The Six Degrees of Separation

What is it all about?

Six degrees of separation is the theory that anyone on the planet can be connected to any other person on the planet through a chain of acquaintances that has no more than five intermediaries. The theory was first proposed in 1929 by the Hungarian writer Frigyes Karinthy in a short story called "Chains."

Why is it included in this Website?

Why not? I've actually had an amazing life even if I say so myself! The majority of this web-site covers my interests and that of my husband Andrew. It also covers our families and ancestry - a good eclectic mix of Polish, Cornish, Hungarian and British! There is also room for my opinions! After all I am paying for the privilege and some experiences have to be read to be believed - especially government bodies! I know my late friend Anna used to enjoy reading those exchanges!

What, to date, the site hasn't covered are the remarkable journeys that I've taken. Not only in the geographical sense but also experiences - like the latest that comes to mind is my 'brush' with Richard III who was re-interred with due dignity on 26th March 2015 in Leicester Cathedral.

When I say 'my brush' it means that as far as I am concerned there are a lot fewer 'intermediaries' than the five required for the 'six degrees of separation.' In some cases I have, of course, allowed for 'poetic licence' but then without it some of the stories might be quite dry.

I had originally intended that this section should be separate to the rest of the site - but there may well be a lot of crossing and linking about as I've already discovered with the need to refresh this section (losing all my original material in the process - typical!). I really should explain that I was able to re-create my notes etc. by downloading back from my website.

When I started this section the 'Home/Index' page contained the story of my brush with the horrors at 'Katyń' both during the war and recently in 2010. This is an area of my Father's life and so it now features, more appropriately in the dedicated 'My Family' area.

In short, this section is being held for what might potentially have been the autobiography I always wanted to write which was to be entitled "My brush with" ..... Meaning that I may possibly have had "6 degrees of separation" brushes with some of my all time favourite people whom I've never met, but did meet those who know them or are related to them etc. SPOILER : There will be some serious name dropping.

Just to start the proceedings - Leslie Phillips, the adorably 'loveable Leslie' has long been a great favourite of mine, mostly thanks to his participation in 'The Navy Lark' which I listened to in the 1960s and now listen too mostly daily as I am building up the whole series on CD. - So what are the links (brushes)? I worked with Angela Scoular, his second wife, at Nottingham Playhouse on a production of Shakespeare's 'Tempest'. Angela and Stephanie Beacham both had 'yappy' dogs at the time which used to scrap with each other backstage much to the chagrin of both ladies!

I then discovered another link, this time to Hucknall, our Leslie made a smutty film called 'Byron's Mine' here!

Then (who says these degrees of separation are just an over-active imagination?) linking to the production of 'The Tempest' mentioned above, was Paul Freeman who played Prince Ferdinand to Angela's Miranda. Paul was so pleasant and nice and he ended up in my second favourite soap 'Falcon Crest' - or is that another coincidence? It's difficult to tell them apart. And through Stephanie Beacham who starred in two great favourite series of mine 'Tenko' and 'Connie' I met the McEnery brothers - John married Stephanie and Peter directed Richard III!

Off course there is the much closer link to loveable Leslie insomuch as I believed I had actually worked with 'Wren' Chasen, the delightfully eccentric Heather Chasen when she toured with 'The Amazons' which came to Nottingham Playhouse! The memory I have, is in fact of Elizabeth Counsell who later went on to appear in the BBC comedy 'Brush Strokes'. My father, carried out a repair on Elizabeth Counsell's ring, an enormous citrine of topaz which had fallen out of its setting. I only discovered my error in 2018 after finding a copy of the programme on ebay and reading the cast list!

Biba - another much closer link than with the five intermediaries - as you will see there is an entire section devoted to my idol Barbara Hulanicki and the halcyon days of 'Biba' which I lived, breathed and dreamed in the 1970s. Not only did we meet and become friends with the Porters (Tony and Bea) but Bea is Barbara's sister. Tony was also a 'Friend of the Midland' and features in my articles where relevant! Of course they also owned Burgh Island which is where we met them and that brings everything back to my love of Art Deco.

For more future ideas have a look here

'Coincidences are Signposts'

Who said that?

I'm not absolutely certain where I came across this, but I honestly think it was something written by HRH, the Prince of Wales, Prince Charles. Am I counting that as a link to 6 degrees or a 'brush' - no, it's just that, until I started revising this page I had not found a definition for the 'Six Degrees of Separation' as found on the What Is site. Having now read it and seen that it was first "proposed as a theory in 1929 by the Hungarian writer Frigyes Karinthy" that the hair on the back of my neck stood up - my Mother has Hungarian forefathers and the family name of Hajos still exists in Kraków and Zawoja in Poland. How's that for a coincidence? But yes, I do have a link to Prince Charles - and it all happened at the Television Centre in White City in the 1970s.

