The cricket world cup final of 1983 changed the world of cricket pretty much overnight. Spoiler alert: India beat the mighty West Indies, at which point the entire population of India, which previously had not really seen the point of one day cricket, suddenly got it and adopted the shorter form of the game, for ever.
Meanwhile I was at Keele enjoying Festival Week and the entire event went unmentioned in my diary and probably largely unnoticed by me, other than reading about it in the newspapers afterwards.
That Saturday diary entry reads:
Went shopping in morn – Ashley came over in afternoon – we all went to Candles – Pat came over after.
“All” will have included Liza O’Connor (then my girlfriend) and Wendy Robbins who was visiting for a few days, as well as Ashley Fletcher.
Candles was a restaurant – in Hanley if I remember correctly.
I owe Pat a massive apology but I cannot recall who he (or she) might have been. Pat has other similar mentions in the diary around that time but those mentions aren’t helping my memory. Perhaps someone else (or Pat personally) might find this piece and chime in.
I do recall a bit of an atmosphere during that Wendy visit; I’m not sure that Liza appreciated Wendy’s presence and I’m pretty sure that I didn’t appreciate Liza’s lack of appreciation.
Wendy was (and still is) a big personality and I suspect that Liza felt somewhat upstaged. We were all very young then.
The UGM That Never Was (Photo: KUSU-Ballroom-1962-John-Samuel)
Don’t ask me why 7 March 1983 was noteworthy in my diary as “UGM That Never Was…”. Presumably some of us sat around for some time hoping for a quorum but the quorum never came.
Lots of mentions of Liza visiting me and even me visiting her at The Sneyd, so any hangover form my post-glandular-fever grumpiness had presumably abated…
…lots of activity and lots of mentions of being busy…although I do recall getting uncharacteristic waves of fatigue for many weeks after my release from the Heath Centre.
Friday 11 March 1983 – Rose early – did quite a lot of things. Alan went home – election appeals – went to see film with Liza – back here after…
…I think Alan had some serious partying to do back home that weekend and had finished all of his course work for the term that Friday. I recall that Alan returned to Keele several weeks later looking a whiter shade of pale green, having been out on the lash with his mates just before returning to Keele. I wondered whether a single binge-boozy-party had been sustained throughout all of those weeks and asked him that very question.
ALAN: Feels a bit like that today.
ME: You look a very funny colour, to be honest.
ALAN: You haven’t exactly looked rosy-cheeked yourself lately, mate.
ME: Fair point.
But I digress.
I’m irritated that I didn’t write down the name of the film that Liza and I saw that night – but I needn’t have worried. A private message to Tony Sullivan, Filmsocista extraordinaire from that era, secured the vital piece of information.
…Liza, Mandy and I went to Hanley, saw Rocky Horror…
This must have been the Theatre Royal Hanley production – the theatre had just reopened in a new guise and I think we saw a pilot or preview version of the production of Rocky Horror that ran there for years. There is a wonderful web page of memories from that production on this “Memories Of Theatre Royal Hanley” WordPress site. (If anything ever goes awry at that site, here is a scrape.) Also this newsreel footage from when the resulting touring production closed in 1988. Lots of Keele students must have seen this show in the 1980s:
I had seen the stage production of Rocky Horror in London in the late 1970s with my BBYO pals, so felt very much “ahead of the curve” in the company of Liza and Mandy that night – a rare feeling in the matter of the arts with Liza and her “art school crowd”.
To add to the horror, I did a class test on the Tuesday morning (15th March) which must have been the formal last day of term as I signed on 16th March. [For younger readers who haven’t been following this series avidly for years, “signing on” was something students all needed to do each holiday if we wanted in effect to have our grants extended to cover holidays. The thought of the bureaucracy required to have most higher education students signing on and off the dole three times a year is truly mind-boggling.]
Friday 18 March – Easyish day – did a little work – watched TV in eve with Hamzah and Yazid.
Hamzah Shawal was my Bruneian flatmate. Yazid was one of the Malay guys who lived in a Q-Block Barnes flat with three other Malay guys, not too far away from our Barnes L-Block flat. I have no idea what we watched, but it is interesting that it was such a rare thing for me to do that I noted the fact that we watched TV. We might well have watched The Tube early evening, as Bono was interviewed that day:
I’m pretty sure this would have been one of the rare occasions I cooked for the South-East Asian gang, rather than them cooking for me. They were quite strict on Muslim dietary laws, which rather restricted my meat-based diet.
However, I did have a couple of tricks up my sleeve which satisfied their religious structures. I always had a supply of Osem Chicken Soup Mix
This product is not only kosher but it is actually vegetarian, allowing me to make chicken soup & kneidlach (Matzo Ball Soup) for vegetarian and carnivore friends alike.
With thanks to Dall-E for collaborating with me on this image
My other piece de resistance for the halal & veggie crowd was potato latkes:
Again Dall-E produced this image based on my instructions.
If or when I can find my mother’s yellowed, hand-written pages of instructions for these delights I’ll publish the recipes. Hers were variations on the traditional Florence Greenberg & Evelyn Rose recipes.
Cheap, cheerful and heart-warming food.
Saturday 19 March 1983 – Liza came over in morning. Went to meet Julie -> Mike & Mandy’s -> dinner -> cam home quite early.
Sunday 20 March – Rose quite late – went down to lakes & back to Sneyd. Visited Ashley later.
I’m so glad that Ashley gets a mention that fortnight – albeit right at the end. Ashley has been known to complain if there aren’t enough pieces about him.
Thanks to Susan Gorman for this photo of Alan Gorman
A week after my discharge from the Health Centre, my post-glandular-fever student life reads, in my diary, a little like my pre-glandular-fever student life, with just one or two clues hinting at the differences.
Project
Several mentions of “project”, which can only be the statistical/econometric assignment that we were set as part of our economics course that year. Peter Lawrence would have supervised it and I’m sure he remembers all the intricate detail.
