Tag: The Great Yorkshire Pudding

My First Flame, c. December 1994

Picture with kind permission of goodfreephotos.com – click here

7 May 2017 – I read the Facebook posting linked here, written by Justin Sutton, an old mate of mine from school, about the song Africa by Toto, which brought to the front of my mind the peculiar story of my first flame.

I don’t mean “my first flame” in the romance sense. Good heavens no. I was over 20 when Africa was released as a single, in my third year at Keele.

No, no, no, I mean my first internet flame.

I started using the internet in the second half of 1994, while setting up Z/Yen, primarily because I/we expected it eventually to be useful for business.

But there wasn’t much going on commercially on the net in those days, so, to get into the swing of using the net, I used it quite extensively for my personal interests. Not least, at that time, subscribing to some Usenet groups that I thought would help me with my development of comedy lyrics, including one where people simply discussed the lyrics of songs.

One correspondent on that lyrics group stated that Africa by Toto was their favourite lyric of all time. That posting made me recall the spring of 1983 and the way that my flatmate, Alan “The Great Yorkshire Pudding” Gorman and I would mimic the line

As sure as Kilimanjaro rises like Olympus above the Serengeti,

which at the time we thought might be the most pretentious lyrical line ever, not least because it barely rhymes with “solitary company” and also barely scans the beat of the song. You sort of need to rush through that line like a broadside balladeer or a calypso singer with too much to say and not enough beats in which to say it.

I made these points about Africa by Toto on that Usenet group and then went about my business for the next 12 or perhaps even 24 hours, as was the dial-up method in those days.

When I returned to the group, I had been comprehensively flamed by the Africa-lover. Their beef was only partly a disagreement with my feelings about the lyric, which was understandable. It was primarily a character assassination suggesting that I was not qualified to discuss that lyric, on the basis that I had failed correctly to transcribe the line in question.

That line actually reads, “as sure as Kilimanjaro rises like a lepress above the Serengeti”,

explained the angry song-lover.

In those days, there was no Google or YouTube or Wikipedia or on-line repository of lyrics to turn to. But I couldn’t even work out what a “lepress” might be. Nor why anything other than “Olympus”  might make sense as the simile in question. I even spent a few minutes looking through the dictionary to see if there was a word which had slipped my mind, the feminine form of which might be lepress and make sense in context. The only word I could think of that might take the feminine form “lepress” was “leper”, which didn’t make sense to me in context.

I made these points on the Usenet group and then went about my business for the next 12 or perhaps even 24 hours.

When I returned to the group, I had been even more comprehensively flamed by the Africa-lover.

You know ******* well that a lepress is a female leopard. Don’t be so ******* insulting.

The flamer had also acquired one or two supporters who joined in the flaming, mostly on the grounds that they like the song, a view which I find fair and with which I have some sympathy. I also sort-of like the song; it’s just that one line that has always grated on me and was the source of our 1983 mirth.

But also, by now, I had acquired quite a few supporters, some of whom were supporting the logic of my specific argument about the lyric, while others were simply arguing that I was entitled to my opinion and that the purpose of the group was, after all, to debate lyrics.

I also received a private message with a plea from one of the group’s moderators, who told me that she felt that I had been unfairly flamed but asked me to post a conciliatory message to try to calm the group down. She was asking me to do this, she said, because she sensed that I was the more likely of the combatants to acquiesce to her request.

I thought about the moderator’s conciliation request, while also consulting my English and American dictionaries, to try to work out what a female leopard might actually be called. “A leopardess”, since you asked. I also listened to Africa by Toto again, just to see if I could detect anything other than “Olympus” in that line.

So I did post a conciliatory note.

I apologised to the original poster for my not liking the Africa lyric as much as they did. I apologised to any females or lepers who had been offended by my attempt to define the mystery word “lepress”. I asserted that the female leopard is a leopardess in both English and American usage. I suggested a compromise lyric, with neither Olympus nor lepress, which might just make sense and satisfy everyone’s sensibilities:

As sure as Kilimanjaro rises like a left breast above the Serengeti.

I dialed-in to that group a couple more times over the next day or so to watch the flaming discussion peter out. Then I unsubscribed from that group.

Anyway, here is Africa by Toto with the lyrics shown in all their glory and accuracy on the screen.

Plenty of Tennis Between My Law Finals And My Economics Finals, Keele, 24 to 26 May 1984

The late, great Alan Gorman, aka The Great Yorkshire Pudding, with thanks to Susan Gorman for the photo

Thursday 24 May 1984: Did some work today – played tennis in afternoon – worked at Bobbies in eve – came back after.

Friday 25 May 1984: Did some work today (not very much) – cold etc – worked over at Bobbies in eve.

