By Norbet ‘Nodge’ Carnegie
Paris, August 1962. I wonder who took the photograph – a copy of which was kindly sent to me by Paul Morris (hero). This was the back room of a restaurant on the Champs Élysées. We had onion soup, chicken (legs: Paul’s wonderful technique: “It’s how the French eat them!”) and chips, a dessert, and Camembert AND red wine.
Shown on our table (front right) are me (basking – the noble profile! – in my new name of “Nodgers”), John Heaviside, Paul Morris, and John Tierney from Upper V 2. Some other faces are familiar and a couple prompt names (for example, Martin O’Reilly, on front left table, facing the camera) but I can’t be sure.
From my own not-particularly-fair hand or One reason I came close to failing ‘O’ Level Art. Stephen Barratt saved me and others from that ignominy by talking us into seeing sense, at least for a couple of terms. This effort dates from spring 1963: a ham-fisted appreciation of The Beatles and contemporaries, who were “new” to most of my group of friends. The Medlockbeats was a fantasy we decided could be the Mancunian equivalent of the Merseybeat groups, to be followed (we hoped) by The Irkbeats, The Chorlton-Brook-Beats, and The Irwell Beats. The caricature (right) of a pal, Barry Mulgrew, from Warrington. Barry was one of the few (Denis Byrne being another) who had not only heard of The Beatles but had seen them on stage. (Many groups at that time did small venues and church halls in their early days. The Hollies, for example, were lauded for fulfilling such engagements and contracts long after they started having hit records.)
The 1999 reunion group . . . plus time-traveller (knobbly knees and all) from autumn 1958.
I was on the Paris trip in 1962. A few of us in a free moment were standing on a Metro Station. Among us was Bernard (Benny) Hill who became the famous Actor and sadly died recently. On the wall opposite the platform was printed in large black letters ‘DANGER DE MORT.’ Benny was standing with his best mate, whose name I do not remember. His mate, pointing to the printed letters on the opposite wall, said ‘what does that mean Benny.’ Benny quickly replied ‘it is dangerous to die.’ Benny was a year ahead of me and did not go into the 6th form. However he used to stand behind me at assembly wearing his non school uniform bootlace tie and three quarter length black jacket. I never understood how he got away with it. After his obituary was printed in the Times, I emailed this story to them and they printed it. I only saw Benny once after he left. He was with his young son in W.H. Smith at Gatwick main terminal. He was with his young son. We both recognised each other and spent a few minutes reminiscing. He was flying out and I had just arrived. R.I.P. Bernard (Benny) Hill, a great Actor and a great sense of humour.