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Reflections 8

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‘The night grew darker. The sound of pianos mingled with the wind. I could not see the trees—I was entrapped in a town where I had once known nothing but fields and one old house, stately and reticent among the limes.‘ Edward Thomas -The Heart of England, Chapter one, Leaving Town (1909 London J. M. Dent & Co.)

First chess in the big smoke

Why I was barely 17 when my love of chess took me to London. It was late spring, May 7th in fact, a quiet sunny Sunday in the home counties and London too. Damon D’ Cruz fellow club member of Luton chess club and friend, was late in picking me up. He used his brother’s Vauxhall Cavalier that day, the number plate I still recall -E391BGS. Whilst waiting, I listened to songs on a thrash metal compilation I had bought recently, the vinyl still unscratched then; Life in Forms by Acid Reign, and Open Casket by Death being the main two. As I recall he was due to pick me up at 8 am but did so at 8.45 with play commencing at 10 am. Once collected, off to London we went, Islington, as it were.

It was all Damon’s idea, I just went along, us both well into our chess. The name of the tournament I cannot be entirely sure of, believing it to be The Islington Quickplay or The Islington and Highbury Quickplay, one of the two. Held in a school I cannot remember the name of but do remember well the streets and roads that lead you there, the affluence that draped over them, and how the morning light cut clear and crisp angles on rows of blanched stone walls besides flower beds bright in the sun, and clearly painted signs on the fresh tarmac beyond garden walls where hedges were neatly cultivated -something a few streets in Luton had only a paltry smattering of.

Run by Adam Raoof, who seemed somewhat unkempt that day, I was paired in Round 1 against someone rated 187, who insisted upon playing the Evan’s Gambit against me and won with not too much difficulty. And although I would love to say how the day went, I just can’t. All I rememeber was sat in some school assembly hall we were and I found it difficult to cope with the experience on the whole. In what I recall was the final round of the day, that being Round 5, I cannot tell you what my score was prior to it but only that my opponent played the Vienna Game against me and I didn’t know what to do against it. After the game had finished, I do remember asking Damon for his advice but with some bemusement for I had not even been playing chess for two years at that point, and had shown relatively little interest in opening theory throughout that time or so I remember.

I had left school less than one year prior to that quickplay, soon stopped cutting my hair thereafter, was now at VIth Form College and wore only heavy metal T-shirts. I knew nothing of the world and went along for the ride it could be said. What stands out most from that experience was being part of the chess scene in England was more engrossing and engaging than the chess itself, of which I was still not very good at. It was the first of innumerous forays into London for chess to come across five consecutive decades and counting. A mere six months later, Damon and I returned to Islington to watch Karpov, Yusupov, Speelman, and Timman compete in the FIDE Candidates semi-finals at the Saddler’s Wells Theatre, and although Islington heralds where my love of chess first blossomed in London it was soon to be superceded by life, which per se was shaped by chess, that in turn shaped the lives of others from Italy of all places, some years later. Before that, though, those categorically distinct; namely history and the past, both require some context of sorts.

Further back still, Islington was the first part of London I ever visited and where my first ever memories come from, as I still fleetingly recall the road I walked down with my mother as a toddler, as she took me to where the first man who would replace my father lived -a certain Terry Whitbred.

Ginger me with Terry in Wales.

Moving forwards to 1993, Islington was the first part of London I did work of any kind, and where I had my first ever interview by the music press. Team mate Damon opened a record company called Culture Vibes Records, at an office in Leroy House, on the corner of Essex Road and Balls Pond Road. Once, the press came round late that August and wanted to interview someone from the company, being little more than hired help I was lumbered with that because no one in the office wanted to do it. They took my photo, and music aside, asked many questions, one being ‘What is your favourite day of the week?’ I told them it was Saturday. When asked why, I said it was because I got to see my girlfriend that day (a teenager called Lorraine who was well into Grunge like me and listened to the same bands, wore the same clothes, was friends with the girl I had dated not long before (Emma), and more than happy to have prolonged snogging sessions in the long shadows of Luton Town Hall across late afternoons before her bus went up to Eaton GreAnother first I am beholden of Islington for is that it has always been the part of London I said I liked the most…well until I began working in Covent Garden in 2001 that is. Much before then, many times over I took the tube to Angel station and walked up to Damon’s office, a good 1 hour walk past Islington Green until St. Paul’s park arrived and stood opposite. I liked the feel and swagger of Essex Road very much; the affluence the little roadside cafes and coffeeshops brought, with their seating outside making them look rather chic, not to mention those regal Victorian pubs on street corners and the up-market restaurants that paved the jolly little streets running away from them also. Pedestrians and those seated on park benches were often well-dressed, even the cars parked and in passing symbolised wealth. That affection held throughout the 90’s and is easily remembered when I had my first position in the education sector back in the warmest months of 99, when I was both the Hall Manager and Activities Organiser for a school all Summer long, staying in Euston Square at the time, Endsleigh Gardens I might add. Asked to entertain a group of mature Italian students one evening mid-week (one of which I had great sympathy and compassion for as she suffered with depression and needed assistance sometimes, requiring me to hold her hand and steady the ship if she became tearful), I decided to take the 10-20 or so up away from the UCL to Islington for the night out as I knew it was cosmopolitan but also an authentic experience in real London, as opposed another meander through a touristic area, something which the students wanted to wander away from. After exiting Angel Tube station, it was not long before we found a swanky little bar full of well-to-do city-commuters enjoying their beer and conversations. One gentleman in particular was very pleased to meet one student, Marco from Milan, long, curly hair and very Italian looking, and was most welcoming, keen on practicing his limited Italian as well as shaking hands with whoever he could with that unsober smile of his. Wine and beer went down, cultural exchange went on, and moods went up amidst the decor between the bar and the open front end that led onto the street. That evening we sauntered through for the evening panned out as I hoped it would, all because I knew Islington well enough to know it was exactly what our students were looking for through connections to chess and friendships formed from it, which altered my experience of London irrevocably: through chess, Islington was were I first gained a grounding in the big smoke before off I went to university and before work placed me elsewhere around the city, and life, in general, took over in all its guises… .

‘How noble the long, well-lighted streets at this hour, fit with their smooth paved ways for some roaring game, and melancholy because there is no one playing. The rise and fall of the land is only now apparent. In the day we learn of hills in London only by their fatigue; in the night we can see them as if the streets did not exist, as they must have appeared to men who climbed them with a hope of seeing their homes from the summits or of surprising a stagbeneath. The river ran by, grim, dark and vast, and having been untouched by history, old as hills and stars, it seemed from a bridge, not like a wild beast in a pit, but like a strange, reminiscential amulet, worn by the city to remind her that she shall pass.’ Edward Thomas -The Heart of England, Chapter one, Leaving Town (1909 London J. M. Dent & Co.)

Islington High street
More of Islington

M J M

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