Saturday 26 May 1984: Went shopping in afternoon (-McDonalds ) – played tennis in afternoon – went Bobbies to work in evening – stayed.

This was part of a short period between the end of my Law Finals exams and the start of my Economics Finals exams.

I do remember playing rather a lot of tennis at that time.

The tennis (when the opponent was not named in the diary) would have been Alan Gorman, aka The Great Yorkshire Pudding.

Pudding and I played a great deal that year, including several five match thrillers, which might well have taken in excess of three hours to complete.

I have a vague recollection that one of our five set thrillers did take place in that interval between my finals exams and I have a feeling it would have been the 24 May match, which preceded me having a cold the next day – a minor illness probably exacerbated by an excess of tennis.

Pudding and I were quite evenly matched at tennis, although we were very different in playing styles and physique. Pudding was tall and skinny, with “long levers” (as we say these days) and a fair bit of strength. I was much shorter, skinny, compact and comparatively feeble – but I was quick around the court and quite cunning in my style. Our matches were nearly always close.

We didn’t look much like this in 1984, but Ivan Lendl did.

The tennis courts were not much used, so we could usually play whenever we wanted for however long we wanted.

Unfortunately for me, several members of the Economics Department were amongst the very small band of other regulars on those courts, not least Professor Les Fishman, Mrs Fishman and Peter Lawrence. I don’t think they were impressed by the duration and intensity of our matches that close to my finals.

They might have had a point.

Putting Up The Great Yorkshire Pudding For University of Keele Students’ Union President 1984/85, February 1984

Alan Gorman. “You can call me Al…but please don’t call me Pudding”

Keen to add some spice to the elections, I surreptitiously put my flatmate, Alan Gorman, down for the presidential election under his nickname, “The Great Yorkshire Pudding” (Alan was skinny and from Lancashire).

My behaviour (forging a candidacy) was unbecoming for the chair of election appeals committee, I do now realise.

Alan was really furious when he first found out about it – understandably so. I went out that evening wondering if I had gone too far and permanently messed up a good friendship. When I got back to the flat, Alan had gone to bed but had left a piece of paper on the table.

GYP Supplementary Manifesto Written Draft

I laughed a lot – partly because it was very funny and partly the relief of learning that he had decided to go along with the wheeze. The following two scans are that “supplementary personifesto” as it appeared in its published form. Connoisseurs of my doodles might recognise Schlock in the top right corner of the first page. Connoisseurs of 1980s culture might like to identify the personalities on the second page – no prizes but lots of kudos if you populate the comments section with some answers:

GYP Supplementary Manifesto Side OneGYP Supplementary Manifesto Side Two

The main manifesto is lost in the mists of time; probably just as well. It wasn’t a patch on the above supplementary.  I did also keep a copy of the little “Relayer” messages from that election; see the following couple of pages:

Fricker Pudding Election Relayer Side OneFricker Pudding Election Relayer Side Two

Mercifully, rather than Pudding, the delightful Kate Fricker won that election – she was excellent and working with her was such a pleasure.

Oh Balls! Two Balls & A Pub Crawl In One Keele December Week, 12 to 18 December 1983

The big ball was the union ball, of course

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.

Main Union Ball , 15 December 1983

Oh Gawd…him! Gary Glitter, photo by AVRO, CC BY-SA 3.0 NL

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:

In The Absence Of Glittering Prizes…Stardust Memories, Keele Freshers Week, 12 To 18 October 1980

Then when Gary Glitter did show up to the freshers’ ball the follwing year, I decided I was too grown up and/or otherwise engaged to go:

Lakes, Films, Parties, A Five Day Visit By Andrea, But Seemingly No Glitter For Me That Freshers Week At Keele, 11 to 20 October 1981

But on this occasion in 1983 I finally got to see Gary Glitter perform. His subsequent disgrace for unconscionable behaviours aside, I must say that his show at that time was very much a crowd-pleaser for a student union ball.

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:

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:

Roll Out Those Hazy Crazy Mangosuthu Buthelezi Days Of Summer, NewsRevue Lyric, 9 August 1993

Friday 16 December 1983: Barnes L54 Pub Crawl


The Victoria – Photo by Rept0n1x, CC BY-SA 2.0

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.

Getting Elected To The Naffest Role In The Keele Students’ Union, But Did I Have The Constitution For It In May 1983?

In the spring of 1983, one of the “big hit” comedy books that captivated the young (and young at heart) was The Complete Naff Guide.

Available second hand – click image if you wish

Not long after, there emerged a short publication at Keele named The Keele “Naff” Guide. It is attributed to Adrian Bore and Daphne Canard, but is actually the work of Frank Dillon, with a little help from his friends. I plan to e-publish the “tome” for the May Bank Holiday weekend 2023. Watch this space.

