Trevor Winkfield

At one time Sandy and I had a flat each in Mentone Mansions. How this came about is another story. She took over a room in flat 9 which was at one time used by Trevor Winkfield, who was at the Royal College studying painting. When he left for pastures new and fame and fortune in New York, Sandy moved in. Winkfield was an existentialist into Duchamp. One of his works he left behind in the flat which consisted of three pieces of hardboard painted green of increasing size, entitled, drawing for a green field, sketch for a green field and "A Green Field" pretty cool uh?
He was giving a lecture once at a Midlands college. John Cage, the composer was supposed to be giving a recital in the evening but could make it due to illness. Winkfield said he knew Cage and could do the recital for him. This he duly did to a standing ovation. However Winkfield could not play a note and just played anything for half an hour including long pauses. He had cheek or chutzpa if you're a New Yorker or speak Yiddish. Anyway when I finally moved upstairs to live in sin with Sandy, we would find that occasionally someone had been in the flat cooked, a meal and left the washing up. This continued for several years until I changed the lock. I t turned out the it was Winkfield who was the culprit, as he had kept the keys to the flat when he left. His cheek knew no bounds as he complained at the lock change. Look him up on the web.bombsite.com/issues/999/articles/3285
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZaMjcElpfK4
Trevor if you ever read this. Hi

Chelsea Part II

The landlord of the studio also owned a 3 story house in Munro Terrace off Chelsea Embankment by the houseboats. It had recently become vacant and asked if we would like to rent it. It was too much for me and Johnny, but we formed a syndicate. Myrtle Healy would take the ground floor, Johnny Clamp the middle floor and me the attic. It was very handy for me as I could use the photographic facilities of Myrtle and Johnny and I recruited Clive Tunnycliffe another designer to share the attic. Quite a creative enclave. Eventually Johnny Clamp who was always short of money, halved his outgoings by involving another photographer to share his studio. Eventually, Jerry Mason took over the whole of Johnny Clamps part as he departed to Worthing to become a tutor at the art college. Jerry Mason and I formed an art director / photographer partnership that lasted 20 years.

60's part the III Sandy's Boots

It was winter and Sandy my then girl friend (now my wife) needed some boots for the snow. As we crossed the crossing by the Worlds End, Peter Sellers and his latest squeeze Brit Eckland crossed before us. They were window shopping for boots too. In the store the boots Sandy wanted were a knee length suede with crossed lacing all the way from the ankle to the top and fur lined. A beautiful boot. Sandy tried several sizes on and settled for the 5 1/2. As I got out my cash to pay, the assistant came over and said that we couldn't have the boots after all, as Brit Eckland wanted them. The assistant pleaded with us, but the more the plea the more we refused. Eventually Brit herself came over to plead here case. Wrong move. Sandy, as beautiful as any starlet, refused to part with them. I knew Miss Eckland vaguely as she lived in Billing Place behind our mansion block, but she always blanked me in the Fox and Pheasant and in Mr B's who cut her hair and mine. She turned to me to ask Sandy to give her them. Another wrong move. I don't answer for Sandy, she is her own woman. Eventually they left disappointed. Those boots were admired everywhere, and still to this day give us both the pleasure of remembrance.