Actually, I remember my chosen assignment quite well. I looked at national statistics, examining the correlation between factors such as GDP and per capita GDP and numbers of radios and television sets per capita. The main conceit of the assignment was to consider whether I was finding true correlation or spurious correlation, primarily using the Durbin-Watson statistic which, as it happened, was available on the University Mainframe computer.
The analytical part of this project was fairly straightforward as I recall it. The grunt work involved setting out the data in a highly-specific format to enable the computer to pronounce on its Durbin-Watson statistic. What are, today, “work of a moment” tasks took hours of painstaking (and sometimes trial and error) data preparation and data processing work.
I have asked Dall-E to help me envisage what that 1980s University mainframe computer might have looked like:
Dall-E reminisces about 1980s computing
For those readers dying to know whether there is (or rather, was) true correlation between GDP and numbers of radios and TVs, the answer is, basically, yes; especially when using GDP per capita data and especially in the matter of radios. In the developing world, at that time, televisions were sparse enough that I suspected the numbers were more to do with government policy on whether to have a state broadcaster and the like. Also there did tend to be some interesting outliers in the data – for some reason there were an enormous number of radios sold in Gabon in the late 1970s and early 1980s, relative to the GDP per capita.
I think Peter liked my little study, because, while “answering the exam question” pretty well, it also raised far more questions than it answered.
I have but one memory specific to this occasion, which I recall Annalisa de Mercur referring to many times subsequently, because she thought it so funny and typically Plesch.
One student asked if our hosts would mind if they smoked. (It was certainly not me by then, as I had quit smoking on the back of my glandular fever. I don’t think it was Annalisa either).
Oh yes, of course, please make yourself at home…
…said Traudi, ever the hostess, who then spent at least five minutes bustling around the room opening windows (this was February, at Keele!), moving away precious-looking porcelain ashtrays, replacing them with utilitarian-looking ones. In short, despite her instinctive desire to make the smoker(s) feel at home, Traudi’s actions made it quite apparent that smoking was not exactly what she wanted in her living room.
They were in truth charming and generous hosts, the Plesch couple. The above-linked November 1981 article says plenty more that doesn’t need repeating here.
“Bloody Party In The Union – Left Early” Friday 4 March 1983
Not like me to be snippy about a party, but I guess I was not myself still at that time.
Dr Scott had told me to stay away from alcohol for six months following my glandular fever. He subsequently reduced my sentence to three months, for good behaviour.
The mention of the “bloody party” comes after a note about a rushed day and an election appeals meeting, both of which might have set my teeth on edge ahead of that particular bloody party.
I have no idea whose party it was, nor why I found it bloody. I apologise to the host of the party if someone reading this happens to be such a person. I don’t think it was about you/.the party, it was me.
In truth, at that time, quite possibly I found all parties a bit of a drag. Seemingly everyone else having a good time and getting noisily paralytic, while I nursed some ridiculously expensive yet ghastly-tasting soft-drink, which had no doubt been dispensed through a soda gun like the one below…
…those carbonated soft drinks never tasted like “the real thing”, if you get my meaning, even if they were sold as such. In the SU Main Bar at that time, indeed, they all tasted like a bit of an amalgamation of each other, which is probably what they were.
When not in bars or at parties, I had standardised at home on Sainsbury’s Tropical Fruit Drink (still available 40 years later)…
I wondered out loud with Dr Scott on one occasion whether it was OK to be drinking all this sweet stuff. He said he thought I was close to dangerously underweight at the end of my glandular fever experience; thus he was keen for me to put on some weight. I persevered with Supercans of Coke throughout the rest of my Keele years, even after I had reverted to drinking alcohol.
How the Great Yorkshire Pudding Got His Name, Early March 1983
The Great Yorkshire Pudding
There is no mention of the events that led to Alan Gorman acquiring the nickname “The Great Yorkshire Pudding”. At the time, I probably found the matter that led to it too painful to write down. Even now, I’m finding it hard to compose my thoughts about it and reflect on the matter fairly and faithfully. It doesn’t help that Alan Gorman sadly died in 2015, so cannot add his own thoughts on this matter forty years after the event.
The bare facts are these. Chantelle announced that she wanted to move out of the flat, Barnes L54, and that we should seek a replacement fourth person. Alan and I had already agreed that we would continue to flat share the following year. Hamzah, who was about to do his finals and had planned to go home as soon as they were done made it clear that it was entirely up to me and Alan to choose Chantelle’s replacement.
Ashley Fletcher was spending a lot of time at the flat in those days. He was Union Treasurer but living off campus, so it was a convenient place to hang out. He was good friends with my girlfriend, Liza (indeed Liza and I had more or less met through Ashley and his gang) and seemed to get on very well with Alan too.
Ashley wanted to move in to the flat. I wanted Ashley to move into the flat. I put the idea one evening to Alan.
Ashley back then
Alan basically said no. He was uncomfortable with the idea of having a gay flatmate. At one point he said that he wouldn’t be able to explain it to his friends back home. When I said that I thought that was not a good reason, he agreed that he had given a very poor reason, but still, without really being able to articulate why he felt uncomfortable, that he was resolute on the matter.
I remember feeling that I didn’t have the strength to argue and also at the same time realising that debating the matter for longer would in any case have been futile. I remember going to bed that night very upset and I also so clearly remember dreading telling Ashley the news.
Strangely, Ashley didn’t take the news as hard as I thought he would…nor as hard as I took it. In my naivety, perhaps, I had assumed that the idea would fly and hadn’t expected that outcome. Ashley had strongly suspected and at least half-expected that response.
When I told Ashley what Alan had said, Ashley just paused for thought momentarily and said:
The Great Yorkshire Pudding!
Those readers who don’t know anything about Alan Gorman might look at the picture I have used in this piece – Alan was even skinnier in 1983 than he was when that picture was taken a few year’s later. He was also from Brinscall, near Chorley, which is, unequivocally, in Lancashire, not Yorkshire.
The nickname, The Great Yorkshire Pudding, stuck, at least for the remainder of that academic year and the next one. Alan accepted with good grace that the expletive nickname had come from Ashley’s heart and that he sort-of deserved it. Alan would respond with a nickname of his own for me, “Bagel Boy”, which could get him into a spot of trouble today, not only with the authorities (had someone chosen to complain) but with Alan’s own wife and children!
