The Concourse team seemingly wanted its own gossip column to replace the now marginal/retiring Hackgrass, so came up with this Obiter Dicta column. Not sure who was behind it, but I’d guess that Krista Cowman (new editor) had a hand in it herself, possibly Quentin Rubens (the outgoing editor).
Something tells me that Ali Dabbs was involved. Partly the style, partly the strangely positive reference to his physique.
I really should read everything before I do anything! After writing up the events of mid November, including a demonstration in Stafford and the UGM at Keele…
…I discovered, in my pile of papers, a “Concourse Freebie” that wrote those two events up.
The demo write up, in excruciating detail to my more senior eyes, made Page One of the Freebie (see headline image). The UGM made Page Five. It was written up by Ralph Parker & Martin Whatley. Several passages in that report (see below) made me smile out loud. Well writ, fellas.
Ashley Fletcher’s Take
Ashley Fletcher’s forthcoming paper on the miner’s strike includes the following passage about the rumpus at that UGM. Reproduced with Ashley’s kind permission below:
University of Life
Somewhere around this time (the exact chronology is difficult to pin down), the local university students’ union at Keele was to debate a motion to ban promotion of the strike and related fundraising as ‘Ultra Vires’. The motion put forward by the Federation of Conservative Students (FCS) was part of a conservative defunding campaign described above.
We had allies and affiliates on campus and although barred on the one hand, I had been awarded life membership of Keele Students Union and so was able to contribute to defending both the principle and the benefit to campaigning there.
The meeting on the 19th was perhaps the busiest I had ever seen and was deeply polarised and mutually antagonistic. Some local miners from Silverdale and even a couple of Hucknall strikers from Nottinghamshire with student siblings there, came with us and galvanised and provoked in equal measure.
At the debates peak, the FCS leader, (deadnaming me as a member of the Communist Party of Great Britain!) claimed that when challenged by him, I had refused to condemn the use of violence by striking miners. I had to resort to bureaucratic procedural ‘points of order’ to gain access to the microphone stating first the obvious “is it not a fact that I am not a member of the CPGB but a revolutionary anarchist communist?” to jeers and cheers.
Agreeing that, I followed with “is it not a fact that I did not say I refused to condemn the violence of striking miners but instead, condone it and support its use and extension across the coalfields against the violence of scabs and the police occupation”. The room erupted with both sides lunging, throwing beer and insults leading to a short recess before the vote. The FCS motion and consequent ban were resoundingly defeated.
I recall one of the more waggish academics, I think it was Philip Boden, suggesting that Keele runs far better in the absence of students. I’m sure he wasn’t the first nor the last academic to make such a quip about their institution.
The truth, of course, is that Universities like Keele are pretty calm and tranquil places outside term time…then pretty frenetic during term time. This sense applies to Students’ Union sabbaticals as well as to University and Union staff.
Compare my diary for the first week of October, before students started to drift in, with the second week of October, when the trickle of students became a surge.
The First Week Of October 1984
Must have grabbed a quick bite before heading to Euston
Monday 1 October 1984 – Did some Chinese shopping [in Chinatown, Soho]. Came back to Keele. Went to meeting in afternoon [Working Party on Union Employees in the Senate Room] – worked until late – went to bed early.
Tuesday 2 October 1984 – Induction in morning etc. Went to Newcastle on Banks’s tasting in evening.
Wednesday, 3 October 1984 – Induction thing in morning [Personnel 10 to 1] – loads of work afternoon. Went to Golf for Wilson tasting in evening.
Thursday, 4 October 1984 – Last morning of induction [Space Allocation & NSP?] – lots of meetings [Comms & GM] etc. Staff party in union in evening “piss up in Quiet Room”.
Friday, 5 October 1984 – Took today off and travelled to London for Kol Nidre [Evening service at the start of Yom Kippur].
Saturday, 6 October 1984 – Yom Kippur [Day of Atonement].
Sunday, 7 October 1984 – [Uncle] Michael came round in morning – lunch with mum and dad then left for Keele – cooked Annalisa [de Mercur] a meal.
