Answer: They all strangely find their way into one week of my diary.
Quite a week, that first full week of March 1984. Once the decision was made that I’d run for Education & Welfare, the campaign went into overdrive. What could possibly go wrong?
Sunday 4 March 1984
Rose quite early – worked a little – spent afternoon in dark room with Annalisa [de Mercur] etc. Popped over to Bobbie’s in eve.
Monday, 5 March 1984
Busy working on manifesto today – got quite a bit done – constitutional committee in the evening – went over to Bobbies after.
Tuesday, 6 March 1984
Not feeling very well today – worked on manifesto today – almost done – went over to Bobbie’s – really felt ghastly!
Wednesday, 7 March 1984
Worked on manifesto today – covered in German Measles. today. Took it fairly easy.
The reason the manifesto was such a time consuming matter was a decision, taken jointly with my campaign manager, Malcolm Cornelius, to produce both the manifesto and leaflet (known as a supplementary manifesto) using digital technology. I wrote this up several years ago in the following piece, click here or the image link below:
Word processing on a University mainframe in 1984 was a non-trivial matter, believe me. Malcolm, who was pretty geeky back then and possibly remains so, could probably explain in excruciating detail what we had to go through to get that job done. Ask him. Go on, ask him.
I merely remember a lot of trial and error and also remember not feeling at all well throughout the process, probably because I had Rubella, commonly known as German Measles.
Younger readers, please do not berate my parents for failing to have me vaccinated – our generation didn’t have a vaccination for Rubella. What was supposed to happen was that you had the disease as a child and then never got it again because the instance of having the disease effectively vaccinated you. Some of us were careless enough to avoid the disease until the fourth year at University – or even longer in some cases – then get it at an inconvenient time…which for me this unquestionably was.
It would have been so much worse had the Rubella presented before the photo shoot. Any spots you might detect on the images from the shoot are either dust or my regular spots and blotches, which were quite numerous when I was in my very early twenties.Please let us not discuss THAT tie.
Thursday, 8 March 1984
Still not very well – spots disappearing – busyish, but took it fairly easy. Finished manifesto etc. Bobbie came over later.
Friday, 9 March 1984
Feeling a bit better today – Bobbie went away – manifesto’s in and supp’s out.– Social Sec election & big appeal over VP internal.
Saturday 10 March still quite tired – has an easy day today – went to Andrea’s party in eve – on to union briefly.
Right, so not only did Bobbie abandon me to run that election…the one I had hoped she’d be running for…but she went away for the weekend ahead of my campaign proper starting. In retrospect I don’t blame her at all, but I do remember feeling a bit miffed at the time.
Although I was a candidate for the following week’s election, I was still Chair of Election Appeals for that week’s election. I sense that the Social Secretary election went smoothly…
Here’s me with Pady Jalali, who won that election. Image Summer 1985 with thanks to Mark Ellicott
…whereas the VP Internal election had some element of hoo-ha attached to it, probably long-since forgotten by all concerned. Hayward Burt won that election and it is just possible that he remembers the hoo-ha.
Me and Hayward in the summer of 1985 – thanks Mark Ellicott for the picture
Ironically, the challenge probably came from the Tories, as Hayward was, in those days, one of the “Liberals with infeasibly strange names”. Hayward now can be found through more Conservative channels. I wonder whether he remembers what the shenanigans were on this occasion. I’ll send this piece to him and ask him.
Update: Hayward Replies…
Thanks for the heads up and the photo (I used to be thin! who knew?)
The controversy rings no bells at all, the result was v close between me and the Labour Club chap and I remember being absolutely knacked with all the door knocking.
“Andrea’s party” on the Saturday will have been Andrea Collins’ (now Woodhouse’s) party. Strangely, a Facebook birthday reminder for Andrea popped up on my FB tab while I was in the process of producing this piece.
Malcolm might have been unusually geeky back then but in many ways we are all geeks now, forty years on.
I’ll send Andrea a “Happy Birthday” message by dint of a link to this piece – Happy Birthday Andrea!
I was a reluctant candidate for the union sabbatical post of Education and Welfare officer. I thought I had done a grand Machiavellian job of ensuring that the 1984/85 committee would be just fine. The last piece of the jigsaw, in my mind, was to persuade Bobbie Scully to run for Education and Welfare.
