The reason for Pady’s visit was most unfortunate (the sudden death and funeral of a friend of hers), but the timing proved to be fortunate for us, as the trip made her available to meet us in London on 11 April.
Pady arranged to meet us at The Wiggy after the concert. She arrived a little flustered about 30 minutes after the concert ended. But hanging around at the Wigmore Hall is hardly a hardship for me and Janie (Daisy). It is one of our favourite places. In my case, it is now one of only two places in the world (the Lord’s pavilion being the other) where people still address me as “young man”.
It was lovely to see Pady again. Janie hadn’t met her before, but they hit it off straight away, as I sensed they would.
It was a sunny early afternoon when Janie and I had arrived at The Wiggy but it was raining quite heavily when the concert ended. By the time Pady arrived, the rain had subsided but still looked a bit threatening, so we decided to retire to the new Ivy Cafe in Marylebone Lane for some tea. A very suitable venue; quiet in the afternoon and geared up for dining or snacking.
Pady had checked in to a nearby hotel for the London leg of her journey, so we resolved to find a suitable restaurant nearby. Strangely, Pady doesn’t get to try Lebanese food in Boston. As she is a vegetarian, we thought the major mezzes followed by lesser mains tradition would work well.
John was able to join us at the Ivy around 16:30, by which time I was on to my second little pot of jasmine tea and we other three had already “done scones”. Getting to know you chat then switched to catching up chat.
Daisy and I did some thorough research and latched on to a restaurant named Levant – very nearby, as a good contender and one we hadn’t tried before. The promise of nightly live entertainment didn’t please us, but the idea of the entertainment starting no earlier than 20:30 did, as we were proposing to eat early. In any case, we could always fall back on Maroush if we didn’t like the look/smell of Levant.
As it turned out, we did like the look and smell of Levant. We very much enjoyed our meal and chat there. Very quiet at 17:30/18:00 when we arrived. Staff very pleasant. The mezzes were excellent. The grills less so, but still did their job. John drank beer; Lebanese and Moroccan varieties, while the rest of us showed no mercy to a tasty bottle of Côtes du Rhône.
After dinner, Daisy requested an arabic coffee but was told that, regrettably, the machine wasn’t working and that it would have to be regular coffee. We had a short debate about whether we could be bothered to go elsewhere, which was resolved by the realisation that it was nearly 20:30 already, so the live entertainment was due to start soon.
Where did all that time go? In chatting, reminiscing and catching up, that’s where.
So we ventured out into the mercifully dry evening, soon to find Comptoir Libanais on Wigmore Street. “They should have arabic coffee,” declared Daisy, marching across Wigmore Street, grinding taxis, bicycles and other vehicles to a brief but sudden halt. “Do you have arabic coffee?” asked Daisy as she breezed into the cafe. “Yes, come in sit down,” said an unidentified member of staff.
But it turned out that Comptoir Libanais didn’t do arabic coffee; never does, never did. None of us could be arsed to move again; we mostly wanted to carry on chatting for a short while. So we made do with regular espressos, cappuccinos or, in my case, rose-mint tea.
All too soon, we realised that it was really getting late for John, who still had a couple of hours journey ahead of him, so we walked John down to Bond Street tube and then Daisy and I walked Pady back to her hotel.
It was a lovely afternoon and evening. We worked out that it must be at least 10 years since Pady’s last visit, so hopefully Pady will start visiting a lot more regularly now. Who knows, perhaps as soon as next month. That’s right, in the merry, merry month of May, fa-la-la-la-la…
Daisy and I arranged a Monday off, in part because “that’s quite often what we do these days”, but this one in particular because I fancied this lunchtime concert at “The Wiggy”.
It turned out to be a fortuitous choice of date, as it coincided with Pady Jalali’s unexpected but delightful visit, which I shall report once I have finished this short piece; a link to which should appear, as if by magic, as a ping-back on this one once it is done. (Clever stuff, this WordPress blogging).
