I went to see this production at the Almeida with Kate (previously and latterly Susan) Fricker. I rated it as very good and I’m pretty sure that Kate really enjoyed this production too.
It was an adaptation of a short Pushkin play about the interaction/rivalry between the two composers. This play inspired Peter Shaffer to write Amadeus on the same topic but the pieces are quite different other than the core topic. Here is the Wikipedia entry about the play.
The dates on these reviews imply that Kate and I attended a preview in March 1989.
The diary is silent about what Kate and I did before or after the show; I’m sure we will have eaten something or at least taken some refreshment and had a chat. Perhaps Kate remembers.
My memory isn’t brilliant on this one. I would have sworn that we saw Stella Gonet opposite Tilda Swinton in this, but all the evidence says we saw Lore Brunner. I can see no sign of ever having seen those two (Swinton and Gonet) on stage together, although both were prominent in the leading roles we were seeing at that time.
In any case, I believe this was only my second visit to the Almeida, the first having been some six months earlier, to see Hello And Goodbye. I do recall falling for the Almeida as a place itself on this second visit – whereas that first visit I was simply bowled over by the production and didn’t especially associate that visit with the Almeida. That was partly, I think, because Kate was especially taken with what they seemed to be doing at the Almeida in terms of restoring an old theatre for modern use.
I think the meal at Le Caprice was my parents’ idea – to celebrate my qualification as a Chartered Accountant along with Uncle Michael, Auntie Pam, Stanley Bloom and his good lady (Sharit?).
Le Caprice was a trendy place even then – I’m not quite sure what would have made mum and dad choose it. Perhaps to show off a bit. Perhaps because they had heard that it was a restaurant that was able to cope with fussy eaters…we had at least one in our party that day in Auntie Pam.
Roll the clock forward 30 years and I note that Kim likes that place, perhaps for similar “trendy but able to cope with a fussy eater” reasons.
I don’t believe any photos were taken that evening to mark the occasion – such meals were not seen to be the thing of photos necessarily back then. But it is just possible that I’ll stumble across some pictures when I delve into dad’s “late works” box of negatives and prints, which still awaits my trawl.
“Kates” means Kate (Susan) Fricker’s place. I’m pretty sure Kate was, at that time, living in a pied-à-terre flat in Hampstead, part of the house that had been the family home before her family moved to York.
Evenings with Kate were always pleasant. We both enjoyed cooking and eating good food. We both liked decent wine and we would always have interesting conversations. I’m sure that Saturday evening would have been such an evening.
I’m guessing that we would have both been in celebratory mode, work-wise, at that time – Kate was called to the bar around the time I qualified.
Here is the typed up version, scanned from what I think must be carbon copies. Is there anyone else left on the planet who remembers what carbon copies were?
I guess I prepared these for our glorious return visit in January 1986 for the traditional UGM/AGM thingie.
On top of my Hackgrass reveal antics on our last morning in office, it seems we held some sort of bogus committee meeting later in the afternoon. More a symposium than a mere meeting, by the looks of it.
It looks as though I completed the minutes that December, ahead of our January 1986 appearance at the UGM I shouldn’t wonder, so I’ll publish the typed version at that date. The hand-written version that follows must have been part-written on the day and then concluded later.
Experts at handwriting analysis forensics might be able to work out exactly what went on. John White – I suggest you might choose not to apply for this role, if your attempt at the Hackgrass cypher is anything to go by.
I have extracted a few good pages from the May 1985 edition of Concourse. By that time, my Education and Welfare sabbatical year was coming to an end, so the paper was interested in ushering in the new and ushering out the old. Hold the front page…
Superb picture of John White on the front page, the main (nay only) reason I have uploaded this page
There had been some sort of hoo-ha about the FY exams that Easter, so it seems that I got busy and Margaret Gordon (a lovely lass, I wonder what became of her?) interviewed me about it:
FY stands for Foundation Year, the late lamented “try a bit of everything” course, sadly no longer taught at Keele. Gresham College is perhaps the closest thing to it.
