Wednesday 16 July – Fairly hectic day at work – met Annalisa for lunch. Met Bobbie after work – had meal at Mayflower & went on to Woody Allen Film after – v nice.
Mayflower was one of the better Chinese restautrants in Chinatown – now (writing in 2020) resurrected as New Mayflower.
The Woody Allen film in question would have been Hannah And Her Sisters, which went on general release in the UK a couple of days later. No doubt we went to a preview at the Curzon West End (just opposite the Mayflower).
I still think Hannah And Her Sisters is a great movie. But gone are the days that I’d complain about a hectic day at work in which I had lunch with a friend and left work early enough to have a meal and then see a movie. Such a snowflakey-sense-of-entitlement-youngster, I was.
Pretty busy at work today. Went to LC [Laurence Corner] etc.
Met Graham Watson for a drink – Mike came too (is leaving office).
(Met Jon Graham on way home).
Earlyish night.
I hasten to add that Laurence Corner was, for me, work – not a fun outing at lunchtime. Mike (he who was leaving the office) must be Mike King, who, by that time, I think was doing much of the work on the Laurence Corner account and who was, presumably, handing over some of the reins to me.
Graham Watson was an old friend from school. I vaguely recall running into him in London and thus meeting up. Coincidentally Jon graham was also a friend from school and (if I recall correctly) I didn’t realise he was still hanging in Streatham until this chance encounter. Jon and I met up again more than once, IIRC. I’m not sure whether Graham and I did. Perhaps Graham gave me the bumps…again!
Several years earlier, Graham Watson & Paul Deacon giving me the bumps, Tim Church feigns a lack of interest, picture “borrowed” from Paul’s facebook posting with grateful thanks.
Saturday 7 December 1985 – Met Petra in morning – breakfast etc. (Lost handbag). Stopped off at shop – stayed in the evening.
I remember the “Petra lost handbag” incident quite well, but with some gaps. I think Petra took an early train down from Keele, having arranged to meet me in the morning and then go on to see her folks down in Sussex. We went to quite a swish place in Piccadilly for “brunch”.
Petra and I got about five or ten minutes down the road when Petra realised that she didn’t have her handbag. We returned to Richoux to discover that the bag had gone.
Despair.
But wait!
A waiter said he thought he had seen another customer spot the left-behind handbag and thought that the gentleman had handed it in to the police. The waiter suggested that we visit the local cop shop.
In those days, that meant a short stroll to Savile Row. And in those days, only very limited questions were asked of Petra to prove that she was the owner of the bag.
And in those days, believe it or not, the copper handed over the contact details for the gentleman who had spared Petra no end of trouble, as we said we wanted to get him a gift to thank him.
Back to Richoux we went for some chocolates and then up to Albany Street to The White House Hotel. In those days, no questions asked, we simply strode to the appropriate floor and knocked on the door.
The gentleman, half-opening the room door, seemed a little taken aback to be confronted by two smiling, grateful youngsters and a box of chocolates, which he rather sheepishly accepted before closing the door.
I’m sure the “Do Not Disturb” sign had been invented by then, even though GDPR had not.
Sunday 8 December 1985 – stayed at home today – went to Grandma Jenny’s – did some work, etc.
Monday, 9 December 1985 – started FT [Financial Training] course today – okay. Stayed in and worked in evening.
I spent quite a lot of time at Financial Training in Bramley Road those years I was articled and studying for my ACA exams. That building is now an abandoned, graffiti-ridden wreck, visible from the Western Avenue flyover, reminding me how dilapidated I might look after all those years if I didn’t take care of myself or have someone to take care of me.
I asked Google Flow to produce an artist’s representation of what the place looked like in the mid 1980s and I must say it (via Nana Banana 2.1) has done a cracking job, albeit an architect-style artist’s impression.
I do recall finding the course work extremely dull, especially in that first year as I had to do a lot of modules that were merely repeating stuff I had studied before (e.g. statistics, basic law) or was familiar with from years of doing practical accounting (e.g. basic book-keeping).
I remember spending breaks writing imaginary skits and songs about my fellow “kids in college” to relieve the boredom, sending them by post to Petra at Keele. I’m not sure that this comedy worked particularly well but it was possibly useful training for my post-qualification avocation as a comedy writer.
Tuesday, 10 December 1985 – course ok – worked at home in evening.
Wednesday, 11 December 1985 – FT went okay (evening messed up by call etc) – early night.
Thursday, 12 December 1985 – course ok – finished. Went up to Keele this evening.
Friday, 13 December 1985 went to union – did exam etc – went to Ben’s [Benita Wishart] for dinner in the evening – ok.
Saturday, 14 December 1985 – went to kiddie’s party in the afternoon for awhile – had a nice meal in evening.