Point is, on the short list of Naff Union Positions gracing the back cover of the Keele “Naff” Guide, Chairperson Of Constitutional Committee does stand out as being quintessentially naff.

How Frank himself, with a little help from his friends, persuaded me to run for that position in the spring of 1983, is one of life’s mysteries that would probably best remain unsolved. But I’m going to try and solve it anyway.

I have mentioned before the shenanigans around several union elections in 1982 and 1983, largely caused by the Tory faction deliberately trying to game flaws and loopholes in the election rules in an attempt to disrupt the smooth running of the union.

In May 1983 my memory would still have been fresh with the (in my case literally sickening) shenanigans that February – click here or below:

A Week When Everything At Keele Made Me Feel Sick, Even Smoke-Filled Rooms & Students Union Politics, 6 to 11 February 1983

Yes, I was on Constitutional Committee (which was also Election Appeals Committee) that year. Yes, I suppose I was seen as one of the good guys. Yes, only one person had put their name forward for the 1983/84 role – Adam Fairholme, who was a Conservative, albeit from a benign corner of that grouping.

I think it was a small posse that ganged up on me and persuaded me to run. I’m pretty sure that Frank Dillon himself was part of that posse. Also Vincent Beasley. I have a feeling that Genaro Castaldo (he who pleaded me away from my sick bed when things went awry in February) and possibly also Viv Robinson (who had been elected to succeed Genaro) leant on me.

I said I didn’t really want to do it. I said I had no time to put together a manifesto and contest the election. I said it was better that they find someone else.

Just do whatever you can. We think you’ll win the election anyway.

I sat in the Main Bar and wrote a few lines in large block capitals on a side of A4 paper. I wish I still had that scribbled-so-called-manifesto to show you. It was so sloppy and shoddy that, I recall, Viv Robinson and I subsequently used it in a guidance note to people who wanted to run for elections in 1983/84 as an example of what NOT to do.

It included my name writ large with a large cross in a box top and bottom. I recall that I pledged to

  • uphold the spirit and the letter of the constitution
  • explain constitutional matters in ways that would help and encourage students to participate in the union
  • seek to revise the constitution to block the loopholes that had recently been exploited to frustrate the union’s purposes.

In fairness to myself, despite the brevity of the pledges and shoddy presentation, I did see through those pledges to the best of my ability during 1983/84.

Having signed my nomination papers and deposited my scrappy piece of hand-written A4 purporting to be a manifesto, I then went back to Shelton for much of the next week, returning to the campus just for classes, a bit of private study and some infeasibly long tennis matches with Alan “The Great Yorkshire Pudding” Gorman. I don’t think I went to the union again until election day.

I’m pretty sure that my diary entry on 6 May which reads, in part “union for a while” reflects the above.

Friday 13 May 1983 – Busyish day – classes etc. – election for const. comm. – won – went to Shelton- had 1st drink (or 2) there.

I think I won the election on a small turnout but a significant percentage. Something like 120 to 80. I recall that Adam Fairholme was bitterly disappointed not to be elected; I think he campaigned quite hard and fancied his chances against an all-but-absentee candidate. Actually Adam was a good bloke and we became friends, albeit not close friends. I’ll write more about him and his demise come the 40th anniversary of that tragedy.

“1st drink (or 2)” relates to the fact that I had been completely off the sauce since February on the back of doctors orders due to my glandular fever (infectious mononucleosis). In May, Dr Scott told me that my “six month ban” could be reduced to “three months” for good behaviour, as I really hadn’t touched a drop.

But did I have the constitution for it?

Saturday 14 May 1983 – Rose quite early – came back to Keele for a while – dress and tennis – went back to Shelton – drag at party – not too pleasant – v late night.

I only very vaguely remember this party but I’m guessing it was some sort of costume party involving drag (they were an arty crowd, Liza’s North Staffs Poly crowd – I suppose that’s what you get when you study art). I don’t think I enjoyed it much, based on my diary entry.

Sunday 15 1983 – decadent day in bed – talking etc. – v pleasant – felt v ill – temp up – both [me and Liza] came back to Keele.

Even at the age of 20, I think its clear that I preferred smaller gatherings of friends/people I knew and liked, to big parties – regardless of costumes or lack thereof.

Even clearer is the fact that I did not yet have the constitution for drinking again. I voluntarily stayed off the sauce for quite a while longer. While my body didn’t tell me that three to four hour tennis matches might be overdoing it, it did tell me that one or two drinks was still one or two too many for my post-virus constitution.

How naff was that?

