Tag: Andy Levinson

A Fortnight During Which A Character Named Motel, Ted Heath & An “Elderly” 41-Year-Old Alleyn’s Alum Featured In My Diary, Late February To Early March 1974

Edward Heath & Richard Nixon, February 1973, Their Respective Falls Imminent

A few out of the ordinary matters cropped up in my diary at that time.

Sunday, 24th February 1974

NOT usual classes. Visited Motel in hospital. Kalooki 19p.

Monday, 25 February 1974

PE – v. good. Handcraft good. Cricket Banson in [??].

Tuesday, 26 February 1974

Classes good. Likely Lads, v good.

Wednesday, 27 February 1974

Chemistry, good. Fives v good though I lost 16–14, 10–15, 15–10.

Thursday, 28 February 1974

Election day. Classes, polling station. Annex, 440–700.

Friday, 1 March 1974.

Election cliff hanger. Water polo, good. Drama, good.

Saturday 2 March 1974

School morn, good. Penalty prize good. Exam tomorrow – prepared.

Sunday…Visited Motel In Hospital…

Motel was someone my Grandma Anne had picked up along the way. Goodness knows where she found him…probably in a kosher hotel in Bournemouth. Or in central casting having asked for “an alte kaker from the schmutter trade”.

“…even a poor tailor is entitled to some happiness!” Presumably Motel, Fiddler On The Roof, Otterbein University Theatre & Dance from USA, CC BY-SA 2.0

Grandma Anne’s friend Motel was always nice to me but consistently promised more than he ever delivered. On one occasion he told me that he was going to make me a little velvet suit…I’m still waiting. Not that I think, in retrospect, that I was or am the little velvet suit type.

I’m pretty sure it was on this occasion, in hospital, wired up to a cardiogram machine, that Motel, hand shaking, “gave me a little something”, probably 10p, which, according to my father, sent Motel’s cardiogram readings haywire. Perhaps my dad exaggerated for effect.

Monday…The Banson Mystery

Until this week, my cricket training reports had been either pithy – “good / v good” or explaining my own derring-do such as taking catches or wickets. This week I mention something pertaining to Mr Banson and I cannot for the life of me read the word. Here’s the entry blown up and enhanced as best Photoshop can:

So what was “Banson in…?” My memory of him is mostly as an impatient, old school games master whose motivational technique was primarily based on applying his hand to the boys’ heads with some force.

I would really appreciate it if the hive mind of Alleyn’s alums were to transliterate the offending word/words.

Rest Of the Week

A rare mention of loss in the fives on Wednesday. The unnamed warrior who beat me was almost certainly Alan Cooke.

Thursday and Friday I am clearly pre-occupied with the general election. I have no idea what 440-700 means in that context on the Thursday – possibly the number of people they estimated to have voted at that Synagogue-annex-cum-polling-station in Brixton. Marcus Lipton prevailed in that constituency, which will have pleased my mum who always spoke very highly of him.

No idea what “Penalty prize” means. I don’t think it was a TV show – perhaps it was something we did as games on a Saturday at school.

Sunday, 3 March 1974

Exam went well. Andrew [Levinson] came for lunch, editing learned how to splice.

Monday 4 March 1974

Cricket good. HEATH RESIGNED.

Tuesday, 5 March 1974

Art papier-mâché. Classes good. Okay walk.

Wednesday, 6 March 1974

Fives, v good. Instruction from elderly man – played in old and new courts.

Thursday, 7 March 1974

Physics 9 out of 10. Classes paper. Purim at Bolingbroke – female singer.

Friday, 8 March 1974

Water polo scored and saved goal. Drama v good.

Saturday, 9 March 1974

School morning. Typed play in afternoon. Doctor Who v good.

I’m a little surprised to see “learned how to splice” at such an age – I thought I’d been editing tapes from an earlier age than that. But on reflection, I realise that the splicing method required for reel-to-reel tape included an open blade and my guess is that my dad needed convincing that I was ready to use something as potentially dangerous (to myself I hasten to add) as an open blade.

