…

Russell, Herbie, Cougar, Fives, Tennis, Latin & Then Months Of Silence: The Last Few Days Of Holiday & The First Few Days Back At Alleyn’s, Late April 1974

…after which my diary fell silent for seven months. During those seven months, I…

..went a bit madrigal with my dad:

You Don’t Have To Be Madrigal To Learn About Music Here, But It Helps: Madrigals Of Love And War From The Radio, 4 June 1974, Plus The Top Five From That Week To Worm Their Ways Back Into Your Ears

… finished my first year at Alleyn’s, including a memorable IS field trip with John Clark…

Alleyn’s School First Year (1S) Field Trip With John Clarke, 22 to 24 June 1974

…messed about during the summer, watching and playing cricket – the latter both in the back drive and on Tooting Bec Common

Stumps In the Back Drive, Thank You, Cyril Barnett, circa 1 July 1974
Back When I Didn’t Know My Asif From My Sarfraz, Cricket On Tooting Bec Common, Summer 1974

…and went to Sicily with my parents, turning 12 while I was there… [Ogblog yet to be writ on this topic. Alleyn’s pals didn’t want to know all about it in autumn 1974, I doubt if anyone is desperate to know about it in autumn 2024]. The photos can be viewed through this link or below.

Corso Umberto At Fenicula End IMG00041

Then I went back to school, joining 2AK. By the end of November, I was ready to be a diarist again – indeed I kept a diary pretty much unbroken for the next 14 years, after which I switched to event logs to accompany my appointment diaries.

I think I might have taken some guidance from my parents or friends on what to write about, in the immediate aftermath of my return to diary writing. I talk a lot about what I saw on TV and for a while prefaced each daily report with a one word summary of the weather. The latter habit soon passed. The watching much TV habit passed once I finished school, so my knowledge of soap operas and comedy shows is extremely patchy for the 1980s and almost non-existent by the 1990s, when for many years I had no TV at all!

My handwriting was truly terrible back in my school days, made worse by the use of coloured Tempo felt tip pens (or occasionally pencil or goodness-knows-what-sort-of-writing-implement) for the diary.

I am reliably informed by educationalist friends that my bad handwriting and terrible spelling would no longer justify a clip around the ear and recriminations about my laziness by school-teachers. Apparently it is a condition known as dysgraphia, which would open up all manner of possibilities for my special needs, including the provision of IT equipment in class and at home to assist me, plus, presumably, pity rather than opprobrium.

Anyway, let me try to transliterate the first few days of my return to being a diarist:

Saturday, 30 November 1974 – Performed whodunnit play. Afternoon uneventful. Dick Emery and Upstairs Downstairs good.

Sunday, 1 December 1974 – Classes started a Hanukah play. Afternoon Grandma Anne’s. Planet of the Apes on TV v good.

Monday 2 December 1974 – Inter-form soccer v good. Extra + Rothbart. TV Likely Lads, Waltons and Call My Bluff v good.

Tuesday, 3 December 1974 – French, maths and Latin tests. Classes v good. TV Paper Moon and Mighty Continent.

I cannot remember anything about the whodunnit play, but I think Michael Lempriere was our English teacher that year (other 2AK folk might confirm or deny) – if so, then drama-oriented English class activities were very much his thing.

Weirdly, although I report that the inter-form soccer on the Monday was “v good”, the rear of the diary also records, dutifully, that our opponents were 2AS and that we lost 2-6. Was I really that good a loser back then?

I have no idea what “Extra + Rothbart” means, other than a sneaking suspicion that Bernard Rothbart must have refereed that game and presumably gave us some extra practice and/or coaching after the match, that pleased me. I remember Mr Rothbart a chess and hockey master, not soccer. And of course I will never forget about his sad demise just five year’s later:

Sunday School: Bernard Rothbart’s Funeral, 9 December 1979

Wednesday, 4 December 1974 – [see the specific posting about that auspicious day linked here and below]

A Marathon Day Of Court Sport; Fives At Alleyn’s School And Fridge Ball At Woodfield Avenue, 4 December 1974

Thursday, 5 December 1974 – 40 out of 50 for Latin test – good. No other positions. Learnt Hanukkah baruchas [prayers] with Mr Morris. Mastermind and Monty Python v good.

Friday, 6 December 1974 – Rather uneventful. PE good. Ken Dodd quite good.

The PE was more likely to have been with Mr Sherlock or Mr Berry than with my form master, Tony King. But they were all of the sporty teachers, for sure.

Sherlock, Berry & King

A Marathon Day Of Court Sport; Fives At Alleyn’s School And Fridge Ball At Woodfield Avenue, 4 December 1974

diary-december-1974-smaller

What a sporty day Wednesday 4 December 1974 must have been for me. Just in case you cannot read what the day’s entry says:

11th in chemistry.

Fives lost 15-3 to Wrightson & Weber, beat Mason & Candappa 15-7 and beat Pavasi & I Goodwin 15-3, 15-0.

Fridge ball 533.

