“Got Roped In To Playing Cricket All Afternoon”, Gentlemen v Players Cricket Match, Keele Festival Week, 24 June 1982

Mike Stephens, caught out

By 1982, the annual Gentlemen (of the right) v Players (of the left) cricket match had become an iconic feature of Keele Festival Week. It was many years later that I learnt that this “tradition” had only started a year or two earlier. Keele traditions were a bit like that back then.

The Roping In

I made a pigs ear of writing this event up previously, combining my memories of the 1982 match with the 1983 match, having forgotten that I ended up playing this match three illustrious times while at Keele; my last appearance being 1984.

My mistake was spotted by Mark Ellicott, whose name I had delicately left out of my previous write up of this first occasion, as it was for an “intoxicated” Mark that I was hurriedly found and roped in as a late substitute. Mark pointed out that it must have been 1982, as that was the summer during which he was caught up in all this stuff and he was involuntarily on sabbatical from the University the following academic year. Mark later went on to be a Students’ Union sabbatical, stretching his Keele duration yet further.

On the topic of this 1982 cricket match, my diary entry merely says, with surprisingly little enthusiasm:

Got roped into playing cricket all afternoon.

Here is the Mark Ellicott substitution bit of the story, as I originally wrote it, before Mark got in touch. Naturally I have now cleared with Mark the idea of attaching his name to the story:

I got a knock on the door early afternoon…a certain wild-haired student (even more wild-haired than me), who latterly – more latterly even than me – became a sabbatical, had been experimenting with an acidic chemical – presumably something to do with his subsidiary or extra-curricular studies – and had accidentally ingested rather too much of the stuff…

Mark Ellicott two or three years later

…he might have been experiencing something like this:

In short, the accidental acid victim was away with the fairies and I was in the team.

Mark describes his experience slightly differently, presumably starting the evening before:

It was on Results Day for finalists in the summer of 82. I had scored two tabs previously and was working that day as a waiter in Oysters wine bar serving up bottles of wine etc to celebrating finalists. I dropped one tab whilst working idiotically enough and after ten minutes when nothing was happening even more idiotically dropped the second. Thereafter it all gets hazy, but like you I have kept a diary since I was a kid so can refer back. I must have wandered away from my workplace because the next thing I remember is wrestling with an anonymous young woman outside the Computer Science lab. Then it’s several hours later and I’m sitting in the Union bar with Truda Smith, Mark [Bartholomew], Simon [Jacobs], Anna [Summerskill] etc. I’m completely incapable of speech at this stage. I hear Truda’s disembodied voice explain to people “he’s tripping, keep an eye on him”. Next thing I recall I’m hiding under a bush by Keele Hall and Mark and Simon come looking for me, find me, and gently return me to the Union and a disco where I have a vague recollection of ‘dancing’ to ‘Say Hello Wave Goodbye’ by Soft Cell. Then I’m at a party in Stoke talking to a woman who runs a chippie. Completely brilliant day that was !

When I gently suggested to Mark that I might link his name with my cricket-career reviving incident, he replied…

…please go ahead and use my name. I’ve never been embarrassed about my psychedelic experiments then.

The Match Itself

Under the circumstances, I didn’t expect much of a role for The Players and got pretty much what I expected.

I was reminded of this 1982 match in August 2018, after Adil Rashid had a rare “thanks for coming” (TFC) test match – i.e. he did not bat and did not bowl in the whole match – a very rare event in test cricket – written up here…

…but not quite so rare an event in beer matches. Indeed, both the 1982 & 1983 Gentlemen (of the right) v Players (of the left) match at Keele were TFC matches for me.  I did not bat; I did not bowl, but…

…I did field.

In this 1982 match, I recall The Players captain Toby Bourgein (who sadly died in September 2020) sending me out to graze in the long grass, on the boundary, where he supposed I’d do the least damage. I recall that enabled me to keep a trusty pint of ale close at hand.

But the ball tends to follow the team donkey. I recall the Gentlemen doing rather well against us at that stage of the match, with Mike Stephens (Secretary 1980/81) batting well & properly, along with a beefy, sporty fellow…I think his name is Steve Bailey, who had been the Chair of the Athletic Union, providing some humpty to the innings.

