I treasure particularly the laughs we shared.  One memory among many: I had just run the London Marathon using an entry in Mel’s name, and we held a ceremony in our house where he stood on a chair and I presented him with the gold medal while he performed a vocal-trumpet rendition of the Star Spangled Banner in a strong Brummie accent, a performance which surely eclipsed even Hendrix’ legendary performance at Woodstock. 

He was so many things.  But as my contribution to an all-round portrait, I thought I’d add one area which probably I know better than others close to him: Mel as carpenter. 

It was 1980 when we met, at the the carpentry course in Waddon Skillcentre, Croydon.  An interesting moment in history.  The construction industry had been a focus of acute class struggle for several years, following the case of the Shrewsbury 24 building workers in 1973.  The Tories were hand in glove with all bosses, but most of all the contruction-industry ones.  It was the most unregulated and savage of all industries, and sadly of course, Mel was ultimately to pay with his life, as did many others.  It had been known for 50 years how dangerous asbestos is, but corporate interests suppressed this knowledge, as they still do today with diesel fumes, opioids, GM and everything else.

But the Skillcentre system embodied the contradictions of its time in a funny way, which I think we could savour in all its humour and irony.  While actual carpentry techniques had changed little for 2,000 years, acute demand for labour led capitalism to a strange discovery: you could compress the mediaeval apprenticeship system (which was always mainly a way of getting slave labour for seven years!) into an intensive six-month course … taught by our brilliant sensei Gordon Riddiford.  Having completed the course, you sought a job, and the nice side of the industry was, no-one ever asked any questions about where you’d come from: if you were good enough as cannon fodder, you were good enough.

Carpenters were a set of eccentrics, outscasts, one-offs, rebels and, misfits.  Trying to describe our cohort of students to Hylda I remember saying: “if you think Mel and I are weird, just imagine that we’re probably the most normal people in the class!” I felt at home right away in this company, and immediately forged a strong bond with Mel which lasted throughout our friendship. 

Subsequently, we both made a career in the industry, and then at some point, decided to change path and both worked in different areas of education.  I like to think we carried something forward from our carpentry experience into those fields.  Certainly, Riddiford’s lucid deconstruction of a building as a system is a lasting inspiration for me.   

Luckily, there exists a kind of living time-capsule of that moment at the Skillcentre: the screenplay of the film Riff-Raff, written by another of my classmates at Waddon 1980, Bill Jesse (the film was directed by Ken Loach), and which for me perfectly depicts that amazing moment when I first knew Mel. 

Each of us carries with us a rage and alienation due to our individual circumstances and histories.  How on earth are we meant to understand, and manage this, in relation to our justified rage against the class system, which also impacts so much on our personal lives?  It’s a contradiction beautifully reflected in that film.  But it means you’re forced to develop a transcendant sense of humour, as a tool for managing it in a creative way, where it ultimately becomes a force for good.  I think that’s what Mel was able to do, and something important we shared.

With deepest love and affection to all the family,

Robert