I like the next two pages – a double page spread on the new sabbaticals. Nice to still have pictures of faces I remember. Hayward Burt’s comments on my style raised a smile with me.
I don’t think the term “stress head” had been invented back then, not least because, if it had existed, I think that is exactly the term Hayward would have used to describe me.
I love this little article about John White, Kate Fricker and the Students’ Union cleaners. John looks like a rabbit startled by headlights in the picture. Little did he know that he would subsequently become seasoned for photo shoots, such as his gig as the poster boy for Food Retailer Monthly magazine (or whatever it was called, why can’t I remember?)
Top tank top, John.
Finally the following review of the UGM. These days, the (anonymous) author of this piece would surely not get away with the ethno-physiognomy remark made about me, especially in that context. Where was editor Krista Cowman’s red pen when I needed it? Surely the UGM and Concourse should have been safe space from such comments for people like me? Is it too late for me to seek redress?
Strangely, I have no recollection whatsoever of reading that comment before, although I must have read it, so it must have seemed like water of a duck’s par for the course back then.
The piece I want to blog about is preceded by a long rant by Robert Coyle about the use of the term “fascists” to describe Conservatives. Good on Krista Cowman for allowing a Wally that much space, while still failing to resist giving the piece a derogatory headline.
But the piece “what a relief” made me laugh out loud and did bring back a very faint memory of the “official opening”. Don’t think it would have been Pomagne in my hand, though. I had eschewed cider-type beverages ever since my disastrous evening with cider at the Andorra after show party.
The running headline phrase “juicy bits” does not sit too happily with a story about new union toilets, but I think I should rapidly move on from that line of thought.
The Concourse team seemingly wanted its own gossip column to replace the now marginal/retiring Hackgrass, so came up with this Obiter Dicta column. Not sure who was behind it, but I’d guess that Krista Cowman (new editor) had a hand in it herself, possibly Quentin Rubens (the outgoing editor).
Something tells me that Ali Dabbs was involved. Partly the style, partly the strangely positive reference to his physique.
Toby Bourgein.Picture “liberated” from the 1980/81 Keele Prospectus
I am sadly motivated to write up this story having learnt, a few days ago (September 2020), that Toby Bourgein has died. Toby captained the Players cricket team in all three of the festival matches I played. I had been intending to write up this glorious 1984 match for a couple of years, since I wrote up the tale of my surprise appearance in the 1982 match..
For those not motivated to click the above link, I was a late selection for the 1982 match (for reasons that, alone, make the 1982 link worth clicking). I did not bowl and I did not bat in that historic victory, but I did, more by luck than judgement, take a stunning catch.
It won’t have looked this good, I wouldn’t have been so suitably attired, but it was a diving (in my case left-handed) catch. This picture from school five years earlier. I was better at taking pictures than at playing cricket. Still am.
Toby Borgein had a long memory and a good heart. I ran into him a week or two before the 1984 match and he told me he wanted me to play again and have a proper go this time.
We have a solid opening batsman, Ian Herd, this year. I’d like you to open the batting with him.
Ian was on Somerset CCC’s youth books – i.e. he was way above “our” scratchy festival knock-about cricket pay grade. But I didn’t know that until later.
Several of my friends came along to watch this time around, not least because I knew more than 30 minutes before the start of the match that I’d be playing. Anyway, there were worse places on earth to spend a glorious summer afternoon than the Keele Festival Week Beer Tent.
With thanks to Frank Dillon, this picture of an earlier “Players” team, probably 1981
We (The Players) fielded first. I neither distinguished myself nor embarrassed myself in the field – unlike 1982, during which my fielding had met triumph and disaster; naturally treating both of those imposters just the same.
I was mostly fielding in the long grass where I was able to nurse my pint of ale and seemingly play cricket at the same time. Who says men cannot multi-task?