Sunday, 15 December 1985 – lazy day at Keele reading papers eating etc- very pleasant.
At that stage, I was still very much enjoying the weekend visits to Keele and didn’t seem to mind catching a very early train from Stoke to Euston and going straight into the office. The very thought fills me with dread now.
Monday, 16 December 1985.– Came down from Keele. Back to work today – computer etc. – work ok! Had an early night.
Computer etc. will be to do with the regular problems Newman Harris was having at that time with its computer set up. The main machine (which was used primarily for payroll services) had a tendency to glitch out. Payroll was a very time sensitive affair in those days. The service was offered to quite a few retail and hospitality sector clients who paid their staff weekly and mostly in cash.
I think the firm lost patience with the “manager” who was supposed to be looking after the computer services and asked me (purportedly bright and young) to help hold the fort while they decided what to do.
A bit of common sense and an obsessive compulsive approach to backing up data regularly…which I have never quite got over since…meant that I ended up holding that fort for rather a long time.
(I have just pressed the “save draft” button, just in case. Even though WordPress auto-backs-up very regularly. I just pressed “save draft” again. To be sure, to be sure). Let’s move on.
It looks as though I used that run up to Christmas to catch up with lots of my friends.
Tuesday, 17 December 1985 – at Setty today – popped in to office etc. Bobbie [Scully] in evening had Indonesian meal etc. Very nice.
Wednesday 18 December 1985 – work etc – at Setty – went over over to Kate’s [Fricker] in the evening – had meal etc.
Thursday, 19 December 1985 – went to Setty -> office – ok – met Petra in evening – had Chinese meal etc.
Friday, 20 December 1985 – work okay – very tired in evening – had an early night.
Saturday, 21 December 1985 – lazyish day – library etc. Went to Andrea’s [Dean] party in the evening – ok – stayed over.
Sunday 22 December 1985 – hung around for a while. Went to Jilly’s [Black] in the afternoon and evening. Very pleasant.
Monday 23 December 1985 – work ok – did nothing in the evening.
Tuesday 24 December 1985 – work in morning – finished at lunchtime – met Annalisa [de Mercur] for lunch – went home – had lazyish time.
Wednesday, 25 December 1985 – lazy day at home – went to [Doreen & Stanley] Benjamin’s for evening – quite pleasant.
Thursday, 26 December 1985 – at home – worked most of the day. Watched some television also.
Friday 27 December 1985 – stayed at home and worked mostly – taped – went shops with dad in afternoon – worked in evening also.
Saturday 28 December 1985 – stayed in and work for most of the day and evening. Watched a film in evening also.
Sunday, 29 December 1985 – worked for most of the day – had Chinese lunch etc. Got quite a lot done.
Monday 30 December 1985 – Did home exam in morning – went to shops, taped etc in afternoon – lazy evening.
I was really into classical music by that stage of the autumn/winter and I have no doubt that the taping I talk about over those weeks will have been classical music.
But one track from the charts that late autumn does stick in my mind as having been a bit of an earworm:
This theatre visit predates my relentless keeping of programmes and logs. Aspects of it are well-logged in my memory – the fact that Lauren Bacall played The Princess Kosmonopolis and the fact that the production was at the Theatre Royal Haymarket, for example.
It had slipped my memory, however, that Harold Pinter, one of my heroes, was the director. I was probably seduced by that fact, combined with a chance [did you see what I did there?] to see Lauren Bacall in a play that I had studied with dry-mouthed admiration at school; it indeed had been this play that turned me on to Tennessee Williams.
West End ticket prices for hot shows, even in those days, were a stretch for an apprentice professional lad just down from University and would also have been a stretch for Bobbie – just embarking on her second year of pupillage. But stretch we did, and, with hindsight, delighted that we stretched am I.
Full formal reviews will take some digging, but Harold himself got there before me with a super one-pager summarising the best of the notices – click here to link to that page. In the unlikely event that misfortune befalls haroldpinter.org, click here for a scrape of that page.
I have rummaged for some interesting newspaper stuff on this production as well as reviews. Here’s a reflective piece by Roy Hattersley, of all people, suggesting that this play/production is not for young folk. Try telling that to 23-year-old me and 22 year-old Bobbie:
That would take a bit of careful eating in Cavendish Square. Image by Nano Banana Lite 2 from Googe Flow on my instruction.
Mum & Dad must have been away at that time; they got into the habit of going away late October into November after dad retired – although this would have been their last holiday before he retired. I might be able to work out where they went etc from their old photographs from that period – I haven’t yet excavated that part of the family photo archive in any depth.
Petra popped down to London a couple of times during that period, I see and indeed recall.