I’m pretty sure the above picture shows “the humpty chap”, Steve Bailey, at the 1980 Christmas Ball – apologies if I have grabbed a picture of the wrong humpty chap.

Three times the humpty chap lifted the ball skywards in my direction. Three times I failed to catch it. One of those misses was a juggled attempt which failed even after several potential reprieves. One I think I lost sight of completely, perhaps even running the wrong way.

Toby sent me to backward point instead, where he suggested that catches were far less likely but I might at least save some runs if I continued to put my body (the only asset I seemed to be bringing to the party) on the line. I think I brought my skiff of ale infield with me.

A few balls later, Mike Stephens executed a firm, albeit slightly uppish, late cut, which should have hurtled to the left of a diving backward point for four…

…but the diving backward point, me, somehow contrived to dive at the correct moment and the ball contrived to stick in my hand. A stunning, potentially match-turning catch.

It might have looked like a left handed version of this one from school a few years earlier, c1979, for which I was the photographer, not the catcher.

I recall Mike Stephens stomping off in an uncharacteristic huff of “it’s so unfair. He can’t catch for toffee…”

…it was a little reminiscent of the James Pitcher “TFC with single moment of glory” match against The Children’s Society 21 years later, almost to the day:

I don’t think my derring-do was enough to help salvage this 1982 match for The Players, but revenge was sweet for the next couple of years.

I have no photos from the 1982 game, sadly, nor the 1983 nor 1984 ones, but this one from a year or two earlier, thanks to Frank Dillon, should give the reader a pretty good feel for the look of the mighty Players team.

With thanks to Frank Dillon, this picture of an earlier “Players” team, probably 1981

If anyone out there has any more memories and/or photographs of our festival week beer matches, I’d love to hear from you.

The “Film Star Makes President” Edition Of Concourse, 9 March 1981

To celebrate the 40th anniversary of the “Film Star Makes President” edition of Concourse, I have republished the whole paper in the form of high-quality scans in a Flickr album – click here or the embedded image at the bottom of this page.

Dave Lee edited this edition and I provided him with a great deal of help, including a near-fatal lock-in for the deadline.

Dave had generously given me a great deal of editorial control over the political pages, so the front page and the next two pages were very much mine, content-wise.

Presentation-wise, I think it was entirely down to Dave that we went for an audaciously eye-catching front page – big headline, big photo and election results table only. This was not the regular Concourse way but I think it did help us sell.

I was very proud of the headline; a nod to Ronald Reagan’s recent election and the fact that Mark Thomas headed up the Film Society.

I realise also on re-reading the paper that I interviewed almost all of the protagonists from that early part of the election season: Mark Thomas, Frank Dillon, Anna Summerskill, Ric Cowdery, Steve Townsley, Vince Beasley, Jon Rees…

…I already knew some of them reasonably well and got to know most of them a lot better as the next year or three went on.

Other highlights include:

  • Dave Lee editorially eating his own liver over the previous editors’ resignation scandal and the Katy Turner column faux pas, on Page 4 and then again at length on Page 13;
  • Jon Gorvett & David Perrins fret-piece about fire risk, following a Dublin disco fire, on Page 7;
  • Some Concourse memorabilia on Page 11, looking back 10 years (which now is 50 years), including a snippet about Neil Baldwin from 1971;
  • A couple of damning album reviews, one by me and one by Simon Jacobs, which I have previously Ogblogged about – here, or see it in printed form on Page 14;
  • A couple of damning gig reviews on Page 17, including the Krokus one by Simon Jacobs which I have Ogblogged about here and the Rob Blow & Di Ball one from deadline night;
  • I rather like Phil Avery’s hockey team review on the back page, not least because I had to read the entire thing to the end to work out which sport he was reporting. If only his weather forecasts were so suspenseful.

If you want to browse/read the whole thing, simply click the link below and you will find all the pages in high quality digital form, easy to read/navigate on most devices and for sure downloadable.