The Gentlemen scored a little over 100 in their innings. A respectable but hopefully not insurmountable score for that fixture, based on previous experiences.
Then to bat. Sadly I have no pictures from the 1982, 1983 nor the 1984 event – if any are subsequently uncovered/scanned I shall add them. Here is the earliest photo of me going in to bat I can find; from 1998:
If you imagine Barnes Hall to the right of me and the tennis courts, beer tents etc. to the left, this could almost be the Keele playing fields. Almost, I said.
I still hadn’t picked up a cricket bat since school, unless you count the 1983 net and subsequent nought not out without facing a ball. But I was quite fit that summer, having played tennis regularly before (more or less during) and after my finals.
Anyway, Ian Herd could bat. We rattled along. I helped to see the shine off the new ball. I suspect that Ian made a greater contribution towards seeing off the shine by knocking the ball to all parts, but we’ll let that aspect pass.
The crowd was probably more heavily weighted towards Players’ supporters than Gentlemen’s supporters, but in any case by the second half of the match vocal chords were more lubricated.
In what seemed like next to no time, there was a cry from the crowd…
50-up
…allowing me and Ian a joyous moment of handshaking celebration in the middle.
“I think I’d better ‘hit out or get out’ to give some of the others a go this year”, I said.
“Good idea”, said t’other Ian
It didn’t take long (one ball) for me to loft one up in the air and get caught.
More tumultuous applause as I came off, with the score on 53/1.
“Fifty partnership – great stuff”, said Toby, ever the encouraging captain
I remember Bobbie Scully and Ashley Fletcher both being there. and both expressing joy in my performance and surprise that I could play. I’m pretty sure that several of my fellow Union Committee members, not least John White, Kate Fricker and Pady Jalali were around too.
Remember, folks, that everyone was quite well oiled by then and no-one was REALLY watching…
…apart from the scorer.
The scorer was Doreen Steele’s son. Doreen was the Students’ Union accountant and the NUPE shop steward for the union staff. Her son clearly aspired to similar careers.
“How many of the 53 did I score?”, I asked.
“Three”, said the lad.
“Are you sure it wasn’t four?” I asked, having counted to four in my head.
“You’re probably including a leg bye…”
“…I hit that ball onto my pad, actually…”
“…the umpire signalled leg bye. It was a leg bye…
…you scored three.”
You can’t argue with that schoolboy logic.
Nor can you argue with the fact that I had been part of a fifty partnership in a cricket match.
Nor can you argue with the fact that Toby Bourgein had pulled off a captaincy masterstroke…or at least a warm, generous gesture that meant a lot to me.
But did The Players win the match, I hear you cry? You bet your sweet pint of Marston’s Pedigree we won.
Toby Bourgein will be better remembered at Keele for many other things, not least his student activism. The one other picture I have of him, below, is from a protest we attended together in 1982. But I remember Toby especially fondly for these silly cricket matches, for which he was, O Captain! My Captain!
Toby bottom left, looking suitably senior and serious about fighting the cuts. Me towards the right, in trope-inducing donkey jacket, holding diagonal corner of the campus model
Truda Smith, Kate Fricker & Mark Ellicott, with thanks to the latter for the photo
Another week in which the diary only tells a small part of the story, as my memory dredges other details too, not least the fact that Kate (now Susan) Fricker was elected SU President that week.
Sunday 12 February 1984 – Took Bobbie [Scully] to Health Centre in the morning – not at all well. Odd day clearing up etc – saw film – went Union in evening.
Monday 13 February 1984 – Funny day – tried visit B etc. – let her out in afternoon – went there & Constitutional Committee eve – met Jula [close friend of Bobbie’s] et. al. afterwards
In order to cover my tracks, I was as visceral about myself in that initial piece as I had been about the students’ union protagonists. I particularly remember Annalisa de Mercur approaching me in the Chancellor’s Building, worried that I might be upset by the coverage. So concerned was she and so seemingly unconvinced by my shrugging it off, I confessed to her that I was H Ackgrass and adopted her into the small inner sanctum of spies henceforward. This proved to be a useful tactic, as Annalisa was a bit differently connected to people on the periphery of union politics than my other spies and was unlikely to be suspected as part of an underground H Ackgrass network.