Birth Dates

27th April

My birthdate - 27th April (Taurus) - when I was growing up there were birthdays close but not on the 27th - my late friend Anna was on the 25th and a classroom pupil on the 29th. The first time I came across a shared date was in 1971 when I went to study in Lancaster and lived in digs on Dallas Road. My landlord who was a senior chef at a prestigious hotel in Manchester (we only saw him at weekends) shared my birth date. Later on, I discovered that my landlady's best friend (French by birth) was also born on the 27th. She was so thrilled that she gave me a glass beaded necklace that I treasure to this day (note to self - need to take a photo!). She was the widow of a jeweller (of course she was, just to add to the links that bind us) and I gave her a little bijou trinket encased in the popular material of the time - she was thrilled. Fast forward to 2016 - you may have seen the story I featured about the paraplegic cat Sir Toby Toblerone - I discovered this year that his carer, Julie (Mum), was celebrating her 50th birthday on the 27th, added to that Toby had been to visit some schoolchildren so that they could see how, even with disabilities, he could live a fulfilled life - the school, where his 'Dad' works was the chosen venue and it just happened to be sited on Dallas Road! In between 1971 and this latest discovery on 2016 I had another couple of significant mutual birth date coincidences. The first is my very good friend Jenny whom I met when working for Nottinghamshire Constabulary (as it was) - I was covering for a colleague who was absent on long-term sick leave and as such had to carry out senior duties in addition to those of my own. One of these was to offer employment to successful interviewees after certain checks had been carried out. Naturally I noticed immediately when actioning these checks that Jenny and I shared a birthdate and she and my sister shared the same year of birth so I felt comfortable with the idea of her right away! On being offered the post Jenny was very excited and she seemed friendly so I mentioned our joint birth dates which seemed to excite her even more. Time passed and we hadn't really got in touch with each other but then I was sent on a Supervisor's course as it had been decided that I was going to stay in the higher graded position for some time. At the start of the course, the facilitators said they wanted to try as specific ice-breaker which involved all of us introducing ourselves briefly and at the end stating our birth date. They told us that in a class of over 20 people it was a dead cert that at least two of us would share a birthday - we all looked on in disbelief. Third in and it was Jenny and I remembered her name, and when she said 27th April she looked at me, when I blurted out of turn that it was my birth date too, and said 'I know who you are' - we haven't looked back since. She came to my wedding and I have shared two significant decades of anniversaries with her! We are still close! Between 1971 and 1991 when Jenny and I met, I came across two other colleagues at the Police who had the same date but we did not have any affinity and of course with the advent of the internet, in and around 1998, and Facebook so many of us are now discovering shared birthdays. Two that stand out are one lady who is from the 'Angélique' group and another from the 'Cat Who' group both of whom are very dear to me - quite a coincidence eh? And just to add another friend to this group of 'shared birthdays' is my Car restorer's girlfriend who used to work at the local Cat Shelter. The young apprentice who resprayed my car (her first) misses out by a smidgeon belonging to this group, she will be 21 on the 26th of April this year (close enough!)

May 18th

How many of us know that Pope John Paul II (Karol Wojtyła) 1920-2005 and Fred Perry 1909-95 shared a birth date of 18th May? How could that not be a coincidence? Poland > Kraków > My Mother > Jerzy Fedorowicz / Tennis > my passion for the game > Agnieszka Radwańska > Kraków > Poland

General Dates

July 14th

In some places they celebrate 'Bastille Day' on our wedding anniversary. In 2017 I was not only informed that Anne Golon had died but that this was the actual date of her death - a great French author, renowned literary pioneer and stalwart supporter of humanity had ended her life on one of the most famous dates in French history! Anne was a great friend, as is her daughter, and I have been building on a trust in the friendship for over 20 years and throughout the course of my second marriage to Andrew. That is all documented and can be accessed through the links above, but the signposting that I wish to add here relates to the contact made by a freelance reporter to ask help with the creation of an obituary of Anne Golon for 'The Telegraph'. It started with an email addressed to Andrew via his CAMRA account. Needless to say I was in the shower as Andrew tried to impart this news via a closed door - as we both failed to hear what he was going on about, it wasn't until about a half hour later (I was still pampering but covered up) when I opened the door that he thrust a piece of A4 in my face telling me had had an 'email'. Once my eyes took in the content they shot out on stalks in excitement (up till yet nothing had appeared in the English newspapers or their websites and it was already 4 days after the event!) Even in this day and age when I rang the number Kames had left me, the connection was worse than when we tried to ring Poland in the 1960s! Eventually we managed to stop being cut off and James gave me a bit of a background about himself. He knew of Anne Golon as he had been brought up on the books, his mother being French. He wanted to write a fitting obituary but could not be certain the Telegraph would publish it and he wondered it I could help him by filling in some information or clearing up conflicting evidence he had found on the internet and most importantly, could I put him in touch with Nadia? All that really, was water off a duck's back for me but as I am not the Golons' spokesperson I was wary of some of the areas he touched on and told him that I did have answers but he should really ask them of Nadia for her to decide if she wanted to release such sensitive areas to the public. Although mentioned in the 'World of Angélique' website which I reproduced I have never related any contentiousness with the publishing world in my tribute section dedicated to Anne Golon's Angélique as I do not feel it is my place to do so. I was able to confirm that all four siblings were still alive and that the books are currently erroneously being touted as 'erotica' to command silly prices on internet auction sites. James admitted to looking for one to re-read and remind himself of the literary style on the internet and did indeed find that the prices appeared ludicrously high even for out-of-print versions. Finally I asked him how he had found us? I say us because it was a case of finding Mr and Mrs Ludlow via a beer link. He admitted to finding and gleaning information from my tribute pages but was unable to find a contact link (ha! it is there, he wasn't trying hard enough but granted it is quite well hidden). He then decided to have a look around my whole site and found that Andrew has an interest in beer. He picked up that Andrew had a link to CAMRA and went from there (Really he should have followed the Festival website and things would have been easier, but not to worry) and here we were chatting! So despite the disappointment of the news we received on July 14th, compounded by the greater disappointment of no English papers showing an interest (I sent a message to the Daily Mail via their website and a byline to the Hucknall Dispatch both of which were ignored but can be read on my Obituary page), Anne Golon did get her obituary printed in an English newspaper, The Telegraph on the 24th of July (one day before the memorial) and The Times finally pushed the boat out on 31st July with another remarkable piece. (Both available to read here). Is it time for closure? Not sure as the 'quest' has always been to read the conclusion of Angéliques adventures in English, I have partially achieved this by reading the final books in both Polish and French, but what about the final, final book 'Royaume de France?' So does this coincidence still have another arm on the signpost to follow?

October 13th

I'm still looking to find something positive to do with this date as in 1984 (a chilling prospect in its Orwellian self) my leg broke spontaneously - no trauma - supracondylar it's called!)