Pady toyed with the idea of joining us for the concert, but the train times from Manchester didn’t really work sensibly for that, so just Daisy and I enjoyed the concert, from our front row mafia vantage point.
There was a lyric sheet available for 50p which I avoided. Not for the matter of 50p, you understand, but because making it too obvious that the lyrics were mostly about shepherds, shepherdesses, the merry month of May and a fa-la-la-la-la… would not have added to Daisy’s enjoyment. Worse, me singing along would not have added to anyone’s enjoyment.
The ensemble entered wearing straw hats and carrying a hamper, an old badminton racket etc. The idea was to give the feeling of a spring picnic; an idea that worked better live than on radio, I’d suggest.
There were three examples of modern madrigal in our concert too – the running order is archived here – but for the encore I Fagiolini returned to the safer ground of traditional month of May-type material; Now is the Month of Maying by Thomas Morley. Plenty of fa-la-las to send us on our way.
Twee? Yes. But it was a lovely concert which set us up very nicely indeed for a relaxing afternoon and evening with friends.
I flew from Washington DC to Boston. I recall thinking that internal flights were, in many ways, an easier option than railway journeys on that East Coast in those days. You pretty much just turned up and took the next plane, whereas the trains had been rarer beasts that required some logistical planning.
I did some touring on my own around the port and stuff that first day in Boston:
It was wicked cold in Boston. I had almost forgotten about the arctic weather I had experienced in New York (Washington DC was still warm) until I got to Boston, where it seemed, if possible, even colder. Perhaps I should have stayed away from the waterfront and the scenic views from the top of tall buildings to feel less cold.
I remember going into a music shop to buy Bobbie Scully the latest Billy Joel record – We Didn’t Start the Fire – Bobbie was a big fan of Billy Joel and the record was being played everywhere all the time while I was in the States.
The really memorable thing about buying that record for Bobbie was the reaction of a college boy type who was also in the shop, who said to me in that slightly pompous New England accent (which might be mistaken for mimicking the British accent but I think he was a genuine New Englander)…
…you don’t want to be buying that record. It’s complete crap.
No suggestion that this was an expression of his opinion about the record. It’s complete crap. Fact. Period.
It’s a gift for a friend who is especially keen on Billy Joel…
…I said…
…Oh yeh?…
…he said, in a disbelieving voice.
In truth I don’t hold that song in very high regard – not one of Joel’s best in my view, but that song always reminds me of this holiday…
…and also of Graham Robertson’s wonderful Newsrevue parody, “One Didn’t Start the Fire”, three year’s later, about the Windsor Castle fire.
An Interlude Upstate In Massachusetts
I had contacted Emma Weiss who had suggested that I join her and Betsy Brady for the evening and a stop-over in Marblehead…or was it Lynn?…
…I have a feeling that they lived in the former town and/but the municiple railway took me to the latter town. I remain irritated with myself that I didn’t keep a proper travel log for this holiday – the only extensive trip i have ever made without keeping one. I’m also irritated that I didn’t take my camera with me on this upstate Massachusetts leg of my trip.
Anyway, I do remember Emma coming to meet me from the train. I also remember Emma and Betsy giving me a brief driving tour around that part of the Massachusetts coast.
I particularly remember them showing me Salem – we had some tongue-in-cheek discussions about whether we might all be strung up in that town on account of ethnic origins and/or interesting lifestyles. We decided to dine outside Salem.
Boston was wicked cold at that time, but these towns up the Massachusetts coast were wicked colder still.
I remember having a jolly meal with Emma and Betsy, after which, having just got warm, they said it was time for us to visit a local bar…in fact I think they even use the term “pub” up there in New England.
I also recall how very cold it was at night, especially when someone opened the door to the pub. In fact, whenever someone opened said door the drinkers would ring out a chorus of:
CLOSE THE DOOR! CLOSE THAT F***ING DOOR!