Alright already, I like bagels…who doesn’t?
The epilogue to this story is, I suppose, not so bad. I remained friends with Alan and Ashley. Chris Spencer moved into Barnes L54 with us instead and proved to be a very suitable flatmate, staying on in the flat for the rest of my time there and I think until he graduated.
When Ashley dropped out of Keele the following year, I wondered whether that would have happened had he moved into our flat. Ashley of course is still around to debate that point and/but Ashley might argue that leaving Keele at that juncture was the right thing for him to do in any case. He has certainly gone on to do many worthwhile things, not least his laudable and often charitable work as a therapist.
But at the time, the story of How The Great Yorkshire Pudding Got His Name affected me deeply. I wish the older and wiser version of me could discuss it now with the older and wiser Alan. Perhaps over a smoked salmon bagel or two…and a glass or two of fine Californian white wine.
The diary suggests that I was feeling really low and still poorly during those first few days out of the Health Centre. The short-term improvement of mood arising from my release soon morphed into realisation that there was a longish haul to recovery of my normal energy levels and high spirits.
The interesting day that week was the Wednesday, when I found myself at the occupation of the University Registry by day and at a Eurythmics concert in the Union by night.
That mandate was more than somewhat against the will of the Union Committee, under Truda Smith, who wanted to do something else (or possibly nothing at all) about the grant cuts.
I don’t think we mandated the Registry as the building to be occupied and I certainly was not involved in the planning of the event. I was persona non grata with Truda and her hench-folk by that time and in any case I was sick with glandular fever when the event bubbled to a head.
Dr David Cohen, a larger than life character recognisable for sporting large bow ties, had, only the previous term, switched from being the Senior Tutor (latterly referred to as Director of Studies) to being Registrar.
I don’t suppose he was overjoyed at having the Registry occupied so early in his tenure. It was nothing personal – the Registry seemed to be the obvious place to occupy for such matters – partly because it was the centre of University bureaucracy and partly because it was centrally located on the campus and easy to occupy given its strange mix of formal construction and strung-together prefabricated Nissen hut-like structures.
I recall David being very suspicious of me when I became a Union sabbatical – I suspect he thought I was rabidly radical. But we found ways of working together quite quickly; he was open-minded enough to change his mind about people if the evidence was there for such a change. I was sorry to learn that he died in 2022, just shy of 40 years after the “historic” occupation of his office..
Frankly, 48 hours after my release form the Health Centre I wasn’t really up for it. I felt that I should show my face but probably looked like the ghost of occupations past; I had lost lots of weight (from a fairly skinny start) with my illness and I suspect that my skin colour was more yellow/green than ruddy/pink.
All I really remember was hating how I felt in that cramped, poorly ventilated space and sensing that pretty much everyone realised that I shouldn’t really be there, so I didn’t stay all that long.
I collaborated with Dall-E to produce the following artists’ impression of the event.
Not bad, Dall-E, but this lot look a bit better dressed than 1980s Keele students
The Eurythmics concert in the Union was a big deal for my girlfriend, Liza O’Connor. She was into synthesizer-based music and Eurythmics was one of the groups that everyone in the art school world was talking about.
Indeed, the SU had timed their booking of Eurythmics to perfection. Their first hit, Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This, had come out a few weeks earlier and was climbing the pop charts at a rapid rate. Liza was really excited about the prospect of this gig and we deemed it to be our postponed Valentine’s Night.
However, the sweet success of Sweet Dreams also brought with it some logistical issues. If I remember correctly, Eurythmics had been called at the last minute to record a video or performance of the song or something, on the very day of our gig. The result was a very late concert indeed. I think the warm up act did their thing and then went home and we the audience were kept waiting a long time for Eurythmics.
I seem to recall Liza really liking the gig, but I was half-dead on my feet by the time Eurythmics showed up. I think it was quite a short set, book-ended by Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This. I remember being grateful for the brevity and not really enjoying the show, which is a shame.
Latterly I saw a lot of Annie Lennox; she was a regular at my health club in the 1990s and early 2000s and thus we became nodding acquaintances, even “hi and bye” folk in the neighbourhood.
I wish I’d seen her perform on a more suitable night.
I should imagine I slept well after that tiring day but I doubt if I had sweet dreams while in that glum mood. I don’t suppose I was good company for Liza when I was that gloomy and poorly, which might explain why she left me alone until the Sunday. On that day, the diary says that she came over for the evening and that we went to see Ashley [Fletcher] after.
I’m glad Ashley gets a mention in the diary that week. I have recently (forty years on) corresponded with him, not least about aspects of this period. Ashley complained that there aren’t enough pieces about him. Actually, for aficionados of Ashley Fletcher stories, e.g. Ashley, that will be rectified in the next episode.
Annalisa (right) & Others, Keele Campus Store, c1985, with thanks to Mark Ellicott
I hadn’t had flu. I didn’t get better after being sent home from the Health Centre with some tablets. I got worse.
Saturday 12 February 1983 – Variable health – Liza [O’Connor] shopped for me – Annalisa [de Mercur] visited. Early night.
Reading that passage, plus some of the subsequent ones during my illness, I am reminded that I had several kind people in my circle, in addition to the attentiveness of my girlfriend Liza, who I particularly remember as having been considerate during my extended indisposition.
Sunday 13 February 1983 – Felt bit better this morn/afternoon. Evening came over all ill. Early night.
Monday 14 February 1983 – Schlepped straight back to [Health Centre] HC – pretty ill. Liza visited in evening.
I don’t think that was in line with the plans Liza and I had laid for Valentines Night. I was mightily hacked off as well as ill.
I have collaborated with Dall-E to create this virtual-artist’s impression of me looking ill and hacked off in the Keele Health Centre.
Dr Scott now suspected that I had infectious mononucleosis, also known as glandular fever. His suspicion was soon confirmed with a blood test.