Still available from places like ebay

Monday: Our Political Correspondent Writes

I love the fact that “Cricket Good” is trumped by, in block capitals, HEATH RESIGNED on the Monday.

Tuesday: Spelling Bee

My attempt to spell papier-mâché has to be seen in the original to be believed. Still, how would you have spelt it, dear reader, had you not seen my spell-checked version in this article?

Wednesday: Rugby Fives Tuition From Elderly Man, Aged 41

When I raised the matter of this “elderly man” with Mike Jones a few years ago, he informed me that it must have been John Pretlove, a name that rang a bell. A fine county cricketer and doyen of Rugby Fives, John was, at that time, often at a loose end and would come down to his alma mater, Alleyn’s, to watch and give informal instruction to the boys.

I was a little shocked when Mike told me that John was 41 in early 1974.

“But I seem to remember having to help the elderly man down from the viewing bench when he offered to help me”, I said. “He was already not in good shape by the early 1970s”, said Mike, “he’d worn out a lot of parts playing multiple sports”..

This might have been the occasion that Barry Banson had clipped me around the back of the head and called me “uncoachable” in front of John. I was upset, as I had been humiliated in front of this senior fellow. But after I helped John Pretlove down from the viewing bench he showed me what he thought Banson was trying to show me – getting my front leg well forward, getting right down to the ball and using my shoulder to give the ball some humpty around the walls. It became my best shot, both left and right-handed.

Rest Of The Week

I’m not sure which was the greater miracle – me scoring 9/10 in a physics test or me scoring and saving a goal at water polo. Several of the people in my year who really were good at water polo might read this piece at some point. Please let me know what you think…as if you guys need any encouragement to let me know what you think.

I’m not sure which of our “plays” this might have been, but this was the fruit of our drama class so it is just possible that this “typing of play” reference is about the Greek classics piece I have previously written about.

We Did Make A Drama Out Of An Eris: Friday Drama Class At Alleyn’s School With Mr Sandbrook In 1S, 1973/1974

Sir (Ian Sandbrook) certainly won’t remember, but he might just be able to make out what I was saying about Mr Banson on that first Monday of this fortnight. After all, Mr Sandbrook had a lot of practice trying to make out my scrawl (and that of others) 50 years ago. Here’s the extract again, in colour this time.

Chess, Fives, Drama & A Mysterious “Big Trip” Spanning Half Term At Alleyn’s, Mid February 1974

With thanks to Mike Jones (seated) for this 1975 picture of him with Bernard Rothbart, who, in 1973/74, taught me biology and chess

There are many mysteries in our world, but, as I type this piece, none engaging my mind more than the relatively trivial mystery, what was the “BIG TRIP” on 16 February 1974.

Clearly this matter was so very big, it warranted mentioning its planning at school the day before the trip. Also, it was clearly so very big, in my mind, that I had no need to write down what it was because, obviously, I would remember the details of that trip for the rest of my life.

It’s going to need the hive mind of my fellow former pupils and/or teachers to get to the bottom of this one. I’m holding high hopes that Dave French or Rohan Candappa or Ian Sandbrook will come up trumps for this one…

…and talking of coming up trumps, I had no recollection of learning bridge as early as February 1974. In my memory, I was deeply into chess at that time, with thanks to and encouragement from Bernard Rothbart. Bridge, I think, I was shown by my family (probably Uncle Manny and Anthony) and/but I didn’t really get into it until later.

Enough preamble, here are the diary pages, which, I must admit, presented me with some reading and interpretation challenges.

And, oh, the spelling! Sorry sir. It just goes to prove how much I needed tuition from English teachers such as Ian Sandbrook back then.

Sunday, 10 February 1974 – Lots of papers from Aaron. Ginsbury talk. 14 p. Kalooky [sic].

Monday, 11 February 1974 – Cricket good. Maths test 20 VG. PE wriggly snake. Handcraft Midgley.

Tuesday, 12 February 1974 – Horniman Museum art v good. Pot Black good.