Just as we were getting to the point that I thought we had warmed up and I was starting to feel nice and cosy for a pub sesh, Emma and Betsy said,
Right, that’s it. We’d better move on to the other pub now…
…at which suggestion I wondered out loud whether we really needed to go back out in the cold.
Emma and Betsy politely but firmly explained that they live in a small town and that they couldn’t possibly diss the folks in the other local pub by showing off their visitor from England in one pub but not the other.
Word of your existence will have reached the other pub some time ago now, so they’ll be wondering where we are.
Off we went to the second bar, which seemed quite similar in terms of its cosiness, unpretentiousness and friendly clientele.
Emma and Betsy might recall the names of the bars; I can add links and stuff if those hostelries are still there, which they probably still are…with many of the same locals still shouting, “close that f***ing door” on cold nights.
It was a great fun evening. Emma and Betsy were splendid hosts; it was very kind of them to provide that much hospitality to me. I have also enjoyed meeting them both since – e.g. at Michael Mainelli’s wedding, but it has been a good while since I last saw either of them.
Back To Boston, Brunch With Pady & Midge
The climax of my American road trip was an opportunity to see Pady Jalali in her new home environment of the USA. Pady is of Iranian origin but had acquired a quintessentially English accent while at school and then at Keele with us.
But just a few years in the USA had put paid to Pady’s English accent; by the autumn of 1989 she had acquired (and still has) a quintessentially New England accent.
At that time, Pady was teaching math…
…in the USA they only study a singular mathematic, whereas in the UK we study mathematics, or maths…
…at Umass in Amhurst.
Pady suggested meeting in Boston for brunch, along with her sister Midge.
The thing I especially remember about that brunch (apart from having a delightful afternoon with Pady and Midge) was the demeanour of the other diners.
Pady, Midge and I were engaged in conversation as one might expect when friends gather in a diner for a middle of the day meal.
But pretty much every other table seemed to comprise couples or small groups eating in complete silence. Some seemed to be taking some interest in eavesdropping on our conversation. Others seemed simply to be grazing, vacantly.
In those days, of course, non-conversational diners did not have hand-held gadgetry as an alternative focus for their attention. But in any case, this unengaged style of eating out was alien to me (as it had been to Pady and Midge before they migrated to the USA), although it did seem to cross the Atlantic and become part of the UK culture as well by the end of that century.
Of course we were not to be deterred from our purpose; having a good catch up and making a jolly occasion of it.
The photographic evidence suggests that beer, fags and food were all involved (I had long since given up smoking by then, but I was still enjoying beer and food).
It was really lovely to see Pady again – it had been some four years since she left England. Midge was also very good company that day.
It was a super way to end my two week visit to the States.
I’m not sure exactly when I flew back, but I have a feeling it was the Sunday night red eye and I have a feeling I went straight in to work on the Monday. I wouldn’t dream of doing that now.
Pictures from the Washington DC & Massachusetts legs of my trip (including those above but with quite a few more besides) can be seen by clicking the Flickr link below:
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.
A final extract from that superb memory-jogging issue of Concourse from February 1985.
Ronnie Scott came to Keele several times while I was there. This would have been the last time I ever saw Ronnie himself perform, although I have been to “Ronnies” in Soho since.
My diary records little about the evening (Friday 25 January 1985), other than a statement that I went and a confession “got drunk”. So I am grateful for this review. My memory of at least one earlier Ronnie Scott evening at Keele (probably more than a year, perhaps two years earlier) is better and has a story to it, but I’ll save that story for my diary trawl later.
Janie loves Ronnie Scotts and I have often mentioned to her the wonderful evenings we had at Keele when Ronnie and his band visited. Here’s an independent report on one of those evenings.
I remember Pady telling us about this “Thorns Cock-Up” last time she visited, a few years ago, so it made me smile coming across this article about it when going through this February 1985 issue of Concourse.