Glandular fever was sort-of the 1980s equivalent of Covid 19 – it was not as well understood then as it is now. The medics were very fearful of epidemics amongst student populations, for some unknown reason. It was also known colloquially as French-kissing disease, although I’m sure there were other ways of getting it and no doubt French people knew of it colloquially as the English-something-or-other.
One side effect of that illness is to make the patient feel low, to the point of feeling depressed. I have to say that my only ever experience of feeling what I might describe as “depressed” was when I had glandular fever.
Tuesday 15 February 1983 – Still pretty ill today – bored and depressed – won’t let have visitors.
Didn’t they know who I am?
I was not a good candidate for isolation. Nor was I a good candidate for some of the clinical interventions required, such as blood tests and injections. Dr Scott – Scotty – was sympathetic yet firm. But there was one matron/nurse I particularly remember as being dragon-like, whose method was more of the cruel-kindness variety.
“If you don’t stop making a fuss, I’ll go and get my long rusty needle and use that on you instead”.
Note to students of psychology: that sort of shock therapy doesn’t work on trypanophobic people – at least it didn’t work on me.
Scotty at that time had a “kill or cure” therapy for glandular fever – a short sharp (high dose at first but rapidly decreasing) course of steroids. His theory was that it helped most people to get better quickly enough that their studies needn’t be deferred, whereas without his treatment many students ended up deferring their exams – in effect taking a year out of their studies, which I certainly didn’t want to do. For some people, the cure made their symptoms worse, but “kill” is too strong a term, as the drugs were only given under health centre supervision and would be stopped/reversed if serious adverse effects came into play.
The steroids worked on me without any serious side-effects, although they did have a strange effect on my being, which I’ll return to explain a bit later.
Wednesday 16 February 1983 – Moved into a room with James – got visitors today – Liza and Michelle [Epstein] – feel somewhat better.
Thursday 17 February 1983 – Several visitors today inc. Liza – feeling much better today – fair bit bored still.
James was a rather strange fellow. He was not merely depressed about having glandular fever and being isolated in the health centre with me. He absolutely hated Keele. He had a girlfriend who also absolutely hated Keele. Together, they had found a way of making their University life tolerable – basically by going away from Keele together every weekend – primarily to visit historic churches, if I remember correctly.
e.g. St Peter’s Church, Wormleighton, Warwickshire
“Got visitors” was a rather strange, socially-distanced thing while I was in this isolation wing with James. The visitors were not allowed into the health centre to visit us – they could stand at a window outside our room and we could talk to them through that window. I vaguely remember that there was an element of elevation to our room, with an inadequate mound upon which our visitors might stand. Thus it was harder for me to chat with vertically-challenged visitors, such as Annalisa, than it was to speak with the more vertically-assured, such as my lanky (in several senses of the term) flatmate, Alan Gorman.
James’s only visitor was his young-lady-friend, who would join him for a mutual moan about once a day. Their shared beef was that they would be unable to escape the Keele campus together at the weekend and visit churches again until James was better.
My visitors were more numerous (several daily) and a more diverse bunch.
Friday 18 February 1983 – Still bedridden – feel much better – getting a fair bit agitated. Liza and others visited today.
I’m not sure which of the “multiple visitors” days included Ashley Fletcher, but I do remember him bringing with him some reading matter for me – I suppose technically he smuggled it in to me by throwing the reading materials to me, where I caught them at the window. It was either Miriam or Heather who was, through Ashley, lending me the booklets in an attempt to help relieve my boredom. The booklets were basically lesbian porn story magazines.
I’m not sure I was ever qualified to offer lit-crit of that reading matter…nor lit-clit come to think of it. Forty years later, the memory is dim, but I did read a few of the stories which were, to my mind, very predictable tales with almost identical plot lines. An unlikely encounter would suddenly, “unexpectedly” result in a shared realisation followed by an almost identical outcome – **SPOILER ALERT** – a sex romp. Sometimes it was two females, sometimes two females and a man, sometimes several people with a focus on the females. I suspected that the same stories were probably gender-reassigned for other similar publications targeted at other groups, with some “characters” (characterisation was in truth almost entirely absent) simply having the name, gender and some small aspects of their dénouement activity changed.
The reading material was absolutely nothing like this wonderful novel
I do remember trying to discuss with my sole companion in isolation, the church-loving James, how peculiar and dull, rather than exciting, I found these story books. But James was simply horrified and disgusted by the presence of these booklets in our room.
Still, I was really touched by the thought and the effort that Ashley and the lenders of the material put in to try to cheer me up and help alleviate my boredom. I do remember Liza finding the whole episode hilarious.
Meanwhile, my use of the word “agitated” might well have been written to remind me of the peculiar effect the steroids had on me. I think that effect might have come to its peak the next day, by which time I think James had been released.
Saturday 19 February 1983 – Let me get up for first time today. Sat in lounge – very exciting. Liza visited.
Dragon Matron – yes she of the long rusty needle threat- came in to my room. I remember suddenly feeling a hot flush and thinking, “she’s not actually that bad looking”…
…the outcome was extremely swift, hands-free, involuntary and I am pretty sure indiscernible to anyone other than me. But it was a seriously weird feeling.
I have asked my friend, Dall-E, to help me to illustrate the scene:
Nothing to see here
In truth the care team in the Health Centre were very kind and really were trying their best to make our lot tolerable.
That Saturday evening, when they let me sit in the lounge, I remember that they had identified another student, a Spanish guy who was, I think, called Miguel (I knew him through Rana Sen and that lot), who knew me. So they arranged for us to watch TV and have a juice together in the lounge, before they served us dinner together restaurant style. It really did feel like a release from isolation by then, although in truth Miguel and I didn’t know each other all that well and mostly discussed how nice it was of the staff to be making that effort for us.
The Tv programme we watched together was Dynasty, which I had never seen before nor have I seen it since. I thought it was incredible – by which I mean that I could not really suspend my disbelief to engage with the programme. I think Miguel quite liked it.
Sunday 20 February 1983 – Let me out for a walk or two today. Very exciting.