Wednesday, 13 February 1974 – Beat Cooke 6–15, 15–10, 15–13 in fives. Man About The House v. good. World At War, v good.

Thursday, 14 February 197 4 – Chess v Leach and H’s – I won although points down.

Friday, 15 February 1974 – Uneventful. Chess practice. Planned tomorrow’s trip. Beat Andrew in chess match.

Saturday, 16 February 1974 – Whent [sic] ON BIG TRIP.

14p was a big haul for me at Kalooki at that time – more than doubling the pocket money I received from my parents. Grandma Anne was probably the bigger loser although I could also clip my mum on a good day. “Did I pick up yet?” – that was one of Grandma’s catch phrases. “Whose turn is it?”…”YOURS!” – that was another.

Cricket with Mr Banson followed by handicraft with Mr Midgely on the same day – it’s a miracle I didn’t get brain damage from the repeated cuffing around the head!

I very well remember those school visits to the Horniman Museum. I’m sure they helped form my fascination with far-flung cultures, especially those from the south seas.

Horniman Museum by No Swan So Fine, CC BY-SA 4.0

I have already written a bit about forming my fascination with the south seas back then in this piece – click here or below:

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

I have mentioned before that I seemed prone, in my diary, to reporting my fives wins over Alan Cooke in the diary while often omitting to mention the losses. My memory tells me that Alan was the better player by some distance and would win more often than lose against me. This method of recording is contrary to those of noble Renaissance players of jeu de paume (real tennis), such as Philip The Bold of Burgundy or Henry VIII of England. They tended only to have the losses recorded. My theory is that this had more to do with money-laundering than humility, but I digress.

The World At War, an epic history series about the Second World War, was “appointment to view” stuff in our household and I’m sure many others during that 1973/74 academic year. I don’t mention it every week, but I’m pretty sure it was on in our living room every week and that I watched most of them with my parents.

Regarding the chess wins, I have less recollection about my chess progress than my fives progress, other than the fact that I got frustrated with chess after a relatively short while and didn’t really follow through with it, in contrast to my lifelong love of hand/bat and ball games. I’m guessing that there might well have been a fair number of unrecorded chess losses too.

But what, in the name of all that is good and pure, was the BIG TRIP that Saturday? Speculation in the absence of clear memories will be gratefully received. Clear memories will be even more gratefully received.

Sunday, 17 February 1974 – Aaron gave even more prep. Learnt bridge, Queen’s gambit.

Monday, 18 February 1974 – Rather bad day. Barbers, went to library with quiz for music in particular.

Tuesday, 19 February 1974 – Taught Andy [Levinson] bridge. G[randma] Jenny. Trousers. Classes. Geography, v good.

Wednesday, 20 February 1974 – Last day of half term. Bridge with Andrew. Mum had her hair permed. World At War, V good – Reich 1940 to 1944.

Thursday, 21 February 1974 – New half of term. Lost chess match. But on the whole not bad day.

Friday, 22 February 1974 – Swimming v good. Drama, did Candid Camera, v good. Chess v Cyril– Up.

Saturday, 23 February 1974 – School morning. Shopping and learning afternoon. Learning and thriller evening.

Ok, ok, folks, I don’t need you to tell me that bridge is bridge and Queen’s gambit is chess. I’m pretty sure this proves that it was Uncle Manny and or cousin Anthony who showed me bridge and a new (to me) gambit for chess on that Sunday.

Uncle Michael, Me, Anthony, Auntie Pam

“Rather bad day…barbers”. I have written elsewhere about my aversion to having my hair cut when I was a kid – this link – here and below – includes a picture of that very barber shop, Ronnies, in Streatham.

On Return From Keele, “Hair Brutally Severed”, Early Summer 1982

“Went to library with quiz for music in particular”. I think Mr Sandbrook set us all a rather fiendish quiz to keep us occupied over half term. Probably another of his ruses to get us into the habit of going to the public library – a habit for which I needed little additional encouragement – but I think that quiz got me looking at sections I wouldn’t otherwise have explored. Top marks, Sir.