The Second Week Of October 1984
Monday, 8 October 1984 – Very busy day with meetings etc – loads to plan and all. [10.00 Union Committee, 12:30 to 2:30 Induction Resident Tutors, 7:30 Quiet Room Overseas Students, 8:00 Area Exec, Room 13. 9:00 “Went to Carole Holder’s for dinner in eve”.
Carole Holder looked after Hawthorne’s Hall and I recall that dinner at Carole Holder’s place was a memorable and lively occasion.
Tuesday, 9 October 1984 – New overseas students arrived today – planned rent withhold etc – [Union Committe 9:30, Dr Mairs 1100] went to overseas student reception in evening.
If I recall correctly, the rent withhold campaign was because the heating and hot water system wasn’t working properly on large swathes of the campus. We were trying to find a way to “encourage” Estates & Buikdings to sort the problems out faster than they seemed willing (or perhaps able) to go.
Wednesday, 10 October 1984 – Busy day with meetings, freshers, pickets etc etc. [9:30 meeting with Registrar, Seminar “overseas” Lindsay, pm Policy Staffing & Development] Had a quiet drink in Union in eve.
David Cohen 1960s COPYRIGHT KEELE UNIVERSITY
OMG we were picketing within hours of the freshers arriving. The Registrar back then was David Cohen, still recognisable in the 1980s by his bow ties. I think he considered me to be a bit of a firebrand until he got to know me. I think he then considered me to be no pushover but someone with whom the University could “do business”. He was very good at compartmentalising issues, was David Cohen. He was very helpful to me and Kate when we went to see him about the legal issues surrounding the Tommy & Ralph dismissal affair, but played hard ball with us over the early season rent strike and picketing, while making sure the unconnected issues were never intertwined. Mercifully, I recall that the technical problems with boilers and the like were resolved quite quickly.
Thursday, 11 October 1984 – Very busy day with freshers, picketing etc etc. [3:20 Old Library Postgrads, 6:00 P Rehearsal] Worked until late. Went McDonald’s and drank in Union after.
What a P Rehearsal might have been is lost in the mists of time.
Friday, 12 October 1984 – Busy day work. Committees etc [3.00 Medical Services] did intro talk for freshers in early eve [5.00-6.00]. Ended up roped into snack bar in evening.
“Roped into snack bar” was another of those roles that, over the years, had morphed from voluntary to paid for, although the snack bar would always lose money and we felt that plenty of people should be willing to do it on a low-level entrepreneurial basis rather than subsidised by the Union. To get that moving, we Union Committee folk gave it a whirl until people drifted towards our way of thinking.
Saturday, 13 October 1984 – Went shopping with Kate [Fricker] first thing -> Freshers Mart -> home for a nap. Kate, Hippy [Pete Wild] and I did snack bar again tonight.
I have subsequently become involved with a very well-organised charity, FoodCycle, arranging communal dining at scale…
…and can safely say, now that I am steeped in food safety and risk assessments for such matters…
…that it’s probably not ideal to have keen but uninformed youngsters like me and Peter Wild preparing food without proper training and without hair nets.
Pete and me – suitable cases for the hair net treatment
I can also report from my experience that such catering work is hard work; I understand why I took a nap on Saturday afternoon after a heavy week and a morning at Freshers Mart ahead of the snack bar evening.
Sunday, 14 October 1984 – Got up late – went to Union to work – ended up in casualty with “mushroom fresher”. Annalisa for dinner stayed until late.
Ah yes, the “mushroom fresher”, who scared himself and his friends almost witless by overindulging in psycho-active fungi.
Ironically, I went through these diary entries with Mark Ellicott when we met up a couple of weeks ago (September 2024) and he asked quizzically, “what’s a mushroom fresher”?
Given the story of my last-minute selection for the Festival Week cricket match in 1982 – basically to replace Mark who had overindulged in psychoactive substances – as amusingly told in Mark’s own words (as well as mine) in this piece…
…I wouldn’t have expected Mark to need to ask what a “mushroom fresher” might be in that context!