Monday 21 February 1983 – Discharged from HC today – got busy laundry etc. Liza came over in evening…
In my impressionistic memory I was isolated in the Heath Centre for ages. Intolerable ages. It came as a bit of a surprise to work out, from my diaries, that a week was all it took to be “intolerable ages” when I was 20 years old.
I returned to Keele very soon after Christmas, for reasons that need no more explaining in this piece than they did in my last substantive piece for 1982.
Just A Few Days In Streatham, 23 to 28 December 1982
I basically just spent a few days in London with family and friends that year:
Thursday 23 December…went over to Wendy’s [Robbins] for the afternoon…
Friday 24 December…went over to [Andy & Fiona] Levinson’s…
Saturday 25 December…Benjamins [Doreen, Stanley, Jane & Lisa] came over in evening…
Sunday 26 December…went to [neighbours Eardley & Aidrienne] Dadonka’s in evening…
Monday 27 December …Italian meal [almost certainly Il Carretto]…met Jim [Bateman] in evening…
Tuesday 28 December …did some taping. Went to [John & Lily] Hoggan’s in afternoon. Nice Chinese meal [almost certainly Mrs Wong‘s]. Paul [Deacon] came in evening
Back To Keele For “Twelve Days Of Post-Christmas” Before the Start Of Term, 29 December 1982 to 9 January 1983
The diary mostly refers to hanging around with Liza O’Connor during that pre-term period.
On New Year’s Eve it seems that I made some dinner at Barnes L54, the menu for which is lost in the mists of time but it would have probably been one of my Chinese wok specials. We then went to the Boat and Horses in Newcastle for a New Year’s Eve party.
I have a feeling that Liza’s brother Liam was involved – possibly even the brains behind the idea. But it might have also involved Ashley Fletcher and/or Bob & Sally (Bob Miller and Sally Hyman). I certainly recall Bob having an affection for a Bass pub around there, but perhaps not that one and/or perhaps not New Year’s Eve.
It must have been a good night because it seems we dossed all day the following day, reporting only watching a film on (Alan Gorman’s) TV in the evening. New Years Day aged 20.
Friday 7 January – went to visit Simon {Jacobs] & Jon [Gorvett] today – went to pub, shopped etc.
I think those two must have been sharing a place off campus by then. I must ask them.
OK, I think I have assessed that those 12 days before the start of term do not contain a great deal of interest for the general reader. There are several mentions of doing some work, as well as several more of spending time with Liza.
In the interest of science, I have assessed the text and can provide the following, quantitative data about those 12 days.
Days spent with Liza but not working: six.
Days spent working and also seeing Liza: one.
Days spent working and not seeing Liza: four, three of which described as “did a little work”, only one described as “worked all day”;
As I have so few images from my Keele years, I thought I’d get DALL-E to help me depict that seasonal break. The above picture is a DALL-E image generated solely from the instruction:
Depict a University Student in January 1983 spending 12 days before the start of term dossing with his friends and girlfriend, doing a little work but not much.
Looks only a smidge like me, but more importantly I think DALL-E has erred on the side of the work rather than the dossing. Probably just as well.
Thus, the die was cast in many ways for the Keele year that, in my case, was known as P2 – i.e. my third year at Keele but my second of three principle years of undergraduate study. Liza’s dad was the landlord of The Sneyd Arms. Liza had just started studying design at North Staff Poly but, at that early stage of her student journey, was still living with her folks above the pub.
Liza features a lot in my 82/83 diaries.
I am struggling to remember Chevonne & Rani but I think they were fellow law students. I was studying Jurisprudence and Criminology that year; I think they were working with me on one or other of those disciplines.
A fair bit of domestic stuff, “shopping, laundering, cooking etc”. I also recall Ashley [Fletcher] was a very regular visitor that term. He lived off campus (or was it Hawthornes still?) but he was Treasurer that year, so was often about the main campus perhaps seeking refuge from the Union!
Thursday 21 October 1982 – Rushed today – Hassan pulled out of J-Soc last minute…
Much as I had been a bit press-ganged into joining Constitutional Committee, I had been press-ganged into Chairing the Jewish Society that year. Hassan was a shaliach – a sort of roving rabbi – who was supposed to look after student communities and/but – from my recollection – was culturally at variance with the mostly liberal, barely or non-practicing Jewish community at Keele and quite often did not show up when expected…nor did he turn up unannounced.
Saturday 23 October 1982 – Busy day – went shopping for carpet etc. Cooked meal for L[isa] in eve…
I cannot recall buying a carpet. I think it was probably something that people would now call a rug, presumably to try and make the lino-floored living room of Barnes L54 seem more homely. I think I detect Chantelle’s influence on this rather more domesticated tone to my diary than that which followed after her departure from Barnes L54.
Well, there’s some working, there’s some “not going out” and there’s Liza coming over midweek. I seem to have been settling into a slightly less “every night in the Union” pattern and more of a “get the work done during the week” pattern.
I love my description of the UGM as “quite good but dull”. I’m delighted for all our sakes – readers and writer alike – that the detail that led to that adjectival description is lost in the mists of time.
Thursday 28 October 1982 – Busyish day. WPR in afternoon – tutorials etc – Jewish Society – Ashley came along – went to union after
I hope someone out there can let me know what WPR might have stood for in that context. It must have been very important – I noted it in my diary. It must be obvious what WPR stands for, it is just my waning powers of memory letting me down once again.
If ever we needed evidence that Ashley Fletcher was part of the Jewish conspiracy…not that there is or was such a conspiracy of course…that 28 October diary entry is incontrovertible proof.
In truth, I seem to recall that I was on a mission to try to expand the influence of the cultural societies (which were all pitifully small) by making joint membership arrangements with some of the other groups. In particular, I recall plotting this with Tony Wong, who was my opposite number at the Chinese Cultural Society. Ashley was in favour of this and happy for the union grants, which were capitation based, to thus be increased to reflect the expanded memberships. My purpose in bringing Ashley along with me to J-Soc that evening, if I recall correctly, was to demonstrate that my idea had official Students’ Union blessing.
