A normal evening at the Air Balloon ...

From Anna Behan's collection, an evening in garden of the 'Air Balloon' in 1978 or thereabouts: Dr Phillpotts, C-H-M beginning his entry for that night's gurning competition, Anna turning away in horror being comforted by Ollie Crick, Ranging Rod & Mike Webb looking on and Mike Taylor watching the unknown photographer. It is surprising that Flt Lt Southwood is not in the frame but perhaps the photographer was he, unless he was getting the next round in. It looks as though the lights of the bar, small as it was in those days, are in the background.

C-H-M has, somewhat unromantically for the time of year, been abed with a gastric bug (- what other kind would a student of cookery get?), which is why postings have been lacking, for which my apologies. Perhaps Bacillus cereus was the culprit or indeed Clostridium perfringens. Each can stalk a curry house ...

Just feel the width ...

Going to a dance, gentlemen? Proof that Dave and Ken Fussell possessed a suit apiece as well as chef's whites. Just look at the width of those tie-knots ...

1978 panorama

This shot from Anna Behan's collection must be, I think, 1978: is that Dave Hollos on the left? I'm sure Dr Howell stands in the middle facing away from the camera sporting a panama hat.

People in postholes

Corky Gregory sent me this picture which she says is "Phil giving some people a site tour" during the 1978 season. I think the legs on the right may indeed belong to PWD. Corky also writes that she will not tell me "what John Howell said to me when he realised I was photographing his butt!". But there are other mystifying aspects to this pleasing scene. What is the dog doing on the cutting? How did Dr Howell get his arm stuck in the posthole? And what is the purpose of the mallet? Update:Dr Phillpotts provides a clue at the end of this post.

Corky didn't take this photo ...

Or at least I don't think she did, though she sent C-H-M the picture: auto-release cameras were moderately-unheard of in the late 1970s when I suspect this portrait was taken. Dr Cleal might be my bet for the photographer, but either she or Corky will set me straight.

A woman happy with her posthole

Here's a lovely picture of Julie Gale (Fissenden as she then was) looking very cheerful about her posthole, forged tang trowel to the fore, camera in the background. This is one of a group of pictures Corky Gregory entitled 'People in postholes' and, she thinks, is probably from the 1978 season, or thereabouts. Julie's proving that it is possible to work hard whilst prone on the ground.

Ullenwood trio

L to R, John Howell, Chris Phillpotts and Mike Taylor pause for Anna Behan to snap them outside the mess hall at Ullenwood in 1978. Fine smock, Dr Howell.

Whale worship

Malc White writes to point out an oversight on the blog: there has been no mention of Whale worship: "Often when Mike the Whale would appear on the cutting there would be a cry of "Whale Worship!" and a dozen diggers would fall to their knees and chant

"Oh Great Whale,
Oh Great Whale,
Oh flatulent flatfish,
Oh farting flounder,
Give us a sign, oh fishy deity!"

To which Mike would invariably reply "Bugger off!"

I can't imagine why. What is more perturbing is trying to remember how this peculiar activity originated and why. The photo montage shows Mike at varying stages in the development of his cult: on the left in 1978, 1980 in the middle, and later in the 1980s perhaps 1981 on the right. Or maybe that's another 2 years' beard growth ...

The chant I had forgotten, but as soon as Malc sent it to me I knew he had it right, even if with the benefit of hindsight the zoological knowledge implied by the words is more than somewhat shaky.

Bob Alvey as ever hunting molluscs ...

Corky Gregory captures Bob Alvey, glancing up from his patient labours sifting and picking through the dirt looking for those elusive little snails. As Corky says, it looks as though he's in tent.

I recall Bob giving me fascinating accounts of the activities of, and conditions endured by, Royal Navy submariners from his days under the sea. I think the subtext was, in some degree, "If you think Ullenwood's a bit spartan, young Parker, try one of Her Majesty's submarines." I remember him talking to me about the cramped accommodation after I'd been to visit the Royal Navy Submarine Museum at Gosport where I'd seen one of the submarines of the class in which he'd served. Sleeping on torpedo tubes can't have been comfortable. He was mildly dismissive of more modern types of submarine that had cissie things like bunks installed with the comfort of the crew in mind.

The Chronicler ties up some loose ends ...

Dr Phillpotts stirs again in his garret and shares the following wisdom:

"The Giant JP originated I believe in the mysterious CH78, with a character called Bill who only dug with us that year. I don't remember much about Bill, except his wet weather gear, which comprised a bin liner tunic, a bin liner skirt, and a sample bag wrapped over his head and clamped into his beard with a large bulldog clip, making him look like a punk battleaxe granny. He did bring us the Giant Parrot joke (What noise does a giant parrot make - SQUAWK!!!). He liked to gather a group of 6 or 8 people and tell this at high volume in the porch of the Air Balloon, in order to provoke the locals. This then developed into the Giant JP, which had a variable text decided by committee.

I was present when the great man, on rising one day, uttered the immortal words: "Sod this for a lark; I've just found a piece of limestone under me foreskin". [I remember this bit. Ed] Not only was this incorporated into the Giant JP, but the piece of limestone afterwards became the trophy in the Personality of the Year contest. [I don't believe you - Ed.]

I was present for quite a lot of CH78, but had no camera. I only acquired my first puny point-and-poke in 1979, and it took very narrow film, hence the soft focus effect of my early shots. I only really learned to take proper photos in about 1984, way behind the Pentax-Brandisher [Mr Boden. Ed]. The person who never returned JB's slides was Sandra the Cook.

