The summer term of my Foundation Year (FY) at Keele was mostly, in my memory, idyllic. The music I was listening to at the time, on the Philips Spatial Stereo Ghettoblaster/Boombox depicted above, still brings to my mind so many sensations from that first spring/summer at Keele, forty years ago as I write.
…one thing my memory does not recall one jot is the Friday evening of 8 May 1981, when, according to the diary:
…went to Burslem in evening. Enjoyable evening. Back here [my salubrious new room, Lindsay F4] for coffee.
What on earth was there to do in Burslem back then that was enjoyable? I hope someone remembers and chips in with a memory or two.
I went to see And Justice For All at Film Soc on the Tuesday (heavy, star-studded stuff). They were clearly into star-studded, deep stuff that term, as the following Tuesday I saw The Deep.
That was serious, growing-up stuff, as I explain in my write up of the circumstances and the funeral.
I like the way I wrote up Monday 18 May in my diary:
Decorator moved in – I moved out! Back to Keele – finished politics.
The decorator was named Ron Day. Why I remember that fact, when I cannot remember the names of people I met recently and whose names I have good reason to remember, I cannot fathom. Anyway, it’s good to know that I had completely mastered politics by 18 May 1981.
But before I moved out – almost certainly on the Saturday evening which I describe as an “easy evening”, I made a couple of mix tapes for myself, mostly from the second-hand records I had been buying at Record & Tape Exchange over the preceding few years:
Those readers who like this sort of thing might enjoy the listings and the recordings below. Where possible this time I have used the digitised versions of my actual old crackly records.
Hidden Treasure Side AHidden Treasure Side B – minus the two tracks (presumably from the radio) embedded below
Dusty Side ADusty Side B
A real mixed bag there.
As I have said elsewhere, anyone who lived south-facing in Lindsay D, E and especially F blocks, plus the military outpost that was G Block that year, all enjoyed the benefit of my musical miscellany at high volume on my blaster for the remainder of the summer term of 1981 whenever it made sense to open the windows and/or sit outside – which was quite a lot that summer term if my memory serves me well.
Image “borrowed” from a defunct catawiki listing on fair use basis for identification
I recovered this Hoover Factory 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.”
I listened to the cassettes Graham made for me a lot in that final term of my first year at Keele. I especially liked the Hoover Factory song, even before the events of mid May.
Wednesday 13 May1981
I was in the Students’ Union that evening (as usual) when I got tannoyed.
The sound of Wally across the tannoy saying:
would Ear Narris come to reception please. Ear Narris to reception…
…became a commonplace in my sabbatical year…
…I even have a towel emblazoned with the legend “Ear Narris”, a gift from Petra…
…but this was probably the first time I had ever been tannoyed in the Students’ Union.
It was my mum on the phone. My father’s older brother, Manny, had died suddenly of a heart attack. I was needed at home. Rapidly. Traditional Jewish funerals are conducted very soon after death and that branch of the family was/is traditional. I went to bed early, knowing I would need to make a very early start (by student standards) the next day.
Thursday 14 May 1981
A flurry of activity.
Early in the morning, I went round to see a few academics to reschedule my essays and excuse myself from a tutorial or two. I recall the topology tutor (professor?) seeming incredibly strange. Twice I told him that my uncle had died and twice he said back to me, “I’m sorry to hear that your father has died”.
Once I had agreed my absences and extensions, I legged it to London, having arranged to stop off at the place near Euston where the religious paperwork for births, marriages, deaths and stuff used to get done. Was it Rex House in those days? Anyway, I was suitably “family but not immediate family” (the latter are officially in mourning and are not allowed to do stuff) to help get the paperwork sorted out.
I learnt that Uncle Manny was (officially) born in Vilnius, although the family hailed from the “twixt Minsk and Pinsk” Belarus part of the Pale of Settlement. The family might have already been on the move by the time he was born or that answer might, at the time, have seemed more acceptable when the UK arrivals paperwork was being done.
When I got home, I recall that Grandma Anne, 88/89 years old, was in our house and in the most shocking state. Apparently Uncle Manny had collapsed in her kitchen and she was unable to get past the collapsed body of her son to try to call for help. A nightmarish scenario that would seem unlikely & overly melodramatic if used in fiction. Grandma Anne never really recovered from the shock of this event and didn’t survive that calendar year.
It was the first time I had witnessed death at close hand. I was very small (8 or 9) when Uncle Alec, the oldest of the four brothers, died; in truth I had been shielded from it. But this time I was very affected by witnessing and being part of this family bereavement.
From left to right, Uncles Manny, Michael and Alec
Friday 15 May 1981
The funeral, at Bushy Cemetery. We were driven out as part of the funeral cortege of course.
I had only been to one funeral before – as it happens at the same cemetery – that of Bernard Rothbart, a teacher at Alleyn’s – perhaps two years earlier. I’ll write that one up for Ogblog when I come to it.
I’m not sure I had ever been out on the Western Avenue before – at least not knowingly and not with senses heightened. In fact, I’m pretty sure I had no idea where we were until I saw that magnificent Hoover Building loom into view.
Oh my God. That’s it. That’s the Hoover Factory…
“Yes, dear”, said mum. “Your ‘Uncle Josh’ used to work for Hoover”.
I don’t think mum got the point.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the line from the song, “it’s not a matter of life or death. What is? What is?” Because my family was suddenly experiencing something that really was a matter of life or death. And people really did, profoundly care who does or doesn’t take another breath. I wanted to understand, but Elvis wasn’t helping; his song was just stuck in my head.
Hoover Factory remained stuck in my head for the rest of the day…the rest of the week…the rest of the term.