Me in Chelsea in the 60's pt1

My first studio was above a hardware shop on the Kings Road, it is now a Starbucks Coffee Shop, and is attached to the Chelsea Potter Pub. I shared this studio with a photographer called Johny Clamp. We both did freelance work for the Record Companies. Mainly Philips Records, which included Fontana. The entrance to our studio was round the corner in Shawfield Street. It is amazing how life turns full circle sometimes. In the late seventies my Design Group, Design Machine, was still involved in designing for the Music Business, but we had added the Rag trade to our portfolio. By now Design Machine had moved to Sedley Place an alleyway off Oxford Street, down the side of HMV. We got a call from a start up Jeans wear company called FUS Jeans. They needed a Jean labels posters etc. The address they gave had a familiar ring to it. Yes they were based in my old studio. Anyway I digress. The fact that we were based practically in the middle of the Kings Road, equi-distant from Sloan Square and The Worlds End, had us slap bang in the middle of the action. From our vantage point overlooking the road we missed nothing. How we ever turned around the work is a mystery. Yet we both made a good living. A sleeve design could be invoiced for £500 that is probably £1500 in todays money. The funny thing is with the advent of computers you would be lucky to get £500 for a CD insert today. So I only had to design one sleeve a month to be comfortably off. Of course it was all spent too quickly. Clothes, Booze, fancy restaurants all ate into it. I think the rental on the two rooms was £10 a month or something silly. The clients being clients wanted to be shown a good time in Chelsea once a week, and the bills could run into the £100's, therefore the price for a sleeve could only go up. Eventually for big rock bands the sky became the limit.

THE COCK INN

My mother keeps reminding me that she is 96 this year, only 3 years to go until she beats the age of her great aunt Kate, who kept The Cock Inn at Birdwell nr. Barnsley. ( Honestly). You can see the Inn from the M1 as you drive towards Sheffield from Barnsley.The Cock Inn is at the bottom of a deep slope that ended in a turkey farm, owned by her father a butcher and landowner. The first such farm in England. Unfortunate he was a gambler and it all went to the bookies.
At the age of 99 Kate Carr fell down the cellar steps and died of her injuries. She was a big woman and had her dresses made in Sheffield with a secret pocket in which she kept her brandy flask. On Sundays my mother and her siblings had to go to the Inn for Sunday Tea. My mother, Annie, a mere slip of a girl and not inclined to walk anywhere, refused to walk up the hill on the way back, reasoning that Aunt Kate had a big car that could drive them home.
A compromised was reached by little Annie being given brandy from this flask mixed with port. She was only four years old but it was not unusual in those days for children to be given spirits. It can't have done her any harm as she now takes sherry in the afternoon followed by gin and tonic. The time of this tipple slowly edging forward to mid day.
So sup up Annie, and good health, you'll get the telegram yet.

EVA BAIRD and JIMMY SAVILE

Last week I went to Eva Baird's funeral. She was for sometime Ken Mackintosh's other half. She lived with Ken at Edenvale Road until his death. As all readers of this blog know Ken was a strong personality with set ideas of how the world should be. The world according to Ken was black and white, no grey areas just his opinion. But he had met his match in Eva. She was just as strong willed as he was adamant. Their arguments were over trivia, including her chain smoking and her bingo habit.
Eva was very generous host. Nobody called without getting a cup of tea, maybe some toast or a bacon sandwich. On one occasion I had bought some kippers and instead of accepting the bacon I asked if I could grill a kipper. It was a very hot day in June and Ken was in the garden. I duly cooked the kipper, and took it outside. Eva went berserk, calling me all the sorts of names about the smell. Unreasonably I thought as I had asked if it was OK. But the worse thing was that I got a bone stuck in my throat. No amount of tea or coughing would dislodge it. Ken matter of factly suggested a trip to the hospital. Eva just shrugged lit up a cigarette and gave me a look that said ' Serve you right'. Her being an ex consultants PA, I thought would have more sympathy. Eventually after eating masses of dry bread. the bone dislodged and calm, for me at least, was restored.
Ken invested in a PC computer and ink jet printer. He never mastered it beyond the odd email. Eva though went to classes to learn to use it, but in the end most of her time was spent on it playing bingo or patience. She had luck though and won regularly on the bingo at Tooting. Incidentally the bingo hall at Tooting is well worth a visit, it is monument to the old age of Picture Palaces.
 After Ken's death she moved to Wimbledon in to a block of flats called Jimmy Savile House. Just before her death when the Jimmy Savile debacle was at it's height, the residents of the block asked Eva to sign a petition to have the name changed, she refused, because Jimmy Savile had been very good to her and Ken, lending them his caravan, for weekends away. Maybe she didn't believe all the accusations, however her pen remained in her pocket.