Just to close the loop – “mushroom fresher” pumped out just fine and I didn’t end up wasting that many hours at North Staffs Royal Infirmary on this incident. In those days, you got seen quite quickly in A&E. Possibly you still do in the Potteries on a Sunday.
I spent two of my five years at Keele in Barnes L54, as reported on these pages in several past pieces. I have happy memories of my time there, not least because my time sharing a flat at Keele was the only time in my life that I have flat-shared in that “Home Of Multiple Occupation” sense.
I was really touched when I stumbled across the following letter from the June 1984 edition of Concourse.
In truth I barely remember the four of us deciding to write that letter to Concourse. Part of the motivation was mine, to make a public goodbye to the flat. the other three, after all, were to stay on in the flat after I had departed, with Hayward Burt joining them in my place:
Hayward quite literally in my place: in 1985, Barnes L54 as THAT’S EXACTLY where I used to sit. Thanks Mark Ellicott for the picture.
The references in Concourse to Barnes L54 being a Machiavellian Students’ Union political stronghold mostly emanated from my H Ackgrass column, ably assisted by my spies, three of whom were my flatmates. So the argument is more than a little bit circular and the “gripe” was really an in joke amongst us, not least becuase my identity as H Ackgrass remained a secret for a further year.
The gossip-fest to which I refer was mostly in my third Ackgrass column, although I think there was also at least a mention in the previous column.
I have managed to re-engage with the West Country contingent (Chris Spencer and Hayward) as part of my Ogblogging process. Pete Wild seems harder to contact – if anyone out there is in touch with him, I expect he’d enjoy seeing this letter again.
Sadly, Alan “The Great Yorkshire Pudding” Gorman died several years ago, having moved to the USA quite soon after graduating. His widow, Susan and sons have been following these Barnes L54 reminiscences and I hope they find this letter as touching as I did. It reads, to me, like mostly Alan’s writing, informed/tweaked by the rest of us. It oozes his sense of humo(u)r.
Moved I was. Physically moved, at the end of August 1984, to a small tutor’s flat in K-Block Horwood. Emotionally moved, by re-finding this letter in that old copy of Concourse, during August 2024.
My series of pieces about my somewhat distracted run up to finals at Keele in 1984 might have given readers the impression that I was doing very little reading and paying little heed to my papers.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
Indeed, reflecting on my two happy academic years living in Barnes L54, 1982/83 and 1983/84, I realise that there is an element of that lifestyle that has gone unmentioned in these pieces so far.
The newspapers.
From the outset, we took The Guardian as a flat through our kitty during term time. We also, if I remember correctly, took both The Sunday Times and The Observer on a Sunday.
Everyone in the flat at least dipped into the papers. The main beneficiaries of the paper habit were undoubtedly me and Alan “The Great Yorkshire Pudding” Gorman. In part, this is because we probably did more reading and dipping than anyone else, but also because we became addicted to doing The Guardian crossword.
“I’ve done most of it, Bagel Boy, see if you can finish it off”
Quite often, one or other of us would be up earlier, if we had lectures or classes to attend while the other did not. More likely Alan would get to the paper first, as he more often had early classes and I would quite often stay at Bobbie’s and return in the morning. A note, along the lines of the above picture caption, might well be waiting for me in those circumstances.
Sometimes the earliest riser couldn’t get very far and the second-dipper would make most of the progress. The second-dipper’s note might have a more competitive tone to it in those circumstances.
It was an exercise in co-opetition rather than competition, though. Our mission was to complete the crossword between the two of us. We would regularly spend time on the puzzle together to finish it off, perhaps late afternoon or over our evening meal. Quite often we would succeed in completing the puzzle. Only occasionally would we be seriously confounded and fail spectacularly. Fairly often, we would struggle with just one or two clues at the end.
We became familiar with the compilers – some easier than others. Often our nemesis was Araucaria, who was known as a difficult compiler. An example from our era is shown below;
In those days, there was no Google or ChatGPT to resort to if we were stuck. We might check the spelling of a word in the dictionary or resort to my trusty copy of Roget’s Thesaurus if desperate, but the clues that confounded us tended to be factual items.
