Paul Spence – Ian Louis Harris

An Award-Winning Evening During Which I Hung Out With The Alleyn’s Old Boys Crowd, Sripur Restaurant, 6 December 2018

Long ago arranged and long looked forward to, the (ir)regular gathering of old boys from Alleyn’s seemed to be looming as normal (Walrus & Carpenter followed by Rajasthan), when out of the blue we received a missive from our (un)official organizer, John Eltham, with some unexpected changes.

There are 15 people signed up for our festive evening.
PLEASE NOTE NEW VENUE – 200 YARDS DIFFERENCE
7.00PM Hung, Drawn & Quartered pub – 26-27 Great Tower Street… 8.00PM Sripur restaurant – 25 Great Tower Street – yes it is next door !

Here are links to the two venues themselves:

The change would be more than a little discombobulating for some. Let us not forget that Nigel Boatswain, for example, a few years ago, struggled to find a new venue that was described to him as “right in front of the Monument”, because he couldn’t figure out a landmark from which to navigate. Mike Jones, who had been our Geography teacher back in days of yore, must have found his former charge’s geo-spacial shortcomings somewhat chastening.

In fact Mike Jones was one of several people who was listed to attend this 6 December gathering but latterly dropped out. He might have found the name of the pub an affront to his liberal arts background. Not only does the name describe a particularly barbaric medieval form of capital punishment, but a grammatically flawed rendering thereof. In my minds ear, I can hear Mike Jones gently correcting…

…hanged, drawn & quartered, NOT hung. Paintings are/were hung, people unfortunate enough to be executed that way were hanged.

Execution of Hugh Despenser the Younger, …[from] the Froissart of Louis of Gruuthuse
(Public Domain picture https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanged,_drawn_and_quartered)

That barbaric punishment was reserved for high treason and was abolished nearly 150 years ago, although the hanging bit stuck around a lot longer and treason only (technically) ceased to be a capital offence 20 or so years ago.

In these troubled times, of course, who knows what legislative changes our so-called leaders might make in the crime and punishment department. Further, many of us who gathered have been known to say publicly things that certain tabloid newspapers might deem to make us “enemies of the people”…which is to say, treasonous.

Personally I have far less to worry about than most of my compadres, as I am a Freeman of the City of London. Thus, if I were to be hanged, I could choose to be dispatched with a silken rope, not the common or garden rubbish rope that my co-conspirators would doubtless suffer. I find that thought incredibly reassuring in the present political climate.

But I digress.

In the end, nine of us gathered and a jolly good gathering it was too, although those who were unable to attend were, of course, sorely missed. In no particular order, the nine were: Ben Clayson, David French, David Wellbrook, John Eltham, Ollie Goodwin, Paul Driscoll, Paul Spence, Rohan Candappa, me.

It was an incredibly mild evening, enabling us to take our pre-dinner libations in the street, although John Eltham did complain about feeling cold at one juncture. But then again, John had removed his coat for some reason.

The Sripur Restaurant was heaving and our group of nine was clearly at least one more than the restaurant was expecting. To be fair, the booking for 14 which had descended to “probably 8-10” in some ways deserved its relegation. We all nine squeezed round a table that would have been comfy for six and just about OK for eight. It didn’t really matter.

The food was pretty good. Perhaps not quite as flavoursome as the Rajasthan (he says based on one main dish and some sides), but similar quality.

The Sripur Nine were all in pretty good form. The bants and reminiscences flew around the table like a metaphorical food fight with poppadom-Frisbees.

Towards the end of the meal, Rohan Candappa solemnly announced that he had a sports trophy to award. he noted that most of the people in our group had been pretty sporty at school; only one or two of us had not. But, as Rohan pointed out, there should be sports awards for exceptional performance even when it comes from someone less naturally sporty than most.

Rohan then passed an engraved trophy around the room for everyone to read, much to the mirth, one by one, of the readers…one by one, that is, to everyone except me. Once John Eltham had the prize in his hands, he was instructed to hand it to me.

It was a trophy commemorating my quarter-final win over John Eltham in the fives competition, on 9 June 1975:

An Uneventful Day Playing Fives, 9 June 1975

9 June 1975 – Fives Quarter Final – Ian Harris beat John Eltham

What a moment in my less-than illustrious sporting career. A trophy. Of course, Rohan was right. I had never personally held a trophy for sport of any kind. That quarter-final win remains the pinnacle of my achievement at an individual sport.

Left to right: John Eltham (just in picture), Rohan Candappa, Paul Driscoll & Ollie Goodwin…with MY trophy centre

I proudly took my trophy back to the flat and have placed it in as suitable a location as I can currently muster – in the drinks cabinet section of my built-in book shelves and cabinets, between two personalised krugs (beer steins).

But I am not expecting my sporting awards (belated and future) to start and end here; why on earth should they?