I love the way I ended up teaching (or “tourt” as I put it) Andy Levinson how to play bridge five minutes after I’d been shown the basics. Poor chap didn’t stand a chance with a “tourter”…I mean teacher…like me.

I didn’t have it in me to name my chess nemesis on the Thursday.

It seems that we “did Candid Camera” as our drama Friday session that week. How that might work I cannot quite fathom, unless the idea for our drama class was for us to write the scenarios for candid camera vignettes, and/or act as if we were being surprised by hidden cameras. I’m absolutely sure that Sir knew what he was doing and I am positive that it was very good because I wrote “v good” in my diary.

I am 99% sure that My chess victim on the Friday, Cyril, will have been Cyril Barnett the next door neighbour, not “Cyril” Vaughan the Alleyn’s teacher.

Cyril teaching me pancake making while my dad was teaching me a bit about photography. c1978

I have no idea what the Saturday entries “Shopping and learning afternoon. Learning and thriller evening.” I do remember having educational magazines named “World Of Wonder” and “Look And Learn” – perhaps “learning” was my shorthand for burying myself in those. Thriller might have been a TV programme or film. Thoughts and ideas on this, as with other topics in this piece, would be most welcome.

The First Couple Of Weeks Of My Second Term At Alleyn’s School, 6 to 22 January 1974

When 10p really was 10p. Images borrowed from coincraft.com who, fifty years later, can sell you one of these 1974 coins for £6.50

The meaning of the two bob bit in this context will become apparent a bit later.

It is not the two bob that Mr Sandbrook offered to pay any of us if we spotted him make a spelling mistake on the blackboard. Mercifully, Mr Sandbrook did not similarly threaten to fine us 10p for every spelling mistake we made. Had he done so, he’d be a wealthy man and I (and several 1S colleagues) would each be a fair bit poorer.

My diary is riddled with dreadful spelling. I apologise unequivocally to Mr Sandbrook and to those who tried to teach me English before and after him. In the end, it was WordPerfect, AmiPro and Microsoft Word who drummed better spelling into me by dint of their spellcheckers. Teachers and parents, despite their entreaties, got only so far.

Week 6 to 12 January 1974 – Return To Alleyn’s School On the Thursday

My last few days of Christmas holiday freedom were not very eventful.

Sunday 6 January 1974 Missed [Hebrew] classes, went out for lunch with Grandma Anne. A rather bad day.

Lunch with Grandma Anne was probably at Feld’s restaurant in 1974, as I think Folman’s was gone by then.

I quite often mentioned having a good day or a bad day in those early diaries, without so much as a clue as to what might have made the day deserving of the chosen adjective.

Monday 7 January 1974 went to West End and bought 9? books., lunch at Auntie Francis, a very pleasant day. PS Getting lamp from Heals.

The only picture I can find depicting Auntie Francis is the following one from my parents’ wedding, in which everyone looks a bit miserable. Possibly it was a curated moment of reflection on absent friends and relatives. Or possibly everyone was caught on camera just at that “I’ve overeaten” realization moment.

Auntie Francis, Uncle Alec, Grandma Anne, Dad, Mum, Grandpa Lew, Grandma Jenny

I absolutely loved my Heals lamp. It was in the shape of a giant incandescent lightbulb. So cool. You’ll just have to believe me.

Tuesday 8 January 1974 – uneventful. Saw Andrew [Andy Levinson] in morning. G Jenny in afternoon.

Wednesday 9 January 1974 – had lunch with Andrew. Saw Mary Poppins in afternoon. She’s Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Return To School 10 to 22 January 1974

Thursday 10 January 1974 – First day of Lent Term. The t[w]o H’s are on form. No activities so classes early.

Friday 11 January 1974 – Whent [sorry Sir] to Dad after school – lift from U[ncle] Manny.

Saturday 12 January 1974 – School in morning afternoon uneventful.

The two H’s were Keith Handy and Richard Hollingshead, who tended to give me a pretty hard time in those early days at Alleyn’s.

