I expected to find myself getting rather maudlin as he was a very close friend and sadly missed. Surprisingly enough, I found the experience therapeutic and as the afternoon wore on, I kept discovering things from my own collection that I had forgotten I had given him.

There is a lot of stuff but fortunately not quite as much as I had been dreading. The sad bit is that much of the stories behind the ephemera have died with him. He told me a fair bit about some of the items, but I cannot be sure with the passage of time where they were saved from.

I have collected up a number of books (10 ASDA sackfuls!) that I immediately recognise. Some is duplicated and some I have already, so I can see that I will be able to sell some things on to other collectors. It has only made a small dent in the bookshelves!

The harder part comes with the filing cabinets of original research he has accumulated over the decades about our cinema and theatre heritage.  If I lived in a big house by myself I would have no worries about shifting it all lock stock and barrel to spend the rest of my life cherishing it. Unfortunately, however, life isn’t like that. Our spare room is already almost impassible with fifteen years of accumulated stuff that needs to be found another home.  I can’t really keep the collection together but what I can do is make sure it ends up with organisations that will make good use of it and keep it accessible.

One thing that I recovered today that wasn’t a book was a framed poster. It was the invitation to Mervyn’s celebration party from fifteen years ago when he took early retirement from the University. It is a little bitter-sweet for me because I wasn’t able to attend for some reason despite wanting to very much (I don’t remember why now, probably work related).  It was written in the style of a Victorian theatrical poster and one holds pride of place in the bar of the Pub where it happened.

It is held in the frame with gummed brown paper so it is a simple photo and not too sharp, no doubt I will find another loose one in due course as we clear up more stuff from the collection.

Showzam Central had an exhibition about P T Barnum, as well as the 50’s sideshows and a couple of interesting additions. We had arranged to finish off the evening with the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain performing Ukulelescope at the Grand, but in the meantime, there was a parade to catch and some street heating . The pictures tell the story.

Still pictures cannot convey the movement that flames produces. Fortunately, Showzam already have a Youtube up:

Well, he is here, but not without controversy. On Sunday morning, the statue was lowered into place. There was only a small crowd present as it had only been announced the day before on our local paper’s website. (It is a weekly and there was nothing about it in the Wednesday dead tree version). It was also appalling weather conditions but it gave local Councillor Terry Grayshon the opportunity to take some dramatic photos.

Very quickly though, the Facebook “community” expressed their disappointment. The main view was that it didn’t actually look like Ernie at all and some wondered whether it hadn’t been fixed in its final place as it did seem to lean rather a lot.

Now I haven’t had the opportunity to go and look at it myself yet, but I have seen a number of photos.  It seems to be of a lighter stone than the Miner and the Weaver,  I’m not certain if this is because it isn’t Morley stone or because it hasn’t had the plastic treatment that Terry & Judith apparently did.  The original concept was a pose from the celebrated “Singing in the rain” parody Morecambe & Wise did but the final result is slightly different- he is holding the wrapped up umbrella to his chest and doing a hat tip in the style of the black & white minstrels giving ‘em the old Razzle Dazzle.

Now I suspect that the original concept would have seen Ernie losing his arm and umbrella handle quite quickly to the local scratter element. The siting is a bit tricky- you can’t really see it from the end of the road due to street furniture and it has been put into a flowerbed, presumably to save costs. It is close to Morley’s former theatre, although ironically whilst he is raising his hat to the old place, it is boarded up and neglected.

I did meet Eric and Ernie briefly in the summer of 1976, backstage at Newcastle City Hall. They were waiting to go on, Ernie was calm and collected, whilst Eric was shitting bricks. (He always suffered from terrible stagefright, apparently).  I don’t remember much about the show now, but they had the audience eating out of the palm of their hand and Eric jokingly referred to the spotlight beams from our CSIs as like being a rabbit caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

You can get a flavour of the feelings by reading the facebook thread, which also links through to press articles.

In the meantime, my thanks to PJ for permission to use his photos.

Is this a foretaste of the 2012 Olympics?

The first one was Iain Dale, at the Total Politics Question Time event in Leeds. (I got offered a late cancellation). The event was at a new hotel near to dark arches and parking was tricky, I was in danger of getting locked in so had to leave early. (This wasn’t helped by the event starting late but I enjoyed the thirty minutes or so of discussion, particularly the very perceptive David Davis, who very politely ripped Rachel Reeves a new orifice for using the perjorative term “Climate Change deniers”.