For a start, I’m a little surprised that an earlier event on the fives court has not yet received the recognition it deserved…

A Marathon Day Of Court Sport; Fives and Fridge Ball, 4 December 1974

…beat Mason & Candappa 15-7…

…or if not that one, then surely the day, only one month after my historic victory in the fives quarter final against John Eltham, when I took a hat trick at cricket for 2AK against 2BJ on the very day that 2AK won the tournament:

The Day I Took A Hat Trick At Cricket, Alleyn’s School, 9 July 1975

…and who knows what future glories are to come in the world of real tennis, where I have managed quarter final berths (albeit losing ones) in each of the two years I have been playing internal tournaments at Lord’s. And occasionally representing the club:

Big Match Weekend At Lord’s Part One: MCC v HAC Real Tennis Match, 21 July 2017

So, my dear old school friends, especially the sporty ones, I need your help. I mean, obviously the drinks cabinet will do for the time being as a temporary resting place for my trophy, but clearly I need to have built a bespoke trophy cabinet for my current and potential future collection of sporting trophies. You fellows, accustomed to the world of sporting trophies, surely can advise me on the size and shape of trophy cabinet that will serve me best.

But that is about me and the future – this article is primarily about the splendid gathering of old boys eating, drinking, banting and making merry in the City. As usual the time flew by, until several folks with trains to catch realised that their choices were starting to diminish and that the evening should come to an end.

As usual with this group, we managed to avoid the dreaded bodmin, although some suggested that we should play the game of spoof to saddle one “boy” with the whole bill. We decided against, but I note on reading up on that (unfamiliar to me) game, that some play spoof for prizes and trophies. Perhaps I should get into spoof at a competitive level – I was a dab hand at bridge back in the old school days.

It was a great evening – I’m already looking forward to the next one.

Gather Ye Old School Buds While Ye May, 23 May 2017

The above image form a subsequent Rajasthan meal later that same year

What a splendid turnout of the old school gang on a Tuesday evening at relatively short notice, just a few weeks after the previous gathering – click here for the juicy details on that one.

Perhaps this illustrates the popularity of Rich “The Rock” Davis, who was visiting from Canada for the first time in a while and around whom the event was planned. Organised by Johnny Eltham – who else? – based on an original idea by David Wellbrook.

Or perhaps the high turnout was simply relief that, for once, our guest of honour visiting from the great dominions was not Sir Nigel Godfrey.

The plan was…the usual. 7.00pm Walrus & Carpenter, 8.30pm Rajasthan curry shop. I was fashionably late again this time, arriving just before 8.00, with no real excuse other than getting bogged down in whatever forgettable thing I was doing late afternoon.

Another glorious weather evening so everyone was drinking outside the Walrus and Carpenter. I got a chance to chat with Rich on arrival; also Paul Driscoll and Perry Harley. The conversation soon got to Brexit and how Britain is increasingly starting to resemble Weimar Germany. Soon after that I was tapped up for the drinks float.

A small, ℛℳ500,000,000 contribution to the drinks float?

The drinks float is a great idea. It discourages late arrival – the price is fixed – £20, not ℛℳ500,000,000 in case you were wondering – and if those arriving late, like me, don’t drink their portion, the remainder of the drinks float becomes a bodmin-avoiding contribution towards the dinner. You can tell that some fine economic brains have got to work on this one over the years.

I also chatted for a while with Rohan Candappa, who sadly was unable to stay for the dinner, as his mum is not well at the moment and he needed to get away. He and I had caught up properly over lunch together only two or three weeks previously; still I was sorry he couldn’t stay, especially given the circumstances.

Soon enough, Johnny Eltham commandeered two or three of us to form an advanced party to seize vital territory in Rajasthan. This we were able to secure without bloodshed or unpleasantness. In fact, the Rajasthanis greeted Johnny like an old friend and welcomed us to the downstairs area, which to all intents and purposes became our private room for the rest of the evening.

By my reckoning fifteen of us sat down for dinner; Chris Grant, David Wellbrook, Ben Clarkson, Martin Cook, Simon Ryan, David French, John Eltham, Ollie Goodwin, Paul Driscoll, Rich “The Rock” Davis, Paul Spence, Nigel Boatswain, Perry Harley, Steve “Peanut” Butterworth…and me.

If you are struggling to imagine what this gaggle might look and sound like, struggle no more. David Wellbrook shot a nifty ninety second vid while no-one was looking and posted it on Facebook – it is embedded and viewable below:

I had no idea that I wave my arms around quite as much as that. It’s a miracle that I don’t send food and drink flying.

Very sadly, we recently lost one of our great schoolmates (indeed our centre forward); Paul Hayes. Steve Butterworth gave us a touching short eulogy and report from the funeral, before we all drank a toast to Paul. Not Paul’s beloved Montrachet, more’s the pity, but the Rajasthan Valpolicella and Cobra did a good job as substitutes.

