Photos by Janie – talk about “focus on the food, not the people”
Actually that headline photo is an aberration. The focus of planning this get together was very much about the people, not so much the food. A long in the planning date to meet up with Pady Jalali on her long-delayed visit to London. Her previous visit had been planned for June 2023…
…but those plans went awry because Pady suffered an injury just prior to her planned trip.
This time, even more sadly, Pady had to cancel her trip due to the demise of her beloved father. As with the June 2023 gathering, we considered cancelling the whole event, then decided that we were in any case overdue for a John, Mandy, Janie and Ian gathering, so went ahead nonetheless.
After much debate, having been assigned “choose the restaurant” duties, Janie and I settled on Tatar Bunar, a new Ukrainian Restaurant in Shoreditch, which had been very well received in the gastro-press-and-media-world in the spring, e.g.:
Not all that many high-quality and trendy restaurants open on a Sunday evening, but Tatar Bunar does. Those criteria, together with the helpful (meet part way) location helped get that place the gig.
There we are, the people. Above, me and Mandy tucking in. Below, John listening intently, learning all about the food and wine from the charming, knowledgeable and helpful waitress.
It was lovely to see John and Mandy again – first meal out together for some while. We did some catching up and we raised a glass to Pady and her family. It was such a shame that Pady couldn’t be with us again this time.
And then there was the food:
Oh wow! Yes, dumplings can be subtle, even if super-sized.
We enjoyed trying the Ukrainian wines, which matched extremely well with the Ukrainian foods. The foodie reviews linked above will give you far more detail and precision about the food than we could, other than to say that we found every dish we tried interesting and delicious. And we tried plenty, given the sharing plates concept.
Unlike some sharing plates places, we found the guidance from our waitress helpful in terms of sizing the meal as well as in recommending things to try when we explained our tastes, preferences and limitations.
John was wowed, Mandy was lulled into a state of tranquillity. Legal notice: most if not all of those empty and near empty wine glasses had been drained by others of us, not Mandy; the appearance is just a camera angle thing.
We’d had a lovely evening. Hopefully we’ll do something similar again soon and hopefully we’ll get to see Pady again soon.
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.
1985 Summer Ball image with grateful thanks to Andrew Macmillan
In many ways the things unsaid in my personal diary entries for that Tuesday, Wednesday & Thursday are more interesting than the things said.
Allow me to transliterate those three days for you:
Tuesday 25 June 1985 – busy day – shopped – Ringroad rehearsal – popped over to Kate’s – had dinner – went to Pop Quiz – got drunk – Petra came over.
Wednesday 26th June 1985 – meetings etc – quite busy – dinner – Ball (including weak Ringroad!) – left about 2:30 am.
Thursday 27 June 1985 – meetings etc went to WPAR [if someone remembers what that was, please let me know] – hospital – cooked dinner – Ring wrote summer review – went down very well.
My appointments diary for the Tuesday shows that I had fully intended to play the festival week cricket match for the fourth year running, but became quite inundated with requests for meetings and gave up on the idea of one last go at the cricket.
Those readers who missed out on my Keele cricket (so-called) career can catch up with it through this King Cricket piece authored by Herbert Ackgrass with me appearing pseudonymously as Ged Ladd. It takes some gall to have one of your noms de plume write about another of your noms de plume, so clearly I have some gall:
The fact that we had a last-minute rescheduled Ringroad rehearsal suggest to me that the Ringroad show we performed at the Ball, which I described as weak, was a last minute idea, perhaps to fill a gap in the Ball schedule. We had a long-planned Summer Revue the next day and I think we needed to dredge the bottom of the Ringroad cornflake box of scripts to come up with a second show in as many days that wasn’t going to overlap.
I don’t remember much about the pop quiz on the Tuesday, but as I state that I “got drunk” rather than “won”, or “did well”, I think you can draw your own conclusions.