I’d also started socialising a bit with work colleagues, I see.
Monday, 21 October 1985 – office OK – did some studying/stayed in evening.
Tuesday, 22 October 1985 office OK – did some work in the evening etc.
Wednesday, 23 October 1985 – work okay – went over to Andrea’s after work for nice meal very pleasant evening – stayed over.
Thursday 24 October 1985 – office OK – went to salt beef bar [Presumably The Brass Rail]/Cavendish Square for lunch. Went to back seat drivers class in evening.
Friday, 25 October 1985 – work ok – went out to lunch with Hayden, Spencer & Ming – Had a lazy evening in.
Saturday, 26 October 1985 – did work in morning – shopped afternoon – met Petra [Wilson] in evening – went up west (St James’s Park -> Mayflower) > my place.
Sunday 27 October 1985 – saw Petra off – lunch – went to Grandma Jenny in the afternoon. Early night.
Monday, 28 October 1985 – work ok – did nothing in evening.
Tuesday 29 October 1985 – office ok – stayed in evening.
Wednesday, 30 October 1985 – work okay. Met John Boy [White] after work – drink – Chinese – etc. Very pleasant.
Thursday 31 October 1985 office ok – went to backseat drivers in the evening – ok.
Friday 1 November. 1985 – work ok – met Caroline [Freeman, now Curtis] for lunch – had a quiet evening in.
Saturday 2 November 1985 – nice day. Met Petra in morning – went to Fortnum’s etc. – met Bobbie [Scully] in the evening – went to theatre [Sweet Bird Of Youth] and then for a meal.
I’ll write up Sweet Bird of Youth separately – that was some production.
I believe this scribbled note is the playlist from the Real Ale Bar Opening Disco
In the last episode, I described the re-opening of the Ballroom Bar as a Real Ale bar, with John White and I DJ-ing the disco in a less than sober fashion.
I am now pretty sure that the hand-scrawled disco playlist I discovered amongst my papers some years ago, see headline picture, must be the playlist from that gig. It looks like a playlist conceived by committee – it certainly doesn’t remind me of the type of playlist that John and I would (often quite hastily) construct earlier in the evening to give the disco the vibe and shape we wanted. Our personal choice tended to focus more on Motown, Northern Soul and general sixties dance music.
I vaguely remember the discussion with several members of the committee. Pady Jalali insisting that we play the Band Aid song at some point – John and I reluctantly agreeing to open with that song as a clarion call to let people know that the show was starting, as it would empty the dance floor anywhere else in the set. I’m pretty sure Kate Fricker chose the Madonna song and it had to be Pete Wild and/or Hayward Burt who insisted on some ZZ Top.
John and I unquestionably insisted on Police Officer by Smiley Culture, which was high on our list of personal favourites at that time:
Actually, you can hear the entire playlist, which I curated into a 40th anniversary playlist on my YouTube Music account – click here for that playlist – don’t be put off if the link is struck through – anyone can click and listen – you’ll get adverts if you don’t have a YouTube Music account, that’s all. I’ll be surprised f you haven’t had a little bit of a private dance (or in my case at the time of writing, hobble) by the time you hear Neutron Dance by the Pointer Sisters, if not before.
Let’s move on.
A Quick Trip To London, Including A Chance Encounter With Neil & Trish Hyman In Knightsbridge And A Planned Encounter With My Mum In Kings College Hospital
AI systems are now smart enough to read the charred remains of the Herculaneum scrolls…but still have no chance with my handwriting. I’ll have to do this transliteration myself:
Friday, 18 January 1985 – Very busy in office with busts etc. Went to London quite early. Stayed in etc etc
Saturday, 19 January 1985 – Rose lunchtime – drank and had haircut. Went to Chicago Rib [Shack, in Knightsbridge] in evening – Met Neil Hyman and Trish [Hyman] etc – weird. Stopped over.
Sunday, 20 January 1985 – Went home in the morning – lunch at Levinsons [friends in our street]. Went to see mum – then back to Keele. Went to see Petra [Wilson] briefly.
I’ll explain, in a later article, a bit more about my role as Education & Welfare officer helping students who had been busted. No idea why I saw so many on that Friday – I don’t think it was anything to do with our disco a couple of nights before.
I assume I stayed at Bobbie’s place in East Finchley. “Rose lunchtime, drank, had haircut” does not sound like me any more (he says, while writing between 6:00 & 7:00 am), but it does sound like the 22 year old me.
It will have seemed and still seems a strange coincidence to encounter Neil Hyman & his sister Trish, friends from my BBYO days, in the Chicago Rib Shack in Knightsbridge. Firstly, because Neil and Trish were from the Lytham St Annes group, which is some way removed from Knightsbridge . Differently posh, I suppose.