As fortune would have it, I was sitting near Steve Butterworth, Perry Harley, Paul Spence and David French – all of whom are people I either haven’t seen in ages or didn’t get to speak with properly on previous occasions. It was really good to catch up with them properly after all this time. I had a brief conversation with Paul Spence about nuclear power, which led to this recollection and Ogblog post about Ringroad revue – click here.

Returning briefly to earlier in the evening…although I was late, I was not the last to arrive. Chris Grant and Nigel Boatswain turned up after me. Soon after their arrival, Johnny Eltham came up to me and said, “have you seen what Nigel is wearing? That jacket…those trousers…they look like a pyjama suit…you’ve got to write about it on your blog”.

I explained to Johnny that I don’t notice what anyone is wearing, so any sartorial references on the Ogblog would, to the regular reader, e.g. Janie, quite obviously not be mine.

“Oh that’s easy”, said Johnny, “it was David Wellbrook who spotted it and asked me to tap you up”.

“Ah yes,” I said, “as long as I make that point, all will be explained. I’ll need to take a photo of the outfit with my iPhone, though, it almost defies description.”

As the evening wore on, I was surreptitiously asked a couple of times when I was going to take the photo. Johnny even offered to provide cover, pretending that I was taking a group photo while in fact taking a photo of just Nigel and his pyjama suit.

I quietly suggested to Johnny that Nigel, as an Apple bigwig, would probably have the savvy to know what sort of photo was being taken with an iPhone (other brands of smart phone with camera are available) and in any case I would only blog a photo with Nigel’s explicit consent; I certainly don’t want the full weight of Apple’s legal department on my case.

“Just leave it with me”, I said.

So late in the evening, I told Nigel he had won a sartorial award for the evening and asked if I could take a photo for Ogblog. He giggled and said yes.

A few minutes later, as Nigel and I parted company at South Kensington tube, I thanked him once again for the photo and assured him that he would enjoy the blog piece. “Oh gawd, what have I done?” was Nigel’s reply.

For those readers who cannot remember what a real pyjama suit might look like, here is a photo of me only a few months ago sporting my Eva Air pyjamas, after being menaced into wearing them by the lovely stewardess – as reported in my bizarre yet (mostly) true story here.

But the last word (on the evening, perhaps not on sartorial elegance) should really go to guest of honour Rich “The Rock” Davis, who started a wonderful thread on Facebook with words and photos about the evening – click here.

I particularly liked Clarissa’s comment:

glad u had a good time with old high school buds.

I commented:

I’ve been called a lot of things in my time…goodness knows, this mob in particular can attest to that fact…but I’ve never been described as an “old high school bud” before.

So, gather ye old high school buds while ye may. These are precious times we share at these gatherings. This one was top notch. As Rich put it on Facebook:

A great feeling with great friends…a night I’ll never forget.

Too School For Cool, Edward Alleyn Club Dinner, 12 November 2016

Formal school alumni dinners are not really my kind of thing, nor are they Janie’s kind of thing. Indeed, both of us have managed to reach a fairly ripe (if not actually old) age without ever having attended such an event.

Until this event.

This event was going to be different. Why? Because Chris Grant was the President of the alumni club this year and he wanted to make the event different. In any case, you turn up to events like this to support your friends when it is their gig.

The first I heard of the matter was the evening back in January when a gang of us gathered at Z/Yen to experience Rohan Candappa’s wonderful monologue, “How I Said F*** You To The Company…” and have a curry afterwards – click here for the Ogblog piece on that evening.

I explained to Chris that I don’t do weekend stuff without Janie, but that notion only reinforced Chris’s view that this year the dinner should be different and that he would actively encourage people to bring their partners.

To add to the “making it different” motif, Chris engaged Rohan to write and perform a short monologue for the pre-dinner reception. Chris also asked David Wellbrook to act as Master of Ceremonies for this additional feature.

The long and short of it was, I ended up being a bit of a cheerleader for the event amongst our generation – although it was naturally down to John Eltham to act as gang-leader for those of us from our era to book and sit as a gaggle.

We’re On Our Way

It seemed strange arriving at the school gates with Janie, but we had the good fortune to run into John Eltham and Steven Butterworth as we were walking in. The pre-dinner function was in a new Edward Alleyn Building, which didn’t exist when I last visited the school, many years ago.

Our rabble-rousing had born fruit, so I chatted briefly with several people from our era; David French, Paul Driscoll, Nick Jarmany, Nick James, Tim Moulson, Tim Church and several other people at that reception.