I had forgotten (or perhaps Pady even had forgotten) that the unfortunate band that got dicked around was none other than The Pogues.
Lots of juicy bits from the February 1985 issue of Concourse. Here’s the first of them.
Annalisa de Mercur, bless her, was very concerned that the Student Union’s bar licence might get scuppered, which would indeed have been a near-existential problem for the union. The storm was very much of the teacup variety, I’d have thought, for the reasons described in the article.
How Pady Jalali and Hayward Burt ended up in an intra-article debate with the Vice-chancellor, Dr Harrison, is anybody’s guess. Methinks Annalisa might have been trying to big up her piece, as it were.
The health centre fee had been an ongoing issue, if the 1984 manifestos are anything to go by. John “Memory Man” White will hopefully chime in on the comments to describe in intricate detail the nature of the new-look campaign he planned. I don’t remember a thing about it, although welfare was my bailiwick.
The Tommy & Ralph EGM is one of the very few truly horrid memories I have of my year as a union sabbatical, indeed of my five years at Keele. Actually, one of my most horrid memories full stop.
Just in case you are coming to this saga cold, the 84/85 Union Committee had inherited a serious problem with the Union Bars, which were making ruinous losses which the managers could neither adequately explain nor manage down. The previous committee had started a disciplinary process and then left it in abeyance for us to pick up, which we did, from the outset of our tenure.
We held several investigative/disciplinary meetings, the last of which, in early August, I chaired. At that meeting the committee voted unanimously to dismiss the two bar managers, Tommy and Ralph. Their trades union (NUPE) rep, Derek Bamford, immediately announced that both would pursue their right to appeal to an extraordinary general meeting (EGM) of the students’ union in the autumn.
I have written up the story so far in the following two pieces:
All of us on the committee had a sense of trepidation about the impending EGM. As the person who had chaired the final meeting and had delivered the dismissals – the President Kate (now Susan) Fricker was unavoidably on leave for that meeting – I felt very much in the spotlight of the appeals processes. None of us on the committee thought that the EGM was an appropriate forum for a staff disciplinary appeal, but that was what the constitution said.
Ironically, as chair of Constitutional Committee, I had led a comprehensive review of the constitution the previous academic year and had sought to change that aspect of the constitution. I remember going to see the Permanent Secretary, Tony Derricott, about that and some of the other areas I thought ripe for change. Tony told me in no uncertain terms that the right of appeal to an EGM was sacrosanct to the Union staff, because no-one had ever successfully been dismissed if the staff member chose to appeal to an EGM.
My personal diary entries, unusually for me, provide a sense of my dark mood in the run up to that fateful meeting:
Wednesday, 17 October 1984 – feeling very rough today – very busy also – Ball night – went home early.
Thursday, 18 October 1984 – Tough day – worked etc – cancelled London trip – lots of meetings etc – J-Soc in evening.
Friday, 19 October 1984 – Very very busy with EGM and other stuff – worked until late.
Saturday, 20 October 1984 – Kate came over and spent whole day working for EGM etc – dinner in eve etc.
Sunday, 21 October 1984 – Kate came over early – worked all day. Went to Union in eve.
Monday, 22 October 1984 -Horrible day re-EGM business – meetings all day etc – work till late – Constitutional Committee etc.
Tuesday 23 October 1984 – Traumatic day trying to sort things out etc. John [White] stopped over.
Wednesday, 24 October 1984 – busy day of worries and in meetings etc. Went to bed early.
Minor Detour – Freshers’ Ball 17 October 1984
I struggled to remember who played the Freshers’ Ball that year. My Newspapers.com archive subscription now includes the Evening Sentinel, so I can report faithfully as the following preview attests:
Rocky Sharpe & the Replays followed by Dr Feelgood. I’m pretty sure I stuck it out for the former but bunked off before the end of the latter.