Keele End Of Term Absences, Escapes & Horrors, Mid March 1983

The UGM That Never Was (Photo: KUSU-Ballroom-1962-John-Samuel)

Don’t ask me why 7 March 1983 was noteworthy in my diary as “UGM That Never Was…”. Presumably some of us sat around for some time hoping for a quorum but the quorum never came.

Lots of mentions of Liza visiting me and even me visiting her at The Sneyd, so any hangover form my post-glandular-fever grumpiness had presumably abated…

Lowest Ebb On Release From The Keele Health Centre: Occupation Of The Registry & Eurythmics, Late February 1983

…lots of activity and lots of mentions of being busy…although I do recall getting uncharacteristic waves of fatigue for many weeks after my release from the Heath Centre.

Friday 11 March 1983 – Rose early – did quite a lot of things. Alan went home – election appeals – went to see film with Liza – back here after…

Alan’s early disappearance at the end of that term was not ominous or connected with our flatmate choice issues the week before…

Project, Plesch, “Bloody Party In Union” & How The Great Yorkshire Pudding Got His Name, Late February To Early March 1983

…I think Alan had some serious partying to do back home that weekend and had finished all of his course work for the term that Friday. I recall that Alan returned to Keele several weeks later looking a whiter shade of pale green, having been out on the lash with his mates just before returning to Keele. I wondered whether a single binge-boozy-party had been sustained throughout all of those weeks and asked him that very question.

ALAN: Feels a bit like that today.

ME: You look a very funny colour, to be honest.

ALAN: You haven’t exactly looked rosy-cheeked yourself lately, mate.

ME: Fair point.

But I digress.

I’m irritated that I didn’t write down the name of the film that Liza and I saw that night – but I needn’t have worried. A private message to Tony Sullivan, Filmsocista extraordinaire from that era, secured the vital piece of information.

Escape From New York. Ah yes, I remember it. Action/Sci-Fi. Not to my taste. Set in the distant future…1997. Manhattan is by then a high security prison and the US President’s plane crashes on the island. Slogans: “Once You Go In You Don’t Come Out” and “Some Guys Don’t Believe In Rules”. [Forty years on, by all means insert here your own topical joke about a rule-averse US President potentially incarcerated in New York.] But I’m digressing again. Anyway, thanks Tony.

More memorably, the next day…

…Liza, Mandy and I went to Hanley, saw Rocky Horror…

This must have been the Theatre Royal Hanley production – the theatre had just reopened in a new guise and I think we saw a pilot or preview version of the production of Rocky Horror that ran there for years. There is a wonderful web page of memories from that production on this “Memories Of Theatre Royal Hanley” WordPress site. (If anything ever goes awry at that site, here is a scrape.) Also this newsreel footage from when the resulting touring production closed in 1988. Lots of Keele students must have seen this show in the 1980s:

I had seen the stage production of Rocky Horror in London in the late 1970s with my BBYO pals, so felt very much “ahead of the curve” in the company of Liza and Mandy that night – a rare feeling in the matter of the arts with Liza and her “art school crowd”.

To add to the horror, I did a class test on the Tuesday morning (15th March) which must have been the formal last day of term as I signed on 16th March. [For younger readers who haven’t been following this series avidly for years, “signing on” was something students all needed to do each holiday if we wanted in effect to have our grants extended to cover holidays. The thought of the bureaucracy required to have most higher education students signing on and off the dole three times a year is truly mind-boggling.]

Friday 18 March – Easyish day – did a little work – watched TV in eve with Hamzah and Yazid.

Hamzah Shawal was my Bruneian flatmate. Yazid was one of the Malay guys who lived in a Q-Block Barnes flat with three other Malay guys, not too far away from our Barnes L-Block flat. I have no idea what we watched, but it is interesting that it was such a rare thing for me to do that I noted the fact that we watched TV. We might well have watched The Tube early evening, as Bono was interviewed that day:

I’m pretty sure this would have been one of the rare occasions I cooked for the South-East Asian gang, rather than them cooking for me. They were quite strict on Muslim dietary laws, which rather restricted my meat-based diet.

However, I did have a couple of tricks up my sleeve which satisfied their religious structures. I always had a supply of Osem Chicken Soup Mix

Picture borrowed from Amazon, which sells this stuff

This product is not only kosher but it is actually vegetarian, allowing me to make chicken soup & kneidlach (Matzo Ball Soup) for vegetarian and carnivore friends alike.

With thanks to Dall-E for collaborating with me on this image

My other piece de resistance for the halal & veggie crowd was potato latkes:

Again Dall-E produced this image based on my instructions.

If or when I can find my mother’s yellowed, hand-written pages of instructions for these delights I’ll publish the recipes. Hers were variations on the traditional Florence Greenberg & Evelyn Rose recipes.