Secondly, the Chicago Rib Shack is not the first place you might think of to encounter, by chance, friends from a Jewish Youth Organisation. Perhaps we were all trying out some seminal vegan options in the place.
In some ways more coincidentally, on the back of a subsequent conversation, I discovered that Bobbie’s mum was Greta Spector’s sister. Her sons, Martin Spector and the late, great Jeffrey Spector were mainstays of BBYO in St Annes and indeed nationally. Neil and I served together on Jeffrey’s National Executive for a while in 1979.
Jeff Spector, Spring 1979
On the Sunday I went over to Streatham for lunch with my dad at Norman & Marjorie Levinson’s house. Presumably they were taking pity on dad and feeding him while my mum was in hospital. Very kind people they were – to me as a child and great friends to my parents for the rest of their lives.
Norman up front, my dad to the right
Mum was in hospital having her second hip replaced in Kings College Hospital. She had the first one replaced there in February 1975 and then needed the second one done 10 years later. Don’t know what it is about the start of years with a five in them, but I need to have one of my hips replaced and shall do so in a couple of week’s time (as I write in January 2025).
Back To Keele, Where Wednesday’s Wine Win & Waffles Needs Explaining
What do you mean, you can’t read or understand that? Oh, all right then:
Monday 21 January 1985 – Union Committee in morning – very busy rest of day. Const [itutional Committee] in evening – drink after. Petra came over later.
Tuesday 22 January 1985 – Busy day today – meetings etc. Cheap drink in evening. Petra came over later.
Wednesday, 23 January 1985 -Lots to do and meetings etc. Won wine today. Stayed in in eve – went for Waffles at Ben’s [Benita Wishart] later.
Thursday, 24 January 1985 – Busy and productive day. Lots of meetings in early evening. Petra came over later.
“Cheap drink” presumably means one of those promotion evenings in the Union, when one of the suppliers would try to encourage students towards their brand with infeasibly cheap offerings. I remember being put off Pernod for life with one of those earlier in my time at Keele. Sadly, with my diary being unspecific about the brand involved on 22 January 1985, unless a reader chimes in with a detailed memory, we’ll never know which particular tipple was cheap that night.
Clearly I didn’t over-indulge as my diary for the next day reads very industrious and perky. And who wouldn’t be perky when they had “won wine”. A whole case of Henri Maire wine at that.
While I was with my parents for Christmas, my dad showed me some vouchers and forms he had collected for an Henri Maire wine prize competition. He had bought enough of the wine for two entries. You had to answer a few quite simple questions about Henri Maire wine and then provide a slogan. Top prize, a case of Henri Maire wine. Several other prizes were also on offer. Dad had no clue on the slogans and asked me to help.
My entry – i.e. the one in my name, which ended up winning the case of wine that was sent to me at Keele, was:
Whatever the fare, drink Henri Maire.
Simple and to the point, I thought it might pick up a consolation prize. Dad preferred my other, more baroque idea for a slogan:
Tous les “Hooray Henris” boivent Henri Maire
The arrival of the winning case of “more than half decent” wine caused quite a stir in the Students’ Union that morning. Not exactly an every day event at Keele, that.
I remember excitedly calling my dad to let him know then news. He excitedly told me that my other slogan had also won a prize.
Screw you, Henri Maire. (That wasn’t the slogan). That prize, forty years on.
Dad was absolutely insistent that I keep the corkscrew. I still have it, although, as you can see, it has seen better days. I did keep back a couple of bottles of the prize-winning wine for dad, which I took down on my next visit to my folks.
For some strange reason I became tremendously popular at Keele, for a short while, after that case of wine arrived.
I don’t really understand the diary reference that says that I stayed in that evening but then went over to Benita’s place for waffles. It can only mean, I think, that my intention had been to stay in and that I had sunk into an evening off mode, before Petra (who was very friendly with Benita at that time) persuaded me to join the waffle party…
…possibly with one of those bottles of wine in hand.
Lovely lass, Benita. I think I have tracked her down on the net so we’ll see if she has anything to add to the memory of waffles or even other matters in this series of articles forty years on.
A moment in my personal history on that visit to London; my first visit to The Royal Court Theatre.
I was blown away by this production – Bobbie and I returned in the new year to see Saved as well, which was being performed in rep along with The Pope’s Wedding. After that, I returned to The Royal Court many, many times. Most recently at the time of writing (forty years on), strangely, as a facilitator for the Royal Court rather than as an audience member. A strange but true story:
But returning to The Pope’s Wedding, I am sure I have Bobbie to thank for seeking out the opportunity to see that production. She was doing her Bar pupillage in London by then and had no doubt spotted a review and/or an advert for the production. I think we got in on some sort of special deal, which possibly involved queueing up for “on the day” tickets. What I do recall is that we saw both The Pope’s Wedding and Saved from the best seats in the house for very modest ticket prices.