The second one was in Blackpool and I was delighted to meet Mr. Monkey. Mr. Rik (his handler) initially appeared slightly disappointed that I didn’t recognise Mr. Monkey’s URL The house of the orange monkey (apparently there are copycat sites) but after a brief discussion about a couple of interesting visits Mr. Monkey had made I knew that he was the real McCoy (McCoy Monkey, that is).

Mr. Monkey doesn’t like water, but fortunately we were indoors at the Winter Gardens.

I have happy recollections of the Grange Folk Club, one that used to meet every week in the cellar bar of our Hall of Residence at Coventry. It wasn’t a big room and was crowded with forty in but it had a good atmosphere. It also kept the prices low and the bar solvent, as we used to hike the beer up a few pence on Thursday evenings when the folkies turned up. (It was still much cheaper than a Pub).

Living with a folk club that didn’t have a booked act for a year though, eventually the repertoire of most of the regulars became a bit repetitive. Hallett (Neil Plumpton Hallett-Carpenter) used to perform “Oh Cyril”, a comedy song variant of “Oh Carol”. Ron the Cornishman used to do “Rain”, an unlikely but ultimately successful folk arrangement of a Uriah Heep album track. One of the regulars who fancied himself as a bit of a Mike Harding used to sing a song called “Threshing Machine”, a thinly disguised smutty song with knob jokes.

Eventually, I moved out of Halls, rented a house the other side of Cov and drifted away. I experienced folk music in Pubs and venues elsewhere (particularly in Ireland where it is practically a National Institution) but never really went to any other club  as such (one where the Members decide what goes, not the Landlord).

So, when talk of a Morley Club hit the papers, I was curious. It was being held in Morley’s Regency Ballroom, somewhere I haven’t been in before (the former Co-op Hall, now a dance centre). Having seen a picture of it in a recent local history book about the Co-op, it struck me as being far too big a venue for an intimate club so with somewhat minimal expectations, I climbed the two flights of stairs on the night.

My first impressions were mixed- the club was meeting in a smaller room to the left but there was some rather authoritarian signage demanding silence during the night and a no entry sign on the door warning not to enter whilst people were performing. There was already a roomful there (including some familiar faces) but I was able to find a table near the front and to sit facing the small stage.

As atmosphere goes, the room sucked. It had harsh fluorescent lighting and an unpleasant large damp stain in the plaster. Not very comfortable fold away chairs were arranged bier kellar style and there were some cinema seats along the side walls.  Passing through into the ballroom itself, I was to find more cinema seats arranged in pairs around small tables on each side of what was essentially a fairly plain victorian meeting hall.  The room had many large windows curtained with rich velvet drapes, coloured lamps adorned the exposed roof trusses and two large velvet shaded chandeliers hung from the ceiling, unlit. There wasn’t a stage or platform but there was a Disco box manned by a grey haired lady who I gather runs the place. A staircase at the door end led to regions unknown above the bar and I noticed two cactus cutouts up there, peeking out above the parapet. (Cardboard cut-out Cacti are a dead giveaway for line dancing). A few couples could be seen dancing to a Samba version of the Doctor Doolittle song “Talk to the animals” and I have to say that whilst it was pleasant, nothing struck me as Regency about the place at all.

Back in the folk club, I surveyed the room. There was a good turnout, about fifty or so, with beards and woolly jumpers in abundance. There were also lots of guitar cases on and near the stage. The room wasn’t really decorated, apart from a couple of plates with stars and stripes flags and a few small prints of cowboys.

Keith, the organiser (resplendent in compulsory showbiz compere waistcoast) announced that it was time to get started, and after trying the two light switches to check which combination worked best (neither!) introduced his Son who was going to accompany his fiddling on the bodhrán. Despite two extensive stays in Galway before, I’ve never seen anyone actually spray the drum skin before, something the lad did several times. However, the room was rather cold (which caused tuning problems throughout the evening) and Keith had to abandon his set early as his violin kept detuning. Next up was a bearded floor singer and when he reached the chorus, it turned out that 80% of the audience knew the words and joined in with good harmony. (The Silence rule referred to talking, not singing along).

After the singer, an older Guitarist took the stage, adopting a slightly unusual hunched position to play his two songs. He was followed by a young lad called Dylan  who played his two songs well with a an intermediate style that alternated between strumming and fingerpicking on the fly, very good for a 12 year old.

After the four floor performers, it was time for the guest artist, Bruce Michael Baillie. Bruce was very entertaining, particularly his spiky hair which made me think of Sonic the Hedgehog.