Unfortunately, Bobbie was quietly more Machiavellian than me (the fact that she was studying politics as well as law probably helped), so I found the tables turned and I somehow succumbed to peer pressure to run myself.
Here is the manifesto, now in pieces but thus scan-able in three parts.
It is not easy to fool WordPress into more or less presenting the thing as it looked. I probably could make it look a bit better, but for now the above presentation will have to do.
Intriguingly, in similar context, I believe my manifesto was the first ever union manifesto to be word-processed. Hence the bold lettering etc. It was a devil of a job using the University mainframe’s text editor software. If my diary is to be believed, we spent serious chunks of four or five days to get this seemingly trivial job done; it was a non-trivial task back then.
My friend and campaign manager Malcolm Cornelius deserves all the credit for the idea and the hard yards to get the job done. I believe that Malcolm went on to a glorious career in IT consulting; perhaps his work on my manifesto was an important staging-post in his career.
Here’s the supplementary manifesto, which was similarly word-processed and formed part of that multi-day task. Another innovation was the use of DL size for these supplementaries. People tended to go for A5 two-sided and ration their allocation of one ream of A4 accordingly. I thought that DL, yielding 1,500 rather than 1,000 leaflets, was a good idea.
At some stage, I’ll pull some memories and diary notes together on the election campaign itself. Suffice it to say at this stage that the campaign succeeded and I was elected.
In truth, the first week of this two-week write up is not the most exciting week I spent at Keele. But for the record:
Here’s a translation of that week’s scrawl:
Sunday, 19 February 1984
Rose, quite late – ate – took Jilly to Stoke – returned – Malc [Malcolm Cornelius] came over in eve – went union
Monday, 20 February 1984
Busyish day – UGM etc. to prepare. UGM went quite badly at first – went back to B’s [Bobbie Scully’s] after.
Tuesday, 21 February 1984
Busyish day – did some work etc – went shopping. Cooked K 41 meal in eve. Popped over to B’s in eve.
Wednesday 22 February 1984
Not bad day – worked on Constitution etc – did some work also. B came over quite late – stayed.
Thursday, 23 February 1984
Not bad day – in union – distributed AP [Alternative Prospectus?] quite a bit – did little work. Came back. Went over B’s for awhile.
Friday, 24 February 1984
Busyish day – got lots of odd ends done (??). Went to see Strolling Bones in eve – B came back here.
Saturday, 25 February 1924
Easyish day – went shopping. Didn’t work – went over to Bobbie’s in eve – stayed
I’m struggling to remember who the K41 crowd were. I think possibly Andrea Collins (now Woodhouse) and her gang. Or possibly Viv Robinson’s mob.
Malcolm Cornelius recently commented, when matters of revising the constitution came up on a facebook posting:
I remember spending hours with you going thru line by line and rewriting it into plain(er) English. Pretty advanced for the time. I also still recalling moving procedural motions 38b2 and the like !
That comment of Malcolm’s might qualify as the geekiest comment ever on the Forever Keele Facebook Group 🙂
Regarding the Strolling Bones, or perhaps I should more accurately say Mick Swagger & the Strolling Bones, in truth I didn’t remember having seen them until I found that diary entry. But the description of them – in particular Mick Swagger’s gyrating, brought it back to me.
An extraordinary thing about this act, I suppose, is that part of the conceit of that tribute act playing the student circuit back then was that the Rolling Stones had been going for nearly 22 years – i.e. since before I (and almost all of us) at Keele at that time had been born. Who would have guessed that, 40 years after that, The Rolling Stones would still be going?
Lazyish day – Malcolm came over – wrote essay early eve – went over Malcs -> Bobbie’s for eve.
Monday, 27 February 1984
Busyish day – rotten cold – busy round union etc. Constitutional Committee in eve etc – Bobbie stayed.
Tuesday 28 February 1984
Fairly busy day – did some work etc – popped over to Bobbie’s for a while in eve.
Wednesday, 29 February 1984
Busyish – shopping – working – etc. Popped over to B’s, briefly, in eve.
Thursday, 1 March 1984
Busyish day working etc. Did quite a lot of things. With J-Soc in eve – worked after – B came over late.