Cheap, cheerful and heart-warming food.

Saturday 19 March 1983 – Liza came over in morning. Went to meet Julie -> Mike & Mandy’s -> dinner -> cam home quite early.

Sunday 20 March – Rose quite late – went down to lakes & back to Sneyd. Visited Ashley later.

I’m so glad that Ashley gets a mention that fortnight – albeit right at the end. Ashley has been known to complain if there aren’t enough pieces about him.

Project, Plesch, “Bloody Party In Union” & How The Great Yorkshire Pudding Got His Name, Late February To Early March 1983

Thanks to Susan Gorman for this photo of Alan Gorman

A week after my discharge from the Health Centre, my post-glandular-fever student life reads, in my diary, a little like my pre-glandular-fever student life, with just one or two clues hinting at the differences.

Project

Several mentions of “project”, which can only be the statistical/econometric assignment that we were set as part of our economics course that year. Peter Lawrence would have supervised it and I’m sure he remembers all the intricate detail.

Peter Lawrence

Actually, I remember my chosen assignment quite well. I looked at national statistics, examining the correlation between factors such as GDP and per capita GDP and numbers of radios and television sets per capita. The main conceit of the assignment was to consider whether I was finding true correlation or spurious correlation, primarily using the Durbin-Watson statistic which, as it happened, was available on the University Mainframe computer.

The analytical part of this project was fairly straightforward as I recall it. The grunt work involved setting out the data in a highly-specific format to enable the computer to pronounce on its Durbin-Watson statistic. What are, today, “work of a moment” tasks took hours of painstaking (and sometimes trial and error) data preparation and data processing work.

I have asked Dall-E to help me envisage what that 1980s University mainframe computer might have looked like:

Dall-E reminisces about 1980s computing

For those readers dying to know whether there is (or rather, was) true correlation between GDP and numbers of radios and TVs, the answer is, basically, yes; especially when using GDP per capita data and especially in the matter of radios. In the developing world, at that time, televisions were sparse enough that I suspected the numbers were more to do with government policy on whether to have a state broadcaster and the like. Also there did tend to be some interesting outliers in the data – for some reason there were an enormous number of radios sold in Gabon in the late 1970s and early 1980s, relative to the GDP per capita.

I think Peter liked my little study, because, while “answering the exam question” pretty well, it also raised far more questions than it answered.

Plesch, Monday 28 February 1983

Traudi & Peter Plesch – picture borrowed from the tribute linked here.

I have written previously about the hospitality provided by Professor Peter Plesch and his lovely with Traudi, which I enjoyed when they occasionally played host to J-Soc (Jewish) students.

Memories, Angels, Wizards & Plesches, Keele University, 1 to 7 November 1981

I have but one memory specific to this occasion, which I recall Annalisa de Mercur referring to many times subsequently, because she thought it so funny and typically Plesch.

One student asked if our hosts would mind if they smoked. (It was certainly not me by then, as I had quit smoking on the back of my glandular fever. I don’t think it was Annalisa either).

Oh yes, of course, please make yourself at home…

…said Traudi, ever the hostess, who then spent at least five minutes bustling around the room opening windows (this was February, at Keele!), moving away precious-looking porcelain ashtrays, replacing them with utilitarian-looking ones. In short, despite her instinctive desire to make the smoker(s) feel at home, Traudi’s actions made it quite apparent that smoking was not exactly what she wanted in her living room.

They were in truth charming and generous hosts, the Plesch couple. The above-linked November 1981 article says plenty more that doesn’t need repeating here.

“Bloody Party In The Union – Left Early” Friday 4 March 1983

Not like me to be snippy about a party, but I guess I was not myself still at that time.

Dr Scott had told me to stay away from alcohol for six months following my glandular fever. He subsequently reduced my sentence to three months, for good behaviour.

The mention of the “bloody party” comes after a note about a rushed day and an election appeals meeting, both of which might have set my teeth on edge ahead of that particular bloody party.

I have no idea whose party it was, nor why I found it bloody. I apologise to the host of the party if someone reading this happens to be such a person. I don’t think it was about you/.the party, it was me.

In truth, at that time, quite possibly I found all parties a bit of a drag. Seemingly everyone else having a good time and getting noisily paralytic, while I nursed some ridiculously expensive yet ghastly-tasting soft-drink, which had no doubt been dispensed through a soda gun like the one below…

Soda Gun wka, CC BY-SA 2.0

…those carbonated soft drinks never tasted like “the real thing”, if you get my meaning, even if they were sold as such. In the SU Main Bar at that time, indeed, they all tasted like a bit of an amalgamation of each other, which is probably what they were.