March 1981 Concourse P1L

Getting My Head Around Hormones, Three Parties In Four Midweek/Mid-term Nights, This Was Keele, Late February 1981

In truth, I don’t think mushrooms were central to most of those parties

The diary & scribbles in my FY programme suggest that I wasn’t going to let lectures get in the way of my planned activities much that week, or indeed for the rest of the term. It seems I managed three FY lectures in the last three weeks of that term.

Well, it was cold and icy.

Also, I had worked out by then that you could get pretty much everything you needed from the FY lecture notes. Keen scouts who liked attending FY lectures would bring fistfuls back to F Block Lindsay for the rest of us to read. It looks as though that system broke down for the last week of term, but that’s another story.

I did attend a swathe of topic tutorials and write a couple of essays that week, though, so it wasn’t all parties and student journalism.

I think one of the essays was part of my law double topic, finishing off my law studies for that year but sealing my decision to study law along with economics for my degree. Thank you, Michael Whincup.

I remember doing a topic on Hormones & Reproduction with Dr Peter Chevins and I think I wrote my essay for that topic that week. There were 10 to 12 of us in that class; I think I was the only male (other than Dr Chevins).

I don’t think I was taking it all in. I blame my riotous teenage hormones.

I have a feeling I spent most of the class time ogling the girls and not enough of it getting my head around the relevant reproductive aspects of endocrinology. Still, I think some private study (unfortunately for me there was no practical experimental learning in pairs for that topic) meant that I managed to write a decent essay. Clearly I also learnt enough then and subsequently to get me started when I wrote a student guide book on sexual matters, Sexplanations, when I was Education & Welfare Office in 1984/85.

Tuesday 24 February 1981

Not bad day – wrote essay. In evening, went to see California Suite. Late night in Harry’s // etc.

Somewhat cheesy movie if I remember correctly – great cast though, with Jane Fonda, Richard Pryor, Bill Cosby, Alan Alda, Michael Caine, Walter Matthau, Maggie Smith…

I have written about Mad Harry previously, at length in this piece – click here or below:

In late February, then, I guess we were still in the period twixt Harry’s small trouble and big trouble. My guess is that this party was a fairly impromptu affair centred around Harry’s room. The // symbol indicates that we imbibed some dope and that I didn’t even then remember much about the gathering. We probably talked a whole load of rubbish while convincing ourselves that we were putting the world to rights. Possibly we even did put the word to rights – in which case it is such a shame that none of us the next day remembered the answers we came up with that night. Oh well.

Wednesday 25 February 1981

Easyish day. Went to party in evening // at Miriam’s – pretty good.

Miriam will be Miriam Morgan, who, along with her partner Heather (Jones) was the doyen of the Keele Gay Society. I have written up an earlier party with that crowd the previous term, at which I first met Ashley Fletcher – click here or below:

Discussing those parties with Simon Jacobs in late 2020, Simon recalled that, at one of them, there were some magic mushrooms doing the rounds. He and I both very tentatively sampled the mushrooms, probably being too timorous to take enough of the mushrooms to get enough effect to impact on the senses beyond the drink and the (if the // symbol is anything to go by) dope available at the party.

I have a feeling that this party was part of Gay Lib week, as Simon wrote that week (and party) up in the March 1981 Concourse and I cannot imagine another Wednesday night being the party night to which he refers, given my documented events of the various Wednesdays that term:

Reading Simon’s article again after all this time (I probably typed it up for that Concourse – I typed up much of the darned thing), I am struck by how tiny and nascent the Gay Soc was at that time – a dozen or so people – perhaps including me and one or two other “supporters”. Within a year or so that tiny group of active students transformed that Society and well done them.

Ashley reminded me (in correspondence late 2020) that, at one point, I was designated the Gay Soc Mascot, by dint of my support for the group. I had a feeling that honour came later than this, but perhaps it was at this event that the honour was bestowed.

Thursday 26 February 1981

Not bad day. Concoursed in evening etc.

This is a bit of an anti-climax, don’t you think? I can only apologise to readers for interrupting this programme of parties with such an ordinary-sounding day. Note that “working on Concourse” has become a single-word verb; concoursed. Let us move swiftly on.

Friday 27 February 1981

Busy day academically. Anna’s party in the evening // pretty good.