And the rest of that term turned out to be a very eventful few weeks indeed for me:
some time off after the exams before starting my holiday job – I came back to London for a while to see friends then back to Keele to enjoy the end of academic year festivities. I recall reading Catch 22 in the glorious sunshine, sitting on the grassy knoll (Keele’s grassy knoll is a safe space), in front of the library and chapel. I read loads, for the pleasure of reading and had a really good time for several happy weeks.
In the late 1970s, an American entrepreneur named Victor Kermit Kiam The Second announced that he was so impressed with the Remington electric shaver his wife bought him as a gift, he henceforward would eschew the use of the wet shavers he had used throughout his life and…
…get this…
…Victor Kiam bought the company that made Remington shavers.
My dad was way ahead of Victor Kiam in switching from blades to Remington electric shavers; by the late 1970s, dad had several of them. Two at the house, plus one at the shop, where dad’s routine required a five-o’clock shave, removing shadow ahead of late afternoon customers (or mostly lack thereof, by the late 1970s). Dad was not ahead of Victor Kiam in the matter of entrepreneurship.
In my early days shaving, I used dad’s spare Remington at home to remove the odd visible patch of dark fluff from my face.
When I set off for Keele University in autumn 1980, dad lent me that spare Remington, plus lotion bottles (pre shave and after shave) plus an old spare illuminated art-deco-style shaving mirror. The makeshift electrical wiring and plugs for that paraphernalia looked like a physics experiment.
But whereas prior to Keele, my facial hair only became visible once every few days, I soon started to notice daily patches of hair and started to shave regularly.
Increased Remington use combined badly with regular intake of beer, cigarettes and the rest. My face and neck became sore losers of facial hair; itchiness and blotchiness abounded.
Second Term At Keele
For my second term at Keele, Dad switched my loan from the old Remington to a more modern foil-headed electric shaver…
Thus, over Easter 1981, contra-Kiam as it were, dad and I agreed that I would switch from electric to to wet shaving. Dad rebundled my loan, replacing the Remington with the Rolls Razor he had used as a young soldier during the war. This contraption, which they stopped making before I was born, was a metal box containing a strop and a re-useable safety razor. You would sharpen the blade on the strop, then detach the razor for your wet shave. Eventually you would change the blade, which, if memory serves me well, required a screwdriver and a fair bit of dexterity.
The other thing that needed dexterity was the safe use of such a safety razor.
We could not buy the company that had made Rolls Razor – it had gone bust by then – but we should have invested in the makers of styptic pencils and sticking plasters.
I recall seeing several horror films towards the end of my first year at Keele; The Amityville Horror and The Shining spring to mind, so I had plenty of suitable similes to describe the bloody bathroom scenes of my early Rolls-Razor efforts.
Aftermath And Analysis
I did eventually get the hang of it and that Rolls Razor took me through most of my five years at Keele. In fact I wet-shaved for 25 or more years, until I “went beard” at the end of 2007.
But why did a long-haired ha’porth of a student, with two cack hands and a skin-sensitive face even bother with shaving?
The answer lies not in the facial hair itself, but in the gaps between the patches of facial hair.
It was OK for the youngsters who were blessed with a full growth of facial hair at the age of 18. Simon Jacobs, for example, had five-o’clock shadow from the start at Keele. But most of us looked ridiculous with sparse facial hair.
I recall Richard Van Baaren naming our Lindsay F-Block corridor’s five-a-side football team ‘Tempted ‘Tache, in honour of fellow undergraduate males’s failed attempts at moustaches. No, I didn’t play for that team; I have two left feet as well as two cack hands.
Sorely tempted ‘tache-wise in Paradise, 2016
Inadequate facial hair was like a flashing neon sign saying JUVENILE…BOY…NOT YET A MAN. No self-respecting Keele fresher wanted that. The tell-tale wispy, fluff-stuff had to go, even if the result was bloody carnage, born of cack-hands and a pimply face.
It’s sometimes difficult to get up in the morning when you are a first year Keele student. Who knew?
Back then, I had an alarm clock a bit like the one depicted above. I could easily sleep through the ringing of that alarm. I remember bringing back a metal biscuit tin after the Easter holidays with the sole purpose of increasing the volume of the ringing, by placing the alarm clock within the biscuit tin. Didn’t work, I know, I know.
The Key To Getting A Good Night’s Sleep As A Keele Undergraduate
Mind you, it doesn’t help if you start the term as described above. Here is a transcript for any readers not so well versed in the rarefied script that is my handwriting:
24 April 1981 – Exams today. After dinner went to Mark’s [Bartholomew] -> Union. Talking till late with Sim [Simon Ascough], [Mad] Harry & Dave [Johnson, I think].
25 April 1981 – Easy day. Went to Union in evening -> Roy’s for drinks – Melanie [Print], Ashley [Fletcher] & Louise [Lorenc] – locked out – stayed…
26 April 1981 – …overnight. No sleep. Found keys in morning- had lunch – wandered aimlessly & slept from 6 pm until 8 am.
With thanks to Ashley for recalling Melanie & Louise’s names. Neither of us really remember what passed that night, other than a lot of bullshit chat no doubt and Ashley probably went to town with his Adolf Hitler and Ian Paisley (senior) pastiche/parody speeches.
“The flag of my country is hanging upside down outside this building”.
I simply cannot imagine sleeping 14 hours straight through any more. It’s not just that I know I couldn’t do it; I really cannot even imagine it.
Still, that extended night’s sleep got me up in good time for the first FY lecture of the term. What a fresh start.