After a short interval, a couple took to the stage, first singing unaccompanied, then with a squeeze box. They were then followed by another singer who wore sandals and a bright lime green woolly hat. (I thought I recognised him but he wasn’t who I was thinking of). After him was another couple, the mustachioed guitarist again and his wife. Finally, Bruce returned to the stage but the audience was gradually thinning out from 10pm until when we stopped at 11 (venue curfew).

I was joined by two Beer buddies before the interval, neither of which I was expecting. (One had called off with indigestion and the other said he would turn up when the Seekers appeared. He was later to refer to the evening as being like middle earth so they are now known as Bilbo and Frodo…)

So, what did I think? The cold and the harsh lighting were downsides, as was the beer which whilst reasonably cheap at £2.10 was only available as fizzy keg. The signage was rather officious and the presenter Keith wasn’t overly charismatic. On the other hand, having the bar in the other room was less of a distraction to the performers and everyone who played &/or sang was good, some very good indeed. If you didn’t want to drink teas & coffees were available, but signs behind the bar made it clear that they weren’t going to let you have tap water. I suspect that 90% of the audience were from other nearby folk clubs and their continued support will be needed to keep the club going for a while yet. The room was the right size but one a similar size in a Pub or Club with good beer and a more flexible attitude to closing times would work even better. (Sadly, Pubs in Morley are an endangered species). Meeting twice a month sounds about right and there is a programme in place until April, subbied by our local Area Committee. Membership costs £2 with £1 off the door price and it is certainly a pleasant evening so I intend to go again.

Future events-

Berkana 3rd March £5/£6

Kieran Halpin 17th March £8/£9

Singers night 7th April £2.50/£3.50

Photos from the night below, no flash of course so not too sharp. hover for text.

Just to finish on a song, here is Uriah Heep performing “Rain”. Try to imagine it strummed on a guitar and sung in a Newquay accent…

***UPDATE*** a quasi-folkie from work tells me that the Clecky folk scene isn’t that lively…

As a budding DJ, I had a twin deck console from about 1975, using Goldring Lenco turntables (which were about £10 cheaper than Garrard SP25s from Comet) but it was by no means a Hi-Fi.

When I moved to Coventry, I saved up my weekly wage to buy a music centre in a briefcase, made by Sanyo. It was Ok, but again, by no means a Hi-Fi. (I found a photo of one online, here).

I bought my first “proper” turntable in 1981, a Technics SL-10 from the Windows Music shop sale in Newcastle. It was slightly damaged (with a scratch on the top front edge) so was a little cheaper but otherwise OK. From memory, it was about £200 which sounds a lot of money for the time (and it was!) but this was genuine Hi-Fi, although purists (like my mate Leslie) poo-pooed it for more traditional lower-tech designs like the Linn  Sondek LP12 (still being made and one sold for £2k on ebay recently).

My Technics was innovative in several ways. Firstly, the SL-10 was rotated by a direct drive precision motor than than by a belt drive (like the Linn) or a little rubber idler wheel (like the Goldrings). Secondly, the pickup arm moved tangentially to the record by means of servos, ensuring no tracking errors. Thirdly, as the record was clamped onto the spindle, you could play records with the player fixed to the wall, should you so desire. Finally, it had optical sensors to check there was a record on the platter and to judge the size & speed.  (If you had a 33.3 7″ EP you could manually pre-set the speed as well).

As picture discs were becoming prevalent, the player came with two black paper circles that you could orient to manually set the size and it even had a pop-up large centre should you have a dinked single to play.

Anyway, as it has spent the last decade or so put away, I thought it might be time to dust it down and sell it so I duly put the camera into auction mode and took some snaps. Unfortunately, when I tested it, I was disappointed to find that the tangential movement was not moving any more. It might simply be seized up in which case it can easily be sorted out, or it could be more expensive…

Anyway, I bought one of those USB turntables a while back so I can still play records with a bit of fiddling about.

(Someone might want it for spares)

This will be the fifth vehicle I’ve bought from the Czech upstart, although their prices are much higher now and the main benefit these days is value for money compared to other cars in the VW/Passat stable. The brand name still has a small stigma, although pointing out who made the bearing for the London Eye often surprises.

Every car tells a story and I’ve jogged down a list of recollections for each one.