Saturday 30 October 1982 – …went to Chinese evening -> Union ->…
I recall that the Chinese Cultural Society, at that time, was better than J-Soc at ensuring that food was an integral part of a gathering. I decided that evening to try and change up J-Soc in that regard for future events.
Sunday 31 October 1982 – …KAG meeting in eve…
I am pretty sure that this was the evening when we engaged the services of Pete Roberts to help with our KAG master plan. I’m sure there were several of us at the heart of KAG, but I only clearly recall Simon Jacobs and Jon Gorvett being there.
Still plotting after all these years (not Stephanie, obvs) – me, Simon & Jon
Having failed to persuade Truda Smith (President) that she and her new committee should take some direct action to show the student body’s disquiet at the harsh University grant cuts – we would take a resolution to a UGM mandating the committee to take action.
The world as seen by Pete Roberts that evening?
The meeting that afternoon was help in my room in Barnes L54. The rest of us had gathered, then Pete arrived fashionably late, having clearly imbibed or partaken of some mind-changing substance that day.
I especially recall the reaction of Alan Gorman, my nonplussed fresher flatmate, when afterwards we chatted in the living room about Pete’s arrival.
I sensed that he was not all there. He was mumbling about a pink rat…and Simon…or perhaps it was a pink rat named Simon. I pointed him towards your room which seemed to do the trick.
I have ever since used the “named pink rat” line when alluding to someone under various influences, not least in my 1994 lyric about the rave scene:
Still, despite seeming to be away with the fairies, Pete was cognitively strong and sensible enough to turn the tables on me.
Our plan was to have Pete (who was the most recent former sabbatical Education & Welfare Officer) propose the motion and I would second it.
Pete persuaded us that it would be much better if I proposed it and he seconded it. The logic behind that table turning is lost in the mists of time, beer and goodness knows what else. I fail to see the logic now but that was the deal and that is what happened…
…stay tuned!
Perhaps Pete Roberts remembers or has a different take on this story. I’m still in touch with him…at least I was before this write up!
Postscript
Pete Roberts has indeed been in touch, writing the following explanation, which clears the whole matter up very satisfactorily indeed. Thanks Pete:
Hey kids, never try to explain something when under the influence.
Perfectly reasonable explanation. ‘Rat’ was a flatmate in Barnes. His superpower was that he had a pink rat costume. He only had to go for a short walk in it to be dragged into a party. It wasn’t all fun; he had to hurl drinks into his ‘mouth’ and whatever missed would fill up his wellington boots. I’m amazed he survived Fresher’s Week without drowning..
Ashley Fletcher reminiscing for me in The Sneyd Ams, 35 years later.
I retrieved this memory vividly at a pilot of Rohan Candappa’s new performance piece on 31 October 2017:
What Listening To 10,000 Love Songs Has taught Me About Love. It’s an exploration of love, and music, and how the two intertwine. it’s also about how our lives have a soundtrack.”
Somewhat unexpectedly, Rohan used (I Married A) Monster From Outer Space by John Cooper Clarke as one of his examples. If you have never heard a recording of it, here is a vid with an unexpurgated version:
It was Paul Deacon who introduced me to the recording (the expurgated version as it happens), in April 1982. I know these exact details because I still have the track listing from the relevant cassette, beautifully typed by Paul as part of the gift:
In October 1982, that cassette would have still been in the recent section of my cassette cases and was still getting plenty of play.
Now turn your mind to Freshers’ Week on the 1982/83 year; my third. Thus spake my diary:
That’s not a bad few days.
I saw The Beat at the Freshers’ Ball on the Wednesday. I’m pretty sure I liked them a lot before I saw them live. But once I’d seen them live I liked them even more. They were a terrific live act. I especially remember the Keele audience going wild for Ranking Full Stop and of course Stand Down Margaret, but pretty much all of the gig was superb as I remember it:
Writing in October 2017, I only wish that someone would write something with similar sentiments about our current prime minister. I mean, where’s Simon Jacobs when you need him?…
…ah, there he is. Thank you, Simon. But I digress.
Two nights later, with just one evening between gigs for me to recover (by “getting quite intoxicated”, apparently) it was Culture Club. That gig was eagerly awaited. They had been unknowns when booked, but were Number Two in the charts come Freshers’ Week, with the clever money suggesting that they would be Number One by the time the next chart came out – which they were.
Liza was at that gig with Ashley Fletcher and a few others of that Hawthornes Hall crowd. Liza wasn’t a Keele student; she had just enrolled on an art school type course at North Staffs Poly as it then was. Liza lived in The Sneyd Arms; she was landlord Geoff O’Connor’s daughter.
35 years later…Ashley in The Sneyd Arms – with thanks to Ashley & Sal for the picture
I remember being underwhelmed by the Culture Club gig. To be fair, their rise (and therefore the increase in expectations) had been stratospheric – in truth they were still a fairly inexperienced band who would have seemed “better than most” if people hadn’t been expecting overnight superstars. I remember them playing “Do You Really Want To Hurt Me” at least twice. I think it was just twice. Fairly short set, though.
Weird vid, but if you want to see/hear the song:
Anyway, Liza and I went on to the Postgraduate Bar – KRA afterwards – I have a feeling that Ashley and the rest went on somewhere else. Then one thing led to another with Liza.
I was over the moon, I took her back to my place…and we ended up going out for the rest of that academic year, basically.
I vaguely associate the start of my relationship with Liza with Culture Club. Very vaguely. Until I looked at the diary to prepare this piece, I had completely forgotten that Liza and I got started the night of that gig.
But when Rohan spoke about (I Married A) Monster From Outer Space I had a strong memory flash about it. For a start, I realised that I always associate that record with starting out with Liza.
I cannot swear that the following interaction took place that very first evening/night…I’d rather like to think it was…but I clearly remember Liza rummaging through my cassettes, finding the above one and yelping with joy that I had “I Married A Monster”, which she loved.
