My Cupid Noel Tovey - everyone should have a Cupid!

My Cupid - Noel Tovey
Janette Heffernan

Cupid the Roman God of erotic love and beauty, whose arrows can unite the most unlikely protagonists, is an elusive and enchanting creature. Everyone, if they are lucky, will meet the God of Love at sometime in their lives and when you do it is most important to keep on his the right side. A casual word in the wrong direction can mean the difference between wedded bliss or a lonely and impoverished old age.

Cupid can come in many guises. True we think of him today as a chubby cherub with a quiver full of arrows charged to inspire romantic love but that is not how the Romans saw him. To them he was is a lively youth who delighted in pranks and spreading love. It is said if Cupid's arrow hits you; you will fall hopelessly in love with the next person you meet.

I first meet my Cupid when I was twenty-one. I had no idea that he was the God of Love.
At first glance it was obvious to me that Cupid was exceptionally good looking, confident and self-assured. I was the Principal Girl in the Windsor Pantomime and Cupid was the premier danseur who picked me up and twirled me around in the final walk down. He was a good dancer too. The panto came to a close and I moved on never giving this man another thought. Ships that pass!
Little did I realize that this short meeting was to have life changing consequences that would effect the rest of my life ten years down the track. I had met my Cupid.

In between jobs I had taken up ice skating as a social hobby. I was hopeless at it but being in the theatre can be very lonely and for a single girl a bit like living in a convent. Not too much available talent around, the opportunities to meet suitable partners are few and far between owing to the unsocial hours worked. Ice rinks, well Queens in Bayswater ,were a wonderful place to meet people. Strangely I found it was a good place to meet members of the medical profession as St Mary's Paddington is nearby and it is a sport one can do alone and at anytime hence lots of doctors. You have to be intelligent to skate. Very challenging.

The first time on the ice after I had said farewell to my Cupid a very special medical specimen literally fell at my feet in the form of a Dr Miles Richard Castelhow Heffernan, General Practitioner of Shepherds Bush, right beside the BBC. He was not good looking, rather old for me at 35 but he had the sexiest voice I had ever heard. I just adore Oxford Accents. I fell head over heals in love with this man and I still am.

I wish I could say the feeling was mutual as unrequited love is truly unbearable but to Dr Heffernan I was just a pair of legs with skates on. It was a friendship of convenience, we were both beginners and someone to dance with as nobody else wanted to do so. It soon became obvious that Miles was not interested in me other than for holding him up but he was fun clever and intelligent, loved opera and ballet so he became a good friend and skating partner for the next 8 years! He never took me to the opera because he never bothered to find out my other interests. Got quite a surprise when he found out I knew Benjamin Britten at about six years into our friendship.

I knew Miles was not available which was sad because I knew he was the one for me. I had to look elsewhere and I did. I had lots of boyfriends but I never meet the one who was just right. It was infuriating because I knew that Miles was just right. Miles just did not see ME.
I wondered if Miles might be gay as he ran a boarding house above his surgery and most of his lodgers were single men Bit like ‘Rising Damp’ in fact a lot like ‘Rising Damp’ as he had the Nigerian Pathologist, a Norwegian shipping owner’s sons and various musicians but the one or two knee tremblers I had received under the table convinced me that Miles was all man but definitely not interested in me. I just gave up on him.

My career had sort of come to a full stop and for two years I spent trying to break into London Theatre with little success so I spent hours down at the rink with my skating girl friend Virginia, she too is worth an epitaph as she really taught me how to live as I was just so innocent. The Theatre is worse than a convent and completely isolated from reality.

Then one day out of the blue Cupid turned up on ice skates. There he was skating like an angel and whisking me off my feet, dancing The Blues and throwing me into fish dives. I could hardly believe my eyes as it takes years to become a good skater and Noel Tovey, for this is what my Cupid was called, was not only a fine ballet dancer but also a more than competent skater.

Noel was an Australian who was just beginning to make himself a name in the West End of London. I knew little about him but he liked me and he made me like him. He was just so nice and enthusiastic about life and clever and talented. I introduced him to Miles and Noel joined our small circle. Again it had not dawned on me that Noel/Cupid was to arrange the rest of my life.

I had absolutely no money during this period. Just enough to go skating and auditions. I had no money for food and would sit and watch the others eat cream caramels with my cup of tea looking as if I did not care for such delights. Miles never bought me a cup of tea although he was on £3,000 a year. I had £104 a year in discretionary income after living and traveling expenses. His salary was a fortune when the average wage was about £15 per week and he used to protest when I pinched his chips.