When not in bars or at parties, I had standardised at home on Sainsbury’s Tropical Fruit Drink (still available 40 years later)…

…and giant cans of Coca Cola known as Supercans – now no longer made, I believe, so to see such a thing, you’ll need to click this “can museum” link.

I wondered out loud with Dr Scott on one occasion whether it was OK to be drinking all this sweet stuff. He said he thought I was close to dangerously underweight at the end of my glandular fever experience; thus he was keen for me to put on some weight. I persevered with Supercans of Coke throughout the rest of my Keele years, even after I had reverted to drinking alcohol.

How the Great Yorkshire Pudding Got His Name, Early March 1983

The Great Yorkshire Pudding

There is no mention of the events that led to Alan Gorman acquiring the nickname “The Great Yorkshire Pudding”. At the time, I probably found the matter that led to it too painful to write down. Even now, I’m finding it hard to compose my thoughts about it and reflect on the matter fairly and faithfully. It doesn’t help that Alan Gorman sadly died in 2015, so cannot add his own thoughts on this matter forty years after the event.

The bare facts are these. Chantelle announced that she wanted to move out of the flat, Barnes L54, and that we should seek a replacement fourth person. Alan and I had already agreed that we would continue to flat share the following year. Hamzah, who was about to do his finals and had planned to go home as soon as they were done made it clear that it was entirely up to me and Alan to choose Chantelle’s replacement.

Ashley Fletcher was spending a lot of time at the flat in those days. He was Union Treasurer but living off campus, so it was a convenient place to hang out. He was good friends with my girlfriend, Liza (indeed Liza and I had more or less met through Ashley and his gang) and seemed to get on very well with Alan too.

Ashley wanted to move in to the flat. I wanted Ashley to move into the flat. I put the idea one evening to Alan.

Ashley back then

Alan basically said no. He was uncomfortable with the idea of having a gay flatmate. At one point he said that he wouldn’t be able to explain it to his friends back home. When I said that I thought that was not a good reason, he agreed that he had given a very poor reason, but still, without really being able to articulate why he felt uncomfortable, that he was resolute on the matter.

I remember feeling that I didn’t have the strength to argue and also at the same time realising that debating the matter for longer would in any case have been futile. I remember going to bed that night very upset and I also so clearly remember dreading telling Ashley the news.

Strangely, Ashley didn’t take the news as hard as I thought he would…nor as hard as I took it. In my naivety, perhaps, I had assumed that the idea would fly and hadn’t expected that outcome. Ashley had strongly suspected and at least half-expected that response.

When I told Ashley what Alan had said, Ashley just paused for thought momentarily and said:

The Great Yorkshire Pudding!

Those readers who don’t know anything about Alan Gorman might look at the picture I have used in this piece – Alan was even skinnier in 1983 than he was when that picture was taken a few year’s later. He was also from Brinscall, near Chorley, which is, unequivocally, in Lancashire, not Yorkshire.

The nickname, The Great Yorkshire Pudding, stuck, at least for the remainder of that academic year and the next one. Alan accepted with good grace that the expletive nickname had come from Ashley’s heart and that he sort-of deserved it. Alan would respond with a nickname of his own for me, “Bagel Boy”, which could get him into a spot of trouble today, not only with the authorities (had someone chosen to complain) but with Alan’s own wife and children!

Alright already, I like bagels…who doesn’t?

The epilogue to this story is, I suppose, not so bad. I remained friends with Alan and Ashley. Chris Spencer moved into Barnes L54 with us instead and proved to be a very suitable flatmate, staying on in the flat for the rest of my time there and I think until he graduated.

When Ashley dropped out of Keele the following year, I wondered whether that would have happened had he moved into our flat. Ashley of course is still around to debate that point and/but Ashley might argue that leaving Keele at that juncture was the right thing for him to do in any case. He has certainly gone on to do many worthwhile things, not least his laudable and often charitable work as a therapist.

But at the time, the story of How The Great Yorkshire Pudding Got His Name affected me deeply. I wish the older and wiser version of me could discuss it now with the older and wiser Alan. Perhaps over a smoked salmon bagel or two…and a glass or two of fine Californian white wine.

Keele Action Group Springs Forth Campus-Wide, Constitutional Matters Mingle With A Crucial Culinary Debate In My Barnes L54 Flat, 8 to 11 October 1982

With thanks to Susan Gorman for this c2006 photo of Alan Gorman

These few days lead in to the start of term proper

Friday 8 October 1982 – Easyish day – quite busy sorting things out. Went to union in evening – got quite merry.

Saturday 9 October 1982 – Freshers Mart in morning – prospective students in afternoon. Ashley [Fletcher] stayed to dinner – went on to union.