Some of this perhaps needs explaining. “11th in chemistry” is and perhaps will remain a bit of a mystery. 11th in the year would be quite good; whereas 11th in the class more predictably mediocre in that subject. It’s not well explained in the diary; much like my answers in the chemistry test, no doubt.

No, it is the fives and the fridge ball that caught my eye for further exposition.

Four Sets Of Fives 

I have already written up a bit about fives – in a piece about a so-called uneventful day the following June – click here. But if you cannot be bothered to click, you should simply be aware that, at Alleyn’s, we played Rugby Fives and you should also be aware that Alan Cooke became my regular doubles partner, so I’m sure those doubles matches were teamed with him.

Looks as though Cookie and I warmed up as the afternoon went on; perhaps this was a breakthrough afternoon for our nascent doubles pairing. Earlier references to fives in my diary seem to be singles games.

Apologies to David Pavesi – firstly for the surprising mis-spelling of his name, as we knew each other well from primary school as well as at Alleyn’s. But also apologies to him and Ian “Milk” Goodwin for the drubbing. Why we played a second set against those two after a convincing first set I really cannot imagine. Perhaps they requested another chance. Perhaps we four wanted to play some more and everyone else had disappeared.

Fridge Ball

I suppose I do need to explain the magnificent and extraordinary sport of fridge ball, just in case the reader is unfamiliar with the game.

I realise at the time of writing (2016) that fridge ball has rather a lot in common with my current passion, the ancient game of real tennis – click here for one of my pieces and links on that game. 

In short, fridge ball is to table tennis what real tennis is to modern (lawn) tennis, but instead of a medieval courtyard, which is the theatre of play for real tennis, the theatre of play for fridge ball is a modern kitchen. Fridge ball is played with a ping-pong bat and a ping-pong ball.

Sadly, there are no photographs of the 3 Woodfield Avenue, London, SW16 fridge ball court as it looked in 1974, but there is a photograph of the court from 2012, when the house was being refurbished in preparation for letting – see below.

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In front of the visible wall (to the left of the picture) stood a large 1960’s-style fridge-freezer; the surface against which the ball has to be hit. The floor surface back then was linoleum of a rather insipid hue. In the photograph you can actually see a layer of blue glue awaiting some fancy modern flooring substance, the suitability of which for fridge ball was not even tested.

The game, simply, is to hit the ball against the fridge door as many times as possible, ideally getting some interesting bouncy business off the floor and/or the jauntily angled pantry door (shown open in the photo but naturally closed for play) and/or the panel doors below the sink,and/or divider doors (just out of shot at the bottom of the photo, which at the time had helpfully unobtrusive recess slots rather than potentially rally-ruining handles).

If the ball is accidentally hit to the left of the fridge (to the kitchen entrance), the ball is out and the rally is over. If the ball is hit to the the right of the fridge (an entrance that leads to a little laundry area and side door to the house), the ball is out and the rally is over. If the ball is hit above the fridge, gawd help you because the ball will probably get stuck behind the fridge and is the devil’s own job to retrieve. Needless to say the rally is over but also, almost certainly, your enjoyment for the evening, as mum and dad take matters into their own hands to terminate the game at that juncture.

If you hit the ball hard enough for it to get some action off the back surface or the cooker, the ball is still in play but that is a dangerous tactic given the strange bounces you might get back there. Aficionados of real tennis might enjoy the idea of hitting the grill/grille – a winning shot in realers but merely part of the ongoing fun/difficulty in fridgers.

Where you can see drawers at the back of the court/right hand side of the photograph, in my day there was a recess under a surface there and a stool kept in that space.  If the ball went into that recess it was out and the rally was over, making the back of the court even more treacherous than it would be today.

A second bounce does not necessarily terminate the point, although most second bounce situations tend to lead to the ball not bouncing at all and ending up dead, which thus ends the rally.

It really is a magnificent game, full of skill and playable as an addictive solo game, not entirely unlike the pinball addiction that subsequently grabbed me for some time. Indeed given the size of our family kitchen, it worked best as a solo game.

But here’s the thing.

Fridge ball 533.

Just think about that for a moment. A 533 stroke rally. That is a remarkable score.

I think there was also a playing condition that allowed for externalities (such as mum wanting to do the washing up or dad wanting a cup of tea), such that the player could catch the ball in the non-bat hand (not scoring a stroke for the catch, btw) and then continue the rally once the interruption was over. Frankly, I can’t imagine having had the run of the kitchen for long enough to score 533 without such a playing condition. Not on a midweek evening after playing four sets of fives at school.

What a marathon sporting day.

Does anyone reading this piece remember playing fridge ball with me or similar games in their own (or other people’s) homes? I’d love to hear all about it if you did.

You Don’t Have To Be Madrigal To Learn About Music Here, But It Helps: Madrigals Of Love And War From The Radio, 4 June 1974, Plus The Top Five From That Week To Worm Their Ways Back Into Your Ears

Sony TC377 Reel-To-Reel

Music At Alleyn’s In Spring/Summer 1974

Although my 1974 diary fell silent for a few months in April 1974, I recall some aspects of my musical education from that period rather well. Alleyn’s School played a major part in that, but not the only part.