Noel won a job in the chorus of a new musical ‘On the Level’ at the Saville Theatre. This was a highly sort after job as these are hard to get and was a great career move up in the right direction. I was so pleased for him and extremely jealous at the same time. Regular money and in the West End! His skating days were over as West End Musicals and Skating do not mix. Considered too dangerous.
Then when I was 24 my career took off. I went from understudy to West End principal virtually overnight. I had to take over the lead in an intimate revue and luckily for me I collected real live fans that sent me flowers, chocolates perfumes and gold necklaces. The management was impressed at my performance. No other cast member was getting such adulation, so I kept the part. It appeared the audiences found me a ‘sexy bit of goods’, much to my surprise it appeared I had ‘IT’.

Miles reluctantly came to see me and was obviously not impressed when I could not leave rehearsals and go and skate with him.

Then as if by magic Cupid was to cross my path again. I got a part in the ‘Desert Song’ at the Palace Theatre and my Cupid had partnered up with the fabulous leading lady. By this time Noel's career had taken off too into the stratosphere and he was the choreographer for the Sandy Wilson revival of ‘The Boy Friend’ at Wyndhams Theatre, which was a huge success. His partner took over the role of ‘Polly Browne’ when ‘The Desert Song’ closed. I was so jealous as I knew I could have played ‘Polly’ too. I liked them both a lot.

Miles was extremely useful to me during this period although he did not know it. ‘The Red Shadow’ had a wandering eye and I could see I was next on the list. A 45-year- old family man is not my cup of tea so it was necessary to develop a fiancée quick and Miles was the obvious choice. Miles was ‘real’ and I could lie convincingly and believe me I needed too on this occasion. The only thing odd about my fiancée was he only turned up to see me in the last week of the run and someone stole my fake engagement ring! Serves them right as it came from Woolworth’s.

Cupid phoned and asked me to be ‘Polly Brown’ in his production of 'The Boyfriend' that he was taking to South Africa. I was thrilled as at 26 I had never been outside of England. Could never afford it. The major industrial cities I knew well but my foreign travel had been limited to Cardiff. I was once invited by a college friend Elizabeth Himsworth whose father was at that time I believe, Ambassador to Afghanistan of all places to spend the summer in the Khyber Pass. The fare would cost just £92 but as I only had £104 to live on for a whole year this was out of the question. I wish I had gone now.

I was so naive but on the trip to South Africa I grew up socially and politically and I have never been the same again. Everyone sheltered in the democratic West should see third world conditions and experience dictatorship then the world would change. I know I did, overnight! Loved the country to look at hated the politics!

Noel who was of aboriginal descent and Inia Te Wiate, a famous Maori opera singer from New Zealand where I ended up eventually both were there at that time and made a nonsense of the hateful apartheid system.

One evening after a party in Johannesburg, Noel said 'Janette why don't you marry Miles? I cannot think of anyone more perfect for you!' 'Yes' I replied ‘but he does not see me. He thinks I am a stupid under educated middle class child but I do love him and the person I marry has to be as good as Miles if not better or I shan’t bother' and that was it!

Noel left for London and I never saw him again but when I returned to London Miles was a different man. Miles went to Greece and on his return he started to woo me as only an English Upper class Oxford educated male can. I got the lot, the punt on the river, the boxes at the Royal Opera. I enjoyed that bit, the picnics at Glyndebourne, within a year I was Mrs. Heffernan and I remained happily Mrs. Heffernan for thirty years until Miles died. I often wondered what had bought about this change of heart. I thought it was a trip to Athens.

One day, years into our marriage, I said to Miles that I wondered what had happened to Noel Tovey. Twenty years ago you could not Google to find out.

‘Oh you mean Cupid’ said Miles, 'When he returned from South Africa Noel said to me 'Miles you really should do something about that girl' so I did!'

Without Cupid's intervention Miles and I, stuck in our repressed middle class mores, would never have had the courage to speak out to each other. I should have missed out on thirty years of a happy marriage and a beautiful daughter who is every inch her father's child, scaringly brilliant at both Arts and Sciences and Miles gave me the education that the nuns should have provided. Miles introduced me to Proust! My life would have been poorer.

My Cupid not only gave me a part to dream for ‘Polly Browne', my first trip in an airplane, air travel in the 60’s was only for the rich and famous, the chance to work in a foreign country, a political vision of reality I shall never forget, but also a glorious husband in the 'Mr. Darcy' category and his sadly his pension.

Now I am aged 65 and Cupid has turned up again as an Australian National Treasure. You name it Noel Tovey has achieved it and I am not surprised. One highlight was the aboriginal section of the Opening of the Sydney Olympic Games. Wonderful!