I remember one occasion when we were both struggling to work out where Tanganyika Territory was, to try to resolve a clue. I think Alan might even have ventured to the library to get intelligence on that one and I vaguely recall that the intelligence did not help us solve the clue. That was probably one of Araucaria’s. Forty years later, I have only just learnt the significance of the compiler’s name.
Araucaria araucana (Monkey Puzzle Tree) BillyKwiki at the English-language Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0
One other vain attempt to solve a sole remaining clue lives clearly in my memory. The clue was something to do with a Roman writer/historian and the answer only required four letters – blank-I-blank-Y. The answer, to spare you the agony that Alan and I went through, was LIVY. But neither of us were familiar with the works of Livy. Indeed, the only four letter word Roman writer either of us could think of was Ovid. I became convinced that Ovid might well have been known as “Vidy” to his friends, after which we explored many different permutations of “blank-I-blank-Y”. We had a good laugh over some of the possibilities we invented. We would advocate a name and then extemporize the tale of this imagined Roman’s character and works.
One or two of the ideas we explored, tongue in cheek, would not pass the political correctness test. The only Roman historian I could think of was Flavius Josephus – who knows how his detractors might have nicknamed him? Alan and I spent an inordinate amount of time and effort coming up with possible answers to this crossword clue, one of which was probably Livy, but we gave that idea no more credence than any other permutation we could invent.
The meaning of this image for this story will become apparent if you read on!
Forty years after the event, I can still give myself the collywobbles by reading my diary entries for the weeks approaching my finals at Keele. Economics and Law, just in case you were wondering.
I never have been much use at revising for exams. These were important exams to say the least. I sense that I distinguished myself for these big ones by being proportionately dreadful at knuckling down to revision.
I was, at least, quite brutally honest in my diary as to what I was – and wasn’t – doing around that time.
This multi-part article on how not to revise for your finals might serve as an object lesson to students everywhere.
Let’s start with a transcription from my diary for the first 10 days of April 1984:
Sunday 1 April 1984 – Got up late! Did little all day – Viv [Robinson] came round in afternoon – had nice meal and early night.
Monday 2 April 1984 – Got up quite late – Ashley [Fletcher] came round. Went into town – shopped and went to Ashley’s – Bobbie [Scully] left – easyish evening – went Union with Mel [Melissa Oliveck] for last orders – early night.
Tuesday, 3 April 1984 – Tried to do some work today – not too successfully. Went to Union in the evening with Mel.
Wednesday, 4 April 1984 – Late start – intermittent work – went to union with Malcolm [Cormelius] in the evening.
Thursday, 5 April 1984 – Did some work today – intermittently -big demo against Police Bill [which became the Police and Criminal Evidence Act 1984]. Went to KRA in evening with Malcolm.
Friday, 6 April 1984 – worked quite hard today – shopped etc – went to Union in eve – had a bop!
Saturday, 7 April 1984 – busyish day. Worked quite hard on project today. Went to union in eve – disco etc.
Sunday, 8 April 1984 – Worked on project today after late start. Visited Q92 [my Malay friends] etc. Went to Union for last orders.
Monday, 9 April 1984 = Shopped and worked today. Went to KRA with Malc, Farm [Chris Spencer] and Mel – nice evening.
Tuesday, 10 April 1984 – Worked hard on project all day. Went to Careless Talk meeting in evening, then union, then K41 do.
Some points to note here. Firstly, there are some references to working hard, but they are unquestionably linked to finishing my project – i.e. my Economics dissertation on the Economics of the Pharmaceutical Industry. I am proud of that piece of work, which achieved a first class mark, but in truth it should have been finished before revision time came around in April 1984.
My flat, Barnes L54, had just two of us regular residents: me and Chris “Farmer” Spencer. Pete Wild’s girlfriend, Melissa Oliveck, was there, at least for that first chunk of the vacation, while Malcolm Cornelius was occupying Alan “Great Yorkshire Pudding” Gorman’s room.