The Royal Court has benefitted from this “drug pusher style sales technique” for many decades since; I got addicted to watching theatre from the best seats not any old seats. In fact, many other theatres have benefitted from The Royal Court’s foresight at snaring potential theatre addicts young.
I quite often say “what a cast” in my theatre visit write ups, but on this occasion I think that phrase deserves a shout: WHAT A CAST!
Tony Rohr, Adrian Dunbar, Mark Wingett, Peter Lovstrom, Joanne Whalley (prior to her becoming Joanne Whalley Kilmer), Gerard Horan, Lesley Manville, Peter-Hugo Daly and Gary Oldman – directed by Max Stafford Clark. Here is a link to the Theatricalia entry for this production.
Have I mentioned that I was blown away by this production? (Yes you have, let the reader see what some real experts say – ed).
Returning to that weekend, the diary reminds me that we went to The Mayflower (Chinese restaurant on Shaftesbury Avenue) after the theatre – one of those places that we knew would still be open at that hour. I’m guessing that we had fancied trying The Swiss Centre but were too late for that, hence we returned the next day to take lunch there.
One habit that I think we started that Pope’s Wedding & Mayflower evening, which we/I continued for several years after, was to pick up the Sunday papers on Saturday night and start reading them on the Night Bus home if in town at that late hour on a Saturday.
I remember back then thinking that this weekend was the height of sophistication which, for the 22 year old me, it probably was, at that time.
I think Rumours was a Chinese restaurant in Newcastle [corrected – see postscript below].This picture of me eating Chinese food is from Guilin in 1993.
The end of September and beginning of October at Keele was the lull before the approaching storm of the new academic year. Apart from some fallout from the resits and resulting appeals processes, we were getting ready for the sabbatical year proper with a lot of training and induction activity.
Sunday, 23 September 1984 Got up quite early – mooched around flat – mooched around union – went over to Kate [Fricker] evening.
Monday, 24 September 1984 – not so busy today. Slouched a bit – felt tired too – went to bed early.
Tuesday, 25 September 1984 – Busy day with training course etc. Appeals results came out late afternoon – worked late then went to Rumours with group [probably Kate Fricker, John White, Pady Jalali, Andy Crawford, Ali Dabbs and any other committee folk who were around]– back to Union and mine.
Wednesday, 26 September 1984 – busyish with training and appeals results. Cooked meal for Kate, John & Ali, and took an early night.
Thursday, 27th September 1984 – Busyish day, callers, meetings etc. Went on trip with Allied Breweries and drunk quite a bit.
Friday, 28 September 1984 – Extremely busy with belated appeals etc – got to London late – too tired to do anything.
Saturday, 29 September 1984 – Got up late – went to Brent Cross. In evening went to Rasa Sayang for nice meal.
Sunday, 30 September 1984 – Got up late. Went to Blooms for late lunch – then went drinking in Highgate.
The End Of Appeals
Mopping up after the appeals results came out was quite a busy period, but nowhere near as busy as the time between resit results coming in and lodging the appeals. We had been quite successful with appeals that year. Without going into too much detail, a serious botch up by the French department with one blameless student opened the door to pretty much any appeal by a student who had flunked that particular subject. To some extent that was gaming the system but Eddie Slade, the Senior Tutor, gave me encouragement to assist those modern language students in so gaming. Oliver Goulden, who headed that department at that time, never forgave me for “humiliating him”. I remember politely pointing out to Oliver, when he said that to me, that he had humiliated himself with the initiating botch.
A Trip To London – North Of The River This Time
I don’t think I visited my parents at all on that London visit – I think I just visited Bobbie, who had just started sharing a flat at the top of the Archway Road with several other recent law graduates who were about to start their law/bar exams and (in her case) pupillage.
Brent Cross was not my sort of place, but I think Bobbie needed to buy some stuff for her new digs. She had been kind enough to help me with my move from Barnes to Horwood when visiting Keele; it was the least I could do to traipse around Brent Blooming Cross with her (oh how I hate shopping) before an evening treat at the Rasa Sayang, a Malaysian Restaurant in Soho, which was one of my favourite haunts at that time.
I remember the visit Bobbie and I made to Bloom’s in Golders Green very well. Bobbie was keen to try the place as she had never been to an authentic Jewish restaurant. I gently cautioned against the idea but was persuaded that this was something that Bobbie wanted to do.
The rudeness of Bloom’s waiters was the subject of legend. Aficionados of rude waiter places in London might like to conjure up a Jewish version of Wong Kei (Chinese) or Khan’s (Indian) with the worst excesses of those places coming to the fore.