I shall always be thankful that I had the good fortune to fall into his path. The Gods have truly smiled on me.

Everyone needs a Cupid. Unlike the other Gods around today this ancient God works!

Dorothy L Sayers and the Oxford Man

Up until last week I had always considered D L Sayers a bit of a joke. I had been led to believe and I did believe that Miss Sayers's characters had about as much going for them as Bertie Wooster and Agatha Christie's. By accident I came across  a dramatised version entitled Strong Poison and having nothing better to do I watched it. From the moment her central character with the unfortunate name of Lord Peter Wimsey, late Eton and Oxford, appeared in the shape of Edward Petherbridge I knew that I had been mistaken for D L Sayers knew her man.

Dorothy Leigh Sayers wrote detective novels in the 1920s/1930s because she needed to make money. She was born in 1893 in the Head Master's House, Christchurch Cathedral Oxford, her father was a minister. She went to Oxford when women didn't and although she graduated was not given a degree. When in 1920 Oxford males relented she received an MA, First Class Honours. Being a thoroughly modern young women she went into advertising and was exceptionally good at it, It pays to advertise and Only Toucan Do were two of her best and are still memorable today.

All writers write about what they know and Miss Sayers knew her Oxford.  She knew exactly what it is that makes the Oxford man so attractive to women as she lived with them all her life.  Being an advertising copywriter she realised that the general public and women in particular enjoyed detective fiction and the aristocracy. They still do but she could also have added the Oxford man on her list. Sayers probably did not realise why her detective with his silly name was so appealing.  Oxford men were her source of reference.

How do I know this? Easy I had the good fortune to actually marry an Oxford man. I have never really thought about this as it just happened but Miss Sayers opened my eyes to the fact. It is only in the last three novels when Sayers rounded out Wimseys character with the introduction of a love interest Harriet Vane that  was based on herself that I recognised the courtship rituals of this example of the male species.

Lord Peter Wimsey is so attractive because the character rings true. Well, he did to women of my age but possibly would need a bit of an update today. The protocol regarding living arrangements before marriage are now so different to life before the 1990s as to be almost unfathomable to those around today. How could a man of 45 keep his hands off the woman he wanted to marry until she had said yes and they had tied the knot? But in those days they did.

My courtship was almost identical to that of Harriet Vane and this is on the whole how it goes. An Oxford educated gentleman knows that he is superior. That is taken for granted. They just are. Possibly because they had received an education that is second to none. Not only are they educated but Oxford itself is a magical place to spend the most important and influential years of one's life. It not only imparts a great education but a delight in living, confidence and how to get the best out of life. They get used to living well and feeling special because they are. To those who they consider in the club they remain little boys all their lives with silly names and jokes which are spiced with irony which they delight in displaying among themselves. They love dressing up and going to gaudys. They do not notice ordinary people. They are not rude they just don't notice. My husband told me later I was a pair of skates on legs. I was 29 before he noticed me.

From the moment this Oxford man fell at my feet at Queens ice rink I knew that he was the man I wanted to marry or at least a man like this. He was not good looking, older than me but he had a voice and an accent that is like nectar. The Oxford accent is in a class of it's own. It is just plain sexy when it purrs in your ear.  He was a good ice dancer and even being asked for a dance was a delight. He also, like Sir Peter played the piano rather well, each day in fact but I did not discover this for years.  He also went to the opera on a weekly basis. He took wonderful overseas holidays, Davos, St. Moritz and Zermatt in winter and Italy, Greece in summer. He had a nice but unshowy car and owned a house in Shepherds Bush by the BBC  and a housekeeper to look after him. My Oxford man did not do the dishes or make his bed. He was also incredibly mean. I had absolutely no money but he hardly ever offered a cup of tea and never paid my entrance although he danced with me all afternoon.

I did not hold out any hope. I was attractive, very attractive, at one time Ken Russell the film director had said I was the sexiest thing in West End musicals. I was bright and intelligent too and if I had been a boy my father, who went to the best schools himself would have seen to it I went to Oxford. However to an Oxford man I was a middle class convent girl and therefore completely uneducated but I did have a good English received accent and knew about Darwin which I think helped a bit.

One day when I was 29 I happened to mention while dancing a waltz that I knew Benjamin Britten rather well. I think I am possibly the only 19 year old girl Britten ever took home alone in the Alvis. I was even then exceptional as Britten only went for the best. This came as a bombshell and I was nearly dropped on my bottom on the ice. How did this creature know Benjamin Britten? I was rushed off to tea and dinner while this GP actually found out what he had been dancing with. I got asked out to the opera that night  and really from that moment he saw me as a person not a thing. At last I was treated if not quite like an equal then at least with respect I deserved. Dr Miles Heffernan fell in love. I was quite used to men falling in love with me. I had lots of fans who sent me flowers and chocolates but as I had given up hope on this man he had to work rather hard to catch up as there was  another Oxford man Miles G of the FO that I found equally attractive only like Lord Peter  Wimsey he used to dash off to foreign lands on occasions on FO business.

