Spot the bow ties

Apologies for the recent hiatus in postings: it was largely caused by the need to plan and cook lunch for 50 in 3.5 hours and recover from the (mainly splendid) experience. On a food theme, here's a 1977 shot of the lunch with tablecloths & waitress service that was enjoyed by Messrs. Irvine, Howell, Glaskin & Roberts. Here they are in mid-trough snapped by Anna Behan. Love the bow ties.

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.

Relaxing in Cheltenham ...

It can't be December already, but it is. C-H-M enjoyed his Cooking Theory Examination yesterday and is looking forward to the Practical Examination on Friday. This involves cooking under examination conditions against the clock (no talking except about sharing ovens, no conferring, no asking the teachers what to do or how to cook it). If the food isn't served at the appointed hour you have to leave the kitchen and you fail. So served at exactly 1.30pm will be one loaf of Italian bread, one chicken sauté Normande with mashed potatoes, carrot batons and broccoli and one lemon meringue pie... And no, that's not a balanced menu: it's meant to test the skills we've learned this term, as indeed it will. Must go and write the time plan now. All good clean fun.

Also good clean fun was a visit to the beer tent on a Thursday off in Cheltenham. Pictured here in one of Corky Gregory's photos are, L to R: Paul Noakes, John Howell, C-H-M, Jane Charman, Ros Cleal and Jo Bacon. Judging from the immoderate amount of hair displayed by C-H-M this must be 1977. (C-H-M's hair featured for this season only as it all began to fall out the following year.) Dr Ferris remarked that I look as though I've walked into a Timotei advertisement: "Even now, people vividly remember the advert featuring a lady with wonderful long blonde hair walking through a sun-dappled meadow", says their website. Steady on, Dr Ferris ...

The Chronicler scoops the prize ...

Dr Phillpotts has been on enquiries en famille in Tunisia "sampling the delights of Roman cities, troglodyte dwellings and camels."

This is a family blog, Dr Phillpotts, so private emails only about the camels, please. He continues:

"With reference to a fairly recent posting of a near-naked Noakes looking regal with a large white sceptre: I don't remember the photograph being taken, but I believe it relates to the following episode.

There was in the mid 1970s a popular television programme fronted by Esther Rantzen called 'That's Life', a mixture of consumer items and comic silliness. One of the regular items was 'Heap of the Week' in which members of the public were invited to nominate an unwanted item for imaginative destruction. One week [it was during 1975. Ed.] the Heap was a large white plaster statue of a seated king, and it was destroyed in the quarry at Crickley Hill.

[Photo of large white plaster King kindly supplied by Mr John Boden who was brandishing his Pentax to pleasing effect that day. Ed.]

We were peacefully excavating the hill-fort interior one day when one of our number (it may have been me) looked out over the rampart to see a troop of Roman soldiers marching up the quarry, and gave the alarm. Believing we might be in a time-warp, we armed ourselves with catbashers and ranging poles, and sallied forth to tackle the invaders, Biggles blowing a rallying cry on the scaffolding pipe. This was in the true spirit of Iron Age warfare, as had been nobly elucidated to us by the lectures of R D A Savage. However, the television crew were less than happy with our noisy arrival, as the presenter was doing his piece to camera at the time.

It turned out that the Ermine Street Guard (for it was they) had been engaged to destroy the offending statue with their small mangonel (or whatever Romans called it) by lobbing missiles at it from across the quarry. In this endeavour the ersatz Romans were singularly ineffective, only succeeding in denting one of the royal knees; so the television crew cheated by pushing the statue off the edge, editing the film afterwards to give the illusion of success.


[Ersatz Romans, being singularly ineffective with a mangonel, also supplied by the Atelier Boden. Ed.]

I can only assume that Noakes was posing with pieces of the debris. I wonder if anyone else remembers the incident? If so, I claim my prize of a free dinner for four at the Albergo Parker.

We did have some later contacts with the Ermine Street Guard. Bryn Boreham (Personality of the Year CH84?) was a member and sometimes wore his armour to parties. I remember trying to play a tune on it with a pair of spoons, one of the more unusual instruments I have played in my eccentric musical career.

Re the picture of John Howell delving in a post-hole with a mallet and a catbasher by his side in CH78, I recall that some of John's post-holes in the gull in that year had fills so hard that they needed robust tools to excavate them. I think even picks were employed."

Dr Phillpotts is correct in all particulars in his recollection, as one would wish a Chronicler to be, and the free dinner at the Albergo Parker is surely his. I think Mr Boden also merits dinner for the excellent and timely illustrations, don't you?

Sitting on the step

Nattering away together on the doorstep of the mess hall, Dr John Howell and John Parry. Looking directly at Anna Collinge taking the picture in 1977 is Ken Fussell, who, with Dave cooked for us all that year.

Thinking of cooking, I promised a vegetarian recipe to Les Capon a week or two ago and have been remiss in not getting round to it. So here's a simple delicious Moroccan tomato salad from Madhur Jaffrey's 'World Vegetarian'.