Sunday 13 January 1974 – Miss Aaron [Hebrew class teacher] away. Mr Ragshaw [relief teacher presumably] gave teaser I was right. Lamp is nice.

Monday 14 January 1974 – was robed [presumably I mean to write “robbed”, but I probably, more accurately, “was thieved from”] at school. Mr Fanner [Headmaster] lent 10p. NOTHING ELSE.

I don’t remember the theft incident. I’m sure I would have remembered it had I actually been robbed at school. I suspect my bus fare money “disappeared” from my pocket during PE that morning or games that afternoon.

Still, the incident must have been deemed serious enough for me to have been sent to the headmaster, Mr Fanner, who kindly ponied up a couple of bob to see me home safely. I think I only needed 2p or 4p for that purpose in those days.

I was once actually robbed – i.e. duffed over on the train to school and had my pocket money stolen – but that was certainly not in term two of my first year.

Tuesday 15 January 1974 – repaid Mr Fanner. Biology – no wormery yet. Classes good.

I love the fact that repaying Mr Fanner was a diary-worthy event. I can imagine mum telling me multiple times that it was vitally important that I got that money back to the Headmaster that very day, otherwise he might imagine all sorts of terrible things about me and my family.

I think Bernard Rothbart was our biology teacher that year, making that diary entry especially bitter-sweet thinking about him and Mr Fanner and Mr Tindale (see below) all dying prematurely.

Wednesday 16 January 1974 – Fives good. McG good player. TV good. Man About The House, Bless This House especially.

I’m not sure who McG is/was. Answers, please, on a postcard. McG presumably beat me in order to be assessed as a good player.

Thursday 17 January 1974 – Tindale [French master] away. No violin. Classes good. Prepared lecture for tomorrow.

I’ll talk about my diabolical relationship with the violin some other time. Me and the violin did not get on.

Friday 18 January 1974 – Lecture went well. Drama v good. Heard tape of me 7 years ago.

Not sure what the brief for the lecture was, or indeed for drama that day, deserving of v good. But I can work out what “tape of me 7 years ago” must be referring to, which was the simply delightful recording, which I still have, of my dad reading “Hare And Guy Fawkes” to me on 5 November 1967:

Hare And Guy Fawkes, Daddy Reading To Me, 5 November 1967

Did someone, e.g. Mr Sandbrook, dig out a reel to reel tape recorder and play that recording in class? Or does that diary entry refer to family activity later that day at home? If only I had been more detailed and specific with my diary entries back then.

Saturday 19 January – school morn. Afternoon played with myself. Everything is OK.

Played with myself is not a smutty and/or euphemistic reference. As an only child, I had a variety of games that I had adapted for solo entertainment when needed. I had a version of cricket darts where I would play both batting and bowling roles. I had my own version of Cluedo which enabled me to play solo – goodness knows how – I think that might have come a bit later.

And I had fridge ball, which I have documented on this blog from a December 1974 reference:

A Marathon Day Of Court Sport; Fives and Fridge Ball, 4 December 1974

Great sport, fridge ball. Fridge ball is to ping pong what real tennis is to tennis.

Sunday 20 January 1974 – Bechat Ha Mazon [Birkat Hamazon – food blessing] went well. [Miss] Aaron not [Mr] Freed – boo!! [Hebrew classes]. Otherwise uneventful.

Monday 21 January 1974 – cricket good. 1 dive. 2 one-handed catches. Rest uneventful.

Tuesday 22 January 1974 – No fencing. Female art teacher is good. Classes good.

There is my first reference to cricket in the diaries. Possibly my first ever cricket lesson. I like the sound of my diving one-handed catches.

…more like this DALL-E reimagined picture.

As for the female art teacher, I cannot remember anything about her and certainly not her name. Sorry, Miss. Perhaps others can recall her. I remember Mr Brew and I remember Mr Friedlander, but no female comes to mind in that context. Still, she was good, in my eyes, in January 1974.