The courtship was long and pleasant. The moment that he made up his mind to marry me life changed. I got the full treatment and I was introduced to Oxford and the punt on the Cherwell with wine chilled in the water. This is a sure sign that an Oxford man means business. Glyndebourne picnics, visits to his college Oriel with an introduction to testudo,  the box at Covent Garden Opera and Ballet.  I introduced Miles to the ballet, no more standing and No Puccini! That I had seen The Ring at 16, I stood through it, was impressive. He also discovered I sang Schubert well and liked Mahler and I could skate badly. I discovered too that Miles could play the piano and we embarked on a love affair with Lieder that has never ended. No Brahms.

I found like Wimsey, Oxford men enjoy driving around the countryside looking at churches and Roman villas. I never realised there were so many. He would play the organ in one whenever he got the opportunity.

He made no attempt to bed me. I think he may have wanted to but men in those days never married women they bedded as Harriet Vane discovered. It is hard to believe these days but they didn't. Prince Charles is a good example. Men never married their mistresses. It wasn't done. It seemed to work. We had 30 years of a happy marriage much to our surprise.

The moment I became officially engaged I entered the Oxford club. I met his college friends and I was allowed into the banter. They are like little boys sometimes and not all that keen on women in general. The fuss when my husband's college Oriel had to admit women was extremely unpleasant. Oriel was the last to do so and I can quite see why.

Oxford men are very romantic. It appears that they are brought up on Jane Austen and use Mr Darcy as a guide. When you are the object of desire it is most seductive.  They break the social rules and are allowed to do it. It is their way with manners, they can be charming and daringly frank at the same time.  They have a way with words. Understatement is a favourite form of banter. They are fun to be with and one feels safe in their company. They are not afraid of taking command. This is a bit of a show and surprisingly they do need to be rescued on some occasions. You do need to stand up to them if you are not to become a doormat. In fact standing up to them is a necessary attribute if you are to become an Oxford man's Lady! Most Oxford men are afraid of Mother!

Oxford men are not only well versed in their own field but delight in knowing other fields too, the more obtuse the better.  Lord Peter enjoys and is knowledgeable about music but also campanology, Sir Peter could ring the bells. No doubt he had other strengths too, like languages, wine and fashion. My husband was the same, adored ice dancing. Loved architecture too and would drool over the subtle differences in the decoration of semi detacheds. I got a quick lesson in Greek architecture by way of Marie Antoinette's pillars in the V&A. Her husband had obviously had to teach her too.  My husband was fortunate. His MA for which Miss Sayers had to work and wait was given free gratis for completing an Oxford medical degree. To them that are chosen.

In hindsight  I understand now I was fortunate to get an Oxford man as a husband. In fact I suppose I ought to be quite proud of myself on my achievement as Oxford men are picky and can really marry anyone they choose. Oxford men know what is good and I obviously must have been worth it.  They themselves are not perfect and can be infuriating and pompous on occasions and that again adds to the charm. Like Harriet Vane I was reluctant to marry this creature who knew everything and was always right. He countered with If I get exceptionally obnoxious just say, 'Darling you are not in your surgery now'. How could any woman resist?

Sayers written description of Lord Peter Wimsey is bang on but both TV offerings are not quite right. The problem is that both gentlemen are actors and neither of them went to Oxford. Both although trying their best just do not have IT. They lack the charm, and most importantly the voice that is absolutely essential. Ian Carmichael hails from Hammersmith and Petherbridge from Bradford. Not their fault. Perhaps a young Colin Firth in his Mr Darcy mode would be better casting or a young Hugh Grant.  Grant went to Oxford and Firth has an academic family. It is hard to be or even act an Oxford man if you ain't one. In contrast the Harriet Vane of Harriet Walter is spot on. I don't think this Harriet would have said Yes to either of these Wimseys! They didn't deserve her but she would have  said Yes to mine!

I now have respect for Dorothy L Sayers. She was a pioneer. One of her novels, The Nine Tailors  is considered to be one of the four best detective novels of all time, one other on the list is The Hound of the Baskervilles and it deserves to be. I wish I had found her sooner but better late than never. She gave me the opportunity to relive my courtship and my lover which I might never have done without her. For the rest of you if a Lord Peter Wimsey comes along grab him.