2 tbs or 30 ml lemon juice

1/2 to 1 tsp harissa (Moroccan chili/garlic paste) (The tinned Le Phare du Cap Bon brand is excellent if you don't want to make your own)

225 g 8 oz cherry tomatoes, halved across the middle

2 tbs finely chopped onion

1 tbs finely chopped fresh coriander or parsley if you do not see the point of coriander

1/2 tsp ground roasted cumin

1/2 tsp salt

In a small bowl stir together the harissa and the lemon juice

In another bowl combine the remaining ingredients. Add the lemon juice mixture and mix well. Let sit for 30 mins to let the flavours marry. Will keep in fridge for 24 hours but cover with cling film.

The addition of bean and pea sprouts works well with this, but it is delicious as it stands.

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.

The management 1977

During a tea break in summer 1977, L to R: Cameron Moffatt, Terry Courtney, Philip Dixon, Robin Hall, Mike Webb and John Howell. Looks like it was one of the rare chilly days. From Anna Behan's collection.

All smiles at lunch in 1977

A beautiful day and everyone in a good mood at lunch. L to R: Corky Gregory, Kate Gilbert, Jo Bacon, Rosie from Lytham St Annes, Ros Cleal, Jim Irvine, and is that a youthful Dave Hollos in the foreground? Jim's positioning and the hint of tablecloth tells me this was the day he sat down to lunch with Max Glaskin, Robert Roberts and John Howell with Jane waiting at table, known as Wibble, because of a terrible but very funny joke about a butler that Max told that year. Wine, most unusually was served as evidenced by one very early post on this blog. Photo: Anna Behan. Update: and, now, I realise I must have taken this photo just before or after Anna took hers.

The butler joke Max told went something like this: "An English Lord had a butler named Wibble. One very hot summer's day, his Lordship summoned Wibble and said, "Wibble, would you run my bath, please?" "Certainly, my Lord," replied Wibble. "Will there be anything else, my Lord?" "Yes, Wibble, please see that some cool clothes are laid out after the bath. It's confoundedly warm." "Indeed it is, my Lord. Certainly, my Lord. Your Lordship's linen suit, I think. Will there be anything else, my Lord?" "Yes, Wibble, please tell her Ladyship I will dine at my club." "Of course, my Lord" "Anything else, my Lord?" "That will be all. Get on with running the bath, man."

Wibble ran the bath, told his Lordship it was ready and, having escorted him to his bath, hovered nearby in case there were any further instructions. "Will there be anything else my lord?" "This bath is not too hot is it, Wibble?" "No, my Lord, I have checked the temperature by dipping my elbow in it. Your Lordship will not be scalded. Will there be anything else my lord?" "No, Wibble. If I require anything else I shall call you." With that, his Lordship lowered himself into the water and let out a long, loud fart.

The blisteringly hot day sapped the energy of both Lord and butler. His Lordship went for a walk, dined at his club, came home and, at last, retired to bed. It was still sweltering. He was aghast to find a hot water-bottle in his bed. Furious, he rang the bell for Wibble. "Wibble, have you taken leave of your senses, man? What the hell is a hot water-bottle doing in my bed? It's one of the hottest days for months. One can scarcely bear to move. There isn't a trace of a breeze. I'm gasping for the touch of cool bedlinen. And you take it upon yourself to put a blasted hot water-bottle in my bed. What on earth were you thinking of, man?"

"But my Lord, you asked for a hot water-bottle." "I most certainly did not! Why would I order a hot water-bottle on a day like this?" "But you did, my Lord. As you lowered yourself into your bath this morning, I distinctly heard you say, "Whadabowdawadderboddlewibble?"" © Max Glaskin 1977 and Julian Parker 2009.

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.

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.]

That 1977 lunch again ...

Amongst others: Penny Hart (then Griffiths) and Anna Behan (then Collinge) in their yellow CH77 t-shirts, Lucy Loveridge, Corky Gregory in blue spotted headscarf, Jo Bacon in a white shirt, Robert Roberts, a hint of Jim Irvine,  John Howell at the table enjoying their vino, and possibly Oliver Crick in the red vest on the right.

Jim Irvine, Robert Roberts, John Howell and Max Glaskin dine together...

A lunch break, possibly summer 1979 [update: actually 1977], with unusual formal touches: bow tie, waistcoat, bottle of wine... and where on earth did the table cloth come from? Jim Irvine comments: "Hi Julian, That was in fact 1977, my first (training) excavation at Crickley. I remember the dinner well and still talk about it. IIRC the guy on the left with his back to the camera may have been Max Glaskin and the girl next to him our 'butler' was called Jane and hailed from the Wirral. Crickley Hill Man said... Oddly enough, Jim, I was just looking at the grass in the photo and wondering whether I was right about it being 79 because it looks dry enough to be 76. But I'm glad you know the answer. Max's surname had escaped me: I remember he had a rather fine and inevitably vulgar joke about Moshe Dayan and an ill-behaved parrot which cannot be repeated here as it is partly visual.