One aspect, unmentioned in the diary but which I remember very clearly, was a short-lived tradition of making Irish coffee at the end of the evening on return from the Union. I was reminded of this a couple of weeks ago (March 2024) when my wife, Janie, ordered an Irish coffee after our meal in Petworth (see headline image and below).
“You were a role model…on how NOT to revise…”
I recalled that we were trying to get work done for our finals, so were not spending much time in the bar. Instead, Malcolm and I tried many different ways to prepare the Irish coffee in the flat – all in the interests of science of course.
I remarked to the maître d’ in Petworth that Malcolm and I had concluded that the essential component to make the cream float nicely was the sugar content within the coffee. The maître d’ explained that, to get a full-on Irish coffee to look the way the coffee looks in our photos, you also need to bring each ingredient to the right temperature before combining and use cream with the right fat content.
Back to the drawing board, Malc.
The woeful tale of my attempts to revise for finals will continue soon, after a short interlude next time, to describe a visit that Ashley Fletcher and I made to a Keeley food collective group in Newcastle.
“Welcome To The Top Table”. Picture 1985, with thanks to Mark Ellicott
I claim in my diary not to remember much about this week…John White reports similarly from his diary when he ran successfully for the sabbatical Union Secretary role a couple of weeks earlier…
..yet there are several aspects of that election week that I remember very clearly, forty years later.
The Story So Far…
Just to summarise the story so far – I was quietly trying to ensure that the Union Committee for 84/85 would be a lot more effective and less chaotic than the 83/84 team, which was beset with ructions and (often self-inflicted) problems.
My dream team for 84/85 included my girlfriend, Bobbie Scully, as Education and Welfare sabbatical. Bobbie had other plans and turned out to be better at the Machiavellian stuff than me, ganging up with other friends to turn the tables on me.
I saw Bobbie at the Gresham Society dinner earlier this week (writing in March 2024) and warned her that I would be writing up the story of her stitching me up for this role.
Quite right, except the truth of it was that you tried to stitch me up and the easiest way out of it was for me to stitch you up instead
That’s clear.
A late Renaissance petard. There’s me, setting it off, about to be hoist by it, while Malcolm Cornelius and Bobbie Scully watch from a safe distance
…held me back from campaigning until the last few days of the race.
Other Random Memories Prior To Canvassing
I recall that there were 11 nominations for the role of Education & Welfare that year and all of us remained in the race and appeared on the ballot paper. That was believed to be a record back then and might still be a record.
I hoped to get endorsement from the Liberals and Labour…although I was a member of neither…on the basis that the position is apolitical, no-one amongst the 11 candidates was a member of either party and that my political leanings were (are) unattached liberal-left. The Liberals went for it without fuss…my flat, Barnes L54 was sort-of “Liberals Central” with Pete Wild living there and Melissa Oliveck hanging out there with Pete much of the time.
It was much harder to persuade Labour to endorse me. I had been a member of Labour Club until a year or two previous but had not identified enough with the local MP nor the party line to feel comfortable with formal alignment. One of the candidates decided to try to carpetbag Labour endorsement by joining Labour Club. Truda Smith, by then head of Labour Club, thought that was good enough. Frank Dillon, presumably thinking differently, took it upon himself as Secretary of Labour club to come round and see me in Barnes L54, give me a good grilling and decide who to propose for Labour endorsement. It was the first time I had a long chat with Frank, but for sure it was not the last.
Frank did not say, “Ian Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship…”
…but I did get the Labour endorsement and it was the beginning of a friendship with Frank that has endured.
The Legwork Campaign Began
Sunday 11 March 1984 – Started canvassing this afternoon- hard work. Went to KRA with Vivian in evening after.
Monday 12 March 1984 – Canvassed hard today – went to UGM in evening – left early – went over to Bobbie’s – came back.
Tuesday 13 March 1984 – Hard canvassing all day today – refecs, rooms, etc. V tiring – popped in to see B after for a while.