Betsy #1- Ford Cortina Mark 1 Saloon – Sky blue with matching rust

My dad Neil bought me my first car for my 17^th birthday back in 1975. It was a banger and had more filler than metal in the wings and Cills. I only went out in it a couple of times (with Neil supervising) because it was somewhat unreliable and we rapidly found out that we were not a good match for instructor/pupil. Wanting his garage back, Neil eventually quietly disposed of it when he realised I didn’t have a passion for learning to drive. I only really have one memory of this car- a longish drive in the Country where I was Ok with the controls but well aware that my awareness needed a lot of practice. A pheasant jumped out at me from a hedgerow and as I started to brake, Neil told me to accelerate, as he knew a man in a Pub who would gut it for him…

In 1976/77, having moved to Coventry, I learned to drive properly with a draughtsman called Stan Smith from the GEC, failed my first test and lost interest until meeting Stan again in 1979, resuming my lessons. This prompted Neil to give me…

Betsy #2- Morris Marina Van – Light green

Another pseudo-banger, I went out for a practice drive with my mate Les and the clutch packed in three streets away from home. Fortunately, we were able to return and crash change back as it was up a slight hill. The clutch itself was fine, but an actuating arm with dog teeth had lost its locating clip and replacing it involved a lot of swearing. In the meantime, I failed test #2 but undeterred went for test #3, struggled to read the numberplate and was given the option by the DOT examiner to get the tape measure out or put it down to bad light and get a retest. Stan said take the retest, she is giving you the benefit of the doubt and it will save you £20! On my fourth test, she gave me the coveted green slip and lectured me on ways of improving my technique. Stan could tell I had passed as he had obviously been instructing for many years and spent a lot of time in the waiting room observing what went on. He also observed that “she” used to be a “he” and caused a lot of consternation when he turned up for work as a she, back in the days when transsexuals were almost unknown.

 Going for a celebratory drive on the Motorway the evening of passing my test, Betsy decided to retaliate by the exhaust falling off at the manifold end, so I limped home from the Warwick bypass with my banger living up to its name, sounding like a demolition derby stock car.

 (Betsy #3- Saudi Arabian “Yank tank” Saloon – Vomit brown)

This car was assigned to me for most of my contract in Saudi back in 1982. I don’t recall what brand it was but it had DH1277 stencilled onto the sides, was automatic and had (essential) air conditioning. Fortunately Gasoline was free from the Aramco filling station, and only 10p a gallon if caught short elsewhere. One day, on returning from lunch, whilst carefully backing up near a greyhound bus, I inadvertently dented the wing due to a sign pole not being vertical but severely bentdue to a fracas with a bus earlier. This is what happens when you let passengers get out and wave you back. (Something similar happened one day at GEC, where I was blocked in on a site due to an asbestos removal van and the helpful builder waved me into a skip, gesturing me to stop AFTER the crunch came from the sticky-outy bit they put the chains on squashed my wing. Fortunately I didn’t get a bollocking as someone from marketing had written off the other departmental pool car and the Boss’s ire was reserved for him.)

Betsy #4 Renault 5 hatchback – Pillar box red

In 1984 (or thereabouts) this was the first car I bought from new, influenced by convenience as I walked past the Renault dealer regularly and noticed the car launch. The slogan was “What’s yours called?” to which the answer was Betsy, at first, anyway.

Driving to visit friends in Coventry on day, I hit a diesel slick on a bend, wobbled, skidded and sideswiped the kerb. Unfortunately, this broke the casting on the steering rack which cost me £180 to replace. Had I bought a Metro, the part would have cost me £40. From this point onwards, Betsy was henceforth known as “Twat”.

Betsy #5 Hyundai Stellar Saloon – White

I bought this on the advice of Neil, who said he would buy it off me in a year or two as he was a taxi driver by then and his new Sierra was round the clock. It was large and comfortable, if a smidge basic. Shortly after buying it I got promoted and entitled to a Company Car, namely-

Betsy #6 Rover 216 Saloon – Red

This was a temporary allocation that I had for six months or so. It smelt of leather and is the only car that I have known someone in the biblical sense in. On steaming up one morning many months after having “done the nasty” I was amused to see two distinct footprints appear on the windscreen, quite wide apart…

Betsy #7 Austin Cavalier GLSi Hatchback – Blue

This was known as the Pinkmobile as it had briefly been assigned to a Manager with the Surname Pink. The GLSi was the full spec one, whereas the more boy racer ones went for the SRi model in order to sacrifice trim for horsepower.

 Eventually I got fed up with the Corporate life and went to work for a small Company, where I was assigned…

Betsy #8 Austin Cavalier Hatchback – White

Nothing too much to say about CCT Betsy, apart from my burning out the (automatic) gearbox within 3 months (a fault, not a reflection on my driving!). I had it stolen one evening from a Hotel car park in St. Helens and the scratters managed to crash it on the motorway, writing it off. The Police caught them with the helicopter though.