My First Rolo & My Last Rolo
That peculiar sleep pattern got me up in time to see Professor Paul Rolo’s 9:00 history lecture and Professor David Adams’s 11:00 American Studies lecture.
I recall being fascinated by both of those lectures. Peculiarly, the allure of Russian and Fascist revolutions did not enable the alarm to rouse me on the Tuesday, but the idea of another Paul Rolo lecture somehow enabled the alarm to interrupt my slumbers on the Wednesday and get me to the FY Lecture Theatre for 9:00.
Similarly, the prospect of order in the post-war international system, combined with the alarm clock, failed to get me out of bed on the Thursday morning, yet the subconscious thought of another David Adams lecture woke me and got me to the Chancellor’s Building for the 9:00 lecture on the Friday for the third time that week.
This is the first sign of a pattern that persisted throughout my student years; I was able to get up for lectures, even at 9:00, if I thought they’d be worth the candle. Otherwise I tended to skip the lectures, read up on stuff at leisure (if need be) and sleep in like a teenager…which is what I was.
I didn’t get to know Professor Paul Rolo – he left a year or so after I did FY – but he could lecture and he sounds like a fascinating chap.
Professor David Adams I did get to know when I sat on Senate and also prior to that, when I sat on the train from Stoke to Euston or from Euston to Stoke. He must have gone to London quite a lot because I remember encountering him several times. A really interesting and lovely chap.
What Else Did You Get Up To, Kid?
Ok, ok, I’m getting to it.
Monday 27 April 1981 – First lectures etc. – finished moving etc [all the way from pokey Lindsay F1 to salubrious room with a view Lindsay F4] after dinner -> Union, quite pleasant
Tuesday 28 April 1981 – Light day. Went to see film in evening (Fame – v good,) -> on to union with gang – quite good.
Wednesday 29 April 1981 – OK day. Went to Concourse meeting – on to Mis [Miriam Morgan] & Heather [Jones] for heavy evening
Thursday 30 April 1981 – easyish day. Did little. Short stay in Union – reasonably early night.(Simon [Jacobs] & Sim [Ascough] came back after)
Friday 1 May 1981 – not bad day. Busy afternoon (Kallah photos). Went to see film (yuk). Went back to union – bon.
I’d started going to Film Society by the end of the second term and went a lot in this third term. I am pretty sure the 1 May film which I did not name but described as “yuk” was Fellini Satyricon. If I remember correctly, there weren’t all that many of us in the FY lecture theatre at the start of the movie and by the end I think just three or four of us had stuck it out.
Saturday 2 May 1981 – Easy day. Shopped in Newcastle – went to see David [Perrins] & friends, supper they came over -> Sneyd, Union bop -> Amanda’s.
Sunday 3 May 1981 – Lazy day – went to Lloyd’s [Green] and Amanda’s -> Union in evening.
I feel bad saying this, but I cannot remember who Amanda is/was, but she was unquestionably a diary highlight that weekend. Simon might remember. Lloyd might remember. But I feel that it is me who should remember. Apologies. If you are out there, Amanda, please do get in touch and jog the memory…if by chance you remember anything about it.
Tuesday 5 May 1981 – Busyish day. Saw All That Jazz in the evening. Simon’s [Jacobs] for coffee after – good.
Wednesday 6 May 1981 – OK day. Went to see Discipline and Lounge Lizards in evening – v good.
Thursday 7 May 1981 – Easyish day. Laundry etc. Easyish evening.
Friday 8 May 1981 – Busyish day. Went to Burslem in evening. Enjoyable evening. (Came here for coffee).
Saturday 9 May 1981 – Late start, Newcastle shopping – ate – Union in evening – back here after.
That new room of mine, Lindsay F4, was salubrious enough to become a focal point to the extent that people had started coming back to my place. It might also have had something to do with the fact that I was going in to Newcastle on the weekend to buy food so always had something to eat – possibly even some left overs of cooked food but at the very least plentiful biscuits. My mum would have approved.
I should highlight the fact that Simon Jacobs gets a couple of mentions in this piece – he wrote to me saying that he was mightily put out that he didn’t get a mention in the previous Keele piece.
Gosh that was quite a fortnight at the end of my second term at Keele. But by the end of it, I was back at my parents house writing grumpy notes in my diary:
I love my aftermath diary notes from that Ball, on 12 March:
Simon’s for coffee, Neil came back afterwards -> brekky, ballot box, FY Committee slept.
Simon would be Simon Jacobs. Neil I’m pretty sure must have been Neil Infield and I guess we all wandered over to Lindsay refectory for breakfast.
Ballot box that day I’m pretty sure must have been the election for Social Secretary that year. Eric Rose won that election, only to be bundled out of the job around the following Easter for financial impropriety and who at the time of writing (March 2021) is festering in a New York State prison for murdering his wife. Not cool. Not Keele at all.
I’d forgotten that I served on FY Committee that year. I served again as Education & Welfare Officer in 84/85.
I’m fairly sure the “slept” comment refers to subsequent behaviour and not the idea that I slept during the FY Committee…but there is an absence of punctuation in the diary note between the phrase “FY Committee” and the word “slept”. Subsequently, I did once fall asleep during a Senate meeting in 84/85 – understandable circumstances – which earned praise from several of the senior academics on that august body, not least Philip Boden who declared it to be the most succinct and incisive contribution to the meeting that day. A teaser until this “40 years on” series gets there, some time in 2025, all being well. But I digress.
Perhaps returning to the bosom of my family in March 1981 felt like a real anti-climax, or perhaps I was rather hungover by the time I returned to Streatham, but I describe a…
Rough evening
…on the Friday night of my return and…
not a good day
…on the Saturday, despite:
Taped. Went to Record & Tape Exchange…
…which was usually the stuff of very good days for me, not bad ones. Especially as I bought heaps of records on that occasion, which I shall write about in one or more music-oriented postings about “that vac”.