Hostess with the most-ess

Anna Summerskill’s party was probably quite a low key (perhaps a dozen or so of us) but almost certainly a dope-ridden affair. I’m trying to remember where Anna lived that year; I think Harrowby House, but I could be wrong and someone out there might correct me.

I have written a fair bit about Anna already in the same “Winter Draws” piece as Mad Harry – click here or the links above. Mark Bartholomew – also written up in that earlier piece, would no doubt have been there. Probably (but not necessarily) Simon Jacobs and one or two others from that mini dining club in Lindsay refectory, which by sacred tradition included Anna’s ceremonial fellating of a banana at the end of almost every meal, before Anna would roller-skate off to her next engagement. It’s hard to believe she’s no longer with us (sadly she died of lung cancer in 2012), she was such a force of nature, was Anna.

Not quite sure what came together to make that a (rare) busy day academically, but I was probably trying to get work out of the way ahead of my anticipated marathon efforts towards the looming Concourse deadline over the next five days…

…and there’s a story to the meeting of that deadline, I could tell you. Indeed I shall tell you, in the next episode.

The Best Pot I Had In Five Years At Keele, i.e. The First Weekend I Tried Cooking In The F Block Lindsay Kitchen, 11 to 15 February 1981

The previous weekend, when I returned to London, not only did I bring back cassettes, including a mix tape of contemporary pop charts music…

…I also came back with a large Judge enamel cooking pot, depicted above, together with a somewhat distressed-looking frying pan:

I really should point out that the above photographs were taken forty years later, in February 2021, in the kitchen of my Notting Hill Gate flat, where these artefacts still reside, a little incongruously amongst the granite and the fancy-schmancy cookware. I still use the enamel cooking pot occasionally; it’s in extraordinarily good nick. As the young folks might say, it is a remarkably peng pot.

I’m not sure I’ve used the frying pan for 25 years or more. In fact I was a little surprised to find it still there, at the back of a kitchen cupboard. But then it would be a wrench to throw it out after all these years.

I should also point out that the frying pan…Tower Brand, British made, patent number lost in the mists of time…already looked fairly distressed in 1981. In fact, it might look less distressed now than it did then; apart from the dent.

Dad had brought both the pot and the pan from the kitchenette at the back of his shop, where they had festered unused for many years. My guess is that they predate dad opening the shop even, in the mid 1950s, quite possibly hand-me-downs from dad’s parents.

We’ll return to the cooking later in this piece.

Here’s the diary extract for the first two weeks of February:

Nope, I can barely read it either

Music In The FY Lecture Theatre, Darts At The Mid-Term Ball & Late Nights, 11-12 February

I went to both of Professor Dickinson’s FY lectures that Wednesday morning; the first on British Music, the second on American Music. I seem to recall the focus being on late 19th and 20th century composers of the Elgar, Walton, Britten, Ives, Barber, Copeland variety.

The diary for that day (11 February) merely reads:

Did little – Ball in evening – Darts very good – very late night again!!!

Dave Lee’s book The Keele Gigs (due Summer 2021) will doubtless cover the topic of that Darts gig (and the support acts) well. I do remember Darts being a fun act to watch as an 18 year old. They looked a bit like this:

12 February 1981 – Up late – did little all day – very boozy evening & late night.

I’m just starting to spot a pattern here, dear reader.

A Trio Of Weekend Visitors & Some Rudimentary Cooking In The Communal Kitchen, 13 to 15 February 1981

13 February 1981 – Not bad day. Nick [Frankel,] Graham [Greenglass] & Rebecca [Segalov] came – went to bar -> Simons. Graham stayed here – talked music till late.

These three were BBYO friends, primarily of Simon’s (although I already knew Graham quite well) from Pinner.

It was not so easy to accommodate several guests at Keele. I know that Graham slept in a sleeping bag on the floor of my tiny study-bedroom. I think that Simon stayed with his then-boyfriend Roy, freeing up space in his study-bedroom for Nick & Rebecca. Or perhaps Simon’s next door neighbour, David Perrins, was away that weekend freeing up space there. Or both. Weekends at Keele were often a merry-go-round of room favours, long before Airbnb was invented.