For anyone who wants top remember what Rocky Sharpe & The Replays were like, here are a couple of live vids from ancient archives:
If younger readers look at these vids and decide that the 1980s seems further in the distant past than they imagined, I should point out that both of the bands on show that night were rock and roll revival of one sort or another, although Dr Feelgood tried to be a bit more rock (1970s pub rock) than the 1950s revival rock and roll of Rocky Sharpe & the Replays.
Here is a vid of Dr Feelgood as they looked live by the mid to late 1980s:
Get Back To The Main Story – The Run Up To The EGM
My personal diary makes it clear that I was busy with other stuff as well as preparing for the EGM. My appointments diary supports that idea – every day at least two, normally three or four meetings, including the first Senate of the term. The University meetings were not for winging – I would always take the time to go through all of the papers and there would have been preparatory meetings for some as well.
The day of the above ball also included
13:30 pre-senate meeting in Vincent’s Room” [guessing Vince Beasley]
14:15 Senate [that would have lasted a good three hours]
18:30 Thorns Senior Common Room Wardens Meeting/Dinner…
…then the ball.
I had planned to go to London Friday evening and return Monday morning, but cancelled that trip as there was simply too much to do. Kate Fricker and I worked all the way through that weekend to prepare our meetings for the following week, including the EGM.
I don’t think my parents were too pleased with my cancelling the visit, as they were going away for several weeks the following weekend, so that cancellation wrote off any chance of seeing them for yonks. We got over it.
Although I say I had an early night on the Wednesday night before the EGM, I am sure I stuck around long enough to see The Frank Chickens and Billy Bragg before sloping off (by my standards) early.
Another Diversion Subsection: Billy Bragg Supported By The Frank Chickens
If you want to know/remember what The Frank Chickens looked like, this video is quintessentially Frank, as it were. For sure I saw this pair perform:
I am 99% sure that I stuck around also for Billy Bragg because I know I saw him perform live and don’t think it could have been any other occasion than this. His “party piece” back then was a version of Route 66 about the A13 to Southend, which brought a smile and also some happy family memories for me.
I hadn’t thought of the connection before, but Pady Jalali seemed to be specialising in bringing acts from the A13 corridor to Keele at the start of that year – Billy Bragg from Barking, Dr Feelgood from Canvey island…
…but I am continuing to digress rather than write the painful stuff.
The EGM Day Itself: 25 October 1984
The image below is an extract from my appointment diary, just showing that day.
My personal diary simply says:
Thursday, 25 October 1984 – Spent most of the day in a daze and in meetings. Annalisa [de Mercur] came over for dinner – EGM over Tommy and Ralph – we won – much relief.
The EGM was horrible. All the imaginings I had about the inappropriateness of a students general meeting were amplified and almost caricatured that night. Of course it was a boozy affair – UGMs always were, whether they were E or not.
The ballroom was very crowded – several hundred people had turned out – at least the students were taking an interest. A large number of them were freshers who could surely only go with their gut feelings and/or the sense of the meeting, rather than take in the complexities of what had been a heart-wrenching and difficult decision to dismiss long serving staff.
Then there were vested interests. Tommy was a Roman Catholic with several children. The Catholic priest and the Catholic Society had turned out en masse (I think my sense of humour survived sufficiently for me to privately pun “on mass” to fellow committee members), plus Toby Bourgein and Neil White of course, ready to sink us with a plea for compassion. Most tellingly, all the Union staff turned up to support their colleagues. Most of them had only heard about but not seen a UGM before.
We were ready simply to tell the narrative faithfully and explain the meticulous steps we had taken to try to rehabilitate Tommy and Ralph’s position, but our enquiries and entreaties simply led us to conclude that they could not manage such a large and complex bar arrangement and that no amount of training or support could rectify those shortcomings. In truth, they couldn’t in any meaningful sense read the stock reports that were highlighting the deficiencies and the losses.