I liked Record & Tape Exchange shops so much in the 1980s I moved around the corner in 1988, where I can sometimes still be found!
No, I think I was probably arguing with my parents about politics and social affairs; them sensing that I was not quite the same boy who had gone off to Keele for the first time six months earlier and me sensing that my parents world and their attitudes were smaller-minded than I had previously supposed.
My relationship with my parents didn’t get too bad, but I suspect that hackles were raised a fair bit that time.
Further, I suspect that I was missing Keele already. The prospect of five weeks of office work in the West End of London to rebuild the coffers was nowhere near as enticing as the fortnight that had just passed at Keele.
To celebrate the 40th anniversary of the “Film Star Makes President” edition of Concourse, I have republished the whole paper in the form of high-quality scans in a Flickr album – click here or the embedded image at the bottom of this page.
Dave had generously given me a great deal of editorial control over the political pages, so the front page and the next two pages were very much mine, content-wise.
Presentation-wise, I think it was entirely down to Dave that we went for an audaciously eye-catching front page – big headline, big photo and election results table only. This was not the regular Concourse way but I think it did help us sell.
I was very proud of the headline; a nod to Ronald Reagan’s recent election and the fact that Mark Thomas headed up the Film Society.
I realise also on re-reading the paper that I interviewed almost all of the protagonists from that early part of the election season: Mark Thomas, Frank Dillon, Anna Summerskill, Ric Cowdery, Steve Townsley, Vince Beasley, Jon Rees…
…I already knew some of them reasonably well and got to know most of them a lot better as the next year or three went on.
Other highlights include:
Dave Lee editorially eating his own liver over the previous editors’ resignation scandal and the Katy Turner column faux pas, on Page 4 and then again at length on Page 13;
Jon Gorvett & David Perrins fret-piece about fire risk, following a Dublin disco fire, on Page 7;
Some Concourse memorabilia on Page 11, looking back 10 years (which now is 50 years), including a snippet about Neil Baldwin from 1971;
A couple of damning gig reviews on Page 17, including the Krokus one by Simon Jacobs which I have Ogblogged about here and the Rob Blow & Di Ball one from deadline night;
I rather like Phil Avery’s hockey team review on the back page, not least because I had to read the entire thing to the end to work out which sport he was reporting. If only his weather forecasts were so suspenseful.
If you want to browse/read the whole thing, simply click the link below and you will find all the pages in high quality digital form, easy to read/navigate on most devices and for sure downloadable.
I have already written about the star-crossed relationship between SU President Katy Turner & Concourse editors Paula & Hugh, which came to a head in early February 1981…
The upshot of all that was the resignation of Paula & Hugh, the interim appointment of Dave Lee to edit the March edition (hot on the heels of the ill-fated February one), the rapid appointment of Owen Gavin and Gerry Guinan to take over the editorship immediately after the March edition, to alternative applicant Dave Lee’s chagrin …
Dave Lee, trying not to look displeased
…you might well be thinking to yourself, “none of this commentary bodes well for the harmonious and timely production of that March issue”.
What Does the Diary Say?
Never wanting to be seen as a rat who leaves a sinking ship, I offered Dave Lee my whole-hearted support to produce that March issue and/but found myself as part of a core team of two on the production side. To his credit, Dave steeled himself to the time-sensitive task with great determination.
Many other contributors of course; Simon Jacobs, Gerard O’Kane, Julia Parkes, Moira Neish, David Perrins, Jon Gorvett, Diana Ball, Robert Blow, David Bakhurst, Dexter…
David Perrins indicating that someone was out?
…but not a great deal of company in the Concourse office itself. To be fair on the others, it was a ridiculous post-shenanigans deadline, towards the end of term. I could just about get away with it as a Foundation Year student, but for most that level of commitment at that time of year was impractical.
Saturday 28 February – got up very late – went into Newcastle – ate & Concoursed
Sunday 1 March – late start – Concourse office most of the day and evening
Monday 2 March – OK day – busy with Concourse in evening
Tuesday 3 March – Not bad day – in Concourse office in evening.
Wednesday 4 March – Tough day working on Concourse. Nine Below Zero Concert…
I wrote a lot of copy – I was the political editor and there had been a whole swathe of union elections during February to report. I also did one heck of a lot of typing of my own and other people’s articles. My spectacularly fast four-finger technique was without question the best typing skill on offer…well, probably it was all that was on offer.
Yes, I remember matters becoming increasingly fraught as the days went on. Financially, missing the print deadline would mean ruination.
The set pages needed to go to the printers on the designated day, otherwise the printers would charge for the print run regardless but there would be no paper to sell.
Steve “Spike” Humphrey, a lovely, gentle chap whom I got to know quite well in other walks of Keele life afterwards, was the business manager of Concourse. Spike took pains to remind me and Dave that the print deadline really was just that; an immoveable deadline.
I’m not sure if this is William Randolph Hearst or Spike Humphrey in later life.
On that evening of 4 March, I’m pretty sure Dave & I were already well aware, even as we took a break to see the Nine Below Zero concert, that to get the pages ready for the printers the next morning, we’d be working much of the night to get the job done.
The other point to make about that gig, the very night of our deadline, was that Dave had commissioned and was determined to use, a review of the gig from Di Ball and Rob Blow.
