Judy Garland et al at Quaglino's in the 1960s, the London restaurant where Tommy Watt's first band played. (Photo: Getty)
Show Hide image

Meet the parents: Romany and Tom by Everything But the Girl’s Ben Watt

The musician’s heart-wrenching memoir of his parents’ long, unhappy marriage.

Romany and Tom
Ben Watt
Bloomsbury Circus, 368pp, £16.99

In April 1958, the BBC screened a documentary called Now We Are Married, which took a “light-hearted look” at the routines of three couples. It was presented by the theatre writer Richard Findlater and his actress wife, Romany Bain, and began at what appeared to be their home, a pebble-dashed suburban house. In the first scene, Findlater was shown leaving for work in his coat and hat, his wife having carefully placed his newspaper in his hand. In the second, viewers saw Bain, elegant in a roll-neck sweater and dark trousers, closing the front door behind him. “I’m an average housewife,” she then said to camera, tilting her chin a little, as if half expecting a fight.

The film spoke of order and contentment: here was a happy couple fulfilling their allotted roles with aplomb and, in the case of Bain, not a little glamour. But nothing was as it seemed. In 1958, Bain was in the throes of a passionate love affair – sometimes it was as debilitating as flu – with Tommy Watt, an immaculately dressed bandleader with exuberant manners and a fondness for the pub. Oh, yes, they had tried to break it off, their respective spouses having found them out. Yet it had been no good. “These last two weeks have been intolerable, unproductive, desolate, blank and quite untenable,” she wrote to him in September 1957. “No work, no love, no nothing.” So, they had continued. It was 1962 before they were free to marry, by which time Bain was carrying her fifth child (her first with Tommy). This baby grew up to be Ben Watt, the musician best known for being half of Everything but the Girl.

In the days after I finished reading Watt’s beautiful, faithful memoir of his parents, Romany and Tom, I pressed it evangelically on friends. It had made me bawl roughly every 30 pages and I predicted it would do the same to them: Watt’s account of his parents’ old age is so full of pity, his slow realisation that he and they had in some sense always been strangers so plangent. As he notes, we know our parents only in the “downhill” stretch of their lives; the golden years happened before we came along.

What tore at my heart, though, was his parents’ relationship with one another. Rom­any and Tom is the story of an increasingly rare thing: a long, unhappy marriage. Forged in the heat of lust and a certain kind of postwar escapism – the Rada-trained Romany is as thwarted a character as you will ever meet, her career having come abruptly to an end when she gave birth to triplets in 1954 – it was doomed from the start by drink and muddled expectations. Yet it survived for more than 40 years. Watt acknowledges the stoicism and devotion in this: his mother stroking his father’s hand as he lies dying. He also understands the fear; she never left her embittered husband, perhaps because she could not bear to fail at marriage twice. He feels the bleakness of it, too, missed opportunities still darkening the room like shadows: “A little murmur escaped from her closed mouth . . . and with it, the tiny moment of tenderness was compromised. . . until it looked more like an evolved tolerance, and on her face was written a faint watermark of disappointment at how it had all turned out.”

How did it curdle, their love? Slowly, Watt tacks back. At first, their lives are full of possibility. Big-band jazz is on its way out but it isn’t so long since Tommy was playing Quaglino’s, recording for George Martin, even picking up an Ivor Novello award (won in 1957, for his composition “Overdrive”). There is hope. As the work dries up, however, the uncompromising Tommy decides he would rather be a decorator than make like Ronnie Hazlehurst, the king of music in the BBC’s light entertainment department, and Romany is left to pick up the financial slack. She works as a journalist, using her theatre contacts – she had been at Stratford with Gielgud – to bag a series of syndicated interviews with Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor. Envious, Tommy returns to drinking. Lonely, Romany joins him. They’re watched by their own one-woman Greek chorus. In the flat downstairs is Eunice, Romany’s mother and, as Watt has it, “her conscience”. His account of his grandmother is very funny indeed.

This is such a rich book, smoky social history – the smog, the strides, the holidays at Pontins – deftly punctuated with some wonderfully unlikely show business vignettes (there are walk-on parts for Romany’s father, the Rev George Bramwell Evens, a children’s broadcaster who stole her name for his nature programme Out With Romany, and to Dick Clement, who gives Watt a preview of the first episode of Porridge). Thanks to the age gap between Watt and his elder half-siblings, he is both an only child and a brother to four, a complex and lonely position, especially once he is marooned with the warring adults. He captures beautifully the unease of the second family – its near-permanent state of truce – without ever passing judgement on its members and connecting his own troubles to their treatment of him.