Friday, March 1984
Busyish day – election today – and EAP [election appeals] committee – went over to Bobbie’s for while after.
Saturday, 3 March 1984
Shopped etc today – easyish day – photo session in afternoon etc – went to Hanley for Chinese with B– went back there after.
At some point around that time – I think probably on that Sunday in late February, Bobbie and Malcolm turned the tables on me and persuaded me that I should run for Education & Welfare Officer. My plan had been for Bobbie to fulfil that role – she’d have been bloody good at it and was certainly popular enough to get elected – but she had no intention of sticking around at Keele for another year.
I remember at one point hedging, by saying that i would only do it if the right people got elected in that week’s elections. That meant John White as Secretary and Pete Wild as Treasurer.
“I won” says John – photo thanks to Mark Ellicott“So did I” says Pete – photo also thanks to Mark Ellicott
That election on the Friday confirmed their election and I had run out of road with the Malcolms and Bobbies of this world.
I’m pretty sure it was Annalisa De Mercur who did the “photo sesh”. The Hanley Chinese with Bobbie will have been the same one we went to before Christmas with Malcolm and Ruth. No-one remembers the name but Malcolm recalls:
That Chinese was for the time pretty good, I remember red flock wallpaper and the first time I ever had fresh lychees was there. No idea what its name was!
Next time I’ll share with you the results of the photo sesh and other ephemera from that era. I’ll also explain why my campaign was nearly nipped in the bud by an attack of the Germans. Watch this space.
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.
1983/84 was my finals year. I was Chair of Constitutional Committee that year (somewhat press-ganged into running I might add), so I was strangely on the inside of the students’ union politics without really being part of its core.
I thought it would be fun to have an anonymous gossip column, so came up with the idea of H Ackgrass, or “Hackgrass”. Many myths about that column spread in the years following about the column’s antiquity, but I know I made the name up myself. There had been others, such as Molesworth, in earlier years, but this name was new, as was the somewhat visceral nature of the humour. I know the name was subsequently re-used by others. I am flattered.
I knew the Concourse (and Union Committee) lot would want to know who H Ackgrass was and I thought I’d be a prime suspect. Thus I was rather harsh on myself, in this first column and subsequently, in order to try and divert attention. This approach pretty much worked.
I had a spare old portable typewriter, so battered about that I didn’t really use it any more; it was very obvious in its idiosyncratic type, so I thought that using it would add to the mystery and might put people off my scent, as long as I kept the offending machine hidden. Indeed, I know at least one Concourse person sneaked into my flat at one time to check out my (regular) typewriter, only to conclude that Hackgrass couldn’t be me.
Quentin Rubens, the Concourse editor at the time, hardly edited anything out of that first piece. I thought he would tone it down a lot; there were certainly a couple of edgy lines I expected would go. Surprisingly, Quentin did edit out one descriptive phrase I made about myself, “arch lefty”. I don’t know whether that reflected his feelings about my politics or his own sense of what is an insulting term. In later pieces, he got the redline pen out a lot more. Deservedly so in several cases.
Anyway, here is the very first column, both in published form and then its original submission form. My submission copies are clearly photocopies but I know they were originally carbons. I must have made photocopies just before I left Keele and disposed of the carbons.
I was rummaging through an old copy of Concourse looking for something completely different, when I came across this “freshers” account of the late January UGM.
I was transported back to the event in ways that my diary entries and my own pieces could not transport me.
I hope that this piece pleases some other people as much as it has pleased me. I smiled…I even laughed at one or two 40-years-old jokes.
Alistair (Ali) Dabbs soon went on to become part of the Union, of course, as my “forty years on” account will soon reveal. He was at that time, after all, one of the “Liberals with infeasible names”. He then went on to a career in journalism – who would have guessed on the back of a deft debut of this quality.
Any thoughts on this Ali? – they’d be most welcome.
By way of contrast, my H Ackgrass column, which mentioned the same events in the same edition of Concourse, did so like this:
Pete Wild c1985 – with thanks to Mark Ellicott for the picture.
As had become my habit, I returned to Keele very early in the year, well ahead of the start of term, after lunching with Caroline on the Tuesday and Jilly on the Wednesday.