Mark Ellicott, who was the Speaker that year, chaired the meeting. He and have discussed that night at some length in the run up to its 40th anniversary. I am sure he will allow me to share some of his thoughts as a postscript, if I haven’t captured them in this piece. In my view, Mark did a superb job of handling a monumentally difficult meeting.
Derek Bamford of NUPE led for the appellants. I remember him at one point trying to continue talking beyond the guillotine time and actually being guillotined (i.e. having his microphone cut off, nothing more serious than that) and I also remember that he was a small man who looked very strange in that meeting, because he leant across the podium to the extent that the green timing light illuminated him, in green, from below. It’s funny how certain little details tick in the mind, with the rest being rather a blur.
Kate took full responsibility for leading our “defence” and advocating that the appeal be rejected. I did speak at one point but not for long at that meeting.
Of course the debate became raucous at times and some of the questions and comments from the floor were utterly inappropriate for such an important decision-making panel.
But I do remember one speech in particular that seemed to turn the sense of the meeting on its head, by which I mean that before that one speech I thought we were going to lose vote, but by the end of that speech I sensed that the vote was going to go our way.
It was John White’s speech, but not my friend John S White who was on the committee with us; John “Beaky” White, a research student who ran the KRA Bar and who, along with Pete Cumberland, helped run our bars during the summer while we appointed replacement bar managers.
The beer truth
John basically told the meeting that he and Pete had found the cellars in a shambles when they took over the bars and that the pipes were in a filthy condition. He asked any freshers who were in the meeting to turn to someone who had been at Keele the previous year and ask them if the beer tastes better now than it did the previous year, because the beer was now being stored and served appropriately.
I remember Kate and I looking at each other, a little horrified, because those factors had not been the grounds for the dismissal. In a formal legal setting, this evidence should not be used to determine whether or not we had fairly dismissed the staff and whether or not their appeals should be upheld.
But of course the appeal to a General Meeting was not a formal legal appeal – that aspect would come later at Employment Tribunal. John’s arguments clearly swayed many undecided voters in the room that evening.
I remember Annalisa telling me afterwards that she thought that the sense of the room was 60%/40% against us (i.e. in favour of the appeal) until that speech, whereas in the end the vote went 60%/40% the other way, possibly even more than 60% supported us. It didn’t need a count.
We had won but none of us felt good at the end of that evening. Derek Bamford made an angry statement on exit and it was clear to us that we had a lot of work to do to win back the support of our excellent and loyal team of staff, some of whom were horrified at witnessing that meeting.
There’s probably a Concourse write up of this which I must dig out and add to this piece…
Postcript: Yes there is a Concourse write up – I have included it in my fllow up piece:
For now, the last word goes to the Evening Sentinel, which, unsurprisingly, was not exactly the employer’s friend in this matter as it subsequently panned out, although the following piece was short and to the point.
The National Union Of Students (NUS) provided training courses for sabbatical officers in September. I think all four of us (Kate Fricker, John White, Pady Jalali and me) went on at least one or two. Here are my diary entries about my week:
Monday, 3 September 1984 up early – Bobbie [Scully] dropped me at Stoke. Met Kathy [from the North Staffs Poly Students’ Union if I recall correctly] and went to [University of] York for Education and Representations (E&R) Module.
Tuesday, 4 September 1984 – E&R module in York (okay). Got back to Stoke, went to Kathy’s for a while. Came back to Keele.
Wednesday, 5 September 1984 – Got up really early to go to [University of] Reading for Welfare Module.
Thursday, 6 September 1984 – Welfare Module in Reading (v good indeed). Got back to Keele late and very tired.
Friday, 7 September 1984 – Tired today – cleared some of the backlog of work – ate in McDonald’s in evening.
Saturday, 8 September 1984 – Went shopping in morning – did some work in afternoon – went to Wolstanton to meet Vera [sic – Veera Bachra] in evening.
Sunday, 9 September 1984 – Rose late. Went in to office to clear work in afternoon – went over to Kate [Fricker]’s for meal in evening.