I started learning the violin in that first year at Alleyn’s, Mostly I learnt that the violin was not the instrument for me, to my mother’s chagrin, as that type of bowed instrument (including, I later discovered, the hand saw) was purportedly in my blood:

Turn It Up To Max & Spit: The Baltic Origins Of My Mother’s (Marcus) Family Revealed

Pop Kennard, our Alleyn’s music teacher, did not do a great deal for my singing voice that year either. I recall him getting us to listen to and then try to sing Schubert’s Das Wandern in an English translation “To wander is the miller’s joy…”, which did not sound like the following in our unbroken and untrained voices:

“Take me to your lieder” – that’s what I would have said had I been familiar with the word “lieder”

My contribution to such singing in those days would have provided enthusiastic volume but would have lacked desirable sound, I am pretty sure.

I have subsequently been taking singing lessons by Zoom with “Miss Honey” since early in the pandemic and have improved beyond measure – my early efforts at improvement blogged about here:

Hitting The High Notes With Lydia White, 5 May 2020

Spring/Summer 1974 – Music At Home

I noted in my diaries early in 1974 that my dad invested in a high quality hi-fi at that time. He plumped for that ahead of a colour television set, which we did without for another couple of years while he saved up for one of those as well.

A fair chunk of dad’s enthusiasm for a hi-fi will have been to do with my musical education and the sense my parents will have had that my most impressive musical skill would be listening to music rather than performing it.

I’ll write separately about the small but neat collection of classical gramophone recordings my parents acquired for me and helped me to acquire. Mostly middle-brow stuff, getting me familiar with the conventional classical canon.

But one evening, dad spotted a concert being broadcast on BBC Radio and decided to get busy properly rigging up the hi-fi so that the concert might be recorded to a (then) high quality on the reel-to-reel for future listening.

Connect this beauty to the tuner and the speakers and the Sony TC377 depicted above. Simples.

Monteverdi’s eighth book of madrigals – The Madrigals Of Love And War – performed by the Monteverdi Choir and Orchestra under John Elliot Gardiner.

It transpires that this vague memory of mine must relate to the evening of 4 June 1974. Here’s a link to the BBC genome record for this broadcast.

The concert concerned took place on 6 October 1973. It was well received, by this Telegraph account at least:

Madrigals of Love & War 6 October 1973Madrigals of Love & War 6 October 1973 08 Oct 1973, Mon The Daily Telegraph (London, Greater London, England) Newspapers.com

Why dad was so keen to record this particular broadcast I don’t really know. I think he liked the sound of Renaissance music but found it hard to relate to sacred music from that period. High quality secular music of that period was not to be heard on the radio every day.

Dad made this recording on a 5 3/4 inch spool which I still have in a dungeon somewhere and have digitised along with all of the other spools from the Harris collection.

If you want to hear what those madrigals sound like, the following recording by the Consort of Musicke is a very decent quality version – frankly more to my taste now than the Eliot Gardiner style.

Anyway, fact is that this stuff became my ear worms at the end of my first year at Alleyn’s.

What Were Supposed To Be My Ear Worms In Early June 1974? The Top Five In the Charts, That’s What.

To close this piece, here are the top 5 UK chart hits from that week in 1974.

5: There’s A Ghost In My House by R Dean Taylor became an ear worm of mine many years later, when I got into Motown and Northern Soul, but I doubt if it even entered my consciousness in 1974:

4: The Streak by Ray Stevens went on to be number one for a while and was certainly the subject of our schoolboy chatter back then. “There seems to have been some disturbance here” was a catch phrase that did the rounds then, along with the Monty Python ones. I wonder what Pop Kennard would have had to say about the music therein:

3: Hey Rock ‘n’ Roll by Showaddywaddy was most certainly an ear worm back then. This number had entirely escaped my consciousness until I reheard it just now. Now it is stuck in my ear again. It was a seriously retro number even in 1974, although not as retro as Monteverdi madrigals, obviously:

2: This Town Ain’t Big Enough For The Both Of Us by Sparks. In truth, I don’t remember this track from that 1974 period. A few years later I had a copy of this track on a compilation album and then sought out a copy of Kimono My House (the album from whence it came) which was and remains an all-time favourite of mine. Kimono My House was very much my earworm in March 1981, when the story described in the following ThreadMash performance piece was live:

The Love Letter, ThreadMash Performance Piece & Review, 4 March 2021

In short, I think this Sparks track is wonderful:

1: Sugar Baby Love by The Rubettes. Another ridiculously retro sound topped the charts that week.

How did that get to number one in the charts in 1974? Yet – listen closely. Do I detect a variant of the folia progression in there? Is Sugar Baby Love, in a sense, a setting for six voices based on a tradition pioneered in 17th century madrigals? Might Paul de Vinci of the Rubettes possibly have been related to Leonardo?

Monteverdi and Pop Kennard might be turning in their respective graves.