That deadline upon deadline resulted in a little whimper of a hidden plea from me to Dave Lee at the end of that (quite lengthy) piece, when the copy finally arrived and when I finally got it ready for setting:
I apologise unequivocally, forty years on, to Dave, Di and Rob, none of whom were ever guilty of producing rotten articles. I must have been tired and emotional in the early hours of the morning, so, unforgivably, I mis-spoke.
I think Di & Rob kept us company for some time late that evening, as they completed their copy while Dave & I busied ourselves typing and setting other stuff.
But it was just me and Dave who remained once the porters (two from Ted, Walter & Wally no doubt) told us that they had to lock up and we agreed to being locked in.
With thanks to Mark Ellicott for this picture of Walter & Wally
Locked In…
In those days there were no CCTV cameras or anything like that. Yet I have somehow managed to uncover a couple of photos that seem to be pictures of me and Dave at work during that night.
I’d never done any page-setting before, so I think that’s a tentative me Yup, I’m fairly sure that’s Dave Lee putting the finishing touches on a page
I’ll guess that my 3:30 am plea in that article was accurate but also that it marked the near conclusion of our work. I think we had set everything else by then and simply needed to slot in the material from that night’s concert to be done. In fact, I suspect that my joke paragraph was in part a device to use up the space we had estimated for that article.
So I’ll guess that we were done around 4:00 or 4:30 am.
I’ll guess we expected the union to be opened up around 7:00 am.
I recall that we both had a little bit of silver in our pockets and chose to decompress after our labours using the amusements available.
We might have played table football…
…but I have a feeling that Dave was more a pinball person…
…or perhaps my extensive experience playing table football with Simon Jacobs most evenings put me in a different league for table football…
…or perhaps we quickly landed on the notion that table football is a game where you try to use up your goes as quickly as possible, whereas pinball is a game in which you rejoice in your opponents success – especially if it yields free balls and free games so you can continue to play.
I was an enthusiastic pinball player in those days. here is one of the games we might have played – for sure UKSU had this one at that time:
Once we had blown all the silver in our pockets, I think we both felt the onset of fatigue and so we decided to retire to the quiet room at the end of the union extension to grab forty winks before the sun would go up and the union would re-open.
…Then Nearly Knocked Out!
I think we both woke up to the same sound – that of shouting.
“All right you scallywags, where are you? I know you’re in here!”
Words to that effect.
We dozily wandered out of the quiet room, to see Pat Lyons, the building manager, hurtling along the extension passageway towards us.
It’s possibly a false memory, but I remember him wielding something a bit like the above implement.
My life flashed before my eyes. I imagined a Cluedo-like synopsis of our demise: “Mr Lyons, in the Union Extension, with the pipe wrench”.
Dave and I had but a few seconds to advocate for our very survival. Fortunately, as skilled communicators, used to summarising key facts into few words for journalistic purposes, we somehow managed to convince Pat Lyons during that short period of time that we had been deliberately locked in to produce Concourse.
Again my doubtlessly false memory has Pat upon us, about to wield a killer blow just a fraction of a second before our story rang true to him and he disarmed.
“You scared the bloody living daylights out of me,” said Pat
Words to that effect.
The feeling was entirely mutual.
Still, in the end no harm was done and in fact I think we produced a pretty darn good edition of Concourse, all things considered.
We put the paper to bed (unlike ourselves) in the early hours of 5 March and it returned from the printers for sale on Monday 9 March 1981.
In the spirit of this “forty years on” Ogblog journal, I intend to publish scans of those Concourse pages on 9 March 2021. Watch this space…
In truth, I don’t think mushrooms were central to most of those parties
The diary & scribbles in my FY programme suggest that I wasn’t going to let lectures get in the way of my planned activities much that week, or indeed for the rest of the term. It seems I managed three FY lectures in the last three weeks of that term.
Well, it was cold and icy.
Also, I had worked out by then that you could get pretty much everything you needed from the FY lecture notes. Keen scouts who liked attending FY lectures would bring fistfuls back to F Block Lindsay for the rest of us to read. It looks as though that system broke down for the last week of term, but that’s another story.
I did attend a swathe of topic tutorials and write a couple of essays that week, though, so it wasn’t all parties and student journalism.
I think one of the essays was part of my law double topic, finishing off my law studies for that year but sealing my decision to study law along with economics for my degree. Thank you, Michael Whincup.
I remember doing a topic on Hormones & Reproduction with Dr Peter Chevins and I think I wrote my essay for that topic that week. There were 10 to 12 of us in that class; I think I was the only male (other than Dr Chevins).
I don’t think I was taking it all in. I blame my riotous teenage hormones.
I have a feeling I spent most of the class time ogling the girls and not enough of it getting my head around the relevant reproductive aspects of endocrinology. Still, I think some private study (unfortunately for me there was no practical experimental learning in pairs for that topic) meant that I managed to write a decent essay. Clearly I also learnt enough then and subsequently to get me started when I wrote a student guide book on sexual matters, Sexplanations, when I was Education & Welfare Office in 1984/85.
Tuesday 24 February 1981
Not bad day – wrote essay. In evening, went to see California Suite. Late night in Harry’s // etc.
Somewhat cheesy movie if I remember correctly – great cast though, with Jane Fonda, Richard Pryor, Bill Cosby, Alan Alda, Michael Caine, Walter Matthau, Maggie Smith…
In late February, then, I guess we were still in the period twixt Harry’s small trouble and big trouble. My guess is that this party was a fairly impromptu affair centred around Harry’s room. The // symbol indicates that we imbibed some dope and that I didn’t even then remember much about the gathering. We probably talked a whole load of rubbish while convincing ourselves that we were putting the world to rights. Possibly we even did put the word to rights – in which case it is such a shame that none of us the next day remembered the answers we came up with that night. Oh well.