5 January 1984 – Got up early – bought amp – lazed around – returned to Keele – v tired.
6 January 1984 – did v little all day. Visited Andrea [Collins, later Woodhouse] – she came back for dinner – went on to Union
7 January 1984 – Did litle today – lazed and shopped – visited Michelle [Epstein, later Infield] – went union with Hippo in eve
The “amp” will have been for my parents’ house. I still only had a ghetto blaster at Keele that year.
I don’t remember nicknaming Pete Wild “Hippo”, but I write it that way twice in the diary around that time so it must have been a thing. His initial nickname was “Hippy” on account of his long hair. but there was a certain hippo quality about him, clumsily rushing about the flat, sometimes causing carnage.
The thing I do remember is that I had decided over Christmas to vent my frustration with the Students’ Union committee by writing secretly a gossip column for Concourse. I’m not sure that I had, by early January, settled on the name, “H Ackgrass”, but I had done a fair bit of thinking about my methods of secrecy.
Espionage-Style Tricks: Two Typewriters & Several Collaborators
I had two portable typewriters at Keele. One that I was using for my work, which was a decent quality item, I think acquired second-hand from a departing student the year before. It was a Smith-Corona that looked a little like this:
My other typewriter was a cheap generic which I had bought/been given several years earlier and had bashed into decrepitude – hence my procurement of a better one for my studies. The old generic (ghastly orange case) languished in a cupboard and almost certainly no-one at Keele had seen the tell-tale skew-iffy-look typing that emanated from it. In my earlier, Concourse journalist, days…
The quirky old generic was to be the gossip columnist’s tool (as it were). It was to remain hidden except when used for producing the Ackgrass column.
I also worked out that I would need collaborators…aka spies…to help gather information for the column and help keep my identity a mystery. By necessity, I would need to take all of my Barnes L54 flatmates and Bobbie into my confidence about this idea, as it would be nigh-on impossible to hide it from those people anyway.
That much I’m sure I discussed with Pete on my return to Keele in early January. Pete loved the idea and was keen to be one of my spies. He had already set ambitions to run for Union Committee 1984/85, as had his girlfriend, Melissa (Mel) Oliveck. I recall that those nascent conversations included the idea that Melissa should also be one of my spies, as she was spending so much time at the flat it would be awkward to keep the secret from here. Also, Mel could probably could acquire intelligence on some union people that the rest of us would not be able to access.
Our other flatmates, Chris Spencer and Alan Gorman, were not really involved with the union at all, but would still be helpful foils for testing material and honing jokes. Alan, in particular, enjoyed lampooning student politics and had a wicked sense of humour.
8 January 1984 – busyish day cataloguing etc. Went Union in evening with Hippo
9 January 1984 – Left Keele – went to Liverpool. Went with Bobbie to Karate Club – went on to pub with friends after.
10 January 1984 – Went to Chester in afternoon & stayed in Wallasey in evening – went to pub etc.
11 January 1984 – Went into the City today – shopped etc. In eve B[obbie] graded Karate & I went on after – we went to several pubs etc.
The cataloguing was probably to do with my music – not least my cassette collection at Keele, which was getting large enough that I needed documentary help to find things.
A Brief Interlude On Merseyside With Bobbie
Bobbie was an exponent of Shotokan karate. Rather a good exponent of it. I seem to recall that the grading she took while I was hanging around was for brown belt with two stripes. I had no idea what that really meant, other than the fact that “rather a good exponent” becomes a fair description at that level.
Alan Gorman also took up Shotokan karate at Keele and I understand he continued his interest in it when he moved to the USA some years later. I cannot remember whether Alan was already doing karate when I got together with Bobbie or whether it was Bobbie’s inspiration that got him into the sport. Bobbie can’t remember either, but is sure that Alan was far enough behind her in the karate progress that they didn’t really overlap (e.g. as sparring partners) at the Keele karate club.
I think that early evening session at a Liverpool Club was the only time I watched Bobbie practicing karate.