I shall write separately on the wonderful mix tapes that Graham made for me back then. Suffice it to say that I think he brought two (or possibly even three) with him on that visit and I listened to those tapes a lot throughout my time at Keele.

Graham & Simon, 1979

14 February 1981 – Got up late – went in to Newcastle for lunch – went to lakes – cooked supper – S, G & I went to Lindsay disco – mine…

15 February 1981 – …for coffee, Anna [Summerskill] came, as did [Mad] Harry, Sim [on Ascough] & [Brummy] Paul – another latey.

So 14 February 1981 will have been the very first time I used my dad’s old cookware.

Freshers stayed in halls and dined in refectories Monday to Friday; the grub was part of the hall fees. But we had to fend for ourselves at the weekends on modest budgets and with limited facilities in halls. Most freshers, especially the male freshers, did not eat well at the weekends.

I was travelling up and down the country and therefore not around at Keele for many weekends in my first term. When I was around, I can tell from my diary, that I tended to eat in places such as The Sneyd Arms, The Golf Inn, The Student’s Union or in “town” – most probably Newcastle-Under-Lyme; mostly with Simon and his crowd.

So I’m pretty sure that this weekend will have been the first time I tried cooking at Keele.

F Block Lindsay had one small kitchen which was shared, if I remember correctly, between all 20 to 25 students who lived in that block. Possibly it was just as well that most male students were uninterested in cooking. I think the blocks that housed female students tended to have fewer people and/or more plentiful kitchen facilities. I’m wondering whether it is too late for me to bring a discrimination claim against the University.

Anyway, from memory this early effort was Spaghetti Bolognese. I planned it the weekend before, when with my parents. I remember my father insisting on pronouncing the name of the dish “Spaghetti Bollock-knees”.

I think I only brought one secret ingredient to Keele with me, which served as my stock base (as well as a warm snack) throughout my time at Keele; Osem Chicken Soup. Much more tasty than chicken stock cubes and a base I could use when cooking for vegetarians.

In the Keele days, I needed to buy this Osem ingredient in London, whereas now you can get the product almost anywhere, e.g. Sainsbury’s.

The rest of the ingredients I will have bought in the Newcastle-Under-Lyme Sainsbury’s on the Saturday. Here is my recipe.

Ian's Keele Fresher Spaghetti Bollock-knees Recipe

Quite a lot of onions
A good few carrots
A large pack of mince - hopefully the large packs are available at a special low price
A large tin of tomatoes - ideally an Italian brand that looks the part
A couple of teaspoonsful of Osem Chicken Flavor Soup (a stock cube or two can be substituted)
A good squeeze of tomato puree from a tube (that tube will last a good few months)
A good squeeze of garlic puree (that tube will last even longer than the tomato puree tube)
A good pinch of table salt 
A good pinch of ground black pepper
Vegetable Oil (likely to be rape seed oil in those days)
A good fistful of spaghetti (circa 4 oz per hungry person)

Chop the onions into quite small pieces.  Ditto the carrots.  Brown these ingredients in vegetable oil within distressed-looking frying pan.  Add the mince once the onions and carrots are brown.  Thoroughly cook the mince. 

Dissolve the Osem soup...or stock cube(s)...in boiled water and add to the distressed pan. Also add the salt, pepper and tinned tomatoes.  Then add tomato puree and garlic puree to taste.  Reduce until a good texture and flavour of sauce..

While reducing the contents of the distressed pan, bring a large quantity of water to the boil in the peng enamel cooking pot, add a good pinch of salt and cook the spaghetti for about 10 minutes.

Drain the spaghetti and serve the sauce over the spaghetti.

This all looks a lot more complicated when written down than it actually is. I knew how to do this before I went off to University.

I remember that my cooking of this food for our guests caused a bit of a stir in F Block Lindsay. I’m not sure anything quite so cheffy had occurred in that kitchen during that academic year until my effort. Perhaps I am being unfair. Anyway, the smell attracted quite a few people into the kitchen and I received quite a few requests for future meals…some of which I found ways of meeting, as I’ll explain in a future piece.