Wednesday 25 February 1981
Easyish day. Went to party in evening // at Miriam’s – pretty good.
Miriam will be Miriam Morgan, who, along with her partner Heather (Jones) was the doyen of the Keele Gay Society. I have written up an earlier party with that crowd the previous term, at which I first met Ashley Fletcher – click here or below:
Discussing those parties with Simon Jacobs in late 2020, Simon recalled that, at one of them, there were some magic mushrooms doing the rounds. He and I both very tentatively sampled the mushrooms, probably being too timorous to take enough of the mushrooms to get enough effect to impact on the senses beyond the drink and the (if the // symbol is anything to go by) dope available at the party.
I have a feeling that this party was part of Gay Lib week, as Simon wrote that week (and party) up in the March 1981 Concourse and I cannot imagine another Wednesday night being the party night to which he refers, given my documented events of the various Wednesdays that term:
Reading Simon’s article again after all this time (I probably typed it up for that Concourse – I typed up much of the darned thing), I am struck by how tiny and nascent the Gay Soc was at that time – a dozen or so people – perhaps including me and one or two other “supporters”. Within a year or so that tiny group of active students transformed that Society and well done them.
Ashley reminded me (in correspondence late 2020) that, at one point, I was designated the Gay Soc Mascot, by dint of my support for the group. I had a feeling that honour came later than this, but perhaps it was at this event that the honour was bestowed.
Thursday 26 February 1981
Not bad day. Concoursed in evening etc.
This is a bit of an anti-climax, don’t you think? I can only apologise to readers for interrupting this programme of parties with such an ordinary-sounding day. Note that “working on Concourse” has become a single-word verb; concoursed. Let us move swiftly on.
Friday 27 February 1981
Busy day academically. Anna’s party in the evening // pretty good.
Hostess with the most-ess
Anna Summerskill’s party was probably quite a low key (perhaps a dozen or so of us) but almost certainly a dope-ridden affair. I’m trying to remember where Anna lived that year; I think Harrowby House, but I could be wrong and someone out there might correct me.
I have written a fair bit about Anna already in the same “Winter Draws” piece as Mad Harry – click here or the links above. Mark Bartholomew – also written up in that earlier piece, would no doubt have been there. Probably (but not necessarily) Simon Jacobs and one or two others from that mini dining club in Lindsay refectory, which by sacred tradition included Anna’s ceremonial fellating of a banana at the end of almost every meal, before Anna would roller-skate off to her next engagement. It’s hard to believe she’s no longer with us (sadly she died of lung cancer in 2012), she was such a force of nature, was Anna.
Not quite sure what came together to make that a (rare) busy day academically, but I was probably trying to get work out of the way ahead of my anticipated marathon efforts towards the looming Concourse deadline over the next five days…
…and there’s a story to the meeting of that deadline, I could tell you. Indeed I shall tell you, in the next episode.
…I also came back with a large Judge enamel cooking pot, depicted above, together with a somewhat distressed-looking frying pan:
I really should point out that the above photographs were taken forty years later, in February 2021, in the kitchen of my Notting Hill Gate flat, where these artefacts still reside, a little incongruously amongst the granite and the fancy-schmancy cookware. I still use the enamel cooking pot occasionally; it’s in extraordinarily good nick. As the young folks might say, it is a remarkably peng pot.
I’m not sure I’ve used the frying pan for 25 years or more. In fact I was a little surprised to find it still there, at the back of a kitchen cupboard. But then it would be a wrench to throw it out after all these years.
I should also point out that the frying pan…Tower Brand, British made, patent number lost in the mists of time…already looked fairly distressed in 1981. In fact, it might look less distressed now than it did then; apart from the dent.
Dad had brought both the pot and the pan from the kitchenette at the back of his shop, where they had festered unused for many years. My guess is that they predate dad opening the shop even, in the mid 1950s, quite possibly hand-me-downs from dad’s parents.
We’ll return to the cooking later in this piece.
Here’s the diary extract for the first two weeks of February:
Nope, I can barely read it either
Music In The FY Lecture Theatre, Darts At The Mid-Term Ball & Late Nights, 11-12 February
I went to both of Professor Dickinson’s FY lectures that Wednesday morning; the first on British Music, the second on American Music. I seem to recall the focus being on late 19th and 20th century composers of the Elgar, Walton, Britten, Ives, Barber, Copeland variety.
The diary for that day (11 February) merely reads:
Did little – Ball in evening – Darts very good – very late night again!!!
Dave Lee’s book The Keele Gigs (due Summer 2021) will doubtless cover the topic of that Darts gig (and the support acts) well. I do remember Darts being a fun act to watch as an 18 year old. They looked a bit like this:
12 February 1981 – Up late – did little all day – very boozy evening & late night.
I’m just starting to spot a pattern here, dear reader.
A Trio Of Weekend Visitors & Some Rudimentary Cooking In The Communal Kitchen, 13 to 15 February 1981
13 February 1981 – Not bad day. Nick [Frankel,] Graham [Greenglass] & Rebecca [Segalov] came – went to bar -> Simons. Graham stayed here – talked music till late.
These three were BBYO friends, primarily of Simon’s (although I already knew Graham quite well) from Pinner.
It was not so easy to accommodate several guests at Keele. I know that Graham slept in a sleeping bag on the floor of my tiny study-bedroom. I think that Simon stayed with his then-boyfriend Roy, freeing up space in his study-bedroom for Nick & Rebecca. Or perhaps Simon’s next door neighbour, David Perrins, was away that weekend freeing up space there. Or both. Weekends at Keele were often a merry-go-round of room favours, long before Airbnb was invented.