Betsy #9 Ford Sierra Estate – Light brown

Alternatively known as “Fishy Fishy” due to an unfortunate incident with a thermos full of stale Urine, this was a car CCT had knocking about to tide me over until my replacement. It actually took another year or so, as the Company went into administrative receivership in the meantime. When we came out of the other side after facing the abyss, I was given a brand new, shiny…

Betsy #10 Ford Mondeo Hatchback – White

I then decided to get Married and get a proper job again, so reluctantly returned Betsy in order to rejoin CCT and be allocated a…

 Betsy #11 Vauxhall Cavalier Hatchback – Off white

This car suffered my first moderately serious accident in Morley, (returning from a weight watchers weigh in) although no-one was hurt, other than my department’s budget.

I had the Nortel car for 12 months, eventually returning it when I resigned and went freelance. I then hired cars as required, typically the novelty Nissan Micra from Morley Van Hire. Eventually my contract work could justify owning a car again, so scouring the compact market, I discovered the new range of Skodas that were well built and well priced. This led me to purchase…

Betsy #12 Skoda Felicia Hatchback – Steel blue

Small but perfectly formed, I eventually replaced this with the slightly bigger…

Betsy #13 Skoda Felicia Estate – Russet red

 My first diesel car, eventually replaced with…

Betsy #14 Skoda Octavia Hatchback – Racing green

This was Skoda’s top of the range car at the time, a turbo diesel 125 BHP and had been earmarked by Dougal, the MD of the dealership. Indeed it had starred at the launch party, driven on-stage  by his brother Angus with two dolly birds waving out of the windows. Dougal was willing to relinquish his new Company car for a few weeks with the prospect of a sale though, as they say cashflow is king. Technically this was a Company car, as it was bought by Delicolor Ltd, MD & sole shareholder Mr. Ian M Grey Esq. 

Eventually, Betsy had gone round the clock and was facing some expensive bills. By now, I had returned to normal employment and bought the car off Delicolor Ltd (for a fair price) when it was dissolved. I couldn’t really justify a large shiny new car at that stage, so bought a second hand…

Betsy #15 Ford Fiesta Hatchback – Deep Purple

Apart from the colour and an occasional tendency to not want to turn the heater off, this gave stalwart service. Karen started using this when her Astra got a bit long in the tooth and eventually traded it in for a Skoda Fabia. Meanwhile, I moved on to…

Betsy #16 Skoda Octavia Estate – Deep Blue

This is my current Betsy and was a much lower spec than my original Octavia, although still 101 HP (Petrol), electric windows, Air Con, 6 CD changer so not exactly basic.

Betsy #16 has also given stalwart service but is also on the fringes of starting to get expensive . A couple of years back I managed to damage the nearside cill in the Morley library car park, forgetting I had parked next to a nearly demolished wall. I also scraped the nearside front wheel arch on my garage door retaining strips at one point. The cumulative effect of the damage was reflected in what I regarded as a rather derisory trade in offer price of £750 having calculated a book value of £2000 in the What car? Guide. Buying the Parkers guide though put the trade in price at a more realistic £1305 and the salesman was happy enough to show the trade figure which was close to this. He also pointed out that the £500 or so he had knocked off for the repairs was his internal cost and it would cost me more, from a main dealer, anyway.

I am now waiting patiently for the formalities to be sorted for…

Betsy #17 Skoda Octavia Estate – Cappuccino metallic

What is “Cappuccino metallic”, I hear you ask? It is a sort of beige that looks with a hint of golden brown in a certain light. It sounded horrible in description & on photos but is perfectly acceptable in the flesh, if somewhat bland.

Moving from a nearly 7 year old high mileage car to a four year old car with just over 30,000 miles is a sensible refresh without breaking the bank. The car is a higher model so has some additional goodies like cruise control and reversing sensors, as well as a number of minor improvements due to the evolution of the design. The decent legroom in the back takes our growing David into account and the vast boot space attends to travelling with all of the stuff that Gizmo needs when we take him with us on holiday. It is a diesel with similar horsepower but more torque and the increased MPG will help contain fuel costs as we head back into our double-dip recession.

I did study other large family cars at length and eventually concluded that the Skodas remain good value for what I was looking for. I would have liked a Skoda Superb and I particularly like the generous rear space and vast boot with the very clever trunk/hatchback design. However, now is not the time to be getting into hock with finance companies and as an asset, a large car depreciates faster than an MP caught fiddling his expenses…

In case why you are wondering why I call my cars Betsy, this was influenced by an installer from the GEC called Terry Heath who drove a rather tempramental flaky car he called Betsy when sweet-talking to it. He explained that all cars were obviously female because they were frequently irrational.and he had to cajole them into being nice to him back. There was another installer called Steve Edge who carried this feminism to another level and completely lined the interior of his car with fur but I never felt the urge to go that far, mainly because it required money and effort. (Also, we all thought he was a bit of a dickhead for doing it!)