Tuesday, 14 February 1984 – Pleasant day – prepared talk for evening – fairly lazy day – gave talk to Careless Talk in eve – Bobbie came back.
Wednesday, 15 February 1984 – Busyish day about place – shopped – worked etc. Popped over to B’s for a while in eve.
…but I did not in truth remember ever giving a talk to Careless Talk. Ashley Fletcher and/or Sally Hyman might remember what I talked about. It might have been something to do with the economics I was studying (I was deep into the pharmaceutical industry for my dissertation that year) or something to do with my view that reform is universally preferable to revolution.
Thursday, 16 February 1984 – Busyish day – worked, union etc – didn’t get much work done. Went over to B’s – stayed.
Friday, 17 February 1984 – Hectic day – shops – classes, etc. Election count etc – Jilly [Black] arrived – went home and had meal.
Saturday, 18 February 1984 – I showed Jilly around – went to Newcastle – came back – cooked a big meal – stayed in after.
Jilly visiting Keele, but I think this photo was on a subsequent visit later that year.
Kate Fricker winning that presidential election was the first peg in the ground of a seemingly suitable committee for 1984/85. Good people, such as John White and Pete Wild, had already put their names forward for the next round of elections by then too. In my mind, Bobbie would be the final sabbatical peg as Education & Welfare Officer, but Bobbie had other ideas.
Unconnected with union politics, I think Bobbie went away that weekend to see her family. That will have been one of the reasons that it was a suitable weekend for Jilly to visit Keele. I’m not entirely sure who would have participated in “the big meal” I describe for the Saturday, but it might well have included people like Annalisa de Mercur and/or Michelle Epstein. It might well have included my flatmate Alan Gorman, who enjoyed the sort of food I cooked, as did Vivian Robinson, with whom I was very much on dining terms by then. My other flatmates, Pete Wild and his regularly visiting girlfriend Melissa Oliveck were strict vegetarians, as was, I think, Chris Spencer, the other actual resident.
Whoever it was who dined, given that I described it as “a big meal”, Barnes L54 will have been buzzing that evening.
Alan Gorman. “You can call me Al…but please don’t call me Pudding”
Keen to add some spice to the elections, I surreptitiously put my flatmate, Alan Gorman, down for the presidential election under his nickname, “The Great Yorkshire Pudding” (Alan was skinny and from Lancashire).
My behaviour (forging a candidacy) was unbecoming for the chair of election appeals committee, I do now realise.
Alan was really furious when he first found out about it – understandably so. I went out that evening wondering if I had gone too far and permanently messed up a good friendship. When I got back to the flat, Alan had gone to bed but had left a piece of paper on the table.
I laughed a lot – partly because it was very funny and partly the relief of learning that he had decided to go along with the wheeze. The following two scans are that “supplementary personifesto” as it appeared in its published form. Connoisseurs of my doodles might recognise Schlock in the top right corner of the first page. Connoisseurs of 1980s culture might like to identify the personalities on the second page – no prizes but lots of kudos if you populate the comments section with some answers:
The main manifesto is lost in the mists of time; probably just as well. It wasn’t a patch on the above supplementary. I did also keep a copy of the little “Relayer” messages from that election; see the following couple of pages:
Mercifully, rather than Pudding, the delightful Kate Fricker won that election – she was excellent and working with her was such a pleasure.
Billington on Mozart Salieri Mon, Apr 10, 1989 – 37 · The Guardian (London, Greater London, England) · Newspapers.com
Ratcliffe on Mozart Salieri Sun, Apr 16, 1989 – 43 · The Observer (London, Greater London, England) · Newspapers.com