I shall write separately on the wonderful mix tapes that Graham made for me back then. Suffice it to say that I think he brought two (or possibly even three) with him on that visit and I listened to those tapes a lot throughout my time at Keele.
Graham & Simon, 1979
14 February 1981 – Got up late – went in to Newcastle for lunch – went to lakes – cooked supper – S, G & I went to Lindsay disco – mine…
15 February 1981 – …for coffee, Anna [Summerskill] came, as did [Mad] Harry, Sim [on Ascough] & [Brummy] Paul – another latey.
So 14 February 1981 will have been the very first time I used my dad’s old cookware.
Freshers stayed in halls and dined in refectories Monday to Friday; the grub was part of the hall fees. But we had to fend for ourselves at the weekends on modest budgets and with limited facilities in halls. Most freshers, especially the male freshers, did not eat well at the weekends.
I was travelling up and down the country and therefore not around at Keele for many weekends in my first term. When I was around, I can tell from my diary, that I tended to eat in places such as The Sneyd Arms, The Golf Inn, The Student’s Union or in “town” – most probably Newcastle-Under-Lyme; mostly with Simon and his crowd.
So I’m pretty sure that this weekend will have been the first time I tried cooking at Keele.
F Block Lindsay had one small kitchen which was shared, if I remember correctly, between all 20 to 25 students who lived in that block. Possibly it was just as well that most male students were uninterested in cooking. I think the blocks that housed female students tended to have fewer people and/or more plentiful kitchen facilities. I’m wondering whether it is too late for me to bring a discrimination claim against the University.
Anyway, from memory this early effort was Spaghetti Bolognese. I planned it the weekend before, when with my parents. I remember my father insisting on pronouncing the name of the dish “Spaghetti Bollock-knees”.
I think I only brought one secret ingredient to Keele with me, which served as my stock base (as well as a warm snack) throughout my time at Keele; Osem Chicken Soup. Much more tasty than chicken stock cubes and a base I could use when cooking for vegetarians.
In the Keele days, I needed to buy this Osem ingredient in London, whereas now you can get the product almost anywhere, e.g. Sainsbury’s.
The rest of the ingredients I will have bought in the Newcastle-Under-Lyme Sainsbury’s on the Saturday. Here is my recipe.
Ian's Keele Fresher Spaghetti Bollock-knees Recipe
Quite a lot of onions
A good few carrots
A large pack of mince - hopefully the large packs are available at a special low price
A large tin of tomatoes - ideally an Italian brand that looks the part
A couple of teaspoonsful of Osem Chicken Flavor Soup (a stock cube or two can be substituted)
A good squeeze of tomato puree from a tube (that tube will last a good few months)
A good squeeze of garlic puree (that tube will last even longer than the tomato puree tube)
A good pinch of table salt
A good pinch of ground black pepper
Vegetable Oil (likely to be rape seed oil in those days)
A good fistful of spaghetti (circa 4 oz per hungry person)
Chop the onions into quite small pieces. Ditto the carrots. Brown these ingredients in vegetable oil within distressed-looking frying pan. Add the mince once the onions and carrots are brown. Thoroughly cook the mince.
Dissolve the Osem soup...or stock cube(s)...in boiled water and add to the distressed pan. Also add the salt, pepper and tinned tomatoes. Then add tomato puree and garlic puree to taste. Reduce until a good texture and flavour of sauce..
While reducing the contents of the distressed pan, bring a large quantity of water to the boil in the peng enamel cooking pot, add a good pinch of salt and cook the spaghetti for about 10 minutes.
Drain the spaghetti and serve the sauce over the spaghetti.
This all looks a lot more complicated when written down than it actually is. I knew how to do this before I went off to University.
I remember that my cooking of this food for our guests caused a bit of a stir in F Block Lindsay. I’m not sure anything quite so cheffy had occurred in that kitchen during that academic year until my effort. Perhaps I am being unfair. Anyway, the smell attracted quite a few people into the kitchen and I received quite a few requests for future meals…some of which I found ways of meeting, as I’ll explain in a future piece.
I have a feeling that Simon will have gone back to join Roy before the “post Lindsay disco” gathering in my room. In truth I don’t really remember it and I’m trying to get my head around the incongruous gathering of Anna Summerskill and her (as I remember it) constant desire to talk left-wing politics, with a bunch of hopped-up, mostly apolitical 18-year-old fellas – Graham, Brummy Paul, Mad Harry, me & Sim.
Sunday 15 February 1981 (continued) – up late – went in direction of Mainwaring – ate at Services – they [must mean Graham, Nick & Rebecca] left – Simon & Malc [Cornelius] for supper – early night
I have a feeling that the five of us headed off in the direction of The Mainwaring Arms, but then realised that a quick nip into the Keele Services “around the back” would enable the Londoners a quick getaway, while Simon & I could easily walk back to Keele.
As for the supper that evening, I’m going to guess that I vastly over-catered for the previous evening and had loads of Bollock-knees left over to enable me, Simon and Malcolm Cornelius to enjoy a hearty meal the next day.
I have no pictures of either Rebecca or Nick from back then, but Rebecca ended up with another BBYO friend of Simon’s and mine, Alan Tucker (who I think visited us on a separate occasion, some months later). Simon is still in touch with Alan and Rebecca forty years on.
Now I admit that I did much of the typing for that early February 1981 edition of Concourse. I was deemed to be a bit of a whizz with two fingers on the old keyboard. Still am, though I say so myself.
But I did not get involved with laying out the paper in preparation for the printers for that edition. That was, in theory, more experienced work. That was often the editors’ role. It was certainly the editors’ role to check that all the pages were well set.