Frankly, I remembered little about the Summer Ball too. It is only fair to say that John White’s memory did no better. Interesting also that I didn’t note the names of the bands we saw – not even the headliners (Darts).
So I am truly grateful to Andrew Macmillan for supplying the headline image which helped bring back the memories.
One reason that I would not have thought Darts that exciting a pick is that I had seen them at an SU ball early in my Keele career. No doubt Pady chose them precisely because only a handful of us would have seen them at the Valentines Ball in 1981 – written up in this piece:
You can hear/see some Darts in the above 1981 write up, but if that’s not enough for you, here’s another embedded video of that retro group. They were seriously retro, even when at their peak in the 1970s:
More interesting perhaps were the support acts. I remember being less impressed by The Higsons than I was by The Untouchables, but enjoying the sound of both.
The Untouchables were very much “John’s and my sort of thing”, with their Mod/Ska revival sound. I wonder whether Pady [Jalali] chose them for our last hurrah deliberately to please us. Forty years on, John [White] and I can ask Pady that question when we all meet up in late July.
I particularly remember liking The Untouchables version of a Northern Soul classic, I Spy For The FBI:
I love the parting remark in my diary, “left about 2:30 a.m.”.
And I had SO many meetings the next day, and THE Ringroad Summer Revue to perform. Did I make it?
Of course I did.
Perhaps WPAR is something to do with “womens group”, but I’m still none the wiser
Not only did I do all of that on the Thursday, but my diary reports that Petra and I visited recently run-over Ruth in hospital in amongst all of that too. I’m getting hot and bothered just thinking about it.
Some years ago I wrote up that Summer Ringroad Revue, my final Ringroad performance, including an audio recording of that show – here’s that write up:
With thanks to Mark Ellicott, who captured the historic moment at which I symbolically handed the keys to the Education & Welfare Office to Hayward Burt.
10 June 1985 was the day of the last UGM of the academic year and the official end of my sabbatical year of office as Education & Welfare officer. Not that the official ending seemed to reduce the number of meetings and things I attended for the next few weeks. We sabbaticals in particular undertook quite a substantial “handover”, which we hadn’t received with such gusto from our predecessors but which we felt we should do for our successors.
My appointments diary tells a slightly maudlin tale, with the entry “UGM, The End” on that day:
My personal diary sort-of covered the day…
Monday 10 June 1985 – last day officially in office – did little – “union committee meeting” for awhile – then somewhat chaotic last UG M – drink after etc. Very late night.
…although it failed to mention that I was awarded life membership of the Keele Students’ Union at that UGM. I was given a card the following day to prove it. Very proud of that card I am, such that I carried it around with me at all times for years. It now looks like this:
Like my face, my life membership card has seen better days. 40 years is a long time.
I always knew I had something in common with Nelson Mandela, but in truth had forgotten, until I found this article in the Sentinel while looking for something else, that Nelson & I both had life membership of UKSU conferred upon us that night:
Here’s the text from my personal diary for the next week or so:
Tuesday, 11 June 1985 – Rose late – residential services in afternoon etc – had dinner with Petra.
Wednesday, 12 June 1985 – busy day – meetings etc – celebrated after Senate – had dinner with Petra.
Thursday, 13 June 1985 – meetings – in office most of the day – had an easy evening [Strangely, the appointments diary says that I did the Bust Fund Disco that night. I expect the appointments diary is right and the memory at the time I wrote up that week was wrong.
Friday, 14 June 1985 – meetings, office etc. Cooked dinner for Petra, Ruth and [Graham] Pitt.
Saturday, 15 June 1985 – lazyish day – shopped etc – popped over to Pitt’s – went to Jackie Wong’s for dinner.
Sunday, 16 June 1985 – Rose late/lazy day –brekker etc. Cooked Petra dinner later.
Monday, 17 June 1985 – went to Derbyshire for day with June – peak/picnic etc. dinner. Got back late – Petra came round after.