Links (Alphabetical)

Finding Mary

In the last decade, possibly a little longer, my life has been a series of quests – maybe a reflection of the contentment in my life and also the advent of the internet – as my mobility gets worse, so the internet becomes an ever greater support than my walking stick or crutches when necessary. Two of my major quests are nearing completion and all I need to do now is to keep a distant watch over proceedings, as I know they no longer need any real active help from me, although they will always have my unswerving commitment. And so my quest for finding Mary … on Sunday, 15th February 2009 I received a phone call from Mrs Wanda Szuwalska [previously Gaweł] who advised me of the death of her beloved daughter Jadwiga on the previous evening. It was not unexpected news, but nevertheless still a big jolt to the system. Pani Wanda, then asked me if I could let others have the news, namely my sister Marysia, whom she had been unable to contact by telephone, our friend Hanka Naganowicz, who I knew was holidaying in the Caribbean at this time and a request to try to contact Mary Spowage with whom Jadwiga had been friends at school and later in Scotland. Pani Wanda was obviously trying to cover all bases and I was only too happy to take this burden from her so that she could mentally tick it off her list of things to do and people to inform – ok, you may feel this is a pragmatic approach, but in this situation logic has to take over to prevent the insanity of emotions all around! I also realised the impact on a parent seeing her child die – it isn't in the natural order of things for us to be comforting a parent, rather we should be comforting our contemporaries for the loss of a parent as they had comforted us when our parents died. Fabulous parents whom we had been lucky enough to know well into our own middle and retirement age. Firstly I rang my sister realising that I would be disturbing her too early on a Sunday morning, her fuggy voice and disorientation confirmed the untimely awakening. She said she needed to ring Pani Wanda as she had heard her speaking into the recording machine but had not reached the handset in time to answer. It took me two attempts to prevent her from putting the phone down on me to try and ring Pani Wanda back – she had already tried, but unsurprisingly the number was engaged. Even as I tried to tell her not to ring Pani Wanda because I had already spoken to her, the message was still not getting through and she responded with "that's why the line was engaged, she was talking to you." Eventually I managed to say the dreaded words, and Marysia, like myself, knowing this was not unexpected still experienced the shock and pain of the loss. We were now back on an even keel and I asked if she knew who Mary was and did she have a mechanism of contacting her? Marysia knew of Mary but not someone she knew well enough for personal contact such as an address or e-mail account, she said Hanka Naganowicz might be better placed for that information. I told her that I would contact Hanka later that day to avoid ringing her in the middle of the Caribbean night. Marysia said that she would ring Pani Wanda later in the day to see if she could get any more news and to see how the family were faring. Sunday morning and now that it was unlikely I'd stay in bed any longer, I decided I would see what I could do via the internet. Googling Mary didn't bring anything up and I really didn't know anything about her or how she was linked to Jadwiga. I sent a condolence e-card to Ala, Jadwigas' sister and tried to ring her but got a recorded message from what I am assuming is the German equivalent of BT and a bleep so left a message. I can deal with French and Polish, but have a very limited knowledge of German.
My husband Andrew, who in fact took the original call from Pani Wanda before handing over to me was despatched to find some condolence cards as I knew I only had one and wished to write them for Pani Wanda and Ala and get them into the post as soon as possible. Only a small gesture, but one which in time should be appreciated when the knowledge that Jadwiga was loved and held in high esteem comes into focus after the hard shock of her death. Sending Andrew out to get cards, also a small thing in one's mind perhaps, but a really big issue for him knowing that if he came home with something inappropriate he would receive a thoroughly undeserved tongue-lashing. He needn't have worried, he came back with exactly what was needed – two smart, elegant, unfussy and tasteful cards. By now it was time to ring the Caribbean and Hanka was obviously surprised that I was ringing, but news like this was not for imparting by text our preferred method of communication whilst she is on holiday. Again, after absorbing the shock of the news, Hanka came up with the name of Erica Murray whom she remembered as being part of Jadwigas' mathematicians gang. So I had another link I could explore via internet or otherwise. Hanka also remembered that Erica lived in a big house in Lowdham. That immediately brought various memories up for me – Yvonne Palmer, a previous employer lived in Lowdham. Lowdham was the next village along from Epperstone. Epperstone is where I used to visit Caroline and Julia McLean who were daughters of the Reverend and Mrs McLean and lived in a fabulous converted thatched cottage. Epperstone Manor was also the location for the Nottinghamshire Police Training School until a couple of years ago. It was great being sent there on training courses, especially in the summer. I even went to a Summer Ball there where I was recognised by a Police Officer from when I worked as a temp at Newark Police Station in 1974 and when he, now a Senior Officer, was but a fledgling constable. Apparently, despite the passage of time (over 20 years), I had not changed a bit?? Later Marysia rang to say she had had a long conversation with Richard, Jadwigas' son whom she knows very well having mentored him during his university days. She had managed to find out a little more about Mary and her involvement as a councillor for the opposition in Scotland. I decided that could wait until the next day.

Monday, 15th February 2009 – this was a busy and very productive day despite 9 hours of it being spent travelling to and from and being at work. That evening I contacted my art teacher from Loreto, Rosemary Boaler, who had previously told me of someone she knew who had been responsible for arranging old girls reunions and had a mechanism of contacting them – it turned out to be Friends Reunited. I have long resisted using this type of forum even though it was through a similar one that I was able to find many fellow aficionados which resulted in the successful completion of one of my other quests. So I subscribed to Friends Reunited and whilst my application went through I decided to scour the net for Scottish councils having come against a brick wall when I rang Glasgow City Council earlier that day. I found an extremely useful web page which listed all the councils, and one by one I followed the links – in some it was easy to find the list of councillors, in other cases it was a bit like a Rubiks cube – every page was designed differently! No Mary in the listings. I then had a look at the Parish Council page for Lowdham and the first face and name I saw was that of their Chair – one Tim Wendels. I have already mentioned Nottinghamshire Police, perhaps I haven't mentioned that I work there – so does Tim Wendels and I happen to know him. I decided the best approach would be to contact his Clerk to the Parish whose name is Andrew Potter. I warmed immediately to the post and the name – why? Because my husband, Andrew, was a Clerk to Annesley and Felley Parish for several years and always went the extra mile to help if he could. I'm delighted to say that Andrew Potter also went that extra mile [actually a whole motorways worth] for me. At first I am not sure he grasped what I wanted [he was standing in a middle of a field with the wind whistling around him] but eventually said that although he had not been living in the village in the time frame I was referring to and Parish records for that time were by now archived he would see if an elder of the village, one Grace Jones might remember something. He promised he would ring her the next morning. In the meantime I sent Andrew an e-mail trying to clarify all the information I had heaped upon him and exactly where I belonged in this equation. By then I had been accepted in Friends Reunited and searched for Mary and failed, so I searched for Erica and joy of joys she was there ….. but working in Sri Lanka. I had already created a carefully worded template message for Erica and realised that it would be of no use if she was in Sri Lanka. I decided against sending the message. Probing the site further, to my astonishment I found Jadwigas' name there and accessed her profile. There wasn't much to help me but there was the link to the St. Catherine's Group which I went into immediately. I had been looking in the wrong place – I had entered my own details as being at Loreto RC and so my timeline did not cross over to St. Catherine's. I also found Mary on this site and quickly reconfigured my message to Erica so that it related to Mary directly. Not knowing how these things work I closed the computer down and goodness knows what time and knew there was nothing to do but to wait and see if anything developed from the steps I had taken so far.