But actually I think Bobbie’s and my experience is up there with any of the celebrity “endorsements” of the rudeness.
I had treated Bobbie to the Rasa Sayang the night before and she was to treat me to Bloom’s the next day. That’s how we rolled in those days.
Problem was, the waiter’s “sales technique” with a couple was to try to push the most expensive and/or extra dishes at the female, on the expectation that the male, keen to impress his date, would say yes to everything as soon as the female showed the slightest interest in the item being pushed. This technique was not going to work very well in our circumstances, not least because I knew all about the dishes that were being pushed and Bobbie was looking for my guidance.
Allow me to script one of several such attempts by the waiter.
WAITER (fawning, to Bobbie): I think maybe you would like to try the kishka, madam?
BOBBIE (to me): what’s kishka?
ME (yawning, to Bobbie): stuffed intestine – I don’t think you’ll like it. The helzel (stuffed chicken’s neck) is probably enough stuffed body parts for one meal.
WAITER (thinks): this guy is a pain in the kishkas. What’s the matter with him?
On the meal went, with the waiter fawning over Bobbie, while Bobbie gently but clearly signalled that she was the paying customer and I was the guest, even though I knew what we were ordering and she didn’t.
Eventually Bobbie called for the bill. The waiter brought the bill and went to hand the bill to me.
BOBBIE: No, no, please hand the bill to me.
The waiter looked at me strangely. Then he looked at Bobbie even more strangely. Eventually he handed the bill to Bobbie.
Bobbie settled the bill with notes. The waiter returned with the change, pointedly placing the saucer of change in front of me, not Bobbie.
Bobbie equally pointedly grabbed the saucer, asked the waiter to wait, retrieved some but not all of the change for herself and handed him back the saucer with his tip.
…said the waiter, which means “madness” in Yiddish.
Bloom’s.
Postscript: Jonathan Knight points out that Rumours was in fact a burger restaurant; the Chinese one was Peaches – still going in 2024.
Still, the 1993 tale of the Guilin snake, from which that picture is taken, is well worth a read although it is entirely unconnected with tales of Keele in 1984:
The National Union Of Students (NUS) provided training courses for sabbatical officers in September. I think all four of us (Kate Fricker, John White, Pady Jalali and me) went on at least one or two. Here are my diary entries about my week:
Monday, 3 September 1984 up early – Bobbie [Scully] dropped me at Stoke. Met Kathy [from the North Staffs Poly Students’ Union if I recall correctly] and went to [University of] York for Education and Representations (E&R) Module.
Tuesday, 4 September 1984 – E&R module in York (okay). Got back to Stoke, went to Kathy’s for a while. Came back to Keele.
Wednesday, 5 September 1984 – Got up really early to go to [University of] Reading for Welfare Module.
Thursday, 6 September 1984 – Welfare Module in Reading (v good indeed). Got back to Keele late and very tired.
Friday, 7 September 1984 – Tired today – cleared some of the backlog of work – ate in McDonald’s in evening.
Saturday, 8 September 1984 – Went shopping in morning – did some work in afternoon – went to Wolstanton to meet Vera [sic – Veera Bachra] in evening.
Sunday, 9 September 1984 – Rose late. Went in to office to clear work in afternoon – went over to Kate [Fricker]’s for meal in evening.
I thought better of the welfare course than I did of the education and representations one. I think I felt I had previously acquired most of the negotiation skills and possessed the requisite common sense that the first course was trying to impart. Whereas the welfare one steeped me in some techniques and protocols that hadn’t occurred to me before and stick with me to this day, not least the notion that volunteers and sabbaticals should signpost and refer, but not attempt to advise and/or counsel.
I remember Phil Woolas being quite heavily involved in at least one of, if not both of, the courses. He was NUS President at the time and went on to a ministerial career in the Labour Governments of Tony Blair and Gordon Brown.
I had forgotten that Veera Bachra had remained in The Potteries even until then and that we kept in touch into my sabbatical year. She had been my neighbour in Barnes L Block for a couple of years and became a good pal, as described in several Ogblog pieces (this link all those tagged Veera). I do wonder what happened to her subsequently.
Eating with Kate Fricker, more often at my place than at hers but on this occasion at hers, was a fairly regular occurrence throughout our sabbatical year.
Aftermath Of Resits Week
Reinforcements: Annalisa de Mercur, picture thanks to Mark Ellicott
I had been primed to be ready for a constant stream of people through my office, primarily those who had failed their resits and wanted help with appeals and/or pastoral care. It’s just as well I’d been primed.
Thus spake my diary:
Monday, 10 September 1984 – Busy day getting ready for the onslaught etc – Kate came over for a meal in the evening.
