Reunion (Part Two)

The long, and impatiently, awaited reunion of us former pupils of Worple Road Primary School took place on Saturday night at the Victoria Tavern in (appropriately) Worple Road.

In fact it was more than a reunion of Worple Road old boys and girls, as several notable locals and good friends who had had the misfortune not to have been among Worple's golden generation but instead attended the Blue School, Isleworth Town, St. Mary's or Chatsworth also joined the party, and a truly fantastic time was had by all.

I approached the venue with a certain sense of trepidation, fearing that I would immediately be descended upon by some long-lost friend whose name I could not remember and whose face I could not recall, but who would regale me with recollections of old adventures upon which I would be expected to add pointed reflections. How would I handle such a situation? Would I blag it, politician-style? Or would I come clean and deflate my old buddy by asking who he (or she) was?

Fortunately en route to the Vic I happened upon my friend and one-time classmate Sharon Rowles, who joined me on walking into the Vic so that we could at least be embarrassed together. Once we were in there though I knew I need not have worried. It felt instantly as though I had undergone some imperfect time transhipment to a grey, slaphead and wrinkles version of a school Assembly, although in place of Fanny Kingsnorth and her piano was another friend and one-time classmate Jerry Shillingford and his turntable, thankfully with tuneful '70s chart ditties issuing forth in place of Onward Christian Soldiers.

What had seemed a surprisingly modest gathering to begin with quickly filled out and before very long both bars were bustling and the diligent and hard-working staff at times had to go some to cope with the demand, whilst all the time remaining mindful of the expectations of the small group of pub locals who were also there.

Probably a majority of those who attended were from "higher" years than myself, although there was a good range of ex-pupils involved, probably aged from about 45 to a little over 60. It was a veritable convention of the Isleworth kids who refuse to grow old.

I could make a fairly audacious attempt at a roll call of all those who came along but I would inevitably forget a few and that would come across as disrespectful, and that would be the very last thing I would want. The whole evening exuded real magic and I am deeply indebted to those whose initiative the whole thing was - in particular to Rob Campin, Katrina Mortimer and Penny Waldheim Graham - as well as to all those who simply turned up and shared the experience.

Jerry's music was thoughtfully tailored to the occasion too. Seventies disco (natch), some glam, late '60s tunes which even I, and certainly some of the older ones, would associate with their time at Worple Road School. The sounds helped everyone to feel the occasion in every possible way. With the school just along the road, albeit now knocked down and rebuilt at an adjacent site, at times I could almost smell the old school hall.

Some of those with whom I enjoyed a drink and deep and meaningful conversation were people who have never ventured far from home and whom I see on a fairly regular basis anyway. Others came up from the south coast, down from the north and across from some very exotic locations around the UK and beyond. For me having taken a ten-minute stroll from my Isleworth abode I felt strangely unworthy, although in another sense proud to have remained a custodian of the old town and of that which after all had brought us all together on this wonderful evening.

At the end of it all, needless to say, remained the dilemma of where it all goes from here. I think it was decided that we would do it again next year, and I can't see the numbers dwindling if the spirit that pervaded the Victoria Tavern on Saturday 22nd November 2014 was anything to go by. Those who for whatever reason were unable to make it along will, I am sure, welcome the opportunity to be a part of it next time around.

There is possibly no better way to conclude this story than with a short film which was actually recorded in 1965, before I began at Worple Road, but of the existence of which I had been unaware until very recently. By a pleasant coincidence the star of the film is one Sue Bowles, a good friend who was there on Saturday and with whom I was really pleased to have the opportunity to touch base.

This was Worple Road Primary School.  Enjoy.

Brave Alison reminds us all, it's People who are the real celebrities

There have been a few events over the last week or so that ordinarily I would have blogged about. The superb and well-attended event hosted at All Saints' Church by The Isleworth Society (TIS) to launch a new panoramic web feature about the Isleworth riverside. A council Executive meeting on Tuesday at which, amongst other things, Councillor Paul Fisher was able to bring some long awaited relief to some of our small traders who are suffering the effects of recession by reducing parking charges on vulnerable shopping parades. Some ongoing issues surrounding Mogden, including the provision of funding by the Executive for 24-hour monitoring and confirmation by the Leader of the Council that the residents have his full support in their battles with Thames Water and the reverberations that that unambiguous announcement undoubtedly had in the corridors and offices of Hounslow Civic Centre, where unhelpful power games have been played out in recent weeks.

For whatever reason none of these events, although milestones in their own right, made it to these pages. This was very possibly a consequence of me being emotionally distracted by the untimely passing of my friend and former next-door neighbour Alison Cole (above) at the tragically young age of 39.

Alison was the youngest daughter of Pat Cole, who as a child was my mother's closest friend and who many years later, until very recently, held the post of Deputy Chair of the ICG for some years. In recent months Pat and the leadership of the Group had become slightly estranged, a thing which was entirely our fault but never intentional as we all wrestled with the incredible demands on our time and energy of being so few involved closely - and disproportionately - in the everyday business of running a local authority, but she has remained a friend and colleague and we are all passionately determined to make up for past omissions.

When Alison was born in 1969 her family lived next door to us in Chestnut Grove, where they stayed for many years before moving to a slightly larger property around the corner in Worple Road. Even as a very small child she exhibited that lovable cheekiness which was to stay with her and become her trademark in later life. I recall one evening enjoying a pint at the Victoria Tavern with her older brother Ian and a few other local guys when Alison, then probably about fifteen, came into the pub and stood defiantly with us. Ian, very much a youngster himself at the time, did not want his kid sister with him, cramping his style. "I know you want me to leave," announced Alison, sensing his discomfort. "It's going to cost you a pound."

Alison left the pub very shortly afterwards, a pound richer.

Despite knowing of her illness (she was diagnosed in her twenties with cardiomyopathy - an enlarged heart), Alison was always chirpy and invariably raised the spirits of all those in her company. She could be as blunt and impudent as she liked without any fear that anybody would take offence. The style of delivery was perfected in such a way that anything she said was accepted with good humour, and raised a laugh.

It is always, naturally, done to say nice things about somebody who has passed and to comment upon how unique and special they were. This to some extent makes it more difficult for me stress convincingly how unique and special Alison really was. And yet, reflecting upon those all around who are still with us (as one invariably does at such times), I can think of nobody around me who replicates or replaces Alison's own unique qualities.

Any who would challenge this only have to consider the size of the crowd that turned out at Mortlake Crematorium for Alison's funeral. Several hundred people lined the route to the chapel. Only the lucky ones actually got in, many more took part in the proceedings as best they could from outside. Friends from around Isleworth, people I knew but had no idea that Alison was close to also, people from my old primary school and elsewhere from my dim and distant past, old neighbours and current neighbours, even one of my cousins - from Hanworth - was there. It seems that Alison was a part of almost everybody's life in this community.

I doubt whether there is a single politician or "face" who graces the pages of our local newspapers from one week to the next whose passing would be marked by so many people. We will always remember Alison with fondness, but beyond that it would pay us to remember that this world is made what is by people, often unsung, and not just those of us more given to singing our own praises.