Tuesday, 17th February 2009 – another tiresome day at work – I am currently working on a particularly repetitive exercise and it has to be said my concentration wavers and my little grey cells are bored out of all recognition – it doesn't help that I have a very low threshold of boredom. But finally I got home and having sat in front of a computer all day then immediately went to sit in front of the computer at home. Whist waiting for the computer to power up and load I was repacking a return to QVC, wondering why the Post Office had now sent me three replacements for one missing stamp order [no wonder they lose money] and what I should do with them when I realised I had rather a lot of e-mails in my Inbox. The most important e-mail was from Andrew Potter, Clerk to Lowdham Parish – what a star! He had that morning sought out Grace Jones who immediately identified the Murrays who ran the Post Office [when will these coincidences end?] did indeed have a daughter named Erica. Erica's mum no longer lived in Lowdham, but her sister, Erica's aunt did. As it happens, Grace was on her way to have coffee with Erica's aunt when Andrew spoke to her. It gets spookier ….. Erica's aunt, on hearing that Erica was being sought declared that she would ring her sister immediately as Erica was visiting her – yes, from Sri Lanka, here in the UK! At that point Andrew asked me to ring him with my phone number so that when Erica spoke to him later that day he could ask her to ring me. I sent Andrew an e-mail immediately with my details telling him I would ring in a few minutes, but I also wanted to record my thanks via e-mail. When I rang Andrew we had a long chat and he filled me in a bit more about the mornings events and we both were quite amazed at the string of coincidences that was propelling us – I then repeated my phone number and he asked if that was all of it as there didn't seem to be enough digits – I explained that it was a local number and didn't need the national prefix – Andrew thought I was ringing from Scotland – what I didn't realise until later was that Erica is in Luton. After that roller coaster of a ride I decided I should best freshen up and wait and see if Erica rang – she did at around 6.30pm so I wasn't kept on tenterhooks for too long. It was amazing – Erica was curious as to who I was so I tried to keep it simple and she immediately recognised Anna [Hanka] as a friend known to her and pronounced Naganowicz perfectly – that at least told me I was onto the right Erica Murray. She gave me her e-mail address and her sisters telephone number, I was able to give her Pani Wandas' details for condolences to be sent and if possible, Erica would try and get to the funeral. In the meantime, even before speaking to me, she had already sent a message to Mary via Friends Reunited. Another curious thing, when speaking to Andrew – he mentioned that he had heard of a Mary Spowage as a relatively powerful councillor – I told him it was likely they were one and the same …. That's when we decided this whole scenario was becoming a bit like Peyton Place.

Wednesday, 18th February 2009 – I'm at work, waiting for the next step in this remarkable journey. At home I am disappointed to find no messages from Mary. I send Andrew Potter an e-mail thanking him again and letting him know that Erica rang me the previous evening. I determine I shall send Tim Wendels an e-mail so that Andrew gets due recognition at their next Parish meeting. I also try out Ericas' e-mail address to make sure I had written it down correctly giving her Pani Wandas' telephone number and confirming that I had also sent Mary a message via Friends Reunited. Marysia sent a text saying she had spoken to Ala at length and that Ala had received our condolence e-card – apparently it was her first. Now it is Thursday, 19th February 2009 and I'm at work again, itching to see if there is anything to see in the Friends Reunited site, but can't access it from here as Internet is very limited and I don't want to lose the few privileges I've got.

* * * * *

The end of this journey is now in sight – I'm glad I waited until today, Wednesday, 25th February 2009 to conclude this narrative. Much has happened and events have moved apace since last Thursday, the evening was a disappointment – there was no contact from anywhere – proverbially and I apologise, things were as silent as a grave. On Friday, 20th I rang my sister, who had by that time received a call from Pani Wanda giving us the details of the funeral which had now been arranged for Friday, 27th February 2009 and added that Mary had been in touch with her. So, Mary had been found – I was glad of this news. A little disappointed that contact had not been made with me, but on reflection – who is the important one here, now at this time? I am content, Mary has been in contact with Pani Wanda and that is where this journey began. But, not everything was completed with Fridays events. I got home on Friday and although I try to avoid the home computer on Fridays [just for a little respite] I decided I should log onto Friends Reunited one more time with the express with the specific intention of unsubscribing now that my quest had ended. There was nothing waiting for me on the site, so I deleted myself from its memory. I found an e-mail from Erica who stated she was returning to Sri Lanka on 2nd March and if the funeral was to be held in the preceding week, she would attend – another coincidence in this strange journey. I sent the details over to Erica who then responded to say that she and Eileen [I'm presuming her sister] would travel up on the morning and take the opportunity of seeing her mother after the funeral. I offered our help in terms of directions etc. if it proved necessary. The next surprise came yesterday, Tuesday, 24th February when in my general Inbox I found an e-mail from Jadwigas' son Richard – he must have accessed his mothers computer and found addresses that he guessed where her friends. Luckily mine was among them, as was an out of date one for Hanka Naganowicz. I forwarded this message to both Erica and Hanka informing Richard of what I had done, I felt they, also deserved to know the contents which explained one or two things that we, as friends, needed to know and which now do not need to be further discussed. I replied to Richard thanking him for this information. One other thing that I have done, to try and tie up all the loose ends before we say our final farewells on Friday, was to send an e-mail to the Chair of Lowdham Parish Council, making him aware of the good work by his Clerk who brought Sri Lanka to Lowdham via Luton and Nottingham.