An American lady asked about CH78 (might she be Naomi Jackson?) [No, it was Amy Cay. Ed]. From my notes towards a social history of Crickley Hill I can report the following highlights:

JP and I prepared the kitchen at the start of the season by scraping it down with table knives and repainting ('You make very nice!' said Lofty's mother, looking through the window). Ken and Dave were the cooks.

There was a contingent of Phil's students from Nottingham Uni, and an even bigger group from Leicester Uni. There were also some Poles, who were contacts of John Howell. Wonderful section drawings resulted, but labelled in Polish and Russian.

We removed vast quantities of backfill, and took huge soil samples. Baling out the cuttings.
We made a raid on Cheltenham Ladies College summer fête (Penny may remember that one, as she was running a stall). [I'm sure it is engraved on her heart. Janet Douglas will have imperishable memories of it too. Ed.]

Visits to the Golden Heart.

Late night visit from Fachtna McEvoy and P J Pikes, with their customary crate of booze.

Several of us dressed in drag for one of the dinner times, though I recall that Arwel looked more like a French curé in a long dress and straw hat.

Coach trip to Gloucester, Kingscote and Uleybury, with Lofty at the wheel.

John Howell gave a lecture about something.

An excellent dinner at Major Birchall's house.

Attempts to cram lots of people into small spaces (phone box, Mike the Whale's tent etc).

[A passage has been redacted here on the advice of C-H-M's lawyers - it was salacious, if not scurrilous and has no proper place on a family blog of this type. The usual fiver buys the details. Ed.]

Randal Motkin's first visit, I believe. I have missed out some of the lowlights, as it was in some respects a quarrelsome year. You may wish to edit some of the above. [Alas, I had to. Ed]

On Boden's shop steward speeches, I remember one from CH82, when he was exposed to some light drizzle whilst planning (I believe I have it verbatim): 'I don't think we should work in the rain. People don't work properly in the rain, they just piss about. (pause) I take myself as the prime example'.

I think we need Richard Savage to confess to the Great Bap Mountain and the Furry Turkey."

[This last paragraph, I think needs some illumination from the Chronicler: I will interview him on Saturday, if I remember. Ed.]

Don't panic! Beware the Deadly Nightshade

One year, bizarrely, the Cotswold wardens, presumably wishing to provoke mass poisonings, put cages round the Deadly Nightshade with a wee notice bearing the legend: "This is Deadly Nightshade which is very poisonous. Take a careful look, remember and beware!" Corky Gregory sends this 1978 picture of Sue Lee-Jeffs, Kate Gilbert and Lucy Loveridge using their forged tang trowels to defend themselves against this horrible danger.

Whatever happened to the 1978 season?

A fair point this, from Amy Cay:

"Dear Crickley Hill Man,

Was 1978 the year that Crickley Hill was closed for a thorough vacuuming and dusting? That's the only explanation I can think of for why there are no pictures and hardly any mention of that season. Any other explanation or, better yet, reminiscence of that year would be enlightening and greatly appreciated.

Sincerely,

An American who may have hallucinated being there"

The paucity of 1978 material is striking and strange: neither I nor the Chronicler, Dr Phillpotts happened to spend much time on the hill that season which accounts in part for the lack of photographs: I think I managed only a weekend or so before I disappeared on a 6 week trip round Europe, mostly in Italy and I suspect Dr Phillpotts may have been similarly absent. Can anyone help to fill this obvious lacuna, please?

Captain Lash! Julie-Ann brings the memories flooding back ...

Julie-Ann Morrison sends the following gem, which absolutely made my day:

"One of my abiding memories of Crickley is a load of us sitting in the dorm after drinking copious quantities of Weston's listening to that nice Mr Ferris reading us Captain Lash! I remember we were only allowed one chapter per night, and it was such a wonderful book that I went straight after that year's dig and found a copy in a second hand book shop and have treasured it ever since.

In fact I buy copies for other people. I am in the process of recording said book for a blog and will let you know when I get that sorted. I have since sourced other books by the same author - Captain Frank Shaw, including the amazing 'Gay Sea Road'. They were written between the wars and the language was obviously perfectly fine then, but now the opportunity for double entendre is positively delicious! I think the following excerpt may both remind those of us who were there, and give a flavour to those who were not fortunate enough to be amongst those read to......

'Say' said Lash 'Isn't there anyone here who can fight?' There was no one animate enough to reply. Cora, crouched under the wilted piano, sobbed hysterically and tried to abuse him, but his gentle touch on her face had played havoc with the best bridge work of a pacific dentist, and she could only gulp incoherencies.'

Ah, happy days!!!"

How on earth could I have let Captain Lash slip from my memory and my life? It's possibly the worst written book I've ever had the privilege to lay hands on and I have a broad grin on my face as I type this. I tried, a few times, reading passages out loud but was unable to contain the mirth or accompanying tears. I remember being absolutely in stitches listening to the Ferris rendition which was without equal in the county, or, doubtless, throughout the land.

I can't wait for Julie-Ann to post 'Captain Lash - the audio book'. I bet Ferris is still having a periodic chuckle over his copy. Where's my eBay password got to?

Update - I have a bid in at 99p - will anyone fight me for it? I also see that it's Amazon UK's 1,346,579th Best Seller at the time of posting ... I think there may be some competition in July for who gets to declaim the best passages ...

Bailing out a watery Long Mound: Professor Dixon writes ...

PWD has sent the above shot of the east end of the Long Mound being bailed out in, he thinks, about 1978.  Is that Roberts Roberts in the white boiler suit? I can spot Bernard Dawson right in the middle of the picture at the back. There are 22 people in the bucket gang which would have got the job done quickly. Here's a similar scene posted last month, but from 1980: Dawson photos