So it was then, that aged eighteen, I left home comforts and did my own ‘smalltown boy’ thing, coming up to live and work in London, from Cornwall.
As my crowded train pulled into platform four at Paddington station in West London, on that late September day in 1975, I hopped off the train ‘with some trepidation’ and a huge red suitcase in tow.
Even so, when I was first in London, staying at a civil service hostel called ‘Regina’, close to Gloucester Rd tube station, in a large, high ceilinged, five bedded dormitory room, I still had no great understanding of what to do or where to go with myself. I suppose I trod water for some time and engrossed myself in both seventies London and my work.
There was, it being central London, a lot to do and see. Unlike my roommates, who were all in the Civil Service, working standard nine to five jobs I was in the Scientific Civil Service (having signed the Official Secrets Act, as you did then), as a meteorologist at Kew Observatory (now renamed with its original title the ‘Kings Observatory’) in the Old Deer Park on the banks of the Thames, close to Kew Gardens and Richmond. A rickety old District line tube journey from nearby Gloucester Rd station took me there in half an hour. As I was doing shift work, some of which involved night shifts, I was often not in the Hostel some nights, or I was about in the daytime, with time off, when my roommates were at work.
My first workplace and second home.. Kew Observatory, The Old Deer Park, Richmond
Of course, this work and shift pattern already marked me out as ‘different’ to the others and so it was sometimes a struggle to fit in with things there. They were also all very different to me: huge strapping lads and seemingly much more wordly wise; they saw me as a (literally) small village boy from the sticks. Luckily, I was bedded next to Julian, who was a tall lad with curly, fair, long hair and quite outgoing and he helped bring me out of my shell; took me under his wing I suppose.
He was a kind of role model. He wore flares and high stacked shoes, accentuating his height. We all did, I brought my first pair in Kensington’s High Street Market, very close to the trendy ‘Biba’, very quickly and those extra few inches made all the difference, as ever.
Much to my initial surprise, he loved Judy Garland (and would consequently play her greatest hits non-stop sometimes, on his record player: ‘Zing went the strings of my heart, again and again..’) but also bands like T-Rex, Bowie, Led Zeppelin and so on, and I was thus introduced to ‘rock ‘n roll’ proper. I had just started to get into rock in the year before I left home and had the King Crimson debut album ‘In the Court of the Crimson King’ with me, (still a stunning album to listen to, after all these years) and several other similar albums (such as ‘The Tain‘ by Horslips, who sounded a little like an Irish version of Jethro Tull, with their innovative fusion of rock/folk music), which definitely gave me some early credibility points. Our room was huge but unfortunately was just above the (broad scottish female) Warden’s office and living quarters, so we would get knocks on the door and final warnings about the noise or requests not to play ‘the Trolley Song‘ ever again, at all hours.
I was soon named ‘the roon’ (a nickname given to people acting silly, dorky, or ‘roon-ish’, or a somewhat nerdy friend) and to some extent, if it meant I’d be accepted I suppose, I played up to this. Of an evening, we often went down to the Imperial College students Union bar in South Kensington (it was either open to non students then or more likely we just sneaked in) as the beer was extremely cheap there and the music pretty good.
I earned further brownie points, when I sampled my first couple of pints of Theakstons ‘Old Peculiér’ (nearly 6% proof) there and lived to regret it the next day. And many other days to come. Sometimes but especially on a Friday or Saturday evening, we would skip dinner at the hostel, go out to the students union bar and then get a half chicken & chips to takeaway at eleven, when the pubs closed from Dino’s, a great italian joint just opposite Gloucester Rd tube (and only recently closed). Oddly enough now though, I can’t recall going out a lot later to discos or clubs, I’m really not sure why. It was maybe because we were too young or they were too expensive? Or just a bit crap for our tastes? We used to go to the late night coffee lounge at the quite up market and new Kensington Hotel too, as the only place still open at 1am.
One other slightly odd thing that stands out for me now from this time, is that we all went to see the arthouse film Le Gran Bouffe at the fleapit ´The Biograph´ in Victoria. It is about a group of bourgeoius people that eat themselves to death. Only much later did I discover this was a notorious gay pick up cinema in those days.
The Biograph was the second oldest cinema in the UK at the time. It had became very popular during the second World War and in the 1960´s it was one of London’s gay landmarks and nicknamed the “Biogrope”. The police´s increased surveillance of public lavatories drove men looking to “pick up” into the comfort and darkness of the cinema. Men would often change seats to sit next to a young man. Famous racontuer Kenneth Williams visiting it in 1952 “in the hope of traditional entertainment” and complained bitterly, after finding it “terribly desolate”. Yes right, Kenneth. And only later did I realise the potential significance. And now I´m wondering if I missed out! I´m starting to think fifty years later that there were a whole host of signifiers that I wasn´t ready to understand, see or pick up on, if you´ll forgive the pun.
When alone in the daytimes, I’d often walk into the centre of the city or to the museums in South Kensington, as they were free, (Especially the still rather fusty Science Museum) or go to the cinema to see a film: the choice then was huge and I started to favour the arthouse movies. Retrospectively, they were actually quite good times (better than I imagined just a few years after) and often quite fun.
We also started to have friends that had left the hostel and got ‘digs’ or got to know other work colleagues well enough, so that ‘house parties’ were on the agenda. About halfway through my stay there ‘Peter’ came to stay in our room, who was the complete opposite of the other guys: quiet, soft, quite a ‘looker’, well mannered, into men’s cosmetics (quite daring at the time) and I think now, gay. He even had a guy he always saw a lot of in the hostel. Oddly, enough, as far as I can remember, this was never spoken about as a group, he was just quietly accepted. Then there was another good looking guy who came to stay in the room, called Kevin, who worked at Harrods, in their hospitality department and always had a story or two to tell about which famous person had been into the store that day. All in all, these people did change the dynamic of our room, to something that was in its own way ‘quite diverse’. I also fell into a routine of becoming more of a leader and decision maker after the first year. I was always away for at least two nights a week though on shift overnight at the Observatory, so it did still mean I had another life, as it were, quite separate from ‘Regina’ life, which the others didn’t have. And perhaps that already felt entirely natural.
ON to Sex, love and Life (The Rituals) 2.2 Kew and a long lasting love affair
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