A Former King & the Consultant

I'm not convinced I should link myself to this or whether it should sit in the 'All about me' section, either way it's not really an opportunity I can allow to pass by without some reference being made to it! It concerns my life-long condition and one of the men who treated me. Starting with a misogynist, I migrated to a knowledgeable Professor at the Marsden, returned to Nottingham where I met 'Sir' as I liked to call him because he was a 'Mister' GFM and am currently back under the auspices of another 'Prof' (as I am reliably told he likes to be called). Anyway, this bit concerns 'Sir' (GFM) whom I met when I returned from London in the late 70s (yes, 1970s the last century). He was always very kind but also always had a quip or two which I didn't really appreciate most of the time - he delivered these little sallies with perfect timing, seemingly in answer to a question but in reality the penny didn't drop until hours later that he was really taking the p*ss. I didn't mind, as the years passed us by and he celebrated my first wedding with me to the effect that he'd only agreed to see me on that particular occasion because he didn't recognise the surname and thought I was someone new (and possibly interesting?) Then when the inevitable occurred in 1984 when he was called out to me on a Sunday he was genuine in saying 'I honestly had hoped we could have done something before this fracture occurred' he had forgotten my change of name again. As the years continued to pass I became a bit of a 'favoured' daughter and whenever I ended up in hospital the nurses would tell me how lucky I was to have 'Sir' as my consultant and Dr. Sparrow (yes, really) as my GP who also happened to be an Orthopaedic Registrar. We had many an adventure in the hospital 'Sir' and I and I was mortified when, on one occasion, he swept open the curtains when I had just finished using a bed pan and the air was thick with the worst odours ever - he swept out again complete with pithy comment which did not elicit an immediate titter from me. Something about returning 'when I got my act together'. But him, I could forgive anything because he never lied to me or gave me false hope! As he was approaching retirement, the date I had always dreaded, he gave me a heads up, which was very decent of him and stated that he was looking forward to some 'fun in the sun in Spain with his friend Juan ... (pause) .... Carlos (pause) you know, the chap who runs Spain.' I remember that with a sort of bitter-sweetness as it was all good fun at the time. I knew 'Sir' probably came from wealth, wore beautifully hand made shoes and cashmere sweaters which I sometimes glimpsed under the obligatory white coat (which was probably also tailored); so I surmised that he would mix in elevated circles and here was the proof. Sadly, I have no stomach for what I have read of Juan Carlos profligate ways in these uncertain times - I hope 'Sir' didn't join in and that it was just a meeting of like-minded and rich folk. I remember reading of JCs injury a few years ago and wondered if 'Sir' might be called in to oversee his surgery/recovery, but I wonder if he would have come out of retirement even for a King. So there, another coincidence in my life and a slight brush with Royalty.