My recollection of the evening out with her Liverpool karate mates is of a friendly, mostly working class bunch of lads (I think Bobbie might have been the only lass). They made me feel very welcome when we all went to the pub afterwards, while at the same time letting me know that I was incurably southern and “posh”. Bobbie, on the other hand, rather like the character Zelig in the then recent film, slowly but surely morphed from a middle-class-accented lass from Wallasey into a scouse-accented Liverpudlian, “one of the lads”, especially by around the third drink.
The following day in Chester was more genteel, of course.
Bobbie pootled us around in a Citroen that looked a little like the one depicted above. I vaguely remember seeing her in my second year (her first) peering up from below the steering wheel of her dad’s Jag, which seemed a rather incongruous vehicle in Lindsay Hall, but it did get Bobbie noticed. Bobbie’s dad worked abroad a lot and thought (perhaps mistakenly) that the car would be safer in Bobbie’s hands at Keele than untended on a suburban street in Wallasey.
Let’s just reflect for a moment on the fact that, in the karate guys eyes, I was deemed posh, while Bobbie was deemed one of the lads.
Let’s move on.
I don’t really remember the pub in Wallasey, but that is one detail that Bobbie might actually remember when she reads this. Bobbie still spends much of her time up there these days (forty years later), when she is not in London.
I remember warm hospitality from Bobbie’s mum and dad (I think just her mum on that occasion, as dad was away), plus a font of wisdom in the form of their “family retainer”, a Merseyside lady you might choose from central casting to fulfil that role, slightly confusingly named Robbie.
The final day in Liverpool was great fun. Bobbie gave me a guided tour, then left me to my own devices for a while when she went for her karate grading. Successfully graded, we then went on a bit of a pub crawl.
I don’t remember all the pubs we tried – I doubt if Bobbie remembers all that much about it – but I do recall that we ended up in The Grapes.
I’m pretty sure it was in The Grapes where we got roped in to an impromptu Irish sing song, which would not have looked out of place in a Disney-style movie depicting such a place and event.
I vaguely knew what was going on in Whiskey In the Jar and The Wild Rover, but got more than a little confused when “Mush-a ring dumb-a do dumb-a da” and/or “right up your kilt” came into play. I remember trying to get Bobbie to explain to me what I was supposed to be doing/singing and Bobbie telling me not to worry about it and just join in making noise.
I probably sounded as Irish singing those songs as Dick Van Dyke sounded cockney singing Chim Chim Cher-ee. But then I’m not sure how Irish everyone else sounded in that pub.
…yet still felt a bit of an old hand/expert when visiting Liverpool all those years later. It’s that sort of unforgettable place.
…Then Back To Keele…
I expect I broached the matter of H Ackgrass and the proposed spy network with Bobbie while we were in Liverpool…or at least on the way back to Keele on the Thursday. I think she quite liked the idea without really wanting to be involved, other than as a sounding board and one of the group that was in the know.
12 January 1984 – Left Liverpool today – returned to Keele – shopped etc. Met Ashley [Fletcher] in Union & drank – Bobbie came back – had restless night – felt bad.
13 January 1984 – Felt really funny all day – had loads of visitors today etc. Not very well at all. Feverish all night.
14 January 1984 – Didn’t feel too bad in the morning. Shopped and did a few things. Took Bobbie out for dinner in eve – very pleasant evening.
There is a wonderfully memorable episode in I Claudius, when Caligula falls ill and then emerges relatively soon after his indisposition refreshed, announcing that he has, in the meantime, become a god.
Reading those three diary entries, I just wonder whether I emerged from short but nasty-sounding fever fully formed in the matter of my nom de plume, Herbert Ackgrass.
Parenthetically, I also wonder where I might have taken Bobbie for that very pleasant “out for dinner”. I do remember one acceptably good bistro in Newcastle-Under-Lyme but I cannot remember the name. Perhaps the hive mind of readers will help me out with that one.
Be that as it may, having emerged from my fever alive and therefore stronger, the fruits of those H Ackgrass scribbles, or should I say skewiffy typings, would start to emerge soon enough.
John White in the SU Secretary’s Office which was, in December 1983, Viv’s office. “Wouldn’t have happened on my watch”, says John (SU Secretary 1984/85). Photo by Mark Ellicott.