Sedgy came and worked for me at Nortel many years later, he assured me that he no longer had a fur fetish…

(*- By Girls, I mean Betsys, of course.)

Growing up in the west end of Newcastle, our local cinema was an early casualty to bingo so the kid’s clubs pretty much passed me by, although I did go once with my cousins who lived in Byker. This was an interesting morning as the place was packed and there was a Compere, an Uncle Ernie who looked like the sort of creepy relative that your parents warned you not to be alone with. (The “Uncles” were generally on the management team or occasionally one of the projectionists). Uncle Ernie cajoled us into singing the ABC Minors song (Which the kids did very boisterously, apart from myself who didn’t really know the now familiar “Blaze away” tune even if I could follow the bouncing ball). He called out the birthday boys and girls to get goodie bags, threw out lollies into the audience (causing mayhem as kids scrambled and scrabbled to get them) and a good time was had by all.

Now Byker is a little on the rough side but it all felt very good natured and not anything approaching out of control. Contrast this with my Dad telling me he got thrown out (literally on his ear) of his local fleapit for getting caught shooting the indians with his slug gun…

Now I can remember two Saturday morning shows held in Newcastle that both sprung up  about the same time. The first was at the Odeon and was quite good, if a little low key (although my friends from the band Applecore with Stu and Toota managed to blag a Saturday morning appearance for which which I ended up as lighting designer,  naturally enough. (We weren’t paid but we were given some Comps for Dionne Warwicke instead)).

The other show was at the Tatler Cinema (possibly renamed the Classic by then) and was advertised as being (a remarkable) four hours in length, 10am to 2pm. The Tatler was a Dirty Mac Cinema and I didn’t quite know what to expect but inside it was perfectly normal, a news- theatre type building with pretty festoon curtains. The show was a bit of a let-down though, as it was a continuous performance of about 70 minutes with an interval (to sell hot dogs) then the entire show was repeated again, presumably twice. (I stayed for the cartoons the second time then went!)

These memories came back to me from an e- conversation with our local Morley Historian Ronnie after noticing that in the Elsie photos in the last blog, the Bingo hall was still advertising Saturday Children’s shows and it looked as if the screen frame was still in situ-on stage (flown out, with the electric number board tied to it below). Ronnie recalls that they did keep on running the shows for a time after it stopped being a Cinema and thinks it was a Morley tradition to have the show in the afternoon. Back in the 1930s when he first started going it was always known as the “Tuppenny Rushes”

Contrast that with the Wakefield Cine-world saturday shows where kids were £1, adults free, but there were three on at once and if you were unlucky you had to wait ten (or twenty) minutes for two of the staff with a charisma bypass  to come in, play some lame half-hearted “boys are better than girls” type shouty games then eventually roll the flick. I can’t see kids getting nostalgic for that in the (20)40s.

However, another member of royalty also visited twice in 1968, that TV Superstar and Queen of Soap Lover’s TV schedules, actress Pat Phoenix, otherwise known as Elsie Tanner from Coronation Street. She opened two buildings; the new (& still trading) DFS Furniture store in March and the refurbished (& now defunct) Star Bingo less than six months later in August.

The Star Bingo, which became Walkers Bingo, was formerly the New Pavilion Cinema, built as a Theatre in 1911 and featured previously on this blog. Up until now, no early  interior photos of the Pavilion were known to be available and local author Ronnie Barraclough struggled to find any at all for his book Morley Entertainers and for previous research into the building. (There are a few photos of actors on stage and in the foyer but not of the auditorium).

However, last autumn, journalist Stephen White was invited to give a presentation at the Morley Literature Festival and he looked though his extensive collection of Leslie Overend photographs for a selection of topics. He found some shots of the Pat Phoenix Bingo opening including some curious interior shots which I reproduce below.

Stephen mentioned that he found the photos surprisingly evocative; it transported him back to messing about at Saturday afternoon picture shows as a youngster, having a great time and generally returning home much dirtier than when he went out. Having seen the state of the carpets in some of these photos, that is hardly surprising!

Hover for additional comments.

Thanks once again to Stephen White and leslieoverend.com for finding these very rare interior shots and for letting me reproduce these images. High quality prints or scans from his huge collection are available by contacting him.