Wednesday 14 March 1984 – Canvassed hard all day – went Union in eve with Bobbie – came back.
I recall getting advice from Dr Scott on whether my rubella presented a risk to anyone – he gave me a rule to follow ahead of going door to door, which I think would have enabled me to start on the Saturday but I waited until the Sunday “to be sure”. That didn’t prevent one “spoiler” rumour that I was spreading rubella and might cause birth defects were I to infect a pregnant woman while canvassing, rendering me utterly unsuited to a welfare post. I remember being furious about that one.
I also recall some low-level attempts to spoil my campaign by the Tories, who saw me as a Union insider and a leftie at that. I particularly remember Laura Helm and one of her Tory pals trying to delay me and/or honey-trap me by flirting with me and inviting me in when I went to Laura’s door. Didn’t work. I dread to think what might have happened had I taken the bait. I remember Laura telling me after the election that she sensed that I would win it from the way I handled that stunt.
Laura second from left, with “the Tory crowd” – thanks Mark Ellicott for the picture
I also remember Duncan Baldwin, with whom I studied both Economics and Law, telling me that he was going to vote for me despite the difference in our political views, because he sensed that I would be honest and diligent, which he felt was what the Union needed. I remember being moved by that statement and also thinking that I would be well-placed if there were plenty of others who thought like Duncan.
I also remember my Malay friends telling me that they were not going to vote because they wouldn’t be around the following year and that they felt that the matter should be determined by those who would be living with the consequences of that vote. An interesting morality, not one that I shared but I understood it. I thought that factor might run against me if there were too many of my friends who felt that way.
I hadn’t set foot in a refectory for years, but chose to eat in them while canvassing. One person in the refectory told me that they were going to vote for me because I removed my plates and bowls from the tray rather than scoffing from the tray. I didn’t read too much psephology into that event but never forgot the strange exchange.
I oriented my campaign to some extent to encourage overseas students to vote. I felt that they got a raw deal and that there were interests of theirs that I could advocate, both on the education and welfare side of things. Blessing Odatuwa and Bobbie’s friend Lara from Lindsay K Block lobbied the Cameroonian and Nigerian communities (respectively) for me. I knew Tony Wong and others from the Chinese student community well, following several years of joint activities – Bobbie was also well connected with that crowd.
Election Days And Aftermath
Thursday 15 March 1984 – Whole day in concourse – very tiring. Went to J-Soc and on to Union after with Bobbie – came back after.
Friday 16 March 1984 – Big day – Concourse all day (charades at end!!) – result – won – don’t remember much!! Bobbie came back.
Saturday 17 March 1984 – Rose quite late – went off to Lichfield etc – went to restaurant in Hanley -> Union after -> Bobiie’s.
“Don’t remember much” is not quite true.
I do remember Bobbie’s friend Lara, in the concourse, trying to badger some of her fellow Nigerian students into voting for me. Bobbie berated Lara for being overly persuasive – she was virtually dragging reluctant people towards the ballot box – but Lara said, “a bit of political thuggery never did any harm”. She was 18 or 19 years old.
I’m not sure what I mean by “charades”. I was being ultra careful to do everything by the spirit as well as the letter of the rules. At one point, because there was a shortage of people to staff the ballot boxes, I noticed that both Bobbie and Annalisa were the pair on the boxes. Given that they were both actively part of my team, that felt wrong. I remember raising an objection myself, suggesting to Vivian that she must replace one of them in a hurry, only for all the other candidates to tell Vivian not to bother and me not to worry…they trusted Bobbie and Annalisa to behave impartially on the ballot boxes. That’s what happens when you are trustworthy.
Annalisa – a card carrying member of the Union
But hanging around in the concourse was rather dull, especially towards the end of a two-day election, by which time most people had either voted or long-since decided not to bother to vote. So perhaps we actually played charades, as I do remember a good feeling among the candidates…
…at least, there was certainly a good feeling among the candidates before we played charades.