I have very happy memories of the day June Aitken (the Keele Student’s Union administrator extraordinaire) took us outgoing sabbaticals (me, Kate, John & Pady) to the Peak District, for a day of picnicking and walking.
It was a truly special and memorable day – I am so irritated that I didn’t take a camera and a roll of film that day. I fell in love with the Peak District that day and visited it many times since – especially in the late 1980s and early 1990s – the following photo from 1990:
Tuesday, 18 June 1985 – meetings etc – Ringroad rehearsal – Petra cooked dinner later.
The next day…something significant happened. I’ll write up that story and its aftermath next time.
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.
The Keele Day Nursery, Spring 1985, reimagined with the help of DeepAI
There was a lot going on in the Students’ Union and University life in the first half of March that year. Add to that the fact that Petra got some sort of lurgy that landed her in the health centre and I was intermittently poorly too. My diary entries are not exactly upbeat but they are revealing.
Monday, 4 March 1985 – busy day – got some work done – FP [family planning] meeting in the afternoon. Constitutional committee in evening – Petra came over.
The family planning meeting was with Dr Anne Pedrazzini, who was a big cheese in the North Staffordshire family planning world at that time. This was the first of several research meetings that led to my magnum opus, Sexplanations. More on that publication once the ideas conceived in March gestated and came to term…the following term.
Tuesday, 5 March 1985 – union committee in morning – busy day. Did Bust Fund disco in evening – Petra came round after.
Wednesday, 6 March 1985 – meetings etc. all day. Had a relatively easy evening and early night for once.
Thursday, 7 March 1985 – busy day with meetings etc. all day – cooked Petra a meal in evening – nice, stayed.
Friday, 8 March 1985 – went to DHSS in morning. Busy day – social secretary election and big fuss in evening – went Kate’s briefly in evening – not feeling too good left early and slept well.
I think the DHSS meeting was also connected with research for the nascent idea that became Sexplanations. I don’t recall what the big fuss was over the Social Secretary election that Friday. I was a veteran of big fusses over elections by 1985, especially, it seems, on days when I wasn’t feeling well. The story linked here and below, from two years earlier, is my best story about such an evening:
The March 1985 Social Secretary shenanigans was probably a mere bagatelle compared with the golden era of election shenanigans.
Saturday, 9 March 1985 – shopped etc. today and worked all day in office. Went to Nigerian do for awhile – Petra came over later.
Those Nigerian community events were great fun. I’d got to know that community well the year before my sabbatical. There was a fair smattering of Cameroonian students who also “qualified” and tended to hang with that crowd, so “West African” might be a more accurate description of the events. The parties were lively; there was always music and dancing aplenty.
No doubt some seriously funky Fela Kuti music formed part of the scene. The following clip will give you an idea of the Fela Kuti vibe at that time:
Sunday, 10 March 1985 – Rose late. Busy day working today in office etc. Worked till late – stayed at Petra’s.
I was working hard and playing hard that year – no wonder I was poorly a fair bit of the time. I’m feeling a bit run down right now, just thinking about all that activity and typing about it.
Ronnie Frankenberg & The Day Nursery Crisis
Monday, 11 March 1985 – busy day with meetings all day – Petra in Health Centre – UGM in evening – didn’t go too well.
Tuesday, 12 March 1985 – busy all day – union committee and Reading folk up for the day. Day Nursery, hustings, RingRoad rehearsal in the evening. Also visited Petra in evening.
I don’t in truth remember the visit from the Reading folk, but I do very clearly remember the Day Nursery crisis.
As Education & Welfare Officer, I was, ex officio, a Trustee of the Keele Day Nursery, which was a small, non-profit organisation, existing solely to provide day nursery facilities for toddlers of staff and students alike. The Chair of the Day Nursery was Professor Ronnie Frankenberg, a wonderful fellow who had been the initiating energy behind Keele’s highly-regarded Sociology & Social Anthropology department. Here is a link to his Guardian obituary from 2016.