It was one of those joyous things; the shared pleasure in a rather obscure, let’s face it, weird, recording. It helped to cement Liza’s and my relationship in those early days. We knew that we must have plenty in common, because we both really liked that John Cooper Clarke record. What additional evidence could you possibly need?
In Rohan’s show, he didn’t really explore the business of how we use the discovery of shared taste in songs to help cement our relationships. But I think that happens often and is quite a central part of why music is so important to us, whether we are seeking, starting, in or ending relationships.
But thanks, Rohan, for helping me to recover this memory through “Monster”. And thanks Paul Deacon, for all you did to help me and Liza, without ever knowing it, until now.
By the way, Rohan’s favourite line from “Monster” is:
…and it’s bad enough with another race, but f*ck me, a monster from outer space.
That might be my favourite line too. But Liza’s favourite line was:
…she lives in 1999, with her new boyfriend, a blob of slime.
Perhaps that was Liza’s way of trying to keep me on my toes; “you’re not the only pebble on the beach…if you keep on like that I might prefer to date a blob of slime…”.
I’m done, but you might enjoy this ranting poetry version of I Married A Monster:
Forty years on, I realise that Keele student life is not all about parties and gigs…
…except in some ways it is. The most memorable stuff in my diary around the start of that summer term of 1982 is all about parties and gigs.
If some Keele alums from that era are reading this and thinking, “crumbs, I REALLY don’t remember The Cure coming to Keele that term”, you can relax. The Cure didn’t come to Keele – I went with some Keele mates and got to see them play in Leicester.
Blooming marvellous they were, thank you for asking.
It happened, as best I can recall it and transcribe my hand-writing, like this:
Wednesday 28 April 1982 – Easyish sort of day – did quite a bit of cooking etc. Rana, Paul, Rick ate at mine & stayed till quite late – Diplomacy etc.
If I recall correctly, those Diplomacy fellas were quite heavily involved in the Rag Week and one of the things we talked about was going off in Rick’s car for the weekend to sell Keele rag mags to poor, unsuspecting students in other universities. The fellas had identified Leicester as a suitable place for Friday night as there was to be a Cure gig there and one of the guys had access to a crash pad for us in Leicester that night, from whence we could go on and sell more in Nottingham.
That’s what we did, after I spent Thursday attending many meetings so interesting I didn’t bother to describe them and a “busy morning” on Friday – lectures and tutorials I would guess.
Friday 30 April 1982 – Set off in afternoon for Leicester…sold mags there – went to pub -> Leicester Union – The Cure – more mags – stayed over in empty house.
Actually I don’t think the venue was Leicester Union – I suspect the gig was held at De Montfort Hall under the auspices of the Leicester Students’ Union. (Correction – The Cure Gig list tells us that it was Queen’s Hall Leicester that night – that hall was part of the Students’ Union in Leicester.)
My recollection is that going door to door around the halls on a Friday afternoon was hard work and not very effective for sales – mostly because few rooms were occupied at the time – whereas we hit pay dirt in the evening at the concert venue – selling loads of rag mags in a short space of time.
The students at the venue were very welcoming to us and the organisers absolutely insisted that we went in to the hall and watched the concert in consideration of our efforts towards the rag cause. This was an unexpected bonus, not least because The Cure were utterly superb live.
Here is The Cure song that sticks in my mind from that experience:
While here is a recording of a concert held just four days earlier in Edinburgh – the one we saw & heard will have sounded mighty similar:
Saturday 1 May 1982 – Rose quite early – went to hall -> Nottingham campus & town. Went on to Uttoxeter – pub and then on to party. Decided to return to Keele therefrom.
I didn’t realise that I used archaic adverbs like “therefrom” back then. I’m not sure about it. One for the adverb colander next year perhaps.
Anyway, I don’t think the return to the hall or the Nottingham campus proved all that fruitful for rag sales – at least not compared with the door of The Cure gig. I have a feeling that the Uttoxeter party was something to do with Rick and something to do with pre-nuptials for someone-or-other – his brother or sister perhaps.
Monday 3 May 1982 – Busy sort of day – sorting out for evening etc. Motion at UGM went through – Simon [Jacobs] & Jon [Gorvett] came back after.
The “failure” of it, I suspect, was that it was insufficiently specific to guarantee that the Union Committee did anything sufficiently radical for our taste, as we took an all-too specific occupation motion to the Union early the following academic year – with predictably hilarious results to be reported when those events become “forty years on”.
Tuesday 4 May 1982 – Busy day working. Went to film (9 To 5) in evening – quite good. Rana & Chevonne came back after for coffee.
I’m not sure how well all this “having people back” was going down with my new finalist flatmates – more on them anon.
The rest of the week reads relatively quiet. “Helen’s in evening – crowd there” on Wednesday 5th is probably Helen Ross, a big personality who was very friendly with Ashley Fletcher. I choose to mention Ashley in this context because he complained recently that he was getting insufficient coverage in the more recent Ogblog pieces.
Saturday 8 May 1982 – Lazyish day around campus. Went to Union in evening – Clint Eastwood & General Saint. Very good. Went back to Mark’s [Bartholomew] with loads of others – rolled back early hours [Sunday, presumably].
It seems they appeared on the Old Grey Whistle Test just a couple of weeks before our gig, so their rendering of the anthemic Another One Bites The Dust shown below is probably quite similar to the version we saw:
I certainly recall them getting all to shout out “another one bites the dust” in the stylee depicted in the above video.
Early that term, I recall taking a tumble on the slope that led to the Chancellor’s Building from the Lindsay Hall end, while rushing to get to a lecture or tutorial on time.
A little dazed, I soon realised that someone had hoicked me up and I was being stared at by none other than “ABC” Dick Hemsley, asking me if I was alright. “Yes, I’m fine”, I said, embarrassed to have found myself in such a vulnerable circumstance with one of the better-known right-wing villains of the campus. “No”, said Dick firmly, studying my reactions carefully, “I think you might have bumped your head. Really, are you OK?” Thankfully I hadn’t banged my head and most of the bruises were to my “left ego”. That incident stuck in my mind, because it made me realise that Dick, despite our opposing political views, when it came to the crunch, was instinctively concerned about my welfare.