I thought better of the welfare course than I did of the education and representations one. I think I felt I had previously acquired most of the negotiation skills and possessed the requisite common sense that the first course was trying to impart. Whereas the welfare one steeped me in some techniques and protocols that hadn’t occurred to me before and stick with me to this day, not least the notion that volunteers and sabbaticals should signpost and refer, but not attempt to advise and/or counsel.
I remember Phil Woolas being quite heavily involved in at least one of, if not both of, the courses. He was NUS President at the time and went on to a ministerial career in the Labour Governments of Tony Blair and Gordon Brown.
I had forgotten that Veera Bachra had remained in The Potteries even until then and that we kept in touch into my sabbatical year. She had been my neighbour in Barnes L Block for a couple of years and became a good pal, as described in several Ogblog pieces (this link all those tagged Veera). I do wonder what happened to her subsequently.
Eating with Kate Fricker, more often at my place than at hers but on this occasion at hers, was a fairly regular occurrence throughout our sabbatical year.
Aftermath Of Resits Week
Reinforcements: Annalisa de Mercur, picture thanks to Mark Ellicott
I had been primed to be ready for a constant stream of people through my office, primarily those who had failed their resits and wanted help with appeals and/or pastoral care. It’s just as well I’d been primed.
Thus spake my diary:
Monday, 10 September 1984 – Busy day getting ready for the onslaught etc – Kate came over for a meal in the evening.
Tuesday, 11 September 1984 – resit results came out today – extremely chaotic and exhausting day. Worked till quite late.
Wednesday, 12 September 1984 – Appeals business all day. – Annalisa arrived as reinforcements. – came over for a drink in evening.
Thursday, 13 September 1984 -very busy day with appeals etc. Worked till quite late. Annalisa came over for dinner in evening.
Friday, 14 September 1984 very busy with appeals today – Bobbie arrived early in the evening. Went to Pinocchio’s for dinner and came back.
Saturday, 15 September 1984 Bobby left early. I got up quite late – went shopping with Kate – worked in afternoon – Annalisa and I went over to Kate’s for dinner in evening.
Sunday, 16 September 1984 – Got up fairly late – came into office for afternoon etc. Had Kate and Annalisa for dinner in evening.
Would you believe that Pinocchio’s is still an Italian Restaurant, albeit rebranded Pasta Di Piazza with decent enough reviews still. For sure it was one of the better places in Newcastle0-Under-Lyme in 1984.
Annalisa was on my Education Sub-Committee and very dedicated to the task she was too. Coming up to Keele, to help with appeals week, was over and above the call of duty, as were many of Annalisa’s sterling efforts that year.
Progressing From Appeals To Beer-Tasting
Ale be seeing you in all the old familiar places…
The appeals process continued into the early part of the following week, after which attention switched to the vexed question of beer.
In particular, under our new bar regime, we were very keen to offer real ales on a regular basis and had settled on the ballroom bar as a suitable location (actually the only suitable bar) for the storage and serving of such beers.
Other Ogblog postings, previous and to come, attest that we committee folk were quite traumatised by the process of dismissing the bar managers and the subsequent appeals processes. But I confess that we did enjoy the several field trips and organised tastings by the breweries that were courting us for business in that latter part of the summer. The diary leaves me in no doubt:
Monday, 17 September 1984 – Very busy day indeed with these appeals. Worked till very late.
Tuesday, 18 September 1984 extremely hectic last day of appeals, etc, – cooked. Came down to union and got pissed at John Smith’s expense.
Wednesday, 19 September 1984 -Very tired today – took it fairly easy. Got pissed at Allied Breweries expense tonight.
Thursday, 20 September 1984 – Tired and not very industrious today. Went to union in the evening and had to buy own drinks – didn’t stay long.
Friday, 21 September 1984 -Still a bit shattered. Went over to Kate’s for meal in the evening.