The count took ages, not least because there were eleven candidates and counting was done using the single transferrable vote system. Malcolm Cornelius could explain to you in excruciating detail how that works. Ask him…go on, ask him.
Actually, the voting was quite close among the ten other people in the election, who I think all landed somewhere between 40 and 100 first votes. I landed just over 200. Thus I think the eliminations did need to be done one by one., which is very time-consuming.
I recall being nervous and fretting that I might have needed more first votes than I got in order to win the election, thinking that I might have been a “marmite candidate” who mostly landed only first preferences. At one point I remember Bobbie taking me aside and telling me, long before the result was called, that I should relax because I’d won.
ME: But I might not have enough second preferences…
BOBBIE: Yes you do.
ME: What makes you so sure?
BOBBIE: Because I sat on those blinking ballot boxes for hours and most people did their voting in front of me.
Of course Bobbie as right – the transfers landed in similar proportions to the first votes and my margin kept increasing.
The tallying might have looked a bit like this, only with younger people and no Gerald Ford pipe
The only thing I really remember about the celebrations was being descended upon by the gang from my old Lindsay F Block: Richard van Baaren, Benedict Coldstream and Bob Schumacher, who carried me aloft around the main bar for a while, much to my fearful chagrin. Big units, those guys, they were never going to drop me.
To Summarise…
I got elected as sabbatical Education & Welfare Officer in March 1984. I tried to keep my promises when in office between June 1984 and June 1985.
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.
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.
These images of Keele thanks to Graham Sedgley. How can you be in a blue funk in a place with red skies like that?
Something irked me in the penultimate week of term that year. The diary has more than its usual smattering of negativity.
I cannot remember what would have led to the phrase:
…UGM in eve – sabotaged…
…but that will for sure have irked me.
I sense that I was pretty busy that week with both studies and union stuff and I suspect that, whatever the sabotage was, I thought it disruptive and a cause of uneccessary work on my part.
I know I was already sensing that the 1983/84 committee on the whole was not very good and that there were aspects of the Union that mattered to me that felt out of control.
I also recall planning with Viv Robinson to promote the election season to try to ensure that the students engaged with that process – more on that will follow early in 1984. Similarly, I took it upon myself as Chair of Constitutional Committee to attempt to revise the constitution in order to remove some of the procedural loopholes that were enabling sabotage. More on that anon too.
Thursday – A Liberal Array Of Activities
A moving story if ever there was one
One of the more strange collections of activities is listed for Thursday:
V busy day – odds and ends – helped Ashley [Fletcher] move bed in afternoon – went J-Soc -> Liberal party in evening
I don’t think I am a good candidate for helping anyone move a bed from one part of Stoke to another, especially not a team comprising me and Ashley.
Just the thought of it brings to mind the following short film:
As for the “Liberal Party” later in the day, that would not be the actual political party, of course, but a party thrown by the bunch of Liberal activists who had arrived at Keele that year, who included my flatmate Pete Wild and Hayward Burt, both of whom depicted in the following picture:
Tony Roberts (Conservative), Pete Wild (then Liberal) and Hayward Burt (then Liberal, now Conservative), photo thanks to Mark Ellicott (formerly Conservative but subsequently radical)
My Barnes L54 flatmate Chris Spencer would no doubt have been there, as would Melissa Oliveck, who was Pete’s girlfriend at the time and a regular visitor to Barnes L54.
Friday 9 December – Busyish day – really pissed off today – went Hanley in eve with Ashley – Bobbie’s for a while in eve
I wonder what pissed me off. The Union business? Writers block for one of those pesky essay deadlines? Back ache from helping Ashley to move his bed? Head ache from overindulging liberally at the previous night’s party? Whatever caused it, I don’t suppose Bobbie enjoyed the experience of my mood on such days. Relatively rare in my case but I must have been REALLY pissed off to have noted such in my diary, which was normally spared such emotions.
Saturday 10 December – Busy sort of day. Shopping etc. Helped Ashley move in evening -> Black Lion -> two parties in eve. Stayed B.
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The Victoria – Photo by Rept0n1x, CC BY-SA 2.0