Possibly term seemed like an anti-climax; possibly the weather got to me – I have never much liked icy-cold weather and this was a proper cold spell.
The diaries – which are shown at the bottom of this piece but upon which I shall not expand this time – suggest a relatively dull phase – at least in my mind…
…until the Ronnie Scott & Friends Jazz Night on 16 January, which was a hugely memorable event in all sorts of ways.
Ronnie Scott co-founded the legendary Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club in the late 1950’s. It was already an institution by the early 1980s and we were truly blessed that Ronnie liked visiting student venues and especially liked the vibe in the University of Keele Students’ Union Ballroom. I saw him perform there several times while at Keele – this was the first of those times.
The following clip, from some time in the early 1980s, is pretty close to what the ensemble looked and sounded like at Keele that night:
For those who know little about Ronnie Scott/Ronnie Scott’s and would like to know more, the following hour-long Omnibus film from 1989 is quite comprehensive and almost of that time:
There is am even more comprehensive 2020 documentary movie, which I have seen and can confirm is a very interesting watch, which you can find out about on IMDb here.
My memories of this particular January 1982 evening at Keele are a strange mixture of clear and blurry. The diary entry only tells a small part of the story:
…went to Jazz Night in the evening. ** got pissed during and after!!
This suggests that only alcohol was imbibed at our table, although in my mind there was also whacky backy involved. Perhaps that was because Ronnie kept saying, “I must stop smoking this stuff” whenever he muffed his jokes/lines, which he did with charming frequency.
We sat at tables in the style of a jazz club like Ronnie Scott’s and I remember it all seeming very grown up and sophisticated at the outset. I think we drank wine and cocktails rather than beer at our table, which is probably why we got pissed unusually quickly.
I was at a table with, I am pretty sure (in reducing order of sureness): Miriam Morgan, Heather Jones, Ashley Fletcher, Helen Ross and one or two others. One person who was certainly at our table was a rather exotic-looking (to me) gay female with whom, for reasons I cannot with hindsight fathom, I started to dance. I’ll guess it was initially her idea, because dancing isn’t something I can imagine myself ever having spontaneously initiated.
Mercifully, this Jazz Night was long before the age of smart phones, pocket video cameras, TikTok and the like, so there are no moving pictures of our “performance” – indeed not even any stills to my knowledge.
It probably looked a little like the following clip at first, except that John Travolta is a very capable dancer trying to look awkward, whereas…
We danced in an increasingly frisky manner as time went on, until a pivotal moment when I suddenly felt drenched. Someone from a nearby “Tory Boy” table tipped a jug of water over us with the entreaty, “you two need to cool down”.
I’m not sure who did the tipping; it might have been Mark Ellicott (who still sat at Tory Boy tables back then) or it might even have been ABC Dick. Whoever it was, the gesture was done without menace and with a witticism thrown in, such that we and everyone at the tables around us found the joke funny, so we joined in the laughter and redoubled our frisky efforts.
Strangely, I ran this story by Simon Jacobs and Jon Gorvett just the other evening – forty years on. Both of them confirmed that they were not there on this evening.
Yet Simon, who usually claims not to be able to remember anything about our Keele days, immediately identified the young woman in question as “Nicola from Crewe and Alsager College”, which of course was the right answer. Respect, Simon, respect.
Nicola ended up going out with Miriam, which I think brought the Miriam and Heather era to a close, although I might be muddling the sequencing and/or duration of that episode. Others might well be able to put the record straight.
My diary states clearly that we all carried on drinking after the Ronnie Scott Jazz Night had concluded, but the frisky dancing with Nicola was definitely merely a “moment in time” thing during the jazz night.
Postscript – Remembering Nicola
Within minutes of me posting this piece, Ashley Fletcher commented on FB, reminding me that, a couple of years later, he shared a place in Newcastle with Miriam & Nicola, who became and were still very much an item after that January 1982 time.
Diary pages for the week or so leading up to Ronnie’s below. For the completists. There’s a prize if anyone can work out who or what I went to see on Tuesday 12th!
Postscript – Remembering Nastassja
Following an entreaty from Kay Scorah that she wouldn’t sleep until the 12 January diary entry mystery was solved, I gave the matter some deeper thought. Then I looked at the Rosetta Stone for a while. Then I concluded that the pathetically scrawled four-letter word, which I had thought all along was probably the title of a film, given that Tuesday evening was film night…
My teenage hormonal head would have been full of Nastassja Kinski for a few days…until Nicola came along. Sorry Nastassja.
You can sleep now, Kay.
Postscript To The Above Postscript – Remembering Tash, Tess & Nastassja
The mention of Tess generated quite a postbag and I realise that I was mistaken in attributing the 12 January scribble to that film. John White writes:
Don’t think that says Tess btw. The word begins with an s and ends with an h. Sure it wasn’t a person?
But I was buoyed by Jon Gorvett’s memory flash, inspired by my mention of Tess:
Anyway, also bizarre that you should mention Heather Jones, Tess, Nastassja Kinski and crushes all in the same post, Ian, as I recall both myself and Heather taking a sudden interest in Thomas Hardy around then, after Kinski had appeared on the cover of the version of Tess of the d’Urbervilles on sale in the Keele bookshop. Noticing this, we both later confessed to a massive crush on the said daughter of the great director (and massive child abuser, I see now), leading ultimately to enormous enthusiasm for Cat People, when that hit the screens later that year.
…so I responded as follows:
100% sure it was Tess. Memory flash corroborated by Jon Gorvett, who said that note brought a flood of memories. Gilted Jon (by Truda) and gilted Heather (by Miriam) both salivated over Ms Kinski at that time. My handwriting was truly appalling at the best of times and I often wrote up diaries when pissed or stoned.
But I did see Tess around that time – I’m guessing it must have been the film shown 15 January, which I don’t name – I simply describe it in my diary as “boring”. Frankly, I do recall finding the excruciatingly long Tess movie boring in every regard except for the visual charms of Ms Kinski.
