THE KNOTTY PROBLEM WITH TIES

By Keith Newbery - Thursday, March 20, 2008

THIS ISLAND LIFE
WHAT is the point of ties? Until the advent of blessed retirement, I spent more than 50 years wearing them, man and boy, without ever knowing why.
I have only seen them put to positive use once. Every day a former features editor of my acquaintance used to loosen his tie, undo the top button of his shirt and rush around all day with a sheet of paper in his hand looking busy. He eventually made it to managing director.
However, the other evening I finally realised ties are a state of mind rather than a meaningless piece of apparel. This epiphany occurred when I attended a dinner at the Seaview Hotel (lovely food, incidentally) with a group of characters who are doing so much behind the scenes to bring about the successful development of the county cricket ground at Blackwater.
There were about a dozen of us, and the older ones all wore ties as a matter of course, except a retired teacher who favoured the trendy rambler look.
The most senior citizen among us still managed to sport a neatly knotted tie despite having grievously injured a finger tinkering with a manhole cover. (Don’t ask).
The youngest in the group — a cricket administrator — adopted an egalitarian approach. Roughly translated, it was: “I’d wear this T-shirt on the beach, so why I can’t I wear it in here?’
The chartered surveyor wore both a tie and a jumper; the result of years trying to create a business-like impression while tramping around chilly building sites.
The architect was the most dapper by some distance, betraying the need for neatness and complete professionalism in his line of work.
It was farmer and businessman, Steve, who presented the most intriguing contradiction. He had a screwed-up Ventnor Rugby Club tie in his jacket pocket. “My wife made me wear it but I took it off as soon as I got here,” was the explanation.
I knew what he meant. I had been conditioned over the years to believe you could not dine at somewhere like the Seaview Hotel without wearing a tie. I also adopted the wear-it-there-screw-it-up approach.
So I ask again. What is the point of ties?

WEAK ATTEMPT AT HUMOUR
THERE has been a strange absence of women in the Grumpy Old People hall of fame, so I would like to nominate a teacher who terrorised Sandown Grammar School during the sixties.
Her name was ‘Grassy’ Fields, an angular and perpetually angry-looking woman who attempted to impart the rudiments of biology to generations of quaking pupils. Think Joyce Grenfell with PMT and you have her to a tee.
She seemed to stalk the corridors and classrooms with an expression which suggested the world had done her a great wrong which could never be righted — therefore everyone had to pay.
Remember my old mate Sharpy, who featured in the Ursula Andress anecdote a couple of months ago? I recall his glasses flying through the air after Grassy thumped him on the side of the head with a book. His crime? He was leaning against the laboratory wall waiting to enter her class as she walked by.
A single letter of the alphabet caused me to suffer a similar cranial assault. Grassy was giving us dictation on amphibians, and it included the phrase ‘a week-old frog.’ In my haste I scribbled it down as ‘a weak old frog.’
“You stupid child!” she shrieked. “Are you trying to be funny?” Just before the tome descended and the pain began, I remember feeling oddly flattered she should think me witty enough to have made the mistake deliberately.
GOP badges are still selling well and a total of £850 has been reached in aid of the stroke unit at St Mary’s. Remember, you can get them at the County Press shop in Newport and from Winter’s Garage at Havenstreet.
By the way, the Barton Boneheads reunion is Friday, March 28, at the Riverside Centre, not tomorrow (Good Friday).
You should have heard them moaning when I got it wrong last week.

THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES
WHEN I was a kid most Saturday afternoons were spent at the old Partlands football ground watching Ryde Sports. This little world was presided over by the redoubtable Fred Wheeler, and brothers Lionel and Wiley Cooke, who kept it chugging along for years against all the odds.
The players who stick in my mind from 50 years ago are goalkeeper ‘Windy’ Windeler, resplendent in his bright yellow, roll-neck jumper, bald-headed winger Joe Longstaff, crafty little inside-forward Harry Ellis and centre-half Dennis Glass.
He was a tough, nuggety customer who held the defence together over many years. It was great to see him looking as fit as ever in a County Press photo recently, which was published to mark his wedding anniversary.
Congratulations Dennis — and thanks for the memories.

THE KNOTTY PROBLEM WITH TIES

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