I have a feeling that Simon will have gone back to join Roy before the “post Lindsay disco” gathering in my room. In truth I don’t really remember it and I’m trying to get my head around the incongruous gathering of Anna Summerskill and her (as I remember it) constant desire to talk left-wing politics, with a bunch of hopped-up, mostly apolitical 18-year-old fellas – Graham, Brummy Paul, Mad Harry, me & Sim.

Sunday 15 February 1981 (continued) – up late – went in direction of Mainwaring – ate at Services – they [must mean Graham, Nick & Rebecca] left – Simon & Malc [Cornelius] for supper – early night

I have a feeling that the five of us headed off in the direction of The Mainwaring Arms, but then realised that a quick nip into the Keele Services “around the back” would enable the Londoners a quick getaway, while Simon & I could easily walk back to Keele.

As for the supper that evening, I’m going to guess that I vastly over-catered for the previous evening and had loads of Bollock-knees left over to enable me, Simon and Malcolm Cornelius to enjoy a hearty meal the next day.

I have no pictures of either Rebecca or Nick from back then, but Rebecca ended up with another BBYO friend of Simon’s and mine, Alan Tucker (who I think visited us on a separate occasion, some months later). Simon is still in touch with Alan and Rebecca forty years on.

Nick Frankel was obviously so taken with academia after spending a weekend with us at Keele, that he decided to make it his lifetime vocation. Professor Nicholas Frankel can be found, forty years on, at Virginia Commonwealth University, in the English Faculty. Simon wondered whether Nick would welcome this account of his Keele visit being published here. I think Nick will be fine about it. After all, Nick is an Oscar Wilde specialist:

There is only one thing worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.

Oscar Wilde

Winter Draws On At Keele, FY & The Union & Lindsay Bar & My First Concourse Article, 18 to 31 January 1981

Photo © Brian Deegan (cc-by-sa/2.0)

My flurry of diligence at the start of my second term does not seem to have made it to the second full week.

My markings in the Foundation Year (FY) syllabus book tell me that I only made it to two lectures in that second week of term. Then back up to five in the third week.

Worse yet, the handwriting in my diary (both its look and what it seems to be saying) suggests that I spent a lot of time drinking with my friends. Students can be like that – who knew?

Still, I did start a biology topic, I think on Friday 23rd January, Hormones & Reproduction with Peter Chevins. Jolly useful subject for an 18 year old fresher to understand. I think I was the only male student out of nine or ten students in that class. Masterful choice of science topic, don’t you think? Four years later in my Education & Welfare role I wrote a seminal work, Sexplanations, which surely borrowed a little from that FY topic. More explanations of Sexplanations when I write up 1984/85.

The diary notes my FY exam results: B+, B+, B- which is well below the level I would aim for today but under the circumstances (how little work I did that first term) I think I was doing OK.

I also wrote a sessional essay on Thursday 29th. Whether that was the modern history with Mr Jones or the comparative politics with Richard Kimber is lost in the mists of time.

The weekend of 24/25 January has an interesting note:

-> Union -> Horwood -> Lindsay – trouble.

The Strange Story Of Mad Harry

Although I don’t mention “Mad Harry” by name in my diary, I am pretty sure this “trouble” would have been the first of his noteworthy, unfortunate incidents.

Harry is (was) a very bright and charismatic chap, who lived upstairs in F Block Lindsay. He went wild at Keele, I think a reaction to a protected background. I remember him describing his parents as being very strict and religious Christians. I don’t think he had tried alcohol before Keele but was certainly trying to make up for lost time that term.

I also remember Harry claiming to originate from Botswana, for reasons unexplained, as he later recanted that claim. I think his family, of Southern-Asian origin, had come to the UK via an East-African country (Uganda or Kenya or possibly both).

But there was little point trying to fathom Harry’s claims and actions back then. He had a sword in his room, which I think was in a “stage-prop” state of bluntness, but was realistic-looking enough for him to scare the uninitiated. He would run up and down his corridor wielding it, when the mood so took him…which was quite often. I should know; our corridor was just below Harry’s corridor.