Tuesday, 11 September 1984 – resit results came out today – extremely chaotic and exhausting day. Worked till quite late.
Wednesday, 12 September 1984 – Appeals business all day. – Annalisa arrived as reinforcements. – came over for a drink in evening.
Thursday, 13 September 1984 -very busy day with appeals etc. Worked till quite late. Annalisa came over for dinner in evening.
Friday, 14 September 1984 very busy with appeals today – Bobbie arrived early in the evening. Went to Pinocchio’s for dinner and came back.
Saturday, 15 September 1984 Bobby left early. I got up quite late – went shopping with Kate – worked in afternoon – Annalisa and I went over to Kate’s for dinner in evening.
Sunday, 16 September 1984 – Got up fairly late – came into office for afternoon etc. Had Kate and Annalisa for dinner in evening.
Would you believe that Pinocchio’s is still an Italian Restaurant, albeit rebranded Pasta Di Piazza with decent enough reviews still. For sure it was one of the better places in Newcastle0-Under-Lyme in 1984.
Annalisa was on my Education Sub-Committee and very dedicated to the task she was too. Coming up to Keele, to help with appeals week, was over and above the call of duty, as were many of Annalisa’s sterling efforts that year.
Progressing From Appeals To Beer-Tasting
Ale be seeing you in all the old familiar places…
The appeals process continued into the early part of the following week, after which attention switched to the vexed question of beer.
In particular, under our new bar regime, we were very keen to offer real ales on a regular basis and had settled on the ballroom bar as a suitable location (actually the only suitable bar) for the storage and serving of such beers.
Other Ogblog postings, previous and to come, attest that we committee folk were quite traumatised by the process of dismissing the bar managers and the subsequent appeals processes. But I confess that we did enjoy the several field trips and organised tastings by the breweries that were courting us for business in that latter part of the summer. The diary leaves me in no doubt:
Monday, 17 September 1984 – Very busy day indeed with these appeals. Worked till very late.
Tuesday, 18 September 1984 extremely hectic last day of appeals, etc, – cooked. Came down to union and got pissed at John Smith’s expense.
Wednesday, 19 September 1984 -Very tired today – took it fairly easy. Got pissed at Allied Breweries expense tonight.
Thursday, 20 September 1984 – Tired and not very industrious today. Went to union in the evening and had to buy own drinks – didn’t stay long.
Friday, 21 September 1984 -Still a bit shattered. Went over to Kate’s for meal in the evening.
The Theatre Royal Hanley wanted to encourage Keele University students to attend their theatre. They offered me a pair of free tickets to see any show I fancied over the summer. I was a new Student Union sabbatical and it was a new (or I should say revived) venue. I suppose they thought people like me might have some influence over the “yoof” audience.
I spotted what looked like quite an interesting play – with Tom Conti in it if I’m not mistaken, which I thought Bobbie and I would both enjoy when she was up for a long weekend at the end of August/start of September.
Problem was, I chose the Sunday evening (probably because we were otherwise engaged on both the Friday and Saturday evenings) and failed to check whether the Sunday evening show was the same show as the Monday to Saturday show.
It wasn’t.
You cannot blame the box office – they had been instructed to issue me with comps for whatever evening I chose…and I chose the Sunday evening.
The Life And Music Of Rodgers And Hammerstein. I am 95% sure that the show we saw was Hella Toros and her ensemble. A grande dame by 1984, widow of John McLaren, who had been in the original cast productions of Rodgers and Hammerstein shows in the 1950s…
…here’s how she looked and sounded in 1940, before sadness and illness struck her life for some while:
Correction: it wasn’t Helen Toros’s ensemble, it was the Newcastle Amateur Operatic Chorus. The following clipping from the Evening Sentinel confirms why/how I got the “They’re Playing Our Song” offer (Peta Toppano and Barry Quinn, not Tom Conti) confused with Rodgers and Hammerstein, plus confirms exactly who performed:
It was the most stilted show imaginable. Imagine a heavy European accent dramatically stating
Rodgers and Hammerstein, the most wonderful musicals in the whole world…
…I bet she said that about all the composers of such works in all of her shows…
…Ivor Novello – the most wonderful writer of musical shows in history…Sigmund Romberg, the most exquisite operettas ever written…
Between numbers, Hella gave us bits of her life story tentatively connected to Rodgers and Hammerstein. Her late husband’s involvement in the original stage productions of the musicals was bigged up to the extent that one might have imagined that John and Hella were round Oscar and Richard’s places all the time back in the 1950s.
In short, Bobbie and I had turned up at the theatre expecting to see “our sort of play” and found ourselves instead watching a static recital of songs from musicals, delivered in an exceptionally old-fashioned style.