Tenko

So why 'Tenko' you may well ask - doesn't exactly match up to my parents wartime experiences does it? They were in Europe, 'Tenko' was in what I class the 'Japanese' War. Two principals that I remember well Ann Bell and Stephanie Beacham have links to Nottingham Playhouse (Anne Bell in 'Veterans' and Stephanie Beacham in 'The Tempest') and Television Centre again for Ann Bell as she played Sylvia Llewelyn-Davis in our version of 'The Lost Boys'. The only other tenuous link was to Script Editor Evgeny Gridneff who was serving his apprenticeship in Drama/Plays at Television Centre when I was there. I remember his name well, I was fascinated by it at the time. We're currently enjoying re-runs of 'When the Boat Comes In' (oh yes, I can tell you about James Bolam's time during Veterans, he shared a dressing room with Frank Grimes and the two of them really did behave like the 'Likely Lads') and 'Tenko' which I forever associate with my late friend Anna from Paris with whom I shared many an adventure - she adored 'Tenko'. Because 'Tenko' reminded me of Stephanie at the Playhouse and because her biography was still waiting to be read I decided that this would be my next book alongside any novel I was also reading (I usually have two on the go for variety) and enjoyed reliving my memories of the time I was working as the Saturday (and sometimes evening) stage door keeper at the Playhouse; well it kept me our of mischief (sort of) and supplied me with much needed earnings. Having been a bit disappointed with the book in general I decided that I wanted to read another biography but in a different genre and remembered that somewhere I had Evonne Goolagong's life story to read which had also been waiting for some time to surface. Although Brian Wilsons' book was really higher in the pecking order to read I really wanted to stay away from entertainment as I had also recently read Mike Love's biography. I thought I knew where Evonne's book was but decided to save myself some time scrambling about and looked through a very dusty pile where I found lurking, under an inch of dust an enormous volume entitled 'Remembering Tenko' - seriously it is enormous, there are nearly 900 pages, it will be the be all and end all of all things 'Tenko'. I can't actually remember buying it and having thought about it I've decided I probably intended it as a gift for Anna but owing to her untimely death can't have had an opportunity to give it to her. I'd already bought her the boxed DVD set and found second hand copies of the books of the television series for her which she lapped up with gusto, sometimes watching up to 8 episodes in a day when she needed her 'Tenko' fix. One Christmas she invited a friend over to spend a couple of days with her as they were both alone (can't remember why she didn't come over to us that year) and then subjected poor Brigitte to watching the entire series .... Having also found Evonne's book in a much more sanitary box I decided I would give 'Tenko' the first read as it is such a big book. At this point I will mention that whilst I was still working at the BBC one of my closest friends and short-term flat-mate (while she looked for accommodation to buy as her mother was coming down from Liverpool to live with her) Dotty, was the Drama Plays Producer Graeme McDonald's secretary. She and I had a very similar tenure at the BBC except I ended up working for three producers and she stayed with Graeme throughout. Just as I was leaving to go to work in Derby, Graeme was offered a promotion to Head of Drama Serials and asked Dotty to move with him. She was unsure as we had always been told 'Plays' was the crème de la crème of the Drama triumvirate of Plays, Series and Serials - she declined his offer and shortly afterwards also left the BBC. At sort of the same time, I was really living the 'Take Three Girls' life while sharing a flat in Moore Park Road (Fulham) with three other girls - two of whom were called Judy and Judi respectively and we all also worked evenings and weekends at The Royal Court Theatre. If you think about 'Take Three Girls' I was linked to this as it was produced by my former boss Gerald Savory and of course starred James Bolam's future wife as one of the three. Remember we are watching 'When the Boat comes in' as well! Okay so back to the book, the first surprise (and remember I am only up to page 120) was discovering that this was one of the first major projects that Graeme McDonald (fairly new Head of Drama Serials) decided to take a chance on the nearly all-female cast and production and writing teams and gave it the 'go-ahead' - as Graeme McDonald doesn't feature in the television credits I didn't know until now (nearly 40 years later) of his involvement. I did of course know of Evgeny, Ann and Stephanie. Recently Korea has taken to shooting missiles randomly at Japan - what I hadn't mentioned was that whilst we were at the Royal Court not only did we meet established stars but we also worked with the quirky, the first-timers and the odd rock play - of course for me, my overriding and favourite memory is that I saw the first ever professional performance of Hinge and Bracket in the Theatre Upstairs. Another act we saw was 'The Tokio Kid Brothers' who ramped it up by driving or should I say wheeling their motorbikes onto the stage at every given opportunity! Amongst them was one who fell in love with my flatmate Judy and married her before their tour took them out of England and back to Japan - I've been messaging Judy over the last few days to see if she is ok - they've had some really rough weather, earthquakes, tsunamis and now these missiles over the last couple of years and it worries me how close this all is in a metaphorical sense. Today before starting on my work which related to the new 'Tower Poppy' initiative I decided to have a quick read of 'Tenko' (at least a chapter a day or I won't ever finish it) and nearly fell off my chair! The most hated character in the series is Lt Sato played by Eiji Kusuhara (d. 2010) who was a Japanese (whereas many of the actors were in fact Chinese) and as I read on I discovered that he had, in fact, come over with the Tokio Kid Brothers and stayed on! There was an excellent paragraph of a write-up for the show which brought back even more vivid memories. Although I remember Judy's husband well and another one of the group Hiromi, who's name was easy to remember I also got to know these two members of the cast the best because I was a witness at Judy and Tsuneo's marriage and when Hiromi discovered he was the 'best man' he insisted on calling me the 'best lady' his English was exceptionally limited. Thanks to Tsuneo I discovered a taste for seaweed and still enjoy it today. That gets us up to page 120 or so of the book. I wonder how many more surprises and coincidences are to come - keep watching this space! Oh I nearly forgot - I couldn't wait ti share the new discovery with Judy and she message back to say "Nostalgia! Good days! I wish we were back there sometimes. I helped a Japanese actor a little ..to prepare for an audition for Tenko.." - seriously is this spooky or what? As I delve deeper into the book so I keep coming across other little memories like for instance in the BBC's Acton Rehearsal Rooms where the stars of 'Tenko' comment on the fact that you can meet anyone there and that is absolutely true. One of the most defining moments of my life happened there! So further revelations about Tenko I've just about got to the half-way point and am immersed in reading and watching 'Tenko 2' as the have named it - I'd put money on it that it was even shortened to 'T2' as was out very own Taritu an adorable little black and white cat. Of course Tenko 2 did feature a cat, and according to what is written the cat was based on Beryl Bainbridge's own cat and also called 'Pudding'. I laughed out loud as I read that as my very own first cat (named by my then husband), also a black and white, was called Pudding do these coincidences never cease. But as I tried to do a bit more research into the cat that Beryl Bainbridge may or may not have owned my initial joy was rather dampened as in her memoirs she claims that for the last 6 years of their life (they apparently reached the ages of 21) she banished her two cats to live outside and watched them on the window sill looking in - she apparently had a pang of conscience about this. I'm including it because I also had a friend who lived in Wembley, her ex-husband was involved in the design of the old Bull Ring Centre apparently and she also subscribed to leaving her adult cats to live outside - really, I can't understand this sort of thing and these sort of people, especially if they are in the public eye and might influence behaviour patterns, I haven't really discovered why on earth Beryl Bainbridge is mentioned in 'Tenko' but there you are, the roots of coincidence are everywhere. I know I haven't got there yet, but while I remember there is another coincidence coming up in Part III and the Reunion - Damien Thomas - he, starred in 'The Message' with which I have a link which can be read up here.

Tennis

I suppose in many ways this would not be my website if Tennis didn't come into it somewhere other than in the tennis section already devoted to the subject and the many players that I have and do admire. (As I started this section, the computer went potty and after confronting me with a black screen for several terrifying moments, when it returned, the home page looked as if a tsunami had ripped through it - the icons were everywhere but where they should be and at least twice their normal size; my old fashioned mind pictured the old 'safe mode screen' from pre-Windows 10 except I knew that was not the case as full colour was present and in 'safe mode' the colours were greatly reduced. Was it an omen or a portent I wonder - did the powers that be feel that I would not make a good job of this part of my reminiscences on that day and at that particular time? Whatever the reason I have taken up the mantle again and here is where another set of links, coincidences and all manner of spookiness come together!) So let me start again - on 14th November 2017 my friend Jenny (who shares my birthday date and my sister's birth year : two coincidences there straight off!) came to visit me. We try to see each other at least twice a year, but with one thing an another we didn't celebrate our joint birthday date this year so it's nearly a year since I last saw her. We had much to catch up on - we never stop yacking when we are together and this visit was no different. Another thing we never do is discuss our former working life, there's so much more to talk about and after catching up and touching on a few more links such as my living in Isleworth at the back of Kew Gardens, she told me she had lived in Richmond in her childhood and brought up a 'naughty' child memory about the underground and how she was lucky to have lived though the experience; - that in turn reminded me of a train adventure of my own which happened in 1965 when Marysia and I travelled to Poland for the first time to meet our relatives. On the return journey, having been put in charge of the hand luggage and above all our passports contained therein; because of all the fuss and bother going on around us, the shouting, the bag and body counts and the fuss and the train emitting piercing sounds the bags (with passports) were forgotten and continued their merry way without us - but that's a story for another time. I casually added that there always seemed to be trouble getting out of Poland where we were concerned. She wanted to know more, so I told her about out second visit in 1968 - Marysia was working as a courier in her college summer holidays and honing her language skills for her future employment aspirations as either an interpreter or translator. I was just out of callipers and it was deemed good for me to get some good Polish mountain air to recover. Our return date was the night of 20th/21st August - the same night that Russia decided to punish the recalcitrant Czechs by invading them. That is, Russia decided, but used the bordering satellite country, Poland, to implement the actual physical invasion. I expect Britain must have had some inkling of what was going on, although there wouldn't have been plans in place to evacuate British citizens, as there is today, as visiting Poland was still a big deal and only the hardiest of visitors were prepared to jump through the hoops and obstacles which were placed in our way. Our bus, which had sleeping facilities, was rather a bulky vehicle, not like the ordinary long distance buses used in England at the time. It sat higher to accommodate the additional luggage storage underneath the gangway, and was taller as two lots of berths were created from the seating and (hand) luggage racks, it was also wider, of course, it had to be wider didn't it? We had a German driver called Mannfred, Marysia knew him well as she had travelled with him before and practised her German on him. I remember that he had dark hair and didn't seem to be afraid of anything he didn't appeal to me at the time (but I re-evaluated him after the return adventure). So we set off and as the majority of our journey was through woods and a mountainous region as we headed south to the Czech border there wasn't much to see once dusk had settled. We had a late start, supposedly to avoid the traffic and the intention was that we would sleep through Czechoslovakia (as it was then) in our berths. Apparently this time we weren't stopping for a meal at one of the swanky restaurants in Pragues' old square, in fact, I can't remember any feeding arrangements that may or may not have been made for that journey. The closer we approached the border there was a palpable change in the atmosphere and people started lifting the blinds on the 'passenger' side of the coach - Mannfred had fallen silent and was really struggling (big man that he was) with keeping the coach steady. I was on the driver side and when I looked out all I could see was the edge of the road (no barriers) and wondered why we were travelling so close to the edges - you couldn't see any turf or road between my view and the edge of the road, I put it down to bad driving and the size of the bus obscuring my vision. My sister was, sitting in her 'courier seat' in the well was very quiet and hadn't come to sit with me at all so far, I'll be truthful it didn't bother me too much. At one point she announced (via the bus microphone 'that to speed things up, as the road conditions had slowed us down' (you're not kidding!) she wanted to collect all our passports to hand over to the border guards. That, was unheard of, you never, ever hand your passport over to anyone where you can't keep an eye on it. The look on her face, the grim look, actually prevented me from arguing with her even though I wanted to. Quite a lot of the other passengers looked shocked and there was a general feeling of upset. Eventually I caught a glimpse of what could be seen through the passenger side - there were rows of camouflaged tanks huddled up against the escarpments (dictionary definition : "a long, steep slope, especially one at the edge of a plateau or separating areas of land at different heights.") - it was their width that was sending our bus to the other edge, those roads were not designed to take a wide bus and even wider tanks - I expect I must have done but I cannot remember exhaling after realisation of our predicament dawned on me. We looked for the big red stars of the CCCP but they were not evident ......... eventually after an absolute age we started seeing the lights and barriers of the border checkpoints into Czechoslovakia. Somehow the number of passports tallied with the number of heads in the bus, the Polish guards seemed exceptionally agitated almost pushing our bus and other vehicles into Czechoslovakia, they didn't want us anywhere near them, I think they were military rather than Customs, which would make sense. I'm pretty certain somebody said 'it'll take more than two hours to get through Czechoslovakia into Germany". Obviously some of the passengers knew or had guessed what was coming. Mannfred was now muttering to himself at every opportunity, Marysia was glued to her seat clutching the passports and we were all grateful for the darkness inside the bus. I must have dozed off, when I opened my eyes my sister was leaning over me and telling me very quietly to do nothing and react to nothing and not to look at my watch which I did right away. We were in a lit area now but where, I have no idea. Mannfred was driving much too fast for the sort of area we were in, even I could feel that, but my sister obviously thought it was ok so, so did I. Someone mentioned it was midnight, we were still in Czechoslovakia, someone else said, 'if only we'd had another few minutes' - to or for what I was wanting to scream! Then it happened - we were at the border - the barrier separating Czechoslovakia from the sane world was coming down and we were hurtling towards it and we continued to hurtle towards it, that is Manfred continued to hurtle towards it and then we were through with Czechoslovakia behind us and Germany and France ahead of us - the first time I realised what 'reaching the West' meant. I have no idea what happened to the barrier - did we hit it? Did the guards raise it when they saw we weren't going to stop? Was it the Czech or the German border barrier - what, how - who knew - we only knew we were the last bus out of Czechoslovakia on that night and many future nights to come. The rest of our journey, as far as I can remember, was uneventful. We kept going without stopping (there was a loo on board) until the bus needed filling with fuel and we reached Oostende from where we departed Europe, Mannfred and the evil that befell Czechoslovakia as we made our way across the Channel to Southend-on-Sea. I'm guessing by now you are wondering what this has to do with Tennis? Well that was the opener .... I haven't thought about that experience for a long time, but what I will add is that we as Poles, have always had an affinity with the Czechs, after all our legendary history began with three brothers called Lech, Czech and Rus. Because of this whenever a Polish player or team are not available I will support the Czechs - it all started with a Czech football player called Petras in the 1970 World Cup series. I've just discovered, he was born in 1946, the same year as my sister and Jenny. Currently I am spoiled for choice with the magnificent Lucie Šafářová and Agnieszka Radwańska, Tomáš Berdych, Łukasz Kubot and Jerzy Janowicz on the tennis circuit. There has always been one other Czech player that I have really enjoyed watching and listening to as she regularly commentated for the BBC and that is Jana Novotná. Jana is really the starting point of this great link of coincidences. Jana died on the 19th of November this year (2017) just five days after I had caught up with Jenny and reminded myself of the events of 1968. Jana was born on 2nd October, 1968 less than two months after we made our escape in the third week of August. Her birthplace was Brno - somewhere I have been acutely aware of since becoming totally and absolutely fascinated by the whole legendary existence of the Villa Tugendhat. In 1991 the 29th Federation Cup was hosted at the newly opened (in 1990 by Diana, Princess of Wales) Tennis Centre in Nottingham, Thirty-two nations competed in a five-round knockout competition between 22nd and 28th July. Great Britain had a representative team as did Czechoslovakia. The Brits were knocked out in the second round by Italy, but the Czechs got as far as the semi-final succumbing to the United States. Jana Novotná was in the Czech team that year. 1991 was the year I returned to work after a long lay-off from 1984, I went to work for Nottinghamshire Police and stayed there until my retirement. I was taken to this tournament by (Cat) Julie, I qualify her as such as I have a childhood friend (Polish) Julie and a colleague (Finance) Julie who are likely to feature at some point. All three were at my 40th birthday party and were introduced as such. Cat Julie took me out of the kindness of her heart because when it was first announced that this prestigious tournament was to be played in Nottingham she wanted to experience 'live' tennis with a fellow fan. For me, having visited so many live tournaments it wasn't going to be a new experience but it would be fun to go with someone else for a change. She also very kindly told me she would pay for the tickets as I was, at the time of the announcement, still out of work and the tickets were pricey. Happily I was able to pay her back as I became employed in January of 1991. At some point we got separated in the crowds and I found myself surrounded by a cloud of bright white and pink giggles - the Czech team, all goddesses of over 6ft in white track suits trimmed with hot pink and every one of them blonde, strode passed me on one of the alleyways between the courts, I presume they had been training. It was a bit awesome or I was awestruck as I realise Jana and I really did brush against each other. Jana had a lovely style of play and after her total collapse at Wimbledon, I was thrilled for her when she eventually won the tournament and so pleased that the Duchess of Kent was able to present her with the prized and coveted Venus Rosewater dish in 1998. Jana participated in the 'old ladies' tournament at Wimbledon for many years and it was always a treat to watch her play, she also made for an entertaining and knowledgeable commentator on a par at least with the great Martina Navratilova, whom I'm a little ashamed to say I have only really come to appreciate now as her tennis knowledge is vast and she uses it well! I follow Lucie Šafářová's career as she is such a sunny character and she too visited the Nottingham Tennis centre this year (2017). Tennis has many other links for me but this one is perhaps the most poignant.

The Duke of Windsor and Churchill

OK so here we have a bit of a gem - how on earth can I possibly link myself to Winston Churchill and the ill-fated Duke and Duchess of Windsor? Even using the six degrees of separation you might think it a bit of stretch but trying to find six links would be - this is the easiest hop, skip and jump I've ever managed! I'll start by saying that the image below gave me the first step :

This is an extract from the latest offering by Andrew Morton, this time time concentrating on the 'after-lives' of the former King, Edward VIII and his wife, Wallis, the Duchess of Windsor

As I was reading the final part of the serialisation of this book in the Daily Mail my eye was immediately drawn to 'A History of the English-Speaking Peoples' that unwieldy title of Churchill's view of history from the Plantagenets onwards which was shortened to 'Churchill's People' for the purpose of television. 'Churchill's People' was my first job for the BBC in London and to make no bones about it, it was my way of escaping from BBC Pebble Mill who had treated me atrociously (that's another story for another time) before my 12-month post-probationary period was up; and it was just my luck that no-one else applied for the job because they had all probably heard that it would be a turkey!

Image sourced from : antique-jewelry-investor

As to the link with the Windsors? That I have to thank my mother for - all my life I was brought up on the stories of Anastasia (Grand Duchess Romanov)/Anna Anderson, Eva 'Evita' Peron and Wallis Warfield. In the days of no television, World War II and the hiatus of a post-war existence, any hint of glamour or mystery must have been enticing reading or viewing of cinema news reels and let's face it all three of these women had spades of both. Thanks 'mama' for bringing them into my consciousness and letting me fall under their spell as you had! SO much so that I even hoped to buy a piece of Wallis' jewellery when it came up for auction in Sotheby's in 2010! I just loved the flamingo "Jewel of the Month November 2010 is the magnificent Wallis Simpson Flamingo Clip; one of a suite of jewels and precious objects of the collection of the Duchess of Windsor, which were auctioned by Sotheby's on the 30th November 2010 in London. The jewels and cherished objects retold the Wallis and Edward love story in a most poignant way. The broach is designed as a flamingo in characteristic pose. The plumage is set with calibré-cut emeralds, rubies and sapphires.  The beak is set with a cabochon citrine and sapphire.  The eye is set with a similarly cut sapphire.  The head, neck, body and hinged legs are pavé-set with circular brilliant and single-cut diamonds, measuring approximately 95 mm x 65 mm x 22 mm." (Designed by Peter Lemarchand)

So there you have it - I took a job in London which nobody else wanted and which will be forever associated with failure (see "From Churchill's People to SS-GB: the worst period dramas of all time"and NostalgiaCentral which refers to it as "without doubt the turkey of 1975 only to be savaged in the 'critique' by tvcream who did at least describe the stature of my boss, one Gerald Savory, correctly. Gerald had been the Head of Plays (our department) but on retiring returned as the producer of this 26-part epic!) and which featured in the A-Z of TV Hell (see the remnants I saved here). My producer, Gerald Savory, had commissioned this piece to produce himself before he left the department as its head and became the producer who needed a secretary - me! And all this time, lay the great link, that the Duke of Windsor had not wished to read the volume of work sent to him (autographed no less) by Winston Churchill!

The Mummy

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Page updated : 5th August 2020 (G)