Something went awry and I’m not sure that my writing about the controversy now will extract the true story.
One rumour had it that the skewiffy setting of Katy Turner’s Presidential Column was a deliberate snub to her by the editors, Hugh Peart and Paula Higginson. One rumour had it that it was an honest mistake by someone setting the paper in a mad rush to get the proofs to the printers.
It was always a mad rush to get the proofs to the printers.
Dave Lee might be able to shed some light on the cause.
Anyway, my diary suggested that I was busy on Concourse from 31 January to 3 February with little else to report. My FY Programme suggests I went to a few lectures & classes that week, but still I deemed such days “easy”. Easy meant “no essay deadlines and no exams” in my mind back then.
On Wednesday 4th February my evening comprised:
Local Authority meeting in eve. Au Pairs live – not too good.
I cannot imagine why I went to a Local Authority meeting other than a recommendation from Richard Kimber to do so as part of my Politics sessional. I don’t remember a thing about it, but I suspect that some Councillors would say the same thing about their entire career on the Council.
I did become reconciled with The Au Pairs and grew to like their album Playing with a Different Sex. The following track, which is on that album, shows what they looked and sounded like:
Rumour had it that a couple of The Au Pairs had been students at Keele. I’m not sure whether I can get that “fact” confirmed or denied. I can confirm that lead singer Lesley Woods went on to become a practicing barrister.
After my classes on the Friday I went to my parents’ house for the weekend; my only such visit that term.
A Weekend In London 6 to 8 February
Friday 6 February – arrived about 7:00 – ate, phoned – turned in earlyish
Saturday 7 February – easy day, taping etc. Caroline [Freeman, now Curtis] came over for supper ->town for coffee and cakes.
Sunday 8 February – easy day – lunch locally with Grandma[Anne] – got back to Keele about 8:00 – had a few drinks
The diary entries are intriguing. I mention that I phoned. These days no youngster would consider phoning to be “a thing”, but it was time consuming to queue up for the payphones at Keele and expensive. So it was “a thing” to me that I could spend some time that weekend calling people.
I shall write a separate piece on the chart music I taped on that Saturday. I’m pretty sure I also taped some of my albums and such to increase my mini collection of cassettes up at Keele.
I don’t remember Caroline coming to the house for supper but I know for sure that my mum would have felt that she owed Caroline and her family many, many meals for all the hospitality I’d had from them when doing my BBYO stuff in the year or so prior to Keele, mostly in North-West London, with Caroline’s mum Jacquie providing warm and wonderful hospitality of the edible kind regularly.
I don’t know why I recall the trip up town with Caroline for coffee and cake (and a chance to chat), but I have a strong memory of a place near or possibly even in Whiteleys. From the late 80’s onwards, I didn’t think of that Bayswater/Notting Hill Gate neighbourhood as “town”, I think of it as “home”.
Lunch locally with Grandma Anne was probably at Il Carretto in Streatham.
Skewiffy-Column-Gate
On the Monday, 9 February, the concourse controversy kicked off proper. The diary reads:
Not bad day. Concourse came out. UGM in eve – spoke about Concourse etc. Went back to Mark’s [Bartholomew] for coffee – stayed chatting all night…
In many ways I think the controversy passed us by at the time.
So we Concourse “cub reporters” were simply thrilled to see our pieces and credits in print. Also, the very fact that Concourse was the centre of attention at that evening’s UGM only added to the sensation that the University of Keele Students’ Union’s fourth estate, in the form of Concourse, was terribly important.
In the aftermath of that day, the controversy about the Concourse skewiffyness was quite fierce; the result was that both of the editors resigned. I don’t think that happened publicly on the night (otherwise I’d have written about it differently in the diary). That hoo-ha and multiple resignation incident had momentous and amusing consequences for me (and for interim editor Dave Lee) a few weeks later – watch this space.
Coffee Afterwards…Or Did I Mean “Coffee”?
I don’t think I went back to Mark Bartholomew’s place for all-night coffee and political chat on many occasions, so I suspect this might have been the day (night) that I met Neil Infield, who became a good friend, to some extent during the Keele years, to a greater extent after Keele. More on that anon.
Anyway, the location of that gathering was, if I remember correctly, L Block Lindsay.
I did not use the word “coffee” as a euphemism for other stimulants or relaxants. I used a little “//” marking in my diary for those. So on this occasion, I am pretty sure that the phrase “coffee and chatting all night” was literal and descriptive. If we were lucky the coffee would have been freeze-dried granules of the Nescafe variety. If we were less lucky, it would have been cheap powdery stuff with a generic supermarket label that had an insipid, bitter taste that vaguely resembled coffee.
Simon Jacobs reminded me (February 2021) that Mark Bartholomew, at that time, held himself out to be of the Polish nobility or something of that kind. The more inebriated he became, according to Simon, the more elaborate those Polish royalty stories became…see what I mean?
I remember Mark berating me for being unable to pronounce Łódź properly. I can do that now. Sounds more like “Woodge”. Never forgot it.
I’m not sure whether either Simon Jacobs or Jon Gorvett were part of that particular all-nighter – they’ll doubtless deny all knowledge of the occasion anyway, whether they were there or not.
10 February -> brekky -> 9.00 -> bed -> got up for dinner -> union for drinks
I love that little diary note – I can see from my FY Programme markings that I went to Stephen Banfield’s 9.00 lecture on Romantic Music but then went to my bed rather than attend Roger Marsh‘s 20th Century Music lecture.
Glad to see that my untimely slumber enabled me to revive in time for dinner and some drinks in the Union. Priorities.