The audience was almost as stilted as the performances. Not that everyone in the audience was about three times our age. Dear me no. Some of them were at least four times our age.
Bobbie and I didn’t know where to look. Actually we did…not at each other, lest the giggles get the better of us.
To be fair, we mostly won the struggle to keep straight faces for most of the first half of the recital…
…until the rather elderly and minimally mobile grande dame of the show, Hella Toros, attempted to sing Happy Talk with appropriate movements…lifted from the movie…
…our struggle with retaining our composure was lost. For good.
We felt we owed it to the audience, who were, after all, our elders and betters, to withdraw during the interval, ahead of the second half of the show, rather than inflict the inevitable giggly disturbances on the audience throughout the second half.
The exact nature of the Hanley-based Indian meal we devoured in place of the second half of the show is lost in the mists of time. It was probably quite good food and reasonably priced – there were some decent Indian restaurants in the Potteries by then.
Is it possible that, but for my choice of night/wrong show error, I might have been able to influence the student body to frequent the Theatre Royal Hanley and helped turn around the disaster-prone institution? Unlikely.
On reflection, Bobbie & I probably shouldn’t go to any theatre with “Theatre Royal” in its name…I recall a peculiarly incident-rich visit to the Theatre Royal Haymarket with Bobbie to see Long Day’s Journey Into the Night. There’ll be a link here once I have written that one up.
I found a lot of my sabbatical year hard work. Occasionally I found the work emotionally challenging too.
Still, I doubt if I’ll find a more unequivocally miserabilist entry in any of my diaries, across the many years I kept such notes, than 30 August 1984:
Thursday, 30 August 1984 – horrendously busy day – including suicide, Frank [Dillon]’s burglary and loads of misery. Went to McDonald’s and pub in eve confused and wretched.
Suicide was an issue that constantly worried Keele staff and students alike. At one time Keele had a reputation for having a high suicide rate amongst students, despite also having a reputation for having very high satisfaction ratings. Existential Marmite?
Seriously, I recall being very upset when I learnt that Theo had committed suicide in the spring of that year, while I was completing my finals. I knew she was troubled; she and I had discussed the sorts of things she might get involved with in the Education & Welfare Office during my sabbatical year.
Whether I really would have been able to help her or not, we’ll never know. Things got too much for her that spring and she chose to end her life. Those close to Theo (in particular Ashley Fletcher and Simon Legg) chose not to tell me about her death until after my finals in the June, because they thought the news might upset me (it certainly did) and thus disturb what little equilibrium I had for finals cramming.
I don’t recall the details of the suicide I refer to in this diary entry. I don’t think it was anyone I really knew and I suspect it had happened away from the campus – possibly someone who had failed their resits or in some other way knew they were in trouble at Keele, but not someone who had presented themselves to me.
I also don’t remember any of the details of Frank Dillon’s burglary, except that he found it disturbing, as anyone who has experienced being the victim of burglary would attest.
Friday, 31 August 1984 – busyish day with resits and Frank’s business. Bobbie arrived in evening, moved, and then went to Hong Kong Garden for meal.
Saturday, 1 September 1984 – Went shopping late morning and dossed around, finished moving and cooked Bobbie a meal in the evening.
I say “moved” and “finished moving” in glib phrases, but this was a change of some moment for me. I had shared flats in Barnes for two-and-a-half years, very happily for the two years in Barnes L54 as discussed in several earlier pieces and as reprised in a letter to Concourse that June.
I moved into my own flat, in Horwood K Block. It was a small “resident tutor’s flat” which was basically two study bedrooms and the end of a corridor repurposed as a two-room flat with a living room (one of the study bedrooms), a small bedroom & a small bathroom (the other study bedroom) and a galley kitchen (the repurposed end of the corridor).
It was small, but it worked and it was all mine. Actually, I say “all mine” but it proved remarkably popular as a doss house for people who for one reason or another, couldn’t get to their own places for the night – e.g. John White, who moved off campus for that year but quite often wanted to stay on. John became very well acquainted with the floor of my so-called living room.
Despite the many visitors, I acquired a taste for having “a couple of rooms of my own” on the back of this experience and have never quite shaken off the desire, at times, to retire to my own little place.
The Friday diary entry confirms my suspicion that Hong Kong Garden was my Chinese restaurant of choice at that time. Anyone else remember it?
Not THAT Hong Kong, not THAT garden…the above photo nine years later
Did I ever thank Bobbie properly for helping me with my move? I know it was only from one side of the main campus to the other, but I do recall that the extra muscle really helped. Bobbie might not be the tallest person around, but, certainly in those days, she was pretty strong and could lug boxes as well or better than most folk.