The day nursery crisis was caused by an outbreak of pregnancy among several of the handful of nursery nurses who operated the day nursery. I can’t remember how many staff we had (not many), but the team was sufficiently small that having two or three on maternity leave at the same time was going to generate a hugely problematic shortfall of staff. Even in those days, there were strict staff to toddler ratios and it was proving prohibitively expensive to cover multiple maternity leave periods with temporary, qualified staff.
I remember Ronnie making a genuinely interesting and hugely informative speech at the meeting – quite a long speech – explaining the sociological… or perhaps I should say anthropological… phenomena, making it surprisingly likely that a day nursery might be blighted with such “outbreaks” of pregnancy by several members of the team around the same time. Psychological factors, social factors, cultural factors and even biological factors all come into play, we learnt. It was like a mini Foundation Year lecture. I almost found myself making notes and thinking up a really good question for the Q&A at the end of the lecture.
But in reality, my mind was juggling the engrossing complexity behind the causes of our problem with the practical realities that the tiny trust’s coffers were emptying at an alarming and unstoppable rate.
As Ronnie’s extrapolation wound down, I interjected by saying, “this is all absolutely fascinating, Ronnie, but where are we going to find the money to cover the additional costs?” My comment raised a laugh and also refocussed the meeting. I can’t remember what fundraising ideas we came up with, but I suspect that they only partially solved the money problem. A begging bowl in Registrar David Cohen’s direction probably helped to make up the remainder of the shortfall.
That is my favourite (but not only) memory of Ronnie Frankenberg…which is, by the way, pronounced “Ron-knee Frank-en-berg”:
Joking apart, my memory of Ronnie Frankenberg is that he was not only a very impressive Professor in his field, but also an extremely likeable and decent man.
Wednesday 13 March 1985 – loads of meetings all day (including Senate). RingRoad rehearsal. Petra came over after.
Thursday, 14 March 1985 – busyish day – followed by rehearsal and performance of RingRoad – went well. Petra came over after.
Friday 15 March 1985 – horrid mood today – E&W election – v worried – Hayward [Burt] won – hooray – cooked Petra dinner and she stayed.
Me and Hayward
I have no idea why I was so worried about Hayward’s chances in the Education & Welfare election for 1985/86. Presumably there was a candidate competing with him who I thought might win and then undo a lot of the initiatives I had been working towards. While Hayward and I did not see eye to eye politically on all issues, I basically saw Hayward as “one of the good guys”, who would work hard and build on many of the things I was trying to achieve. Indeed I’m sure he did.
Saturday, 16 March 1985 – got up quite early cooked Petra lunch and took her to the station. Had a very early night.
Sunday, 17 March 1985 – Rose quite early – pottered around – cooked Kate lunch – had a lazy day. Had another early night.
Someone sneakily added some unrepeatable graffiti in my appointments diary about that Sunday lunch with Kate. The graffiti is in Petra’s handwriting. I don’t think I could have spotted it at the time – otherwise I’d doubtless have scratched it out – so I suspect that the outrageous mock-diary-entry has sat there, previously unread, for forty years. I must admit it made me smile out loud, all these years later. Private requests only for a copy of that note. Young people, honestly!
Monday, 18 March 1985 – went doctors etc in morning – rather an unproductive day. Ruth and Jackie [Wong] came over – had earlyish night.
Ruth and Jackie were both friends/neighbours of Petra. Lovely lasses, both. I wonder whether Petra is still in touch with either of them?
Tuesday, 19 March 1985 – union committee in morning. Last day of term – hassle over disciplinary hearing etc. Had some wine – earlyish night.
Wednesday, 20 March 1985 – Pady and I took a day off – shopped and cooked meal for Crawfy’s [Andy Crawford’s] birthday. All got drunk.
Me, Pady & Crawfy. As usual, thanks to mark Ellicott for the lovely picture.
Oh dear, that last line: “All got drunk.” Well, I suppose it was the end of term.
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.