Harry was friendly with “Brummy Paul” who lived on our F Block Lindsay corridor. If I recall correctly, the “campus crawl” that ended up in Lindsay Bar that Saturday night resulted in Harry getting banned from Lindsay Bar, while the rest of us were correctly deemed to be blameless for the trouble.

I returned to Lindsay Bar the next night, along with a few of the others, not least to commune with the fellow students who had needed to deal with Harry’s antics.

While remaining on good terms with Harry, I took pains to avoid going out boozing with him from then on. One evening, not all that long after the first incident, Harry got drunk elsewhere, tried to get in to Lindsay Bar and ended up smashing a window there, which got him banned from Lindsay Hall.

One of the priests (I cannot remember whether Harry was Anglican or Catholic; I think the latter so it would have been Sandy Brown) took pity on him and gave him sanctuary at his house to try to recover his Keele career. But that kind effort was in vain and Harry ended up dropping out of Keele.

This tale does have a happy ending though, as I ran into Harry again about five years later in the canteen of Financial Training College in North Kensington. Professor Fishman had recognised Harry’s ability at economics and maths, so recommended Harry to Birmingham University where Harry was given a second chance, which, he told me, he took with great relief. Harry told me he realised how wild he had been at Keele, but he had learnt a lesson and turned a corner. He still had that charismatic twinkle in his eye, though and I’m sorry I only saw him the once in that canteen. I wonder what has become of Harry since.

Mark Bartholomew, Anna Summerskill & My First Concourse Article

During that first year, living in halls of residence, I would regularly eat with Simon Jacobs in the refectory, but of course we got to meet & eat with some interesting characters. None were more memorable than the dynamic duo that was Mark Bartholomew and Anna Summerskill. Sadly, I learnt some time ago that Anna died long before what should have been her time; in 2012.

A duo, not a pair or a couple, Mark & Anna tended to dine together and “hold court” at meal times with people they found entertaining. Simon and I seemed to fit that mould for them reasonably often. At that time, both Mark and Anna were in their second and third years (respectively) of four year courses I believe, so well ahead of us. They were also both into the student politics.

Anna Summerskill was a member of the SWP and very much of the organised left. Here is one of the few mentions of her on the web, a Marxist scan from 1980. She had been Union treasurer the year before our arrival. Having suffered the ignominy of losing the election for treasurer to abstentions the first time she ran, she had the guts to run again against abstentions and scrapped through the second time. Respect.

Mark Bartholomew was more of the non-conformist left. Very bright, very sharp-witted, he enjoyed an intellectual tussle and could find tiny holes in a lesser debater’s argument more easily than water finds small gaps in a leaky roof. I recall he was one of the student reps on the University Senate, which seemed to me, at that time, to be an incredibly grown-up thing. I think I have found a properly grown-up Mark, in a 2019 article, in Dhaka – click here. If that link ever goes awry, I have scraped that piece here.

They both had wicked senses of humour, which was not always abundant in those with pronounced political views. Anna’s refectory party trick was to eat a banana in as sexually provocative a manner as was possible to achieve. Only occasionally could she do this while keeping a straight face.

Anna with duffle coat but without banana

Anyway.

Anna had gone off to NUS Conference as the leader of Keele’s delegation over the Christmas vacation and a shit-storm controversy (by Keele’s standards) had kicked off about it at the UGM in mid January. You can read all about it in the following article.

I was a cub Concourse reporter. I got the gig to interview Anna and get to the bottom of the matter. The students needed to know. Apparently neither Bob Woodward nor Carl Bernstein were available, so I was chosen. The fact that I was friendly with Anna was not deemed to be an impediment. Indeed, I think the editors thought my refectory-style access to Anna would be an advantage.

Thus, my first piece as a Concourse writer.

I’m not at all happy with my mis-spelling of University’s as Universities. No need to point it out.

I can’t even blame the typist, as I will have typed this piece up myself, as I indeed typed up quite a lot of that February 1981 issue of Concourse. That issue of Concourse turned out to be even more controversial and consequential than the NUS delegation I reported upon within it. But the February 1981 “Concourse-gate” debacle is a story for my next Ogblog piece.