Sunday 10 October 1982 – Up quite early. Constitutional Committee lunchtime. Planned to stay in evening – quite tired – ended up running around campus with K.A.G [Keele Action Group] leaflets.

Monday 11 October 1982 – 1st teaching day of term – K.A.G at lunchtime. Went to union in evening.

Keele Action Group (KAG) & Constitutional Committee (CC): WTF?

Keele Action Group (KAG) was a grassroots students’ response to “The Cuts” – i.e. the early 1980s reduction in government funding to Universities. While the 1981/82 Union Committee had been reasonably supportive of firm but peaceful protest – e.g. our pseudo-destructive demo in London earlier that calendar year…

Protest Outside the UGC Offices Against Grant Cuts, University of Keele, 6 January 1982

…we received fewer assurances from Truda Smith and that we would get much support from her and her 82/83 committee. I am pretty sure that the protagonists of KAG were mostly the same gang – Simon Jacobs, Jon Gorvett, me and several others…

…I’m seeing Simon soon and shall update with more names if he can remember specifics…

…who basically wanted to show the University the strength of feeling among the students and encourage the powers-that-were to pressurise the government more.

Who knows whether or not that might have worked, but at least we were making our feelings known.

Constitutional Committee (CC) was a different matter. I cannot remember who it was that lent on me to take on that burden, but in the back of my mind it was people like Spike Humphrey, Frank Dillon & Vince Beasley, all of whom had suffered, while on Union Committee, at the hands of a Constitutional Committee dominated by FCS (Federation of Conservative Students) law students who, as a matter of national policy, were hell-bent on using loopholes in student unions’s constitutions to make it difficult for more enlightened student reps to get anything done. FCS candidates could achieve because the idea of being on a constitutional committee was so mind-numbingly dull that they tended to be appointed unelected…

…as indeed was I when my friends of the left persuaded me to help seize back the initiative by getting a few more enlightened people onto that committee.

Was it a barrel of laughs?

David Brown, Neil Mackay, Jamie Russell of Liquid Image for BBC Scotland., CC BY-SA 4.0

No. Anyway, the debates that ensued around KAG and CC were as nothing to the culinary debate that clearly bedevilled the early days in Barnes L54.

Culinary Debate: Name That Meal

I noticed my use of the term “dinner” to describe Ashley Fletcher’s visit to join us for an evening meal on 9th. I also note my use of the word “lunchtime” on 10th and 11th.

But I was a lone voice with such temporal-culinary nomenclature in L54 at that stage.

Chantelle hails from Scunthorpe, North Lincolnshire, while Alan Gorman was a Lanky from Chorley…Brinscall actually.

Those two were having no truck with the idea of naming the evening meal – which is the one we had agreed to share the cooking of rota-style most evenings – dinner. Dinner was a word they reserved for the lunchtime meal. The evening meal was to be known as “tea”.

Hamzah didn’t have a vote in this matter, as he opted out of our cooking rota, on the grounds that he ate exclusively Halal food and would have his evening meal with his/our Malay mates in Barnes Q92.

There is lots of material on-line about this sort of debate now, much of it in tongue-in-cheek terms on sites such as King Cricket, not least when discussing North/South and class distinctions:

Them North v South matches start this week

Or the following “expert” piece which seems to suggest that I might have been right all along that lunch/dinner are terms preferable to and more consensual than dinner/tea. (If in doubt, it is surely a good idea to quote The Lad Bible as an authoritative answer.)

Actually, Alan Gorman had a more open-minded and scientific approach to this topic than most people. Firstly, he had no real problem with the lunchtime meal being described as “lunch”. He didn’t major on lunchtime eating anyway – it was the evening that mattered most for food. But Alan did object to naming of the early evening meal “dinner”.

Alan’s nomenclature was to describe the early evening, shared/communal flat meal as “tea” and a later ad hoc meal as “supper”. Both of these meals were important and Alan was most certainly a “four meals a day” person at that stage. The “two evening meals” thing ensured that the stomach was filled early evening ahead of either:

  • an evening of private study which might well go on until quite late, or
  • “a sesh” down the union or boozer.

In either of those instances, there would be a need for a “supper” of some sort that would soak up the booze and/or ensure that there was a satisfied belly for bed time. I joined in this “four meals a day” habit for the two years we flat shared. Remarkably, looking back, we both remained skinny nonetheless.