Additional note: It looks like the Star Bingo banner above the proscenium which I took to be a pelmet is actually painted directly onto the Safety Curtain.

They were fine back in May, here are a couple of photos.

I’ve recently installed Windows 7 on the laptop and as it failed miserably to upgrade (from Vista, even though it is supposed to be able to) I bit the bullet, backed up and did a clean install. A consequence of such a drastic action is the need to hunt down license keys and sometimes interim versions of programmes to get back to where I was before the drastic action. (Curse you CyberLink!)

Anyway, I have to retrain my Thunderbird mail handler to recognise spam so I have been paying closer attention to incoming mail and whether the email address is obsolete or whether it is more prudent to unsubscribe.

Today, I had a mailing from the West Yorkshire Playhouse. Noticing that it was to a legacy mailbox, I clicked on the change email/unsubscribe box, to be presented with the following page:

So, WTF are “Long lead jazz mags?” As in Bongo mags? Someone is having a laugh…

Talking of having a laugh, David, Pat & I went to see Avenue Q in London on Saturday night and the show is absolutely hysterical, although it is also very, very, rude. (With a bit of luck, it might go on tour so that Karen can see it as well.)

So, the Trekkie Monster was right…

The funeral was well attended and there were flowers from the regulars at his watering hole, The Swan in the Rushes (arguably the best pub in Loughborough).

One of the Regulars has posted his thoughts on the service here- http://soundsandtexts.blogspot.com/2009/11/mervyn-gould-rip.html

Regrettably I couldn’t stay for the Wake (held in the Swan, of course) as I had to get back to Leeds, then onward to Manchester. Delays on the M1 North meant me diverting over the Snake Pass near Sheffieldand Karen & David heading to Manchester separately.

I arrived at Piccadilly by 7:50 (for an 8pm start) but then got stuck in Gridlock in the middle of Manchester which is absolute motoring chaos at the moment. (I only missed a couple of songs, fortunately).

Hazel’s Rebecca is a song for anyone missing a cherished friend, so this is for Mervyn.

I was asked to write this Obituary which might possibly appear in The Stage next week.

I knew him for more than twenty years and admired him without knowing him for nearly as long before that from his widely published writings on technical theatre.

Mervyn Stockbridge Gould (14/12/1946 – 29/10/2009)

Having  been fascinated in technical theatre from his early teens, Mervyn landed his first paid backstage job  aged 17 in 1963 as A.S.M. (& Props) for a two week run of Babes in the Wood at Boston Regal, touring into Crewe, Buxton and Leek. He remained a casual showman at the venue (and #2 Lime Boy) until moving to London in 1965 to study History at Marjons in Chelsea. Having had the foresight to join NATTKE he was able to get work in numerous West End theatres although it impacted on his Degree, just scraping through the Finals. After several years of touring, residences & even walking Schnorbitz (A period he described as “the painful death throes of Variety”), he spent three seasons at Sunderland Empire as CD Operator then a year as Deputy Chief Engineer at The Palace Theatre during the run of Jesus Christ Superstar.

He joined Loughborough University English & Drama Department in 1979 as technical tutor which gave him the opportunity to gain an M.A. and still work occasional summer seasons or Pantos. He remained there for seventeen years before taking early retirement due to ill health.

Mervyn was a Historian, researcher and avid collector of backstage ephemera; his doorbell was a house telephone and his dining chairs were former Box seats.

He was very active in the SMA whilst still working and in retirement became heavily involved in the Mercia Cinema Society.

As an author, he wrote four books on cinema history as well as numerous articles for the theatrical Press including Tabs, The Stage, Cue & Cueline.

In 2007, he was interviewed for the Theatre Archive Project and his colourful memories are online at http://www.bl.uk/projects/theatrearchive/gouldm.html

He died peacefully at home in Loughborough, aged 62.

Ian Grey, November 2009

Mervyn was a real character and I can’t believe how much I miss him despite only seeing him 2-3 times a year. I hope to expand this 300 word distillation into a longer blogpost worthy of his memory when I feel ready.

However, as we don’t go out boozing and scoffing very much, that didn’t really leave that much in the repertoire. Karen wasn’t tempted by Spearmint Rhino, or indeed a trip to Morley Working Mens Club with the occasional beer-mates. We did take in a 15 film (The taking of Pelham 123) and we had a trip to Leeds Gala Bingo, somewhere we haven’t been since before the smoking ban. When we were there, we noticed three things that were different. Firstly, it didn’t smell of smoke any more, other than outside the front doors where the snoutcasts congregated. Secondly, it wasn’t as busy as it used to be, no doubt a combination of the smoking ban and the recession. Thirdly, they had gone hi-tech, with the availability of wedge shaped electronic bingo player machines, called “Gala Wiz”. We had bought traditional paper tickets by then, but being a gadget man, I was keen to investigate the technology on a subsequent occasion.