Monday 19 December 1983 – Rose quite late – laundered. Got drunk in Viv’s office – then ate ->Veras [Veera Bachra’s] – pub crawl – stayed in Wolstanton
It’s a bit of a miracle that I’m still alive. I remember even less about the Wolstanton pub crawl than I do about the Barnes L54 one. If Veera was there I’m sure her friend Debbie was there and I guess some of their crowd. Ashley, Bob and Sally might have formed part of that “off campus” excursion but I don’t remember those two social circles ever overlapping…not that absence of remembering that level of detail is evidence of anything.
I’m guessing that Veera and co were living in Wolstanton at that time. My main memory of them is from Barnes but I think they moved on after 82/83.
The pub crawl would no doubt have taken in The Archer and The Plough… perhaps we ventured further than Wolstanton on that crawl.
Tuesday 20th December 1983 – Got up early – left Wolstanton went to ‘Castle – then Keele – packed and left – arrived at Marianne’s [Marianne Gilmour] early evening – stayed in.
Wednesday 21st December 1983 – Rose fairly early – did a few chores in afternoon etc – went to see Rear Window at Hampstead [Everyman] – most pleasant.
That was my first ever visit to the Everyman and I remember it most fondly. The Rear Window showing was, if I remember correctly, a recently remastered print which showed the superb cinematography of that movie in all its glory.
Clearly I was not in a mad rush to visit my folks that Christmas, as I spent three nights at the Gilmour residence in Stanmore before returning to the bosom of my own family. I think Marianne’s folks were away, which is why she and I ran around after her grandparents a bit.
I think Christmas dinner “at The Benjamin’s” was still in Woodfield Avenue that year, but perhaps they had already moved to Putney by then. I expect there were just eight of us around the table – four Benjamins, Doreen’s mother (named Jessie Jackson) and us three Harris folk. Possibly Lisa was already with Nathan by then.
Crumbs, what a busy week. Forty years later, the equivalent week, “just a few sleeps before Christmas” remains so for me, with deadlines to meet and lots of socials to attend.
My business with classes etc. is what one might expect for a finalist at the end of the autumn term. The business with Constitutional Committee will have been about agreeing the process for me to rewrite the union constitution over Christmas. The things I would take on back then! Not sure whether the visit to Malcolm on Monday would have been that sort of student political machination or a chance to decompress over a drink or two…or both. Malcolm might remember but I doubt it.
Lindsay Ball, 13 December 1983
More importantly, does anyone remember who headlined at the Lindsay Ball that December? I was quite a cynic by then, so “v good” as a verdict means that the ball was very good. But who did we see perform? Answers, if anyone remembers, please.
I had managed to avoid Gary Glitter on two previous ball occasions at Keele. My very first freshers’ ball was glitter free due to his indisposition – we had Stardust instead:
Bev Howarth made an interesting choice of support act in King Kurt. They had a wild reputation for food fights and the like at their gigs around that time. Rumour has it that Pady Jalali (who at first sight does not look like someone who could boss King Kurt around) managed to keep them in check for that gig, a display of courage that might have helped her to get elected Social Secretary for the following year.
Here’s a sample of their most famous song and video – which would not come close to passing a political correctness test today, I feel bound to add:
https://youtu.be/aS9uPvAvqc0
Any band with a lead singer named Gary “The Smeg” Clayton is bound to be close to the edge…or over that edge hurtling towards the rocks of opprobrium. Still, next to his namesake Glitter, Gary “The Smeg” looks like a paragon of virtue, I suppose. And I can hardly talk, having gone on to write a parody song about the Zulu leader, Mangosuthu Buthelezi, 10 years later:
I have no recollection which pubs we crawled around, but I’ll guess that The Victoria was one of them and one of the few that is still there. The group that crawled will have been the four of us who actually lived in Barnes L54 at that time: Me, Alan “The Great Yorkshire Pudding” Gorman, Chris Spencer, Pete Wild, almost certainly also my then girlfriend Bobbie Scully (never one to say no to an end of term pub crawl), Melissa Oliveck (Pete’s then girlfriend) and possibly others. If anyone recalls, I’d love to include more details on that event.
I think I can safely say that we visited several pubs in the vicinity and all had too much to drink. Students, honestly.
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The Victoria – Photo by Rept0n1x, CC BY-SA 2.0