My Very First Audio Recording & Inadvertent Desecration Of Mummy’s Tape, With Friends, Woodfield Avenue, Guessing Late 1966

This incident caused a long-term rumpus in our family. I’m not sure my mother ever forgave me for it.

I recorded about two-and-a-half minutes of childish nonsense…

…with friend or friends unspecified…

…on Mummy’s Tape.

She only had one tape, bless her, which I inadvertently desecrated that day.

Mummy’s tape comprises some of her favourite tunes and songs, recorded from various sources on the radio, probably over several years in the early to mid 1960s, around the time of my infancy.

Here is a link to the Mummy’s Tape track listing.

Just in case anyone is interested, I have also uploaded Mummy’s Tape in its entirety, within this piece – click here or below:

Mummy’s Tape, Woodfield Avenue Grundig TK-35, Mid 1960’s

Mum reckons I carried out the horrendous act of desecration when I was about four.

Here is the offending two-and-a-half minute clip.

The clip itself reveals little. I was clearly very young when I did this – I think mum’s “about four” estimate is about right. We (I am with at least one, I think probably two friends) mostly seem to be making noises to take pleasure in watching the recording level lights on the family Grundig dance.

Grundig TK35, ram-packed with thermionic valves. Photograph by Michael Keller, from Rad-io.de.

I guess I had been carefully watching what my parents (mostly daddy) did when they recorded me stories so I could listen in their absence, click here or below for an example of that…

Daddy Reading The Gingerbread Man To Me, Guessing Late 1966

…and I thus worked out how to record through the microphone. A non-trivial matter on a Grundig TK-35 I can tell you.

Mummy never let me live this down. A well-known bearer of minor long-term grudges was my mum…and boy did this grudge come back to haunt me for the rest of her life.

For a start, precious tapes, which meant those that mum (and to some extent dad) treasured were kept in a drawer in the living room cabinet that was out of bounds to me until I was much, much older.

But more importantly, subsequent minor infringements of various kinds (and there were many) were often “bigged up” with reference to the tape desecration incident, e.g.:

“you’ve never paid due respect to my property…do you remember that time you completely ruined my tape?”

Well, of course I did and do remember the incident in the sense that I was regularly reminded of it. But I was very small when the incident occurred and have no recollection of the actual playful episode, in which, presumably, I was showing off to a friend or friends and we played with the equipment for a while…

…two-and-a-half minutes or so to be a little more precise.

All the evidence suggests that there was actus reus for the criminal damage to Mummy’s Tape, but in truth I cannot believe that there was an ounce of mens rea for desecration. I doubt if I had even understood, by that stage, the difference between a blank tape and one that had recordings on it which might, if someone surreptitiously recorded on that tape while no-one was looking, would be permanently interrupted with inappropriate material, for the rest of all time.

Indeed, there is evidence that I took pains to avoid recording over anything – there is about 40 seconds of blank space between the previous recording on the tape and the start of my childish recording – so I guess I did have a careful listen to make sure that I was recording on blank tape, not over-recording anything.

At this juncture readers, especially younger people, might wonder what on earth all the fuss was about. Suffice it to say that editing tapes was an even less trivial matter than recording them in those days, which is why most amateur recordings of that era are diffuse with blips and occasionally lengthy intervals of inappropriate material.

I guess mummy carried on recording her tape and only discovered my childish interruption later, by which time it was, in her terms, too late to rectify the problem.

She could, of course, have recorded any material of her own choosing between two-and-a-half minutes and three-and-a-quarter minutes over the space and my material to reinstate her tape as a continuous one of her preferred music…

…but it was far easier and more fitting, instead, to kvetch or broyges for several decades.

I don’t like to point the finger at anyone else in this sorry tale, but something tells me that Andy Levinson might also have been at the scene of the crime at the time; possibly Fiona also. But only I have suffered a lifetime of guilt and shame as a result of two-and-a-half minutes worth of seemingly harmless, childish fun.

Not bad technical skills on the tape recorder at the age of four though – eh readers? This is, unquestionably, my oldest surviving self-made recording; quite possibly the very first one I ever made.