Big club bingo isn’t like seaside prize bingo, by the way. There is none of the “two fat ladies” banter and the punters just want the numbers. Bingo is a regulated recreation and is considered on the lower rungs of the gambling ladder. It is based totally on chance, although a lack of skill in marking off the numbers will scupper your chances somewhat! The numbers do come fast and if you haven’t done it before, you will struggle.

At a typical Bingo session, several hundred people will lob their money into an imaginary bucket and then try to win back more than they lobbed in. Of course, there is a saying that in a Casino the House always wins and at the races the bookie always wins. Bingo Halls are heavily regulated on the size of the House take and there is a near-illegible set of tables near the entrance that the club is obliged to display, summarising ticket sales and pot size. (This information is also flashed up on the large screens for certain other games involving more than one club. Needless to say, no-one is interested in this information).

So, when you are sitting there with your ninety numbers spread across six tickets you have statistically the same odds as everyone else of winning a line, two lines or a full house. The more people playing and the more combinations of tickets though, the faster the wins get called by players because statistically life is like that, as are numbers. Indeed as numbers get called, they tend over time to more-or-less evenly distribute themselves across all six tickets and even if you are only waiting for one number to come up, the odds are exactly the same as any other uncalled number coming up. (This is known as the Bingo Buzz, waiting for the one number that wins you a big prize, or, more likely, not!)

Our session at Gala Leeds was to win us the grand total of zilch, although it was interesting to notice a couple of changes to the way things worked. Previously, there were two sets of big prize games, the Link games (where many clubs play together linked up via audio-conference & integrated calling) and the National game (not played linked but the numbers are distributed electronically to the clubs) where there is a House winner for a small prize, a regional winner for a medium prize and a national winner for a big prize.

Now, at Gala, the national game has gone; it has been replaced by a big Link game (called High 5) that ups the odds by introducing a bookie gamble. There are two games played in the book, the first one being linked, the second one in the hall only (with much smaller winnings, of course).

As well as four (or five) figure prizes for lines and full house, if the caller calls House with the number ending in 5, then they win 10% of a substantial pot that rolls over each week if not claimed. (It was getting on for £200k when we were there). If the winner calls on the actual number 5, then they win 50% of the pot, and the other 50% is distributed amongst everyone else in that Bingo Hall playing. (They actually write you a cheque the following week, they don’t have that sort of money in the Safe!).

Now I imagine that Gala have a small team of highly paid gambling Actuaries who actually work out the statistical odds of these types of games not making them go bust, so it is probably a fairly safe bet on their part, provided that the odds don’t come up too much at the fringes as they reset the pot to a minimum figure each win. They have now introduced a bit of vertical marketing called the “side bet” where for an extra pound on certain games, if you happen to win within fifty numbers then you get double the prize money. (This type of incentive was entirely illegal not too long ago, when you had to join a club at least 24 hours before you played. Now you can roll up, register and start playing. (You do have to prove you are over eighteen though, we can’t have married children gambling, can we?))

Anyway, a Bingo Hall is a strange mixture of tension and boredom. It requires a fair bit of concentration to pick out the numbers called on your ticket and if your mind wanders, you are scuppered as you have to claim a win there and then, i.e. the last number called has to be on the winning line. Every time someone makes a claim, there is a small babble of conversation where everyone exchanges banalities “Eeh, I was only one away”, “I wasn’t even close”, etc.  (Not as much fun as the Galway Races Primal Scream I blogged about previously though). It is supposedly a social club as well and the bar is certainly keenly priced, but there is the constant drone of the Parti Bingo between sessions, a game even harder to play as the numbers come fast and furious, even if there are only eighty of them. (Parti Bingo is like a fairground barker trying to make you part with your money in bigger and better games, just another pound in the slot, go on, you know you want to…)

Anyway, in the spirit of blogger investigative research, I’ve now tried out three different Bingo Hall automated systems over the last couple of months and I am consolidating a report. In the meantime, here is a musical interlude…

Now, the room has been totally transformed. The 1923 interior has gone, revealing the original ceiling. The balcony has gone and the stage has swapped ends. The windows have all been uncovered and a small wrap-around balcony has been inserted.

Edit- I’d misfiled these two after resizing them: