'Hobberdy Dick'. How I became famous around the world and never even knew.

Ever heard of 'Hobberdy Dick'? Sadly, not many people in the UK have. And as it's a rather dangerous title to Google, let me tell you all about it...

In 1955, when I was still in nappies, Katherine Briggs wrote a children's book called Hobberdy Dick. It was set in a country house, during the English Civil War. In this house, as in all houses, lived a house elf called Hobberdy Dick. The book is all about his adventures and his battles with the wicked witch - Mother Dark. It's a good read, actually.

I'd never heard of it until 1994, when a company called Kino Productions approached me and asked me to write a demo for the title song for a cartoon series based on the book. I asked for £200, (you could get payed for demos in those days - a different world.) and they agreed. There was even a contract, of sorts, but heaven knows where that is.

They gave me an outline of the story and charactors and left me to it. I came up with a short folk rock song (think Fairport Convention) and knocked out a quick backing track. Then, because it was only a demo, I recorded myself singing the song and all the harmonies. You may be aware that I don't have the best voice in the world and some of the harmonies were distinctively dodgy, but it got the idea across well enough.

I then copied it onto an audio cassette (1994, remember) and delivered it to them.
"Very nice", they said. "Just what we're looking for."
"Thank you," I said, "That'll be 200 quid."

It took months to get that money. I won't list the endless letters & phone calls, but in the end my wife Sara - who's good at that sort of thing - doorstepped their office in Soho and I got a cheque.

After that, I registered the song with the Performing Rights Society (PRS) and forgot about it. They never got back in touch.

Then, a couple of years ago, the song popped into my head. So, on a whim and rather bravely, I Googled it. Most of the results were about the book, but then I saw a listing in Chinese. And underneath the Chinese writing was written, in English...
'Hobberdy Dick is fairy born, he keeps us safe and sound.
He's never been seen by a human being,
But you always know when he's been 'round.'

"Bugger me", I thought, "I wrote that!" So I started to search in earnest.

It turns out that those lovely folk at Kino Productions had made a 26 part cartoon series. They used my original demo, with the dodgy harmonies and a nasty 'wow' from the audio cassette. They even put my name in the credits!  What they didn't do is register me on the contracts with the networks that I was the composer. Now composer's get paid everytime their music is played on TV or radio and this means that I missed out on thousands and thousands of pounds of revenue over the years. Let alone the fact they should have paid me much more than £200 for the rights to use it at all.

The show never aired in the UK. If it had, I'd probably been aware of it. But it went out everywhere else. Everywhere. China, Japan, Russia, Germany, Greece, USA, Canada, South America, Iceland.
I could go on. It was repeated several times but never made it to video or DVD.

So, I phoned up the PRS and went in to meet them. They said they could do nothing. It was more than 8 years ago and didn't get shown in the UK. Frankly, I wasn't impressed but could do nothing.
I looked up Kino Productions and discovered they'd just gone out of business. I'd missed them by less than a month!

So, there it is. No way of getting paid for a worldwide 26 part series with 4 minutes of my music per episode. No way of getting back the 20 years when that could have been on my CV and showreel.

But - and it is a big but - my silly, out of tune, song was (and still is) loved by a generation of children. There are dozens of blogs & websites praising the series and especially the music. They quote (always wrongly) the lyrics. Everyone moans about the fact that you can't buy the series. You can't even get it illegally. It's gone. There used to be a really bad copy of the title sequence on YouTube. That's been taken down. Who by?

I tell you what. If you can think of a way to get my money, I'll give you 20%. But I bet you can't...

Here's the original:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MfVcQvpU4ok

And here's what some South American dudes did with it:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HIt4_To5Xq0
Great Animation, I think.

And here, finally, is what it should have sounded like:
https://soundcloud.com/rodanderson/hobberdy-dick-theme-song

'VOCAL BOOTH TO GO' with Rod Anderson.

Please check out my video below.
This is for authors wanting audio books, voiceovers or people thinking about recording podcasts or meditations professionally. Have you ever thought about having recording your voice with an experienced sound engineer, but been put off by the cost?

I have recorded politicians, pop stars and people like you for most of  my working life. I know how to gently coach you, to get the best out of your voice and script. At the moment, I’m trying out a portable voice booth to go with my studio. It's made by the very clever guys at http://www.vocalboothtogo.co.uk
Check them out. Whilst I’m in this trial period, I can offer some pretty cheap rates, so now’s the time to get in touch! The trial rate is £30ph, this will be increasing when things are bedded in.

email me at rodanderson@blueyonder.co.uk or leave a message here.

Children's Favourites

Recently, Radio 2's Friday Night is Music Night was dedicated to spooky music. Rather oddly, in the interval, they featured two songs which I remember from my childhood: Sparky's Magic Piano & Tubby the Tuba. Neither of which are particularly spooky but I do remember them well. And then, along with all the other sad deaths recently, I heard that Ed 'Stewpot' Stewart has died. He was, of course, the presenter of 'Junior Choice'. which, although starting in 1968, was the follow up to 'Children's Favorites'.
Children's Favorites, which started in 1954 was introduced by Uncle Mac who's real name was Derek McCulloch 
Some of the first music I can remember was on this programme. And some of it was brilliant...
Anyone remember these? Click the title to listen.

The Happy Wanderer.

Now this is odd. Although I know the English words to the song, this is the version I remember. And, recorded in 1954, it does sound like the Hitler Youth!

 

Sparky's Magic Piano

This was released in 1948. And yet it seems to have a fully-formed vocoder sound which I didn't hear again until Wendy (Walter) Carlos's sound track to A Clockwork Orange. Vocoder's also feature on ELO's Mr Blue Sky. Aparently, the original machine that produced the noise was called a Sonovox 
Amazingly ahead of it's time.

 

The Laughing Policeman

Recorded in 1926 by Charles Penrose and possibly written by his wife. You cannot listen to this and not laugh. Or scream and run into the street!

 

The Teddy Bear's Picnic

Written in 1907, but apparently, this 1932 Henry Hall recording was of especially good quality with a large tonal range. It was used for more than 30 years by BBC audio engineers (up until the early 1960s) to test and calibrate the frequency response of audio equipment.

The 3 Billygoats Gruff

This used to scare the life out of me. Especially the Troll bit! I still find it a bit uncomfortable to listen to...

The Railroad Runs Through The Middle of the House

Finally, this classic. Utterly stupid but I loved the sound FX and, of course the ending!

Those are some of my favorites. Please share yours...

 

Easter with Ikea and the AA.

We're having our fitted wardrobes replaced. We bought them from Ikea, 9 years ago. Dave Hoser and I put them up in the back bedroom - which is now Sara's office - and very nice they looked,too.
But, gradually, the doors (opening, not sliding ones. These things are important.) started to sag and then give way. I know the feeling...
Then Sara remembered that Ikea do a guarantee on their products that last 10 years. So she phoned them up and they said that, yes, they were still under guarantee.
"Great," we said, "In that case can we have some new doors?"
"One problem," they replied, "We don't make that style any more."
"Ah."
"But," they continued, "Would you like new wardrobes instead? We'll deliver and fit them for you. Then we'll take the old ones away."
Good old Ikea. Now that is customer service like it used to be. We were delighted.
Ikea sent a chap round to inspect the wardrobes and he confirmed that the glue on 4 of the 6 doors had failed and so the whole lot could be replaced.
But, of course, nothing's perfect and we discovered that they don't make anything like the big, deep, corner unit anymore.
Never mind, though, we'll keep the corner unit and just replace the other two. They won't quite match but what can you do? Especially as Ikea were offering sliding doors on the new units. Very useful in Sara's, rather crowded, new office. Ikea suggested one 100cm unit and one 50cm unit. That would fill the space nicely.
This, rather impressively, was going to take place over the Easter Bank Holiday. They'd deliver the new stuff on the Thursday and the chaps from Assembly Angels (No, really, that's their name.) would come on Bank Holiday Monday to take down the old ones & assemble the new ones. Then Ikea would come on the Tuesday and take away the old stuff.
People working on Bank Holidays. We were even more impressed.
On Thursday, the van arrived with the new wardrobes. The Ikea men carried it all in and left it in the hallway downstairs. We counted the boxes. 14. There were supposed to be 15. Apparently, a shelf was missing.
Never mind. If that's as bad as it gets, well, who's complaining?
Over the Saturday and Sunday, Sara moved all her stuff out of the old units into the middle bedroom. We'd need that room on Monday evening because our friend Oriana was coming to stay. But by the time she arrived, we'd have the new wardrobes and all the stuff could go back in them. Perfect.
We got a phone call on Monday morning. The chap from Assembly Angels was running early. Early? Yes early. He'd be there in 30 minutes. Excellent. This was going really well.
And there he was. Ready to assemble for all he was worth. Except...
Now we all know that when someone who is doing work in your house says, "Er, can I just have a word?" then it's not going to be good news.
"Sliding doors."
"I'm sorry, what do you mean?"
"Sliding doors. That's a 2 man job."
Apparently, they have to be assembled flat on the floor and lifted into place. Hadn't the Angelic Assemblers been aware of this problem?
Apparently not.
"Could I help?"
"Health & Safety."
Apparently not.
He wasn't even very keen on dismantling the old stuff, until Sara shamed him into it by starting to do it herself. He promised 2 men would arrive tomorrow.
So, Monday lunchtime found us with Ikea boxes in the hallway, dismantled wardrobes scattered about upstairs, and Sara's clothes piled high in the spare bedroom.
A few hours later found us with dismantled wardrobes neatly stacked in the hallway, Ikea boxes neatly stacked in our bedroom, the spare room fit for our guest to sleep in and 2 rather weary people who weren't, in any way, owners of functioning wardrobes.
Never mind.
Today's Tuesday. The two guys from Assembly Angels arrived. A bit late, but they arrived.
Then...
"Er, can I just have a word?"
With implacable logic the man from AA explained to me that we had one 100cm unit and one 50cm unit. I knew that. That's what Ikea said we should have. With lovely sliding doors.
He then explained that with those dimensions and with two 75cm sliding doors, there would always be a bit of the wider unit we couldn't get into. What we needed, he said, was two 75cm units.
He then proposed that I pay him £75 for yesterday's not-putting-up-of-wardrobe. And £25 for the same lack today.
He suggested we contact Ikea and re-order.
I suggested something else altogether.
Never mind. At least Ikea were coming to remove the old units from the hall.
And come they did.
"Er, can I just have a word?"
Apparently, the old units that Sara and I had carefully carried downstairs, had protruding nails and, even worse, glass in the doors.
"That's not glass," I said, bending one sheet into a parabola, "You can't do that with glass."
"Yes it is," he insisted, "And anyway, we've 18 deliveries to do and couldn't fit it all in the van."
He then took some photos to show his boss what idiots those AA guys were...
Never mind.
I went to buy some beer and now have a sore head.
Not from the beer.
On the way back into the house, I cracked my head on the old units that are still in the hallway.

Night Boat to Bari...

Let there be Light....
When you last heard from us, Sara was describing us sitting in the New Port bar in Corfu town. I was nursing a pint. Sara had a cheeky Ouzo. It was midnight and very warm...
We had been told to be at the departure gate at 01.00, so we were there somewhat before that. I love to be early, so I lie blatantly to Sara about the time. This time, however, she didn't mind, as joining us on the boat was a Classic Car rally. There were polished cars of every type. We spotted Ferrari, Lotus, Bugatti and even a little Fiat 500. All shining under the harbour lights. Did I mention that it was hot?
There was just a little breeze, now. Cooling us as we trooped into the departure area. Actually, as I looked around, I could see that we were in the arrivals area. But no matter, just because you have a brand new port building, doesn't mean you have to use it properly. The crowd of mainly young Italian travellers reverted to stereotype by yelling, gesticulating, posturing and generally carrying-on. We were an Oasis of stoic, English calm amongst the Latin maelstrom.
The weather, too, remained hot. And sultry.
Then the happy, relaxed and motivated port staff reacted to the good-humoured hammering on the glass doors by opening the correct departure doors. These were located behind us. The crowd surged back past us and out of the door. We were now very much at the back of the queue. We arrived outside into the hot and rather humid night.
However, we were rewarded by the friendly staff, who repaid our correct behaviour by pointing out that there was actually a bus parked there. It would take us the 400m to where the ship would dock in air-conditioned comfort.
The Italian youth ran down the dock, set on getting to the front of the queue and bagging the best place on the boat to kip down. We sat on the bus. Which then roared into life, as the caffeine-crazed driver lurched from side to side down the rather thin pier, scattered the marauding Italians in all directions and depositing half a dozen rather shaken Brits and a nun (of unknown pedigree) in pole position.
We stood at the end of the dock and watched the breathless youths arrive. We were rather smug
Now, two important things should be mentioned at this point. There was no sign of a boat and it was getting rather windy. There were flickers of lightening in the distance...
I had just noticed that there were two small shelters with thin, slatted wooden sides when the storm hit...
As thunder, lightening, rain and gale-force winds burst suddenly around us, we legged it for the nearest shelter. Fifty people crammed into a space big enough for twenty. Shelter was almost exactly what this structure didn't provide.
I have seen big storms before, but I have never been that close to one that I felt I should offer it a cigarette afterwards and ask it how it was for them.
Rain sprayed through the gaps in the side. Thunder crashed all around us in binaural splendour. Lightening flashed every few seconds. And this was proper lightening. The stuff that looks like lightening drawn by a 5 year old. A helmeted cyclist was wimpering softly. He asked me if we were in any danger. I said that I was sure we would be fine. I lied for the second time that day...
Then Sara had a brainwave. We were carrying sleeping mats that might afford some protection from the weather. We produced these and an odd thing happened. A bunch of frightened Italian teenagers suddenly reached collectively into their race memory and produced a classic tortoise shield formation that the 10th Legion would be proud of. Ave, dude!
However, the rain was now blustering in all directions so we were soon wet and cold. The Cyclist asked me if I thought we would survive. I mentioned some old guff about Farriday Cages and the insulating properties of wood. I assured him we'd be safe unless the Tsunami got us. He looked at the crashing waves and thrashing rain. He then stood on the wooden bench. And whimpered again.
By now, the soaking legionaries were getting desperate. One woman tried to borrow the nun's brolly. We shouted her down. I mean, you can't go around robbing nuns just because you're wet, scared and want your mamma.
Another couple tried to persuade us to run back to the terminal building. We declined. We'd seen that movie. They get nearly there and then the lightening/T Rex/Sharknado/Alien gets them.
I was convinced that the boat would not be arriving and had told the cyclist we were stuck there. He was just asking if anyone had any Rosary beads when the boat suddenly appeared out of the maelstrom. From nowhere. Backwards. Talk about showing off!
So on we piled. The wet legionaries, the nun, the catatonic cyclist and about 50 vintage cars in need of a good polish and, in the case of a couple of convertibles, now offering fishing rights.
We found a table with a couple of bench seats and were about to make ourselves comfortable when some spotty oik told us in Italian that he had bagged them for his mates.
That was probably a mistake. Sara was tired, cross, soaked through and desperate for equally large measures of wine and sleep. She explained this to the unfortunate lad eyeball to eyeball and with certain colourful phrases that probably hadn't formed part of the Italian school curriculum.
He fought his corner with sulks and mutters, but his heart wasn't in it. Eventually they all slunk away.
Just as well, within 10 minutes Sara was asleep and snoring happily. Sleep might be difficult for the rest of us....

Fish and Chips - revisited

Sometimes, only Fish and Chips will do.
Not often, in my case, but when you fancy them they are the food of the Gods. We had some last night, on the way back from seeing an art exhibition. We bought them from the 'Sea Shell in Lisson Grove'. And they were very good.
Other times, I rather enjoy making my own. And this is what I do...
First, prepare your chips. Peel and chop some spuds into the size of chip you like. This is very important. With chip-shop chips, there will always be some too big or too small for your taste. And there will always be at least one chip which is a bit 'green' at one end. This is your chance to have chips exactly as you like them.
Now, pop into the garden and harvest about a tablespoon of rosemary. Pull the leaves off the woody stems and put them into a pestle & mortar with some chopped garlic cloves (two or three, depending on the size). Add freshly ground pepper and some Malden sea-salt. Pour in a good slug of olive oil - it doesn't need to be expensive stuff, you're just cooking with it.
Now, smush all that up until you have a greenish paste. Par-boil the chips in salted water for just a few minutes, no more.
Put the oil & garlic/rosemary goo into a roasting tray and heat it on the stove for a moment. Add the chips and mix it all up with a slotted spoon. Another sprinkle of salt & pepper and chuck it into an oven at gas mark 6. It'll be done when the chips are as brown as you like them.
Now, the fish.
For me, it has to be Cod, but any white fish will work. It should be a boneless fillet, though. Bones have no place in fish & chips.
Sprinkle a tablespoon or two of plain flour into a bowl and season with lots of salt and pepper. Dredge the fish through the seasoned flour. Then wait until the chips are almost done.
Now, get a cast iron frying pan and heat some olive oil. When it's hot, lob in the fish. If there's skin on the fish, cook it skin side up for just a minute or so. Then turn it over and watch it like a hawk.
In a very short time it'll start to flake. As soon as it does, the fish is ready. Just a few minutes is all it takes. Don't over-cook it, whatever you do.
That's it. A little lemon juice on the fish, and serve.
Do try it. It's so good.

Gospel Oak to Barking: The Cinderella Line

From my Blog for the Tottenham & Wood Green Journal.

I’m a big railway fan, but I had lived in South Tottenham for 10 years before I travelled on what is usually called the Goblin Line. I didn’t think it went to anywhere useful, to be honest. Well, I was wrong!  It is, in fact, very useful and growing numbers of passengers have, like me, discovered this. And here we have the problem. During rush hour, the tiny two-car trains are seriously over-crowded. People often cannot get on the train at all. So they wait 15 minutes until the next train, only to find that’s full too. Surely there must be an easy solution to this? More trains? Longer trains? Sadly, it’s not as easy as that.

A little background information:  Wikipedia tells me that the line came into being in the 19^th century. It was formed from the Tottenham & Forest Gate Railway and the Tottenham & Hampstead Junction Railway. It pootled on over the years as a sleepy and under-used suburban line. It managed to avoid the Beeching cuts of the 1960’s. It became part of the North London Railway and then Silverlink.

Then, thanks to Ken and Boris, came Transport for London and the Overground. Smarter stations, more staff and trains every 15 minutes. And we realised that it’s a really useful little railway. From South Tottenham, you can be walking on Hampstead Heath in 14 minutes. With one change you can get to Southend, Richmond, Clapham Junction, Olympia & Shepherd’s Bush. It’s great for commuting too. The Goblin line, almost overnight, became very popular.  And very crowded.

So, what can be done? Well, sadly, there’s not really much capacity for more trains. The Goblin line is not only popular with passengers. Goods trains like it too.  It’s a jolly useful link as a sort of M25; carrying stuff around London and off to the rest of the country. So it’s pretty much full. Not to mention that people in Walthamstow have been complaining about bits dropping off their houses due to vibrations caused by heavy goods trains.

Here’s an odd thing. The Goblin Line is one of very few lines in London that is not an electric railway. You have to use smelly old diesel power. Now, everyone – Transport for London, the Department for Transport, Network Rail, the Goods Companies – thinks that electrifying the line is a Good Idea. But nobody wants to pay for it. There’s been lots of finger-pointing and questions have even been asked in the house, but no money has been forthcoming. They can’t even agree on what it will cost, for goodness sake! The DfT say £90m. Network Rail says £50m. Some bloke in Modern Railways magazine even reckoned he could get it done for £9m!

So, could we at least have longer diesel trains? Well, according to the Barking-Gospel Oak Line User Group, not really.  Even if you could buy them quickly – off the shelf, as it were – they would be expensive and, given new regulations, might not pass emissions tests.

Oh, and whatever powers the trains, if they are longer they won’t fit the platforms. So someone has to pay to lengthen the stations. Any offers? No, thought not.

And then Transport for London issue a press release. This says that they intend to increase ALL Overground line trains to FIVE carriages. Hurray! Problem solved! Good old Boris!

Er, no. Sorry. Bit of a mess-up in the press office. All lines except the Goblin. Obviously.

So there it is. A big, bureaucratic stalemate. Answers on a postcard, please.

It’s still a great little line, though.  It trundles along at a stately 30mph.  The trains are clean and comfortable – outside of rush hour.  It’s well staffed with friendly people. From South Tottenham you can visit the funky Brazilian Cafe in the old station booking office. Or amble over to Markfield Park to visit the Steam Engine and the excellent Cafe. From Harringay Green Lanes, you’re only a step away from Sainsbury’s and the nearby pubs and vibrant Cypriot restaurants.  It’s not far from the marvellous, re-located Harringay Market either. Crouch Hill is technically 50 metres outside the borough, but it’s still an easy stroll down to the delights of Crouch End.

For more on the Goblin Line, visit the excellent Barking-Gospel Oak Line User Group website. http://www.barking-gospeloak.org.uk/ If anyone can sort out this wretched mess, they can.

Where there’s a will there’s a way...

Footsteps to the Moon: The Argument.

I wrote this for the programme notes when Paul Prescott & I put the show on at the White Bear in Kennington. I stand by every word...

Footsteps to the Moon.

“And the towers were tallest in Bastion. But that didn’t help us at all.

For the towers were tallest in Bastion, and those towers, and those towers

Were a long way to fall.”

Sounds like a non-too-subtle reference to 9/11, doesn’t it? But actually, Paul Prescott wrote those lines in 1988.

The story of the fall of the once great city of Bastion is alive with reverberations of the past. And, in this case, the future.

Paul wanted to look at how war affects the ordinary people. No great tales of battles fought and won. But the story of how those stuck in the middle, the victims of no more than geographical happenstance, watch as their world is taken from them, broken into pieces and handed back.

And what if those people are already outcasts from society? Shunned and locked away before the war was even half over.

Who are the madmen? Those who were locked away for protesting against the war? Those who saw their loved-ones slaughtered and lost their families and their minds in one fell swoop? Those institutionalised and brutalised by an uncaring government? The soldiers perhaps? Conscripted and regimented into killing one another for a mile of wasteland.

Or are the madmen those who start wars like this in the first place?

Footsteps to the Moon considers all this, and more.

It was written, originally, for the Edinburgh Festival and also performed at La Bonne Crepe Café Theatre (LBC) in Battersea, London.

Then it was put on in Sydney, Australia the following year.

Then we left it alone for 15 years.

In 2003, Paul and I were talking about reviving on of the 8 musicals we had written at LBC.

We both knew it would be “Footsteps”.

We looked at the script and decided it should be re-written as a full-scale production. We’d both seen the harrowing pictures from Kosovo and such. Our characters’ story would be on the 6 o’clock news every night.

So when the show finally opens in a larger theatre (and it will.) you will see camera crews and TV screens and announcers. The theatre transformed from a wasteland to the floor of a long-closed nightclub. You will feel the down-draught of the helicopters. See the falling rubble from the shelling.

And yet, in the centre of this, our 8 characters huddle together. Zoom in a little, beyond the flashing lights and deafening noise, and that is what you will see at the White Bear. Ordinary people in an extra-ordinary situation. Love and even laughter. Triumph and betrayal. Redemption – at least for some.

And tears. Many tears.

From the original songs, we kept half a dozen. With 2 new characters and an enlarged script, we soon expanded to 22 songs. There are songs in a variety of styles, reflecting the diversity of the characters. But the major themes occur and re-occur to give cohesiveness to the score.  It is written for full orchestra. And then some.

We put on a rehearsed reading at the White Bear late last year. A bunch of talented actors performed with very little rehearsal of script or songs. The result was astonishing. Most of those actors are now in this production. Just a little bit more rehearsed!

“Footsteps to the Moon”. A story of our time. Or any time. There are no politics in the show. The city of Bastion could be anywhere. And anywhen.

Just as there will always be war, there will always be Lynn remembering her lost love Leon, who disappeared for singing the wrong songs. Otto trying to catch rainwater, or rats.

Delphi, selling sexual favours for the chance of escape. Somewhere Alicia, poor damaged Alicia looks to the moon and salvation in make-believe. Somewhere Gregory, the Travelling Man gathers junk and information and remembers Alicia. Somewhere a soldier weeps for the horrors he has seen and might see again.

And somewhere Cora watches him and imagines a past because she can’t imagine any future.

It’s like taking “Footsteps to the Moon”.

Rod Anderson

February 2005

Ray Harryhausen & Me

As a kid, I was a big fan of dinosaurs. But back in those days, access to the beasts was much more limited. My dad bought me a book and I learnt what they looked like and all the names, but I don't remember much in the way of dino toys or, indeed, films.
Then my Dad took me to see a film called 'Dinosaurus'. It was a dreadful film. The SFX are risible. But I was seven and I loved it. The film also scared the hell out of me and that was cool. too.
A few years later, at my Aunt's house, I saw the original 1933 version of 'King Kong'. The big ape was great, but the dinosaurs were even better. By then I was old enough to understand how the creatures 'moved' in the film. I had discovered stop-motion animation and wanted to know more.
There used to be a magazine called 'Famous Monsters of Filmland' which I often bought. One day as I flicked through the pages I found a drawing by some bloke called Ray Harryhausen. It was a picture of cowboys lassoing cattle in a narrow gorge. And peering around the corner of the gorge was a bloody great Allosaurus!! And his name was Gwangi.
So I learned about Ray Harryhausen, saw all his films and bought and devoured his book; 'Movie Monster Maker'. I was a big fan. And when 'The Valley of Gwangi' finally came out in 1969 it became my firm favourite.
1975. I was at Leeds Poly studying film. For my dissertation I was writing about the history of SFX in the movies. We used to have occasional visiting lecturers on Friday afternoons, and - on a whim - I asked my tutor if we could invite Ray to give a lecture. After all, it would help my dissertation and I was sure he'd be popular.
Adrian York, my tutor, said that if I could find a way to contact Ray, he would invite him.
Now, this being 1975, I hadn't a clue how to find Ray's contact details. I assumed I would have to write lots of letters to the studios, the BFI etc.
Now, it so happened that my fellow students and I were going to London on a field trip. I really can't remember why we went, but we had a bit of spare time before we returned. And I had an idea.
 Ray, though an American, was living in London. There was an old, red telephone box. In that box was a London telephone directory...
Oddly, there was only one listing for 'Harryhausen R.'. I can still remember the address was in Holland Park. I wrote down the phone number and gave it to Adrian on my return.
And Ray, bless him, said yes.
I designed and made the posters, and then worried in case no-one attended the lecture. I shouldn't have been concerned. On the day, the place was packed.
Ray arrived with a big cardboard box and, for the next two hours held us spellbound. He showed lots of clips and, amazingly, pulled a few of the actual models out of the cardboard box.
The lecture ran over quite a bit and, at the end, there was a rush to the bar. I and a few die-hards hung around however, for a chat with the great man. He was delightful. Even after a long lecture, he was happy to answer all our questions. And then...
He took out the models and handed them round. And of course it was only coincidence, but he handed me Gwangi. Less than a foot tall, but one of the biggest moments in my life.
Bless you, Ray. RIP.

Goulash Soup: As served in Austrian Ski Huts

This is what I usually choose as a lunchtime meal when skiing in Austria or Switzerland. Warming, filling and hydrating too!
The only difference between this and standard Goulash is that it's usually made with Lamb mince rather than pieces of Lamb. It works with both. Or Beef. Or Horse, I guess...
The original idea came from Katie Stewart's 'The Complete Cookbook' published in 1983. I've made a few changes...
Take half a kilo of Lamb mince and slowly brown in a large pan. (I use a wok with a lid, but anything with a lid will do.) When the Lamb is browned and you've made sure there are no clumps of mince stuck together, peel & slice a large onion and add to the pan. Then, in a pestle & mortar, mash up a tablespoon of Caraway seeds with a couple of cloves of garlic and add that too.
Next add a tablespoon, or more of hot Paprika. If you haven't the hot stuff, then add a bit of dried Chilli. You know how much you like. Add salt & pepper and put the lid on. No liquid need at this stage. Cook, slowly, for an hour stirring every 15 mins.
Meanwhile, chop some veg. Any root veg will do, but I use potatoes and carrots. It doesn't matter what size, but again I favour smaller than bite size.
When the mince & stuff has had it's hour of cooking, add a tablespoon of plain flour and a good squirt of tomato puree. Turn the heat up & stir to cook for a minute or two.
Now, add that home-made stock you always have to hand. About a litre I guess. Bring to the boil and chuck in the veg.
Put the whole thing into a oven-proof pot, put the lid on and cook in a medium oven (180/ gas mark 4) for an hour or so.
Bring the pot out and let it cool for a minute or so. Then add a good slug of plain yoghurt.
Eat with crusty bread, then back on the skiis and off you go!

Slow Cooker Chicken

I'm surprised how many people still have a slow-cooker. And how many don't use them. A bit like a bread-maker. You use them for a while, then they end up in the back of a cupboard.
Well, if you do have one, try this. It's tonight's supper and is filling the house with chickenness.
I've got a basic Crock-Pot which has four settings: Off, Low, High and Keep Warm. Plug it in and set it to High. (Actually, the only difference between High & Low is how quickly it gets up to temperature says their website.)
Now get your free-range, organic chicken out of the fridge and let it warm up a bit.
Cut a lemon in half and cut a whole head of garlic in half. Cut the bits of string off the chicken and insert the lemon & garlic into its *ahem* cavity.
Pop the chicken into the slow-cooker and, before you put the lid on, spread on a good teaspoonful of butter. Then, season well with salt and pepper. (Maldon sea salt and freshly-ground pepper, if you can.) Put the lid on and leave it for at least 4 hours.
If you have a large chicken, you may find that the legs rise up during cooking and lift the lid up. This is bad news, so put a heavy, upturned saucepan on top to keep the blighter in.
While that's cooking, a word about vegetables.
Do have roast spuds. Par-boil for 5 mins. Drain. Put back in the pan. Shake with the lid on to break up the corners. then into a cast iron pan, pre-heated with goose fat (If you can. Any oil will do, at a pinch.) Add Rosemary, Salt. Pepper. Gas mark 6 for 70-90 mins depending on the size of the spud.
Any other veg you fancy. My favorite is:
Fry some smoked lardons till crisp & brown. Add 1/4 pint of chicken stock. Bring to the boil and throw in a large handful of frozen peas. Cook for a couple of mins. Add a couple of handfuls of shredded Savoy cabbage. Put the lid on and cook until the cabbage is done - about 3mins. Lovely.
When the chicken is done, remove from the slow-cooker  (Carefully, it may fall apart.) Put it in a serving dish and cover with 2 layers of kitchen foil and a tea-towel. Let it rest somewhere warm for up to 30 mins. That keeps it juicy.
Now, despite having put no liquid in the slow cooker, you will find there is half a pint of lovely chicken stock in there. You can make gravy with that however you like, but if you're pushed for time just add a bit of water and some gravy granules. Works for me.
That's it. The best roast chicken - without roasting.

Spag Bol (Sort of.)

This recipe (or more accurately series of suggestions) came about because of a sunny lunchtime in Taomia, Sicily. We found a local restaurant and popped in for lunch.
I chose the house spaghetti and asked the waiter (and owner & chef too, I think.) What was in it. He said "Spaghetti. With our special sauce." That's all I could get out of him. So I ordered it anyway.
It came in the classic Italian way. A bowl with some good olive oil in the bottom. Al dente Spaghetti on top of that and a very reduced sauce on top. You mix it up and add a bit of ground pepper (No cheese, I was told.) And it was really very good. A great depth of flavour and quite spicy.
I really wanted to re-create it, but the chap wouldn't give anything away. This is as close as I've got...

First, you need mince. Most people would use beef mince, but Sara's allergic to beef so I use lamb mince. Now, this bit is important. Put a little olive oil in a saucepan and heat it gently. Chuck in the mince and stir and stir. You have to brown the mince and break down all the clumps into tiny bits. This takes a little while but is so worth it.
In-between stirs, chop some veg. You really need onions (2 medium) and garlic (As many as you dare. I use about 5-6 cloves of garlic.) Then, whatever you have. Carrot, peppers (red & green.), courgette, leek, celery. Any or all of those. If you can bear to, dice all the veg quite small. It really works better with bits of veg not much bigger than the bits of mince. And keep stirring the mince!
Now, get a bowl and a sieve, and drain the mince. Pour some of the mince liquid back into the pan and soften the veg. Use as much mince liquid as you dare. I use it all, but that's not necessary!
While the veg is softening, chop some basil & thyme if you have them. If not, dried, mixed herbs is fine.
Put the mince back in with the veg and mix together.
Now add the herbs, a good shake (about a tablespoon) of balsamic vinegar, maybe a bit of soy sauce, or Worcester sauce and as much dried chilli flakes as you like. I use a teaspoonful. Stir and cook for a minute or two. Pour in a good slug of red wine and let it bubble. Add some ground pepper and a touch of salt. (only a touch if you've used soy sauce.)
Let that bubble and reduce down a bit. Now add half a tin of chopped tomatoes, or a small jar of tomato and basil sauce or some chopped fresh tomatoes. I use halved cherry tomatoes and put them in a bit later, so they don't disappear completely.
That's it. Let it bubble for as long as you can, uncovered. At least an hour. It needs to reduce quite a bit.
Cook the spaghetti in lots of salted water until just tender. Put a splash of good olive oil in the bottom of each bowl. Then spaghetti on that and a dollop of sauce on the top.
I suggest a good grind of fresh black pepper. And, if you must, some grated Parmesan cheese.
It's not Spag Bol. It's better!

Cooking off -recipe

 

I love recipes. I enjoy following expert advice. Stick to the rules and you can't go wrong. Easy.
Anyway, tonight I'm going off piste for a change...
What do we have? Lamb Chops, various veg and red wine.
So, lets marinate the chops. A pour-and-store-bag is ideal for this. Chuck in Rosemary leaves (keep the stalks), chopped garlic, splash of balsamic vinegar, soy sauce, Worcester sauce and (because I found it in the back of the cupboard) Maggi liquid seasoning. No need for salt & pepper. Close the bag, shake and leave at room temperature for as long as you've got. I left it 1/2 an hour.
Meanwhile, lets do a sauce. Chop onion, garlic, carrot, leek, celery (any or all you have). Quite finely if you can be bothered. Melt olive oil and butter, half & half, and cook the mirepoix  (as the chefs call it) with a sprig of thyme, until soft. Chuck in a large glass of red wine and slowly simmer to reduce by about a third.
Oven on, gas mark 7. (Electric Oven? Google it.)
Get a medium sized cast-iron saucepan. Add a slug of olive oil and set over a fairly high heat. Get the chops out of the bag and scrape all the bits that stick to them back into the bag.(I dried the chops on some kitchen roll. You don't have to). Cook the chops rapidly on both sides for a couple on minutes until brown and a bit sticky. Give the fatty skin a quick burst of heat to start browning and then put the pan in the oven for about 12 mins (for a pink middle.) Then transfer to a serving dish, cover with 2 layers of foil and a tea towel and keep warm. (I use the grill (turned off) above the oven.) That'll keep for ages and become juicer and more tender.
Right, now get some spuds and chop into bite-sized pieces. Using the same sauce pan, put in some oil, paprika and chilli flakes. Toss the spuds in this and put  in the oven. Maybe turn it down to about mark 5. They'll take about 40 mins (but keep an eye on them.)
Now, I happen to have some French beans. So, top & tail and cook in water or stock, or stock cube in water. I'm using a veg stock cube in a cup of hot water. When they're cooked, drain their stock into the sauce and keep the beans warm.
Put the heat under the sauce until bubbling, then sieve into another saucepan, squidging all the liquid through. Reduce the sauce until it's thick & glossy.
That's it. Plate up & serve.
I've never shared a recipe before, so let me know if you try it.
Ah, some red wine left. Cheers

A safe pair of hands?

 

I heard an interview  on the radio this morning. Announcing a new version of an album, to be released in November. And that reminded me of my small part in the making of the original recording...
It 1978 and I was working for a tiny Soho recording studio called Anemone Sound. I was assistant engineer, working with Derek Hanlon. Anyone who knows Derek as filmmaker might be surprised to know he was also a talented sound engineer. Well, he was. Very talented. But, sadly on that Friday in 1978, he'd gone home early.
I was about to leave myself when the phone rang. Would I stay on for a bit as a record company wanted to do an edit on a new album. I wasn't too happy as I was looking forward to a beer or two, but I said OK.
As I remember, they didn't show up for ages and I was on the verge of giving up and going to the pub when they finally arrived.
I can't remember anything about the people who arrived. I think there were two of them but I'm not sure. They handed me a reel of quarter-inch tape and told me they wanted to extend the first track, side one.
I put the tape on and had a listen. It was certainly different. Starting with speech, then a big string section motif, before the rhythm section cut in. Pretty impressive.
Basically, they wanted to repeat about 2 minutes of an instrumental section in the middle of the song.
Now, back in 1978, the only safe way of doing this was to copy the whole song onto another recorder and then copy the section you wanted to repeat. Then cut the repeat into the copy of the song. That way you didn't touch the master recording. Useful if the edit didn't work or someone changed their mind. But then, the version you ended up with was a 'generation down' and would, even with Dolby noise reduction, have a bit more hiss.
So, it was decided that I had to copy just the repeat section and then splice that into the master recording. This is risky. I had to get the levels exactly the same, hope the band hadn't speeded up or slowed down and I was attacking their precious master with a razorblade.
So that's what I did. And it sounded pretty good, to be honest. There was a slight increase in hiss, but not so you'd notice unless you listen for it.
Which I do. Every time I hear Jeff Wayne's War of the Worlds!