Rohan’s Bit

Rohan’s short monologue was good fun. A meander around the theme “South London, Nah Nah Nah”. The talk included some navel-gazing around the word south itself. Should it be pronounced “sarf” or “sowf” rather than “south”, for example. Is it merely convention that south is shown below north – after all, the world is a globe? Rohan’s conclusions or central theses (I am truly bigging up this talk, aren’t I?) were that:

South London is an edgy underdog that deserves our affection and support, even if some of us have long since migrated north,
we Alleyn Old Boys (at least the cohort from our era) formed exceptionally strong bonds of friendship which have kept us together and/or brought us back together across many decades and in some cases vast geographical spread.

Rohan teased us throughout his talk about a blue joke that David Wellbrook wanted to tell, much against Chris Grant’s better judgement. Rohan then nearly told the joke through audience participation, but concluded that South Londoners do not need to be told the punchline of the joke; they are edgy enough to work it out for themselves:

What do we want?

A cure for Tourette’s.

When do we want it?

…

If you want to read Rohan’s wonderful piece in full, he has kindly agreed to its wider circulation and it is therefore Ogblogged as a guest piece in its own right – click here.

The Dinner Itself

Then across to the school dinning room for the dinner. It seemed strange to be fine dining in that place, all done up to look sprauncy. Chris had chosen a very imaginative meal, based around curry, to symbolise the friendly informal meet ups that invariably end with a curry.

But this was a posh curry-based meal. A starter of slightly spicy scallops, enough to tell you that the meal was posh, that being the first of three interesting courses. Then cheeses, then coffee and petits fours. A well posh curry-based meal.

There were several toasts, speeches and club business in-between, mostly based on the traditional/regular/formal format of the club, I suppose.

Janie and I were honoured and indeed privileged to be seated next to Sir Nigel Godfrey. Sir Nigel, apparently, has recently received a gong for services to the New Zealand beauty pageant industry.

Ged and Sir Nigel Pontificating Nicaragua

Sir Nigel was wearing his Broach of Honour with pride that evening, but sadly he seemed to keep it covered up whenever Daisy was nearby with her camera. Perhaps he thought she might swipe the bauble if he left it unguarded even for a moment. How does he know that Daisy is such a scallywag?

Our table rapt with attention as Sir Nigel orates. Mr Wellbrook taking electronic notes, presumably

Daisy was also sitting next to Mr Wellbrook, who had been Master of Ceremonies earlier. I asked Chris Grant, “what did Daisy and I do to deserve the honour of sitting next to Sir Nigel and Mr Wellbrook?”, but I think Chris must have misheard my question, because he merely said, “there’s always one short straw”, which seemed to me to be an answer to an entirely different question.

Then Chris Grant made a short but touching and excellent speech, continuing the themes of edginess and especially the theme of enduring friendship.

The audience was then subjected to the Headmaster’s Savage response…

…correction…I never was much good with grammar, I should have paid more attention in English lessons…

The audience was then subjected to the Headmaster, Dr Savage’s, response. Dr Savage seemed keener on the friendship theme than the edgy theme. That is understandable really. Can you imagine the mischief that might kick off in the school and end up with pupils sent to the Headmaster’s Study, only to get the phrase thrown back by the miscreant, “but Sir, you told us that it is a good thing for us to be edgy”?

Dr Savage spoke very well and quite wittily, although I did think he missed a golden opportunity to pun on the pronunciation of Suffolk (from whence he hails) and Southwark, the borough in which he now heads a school. After all, the two place names, at least when pronounced by a native of the latter, are indistinguishable. (I think he might have been trying to make such a joke, but he got a bit confused and mentioned Norfolk, for seemingly no reason.)

In short, Savage is a talented speaker who prepares diligently, but he lets himself down at times through hurried delivery and under-rehearsal of the humorous lines. A-, could do better than this.

There is an official report and deck of photos for this event on the Alleyn’s School site – click here.

And Then Home

We thoroughly enjoyed our evening. Janie found the company delightful, both the old boys and their wives/companions, such as Lenneke (Chris’s partner) and Emma Jane Moulson. Similarly, I enjoyed chatting briefly with those two and at greater length with Victoria (Oliver Goodwin’s partner) as well as chatting with old school friends.

My only regret is that I barely got a chance to chat with some people I would have very much enjoyed catching up with properly, such as David French, Paul Spence and Nick Jarmany. Perhaps next time, although I hope our next time is a less formal gathering.

Next morning, there was no respite. Daisy and I got up to play tennis in our usual Sunday morning slot. Half way through the game, I realised that I had subconsciously donned a purple top and a purple bandanna. Purple. The Cribb’s House colour. Steeled by my renewed sense of tribal purpose, I naturally went on to win the set.

You can take the boy out of Cribbs House, but you cannot take Cribbs House out of the boy. — You can take the boy out of Cribb’s House, but you cannot take Cribb’s House out of the boy.

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