Photos: thanks to Sue Gorman for Alan and Mark Ellicott for me

Actually, thinking about it, Hamzah would have probably approved of Alan’s logic on linguistic grounds. In Bahasa Melayu, including its Bruneian variety, meals are named after the time of day:

  • “sarapan pagi” means breakfast
  • “makan tengah hari” means midday meal
  • “makan petang” means afternoon or evening meal;
  • “makan malam” means late evening or night-time meal.
16 years later, a bit of basic Bahasa Melayu came in very handy, whatever the time of day

The Next Few Days Included The Beat & Culture Club – 12 to 15 October 1982

I actually wrote up the next few days five years ahead of this “Forty Years On” series based on a memory flash. You can read all about those days (and the memory flash) here or below:

(I Married A) Monster From Outer Space – And What That Did For One Of My Earthly Romances, 15 October 1982

Enter Stage Left, My New Neighbours & Flatmates At Keele In Barnes L54, 4 to 7 October 1982

Barnes flats, as they appear in my cherished memories of living there. The above image, borrowed from https://www.studentcrowd.com/hall-l1004515-s1043587-barnes-hall-keele_university-keele, shows them at their best.

I had arrived at Keele a few days before almost everyone else that academic year, to learn that my flatmate from the preceding few months, Ahmed Mohd Isa, had dropped out of Keele and was to be replaced by an allocated fresher.

Hence, my flatmates for 82/83 were to be:

  • Hamzah Shawal – a Bruneian mate of Ahmed and the Malay crowd, who was to be a finalist that year and who seemed like a very nice chap on the one or two occasions I had met him the previous year;
  • Chantelle Conlon [I think, surname], a “yeller belly” from the latterly-to-be-internet-unfriendly town of Scunthorpe. Ahmed, Hamzah and I had found Chantelle through the flat share notice board at the end of the previous academic year, as flat application forms needed to have four names and none of us had a chosen fourth. She seemed like a nice young woman and passed the interview by dint of agreeing to join us and signing the form;
  • Alan Gorman – the allocated fresher. Provenance entirely unknown until arrival.

This inauspicious sounding team selection resulted in…SPOILER ALERT… a happy final year for Hamzah, two very happy years for me and three such years for Alan in that flat.

Monday 4 October 1982 – Got a few things done today – some new neighbours moved in etc. Went to Union in evening etc. Julia stayed over…

I’m pretty sure the new neighbours in question were Veera Bachra (who became a good friend) and at least one of her flatmates (probably Debbie). Julia was a friend of Veera’s (or perhaps Debbie) who had dropped out of Keele but came up to see her friends there at the start of term. I remember Julia as a sweet young woman whom I had admired from afar in my FY year. The happenstance of Julia visiting my new neighbours presented an opportunity for us to admire each other at closer quarters that night.

This hit from that late summer/early autumn became my earworm for a few days at the start of that term:

A little unfortunate, as I never much liked Duran Duran, but I have for forty years retained a soft spot for that song. I digress.

Tuesday 5 October 1982 – Rose quite late. Hamzah arrived. Kept busy etc. Went to union in eve – the calm before the storm

Wednesday 6 October 1982 – Rose quite early. Alan arrived at flat – lunched etc – showed around – shopped etc etc. Chantelle arrived. Went to union freshers do in evening etc. Up late.

I have an absolute favourite memory of the morning of Alan’s arrival at the flat.

The Gorman family came from (I think still come from) Chorley in Lancashire, not much more than an hour’s drive to Keele. They arrived quite early.

On that October morning, Barnes didn’t much look like the publicity picture I have used as the headline, it looked more like this:

With thanks again to Paul Browning for this picture

On such misty autumn mornings, the playing fields would be populated by a few hippy-ish students in search of psycho-active fungi.

The magical fungi looked a bit like this – photo by Patrick Ulrich

The students probably didn’t look quite so buff as these two – photo by Joe Mabel

I made Harold and Theresa a cuppa and sat them at our kitchen table, which overlooked those playing fields.

Oh look, Theresa, there are some biology students out on the fields collecting samples…

…said Harold, enthusiastically. I didn’t have the heart (nor did I have the guts) to tell Alan’s parents the truth of the matter.

I don’t think I shared this story with Alan on day one. Alan had a fierce and sharp sense of humour – perhaps not apparent in the whirl of arrival with parents, but evident very soon after that. I’m pretty sure I shared the story with Alan soon after that first day; we’d have had a good laugh about it. But did Alan ever tell his parents about those “mycology students”?

Very sadly, my use of the past tense throughout the above paragraph is not a grammatical error; I learnt while researching this piece that Alan Gorman died in 2015. But I have made contact with his widow Susan and, through her, his family might see this and future pieces about Alan. Thus I am hoping for some feedback to help refine my memories, but they will unfortunately not be directly from Alan.

Thursday 7 October 1982 – Rose quite early – still sorting out flat etc. I got somethings done, not too hectically. Went to union in evening – up till late.

It looks as though Alan and I started the “up till late” chatting habit very early in his University career.