Most impressive of all is the book’s near-perfect structure. Sly and seamless, its abundant layers offer one of the most complete depictions of a marriage I’ve ever read. Exquisitely restrained, Watt’s technique is to withhold until the right moment. What timing he has! We do not see Romany and Tommy falling in love until the final stages of the book, by which time the drama of their collision feels as necessary as air. Its intensity makes the rest of the story bearable, as it must once also have done for them.

Rachel Cooke trained as a reporter on The Sunday Times. She is now a writer at The Observer. In the 2006 British Press Awards, she was named Interviewer of the Year.

This article first appeared in the 05 March 2014 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's power game

Getty
Show Hide image

Pokémon Gone: why the summer’s most popular app lost over 12 million users in a month

Four ex-players of Niantic's record-breaking game explain why they stopped trying to Catch ’Em All. 

Drowzees. That’s the short answer. The tapir-like psychic Pokémon wiggles its short trunk and stubby yellow fingers all across the land, meaning anyone on a mission to Catch ’Em All inevitably encounters hundreds of the critters. Wherever you go, whatever you do, they are waiting. They are watching. And they are part of the reason the biggest US mobile game ever has lost 12 million users in a month.

According to a report by Bloomberg, based on data from Axiom Capital Management, Niantic's Pokémon Go has seen a rapid decline in the number of users and user engagement. The game has dropped from nearly 45 million players in July to just over 30 million now.

Of course, like Team Rocket in a hot air balloon over Cerulean city, Pokémon Go had a long way to fall. After the initial frenzy and hype, it makes sense that the next set of headlines about the game would be exposing a decreased number of downloads and active users. No one can keep up chart-topping and revenue-grossing world records forever. But why has it faced such a steep and rapid decline?

The most common answer is that it was all a fad. Brenda Wong, a 23-year-old social media manager from London explains this is why she stopped using the game. “Like most fads, the interest slowly died over time. Life caught up with me and I started playing less and less,” she says. “Maybe it's sad that I now prioritise saving my battery over hatching an Ekans. Maybe.”

This partially explains the decline, but it isn't the whole story. Another argument is that the app is buggy, but considering it managed to maintain its popularity after multiple server crashes in July, that doesn't hold up either. Sure, Pokémon Go is being constantly updated and yes, it does drain your battery – but these aren’t the fundamental issues with the app. The fundamental issue is this: the game just isn’t very good.

Feeling drowzy

This is where the Drowzees come in. Although there are a 150 Pokémon to catch, most users end up catching the same species over and over, as there simply isn’t a wide enough range commonly available (hence any memes you might have seen about Pidgeys and Rattatas). The other main aspect of the app, battling in gyms, has no real endgame and gameplay is mostly aimless.

“I don't have the patience to wade through all the crap Pokémon that are everywhere in order to eventually hope to find something I don't already have,” says Alex Vissaridis, a 26-year-old graphic designer from London.

“I used to play Pokémon Go pretty religiously. I used the App Store hack to get it from the US store before it was released in the UK. I'd turn it on as soon as I'd leave home in the morning. I'd go on PokéWalks by myself, too, around the local area. I swear I've played it when I'm supposed to be out with friends, you know, socialising. The novelty's worn off now, though.”

Vissaridis’ complaints echo those made on one of the largest online communities of Pokémon Go players, reddit.com/r/pokemongo. Despite remaining loyal to the app, the 806,175 Redditors on this forum frequently suggest ways the game could improve, and bemoan its features such as the lack of meaningful player interaction, no daily log-on bonuses, and a lack of other in-game incentives.

“I'm level 21, and once you get to level 20, the XP points you need to level up are astronomical, and where it used to take a day of solid use to go up one or two levels, it now takes about a week or so. I can't be bothered anymore,” says Vissaridis.

These little town blues

For some users, the game is even worse. Pokéstops are locations in the game where players can pick up items and gain points, and they are found at real-world places of significance. This means users in rural areas, where there isn’t a monument or museum every five metres, are at a disadvantage. There are also fewer gyms – the places where you battle – and fewer Pokémon in general.

“I downloaded Pokémon Go the minute it came out in the UK,” says Amy Marsden, a 22-year-old student from Lancashire. “My friends and I would go off on bikes and try to catch Pokémon, which is probably the nerdiest thing I've ever done in my life. In the end, living in a small town was what killed Pokémon Go for me - there are only so many Pidgey and Rattata a person can take before the game just becomes boring.”

It's just a load of Pokéballs

Daniel Jackson, a 25-year-old journalist from Scotland, also became frustrated by the mechanics of the game. “The novelty wore off when I realised how shallow the experience is. There's not very much to do,” he says.

“I think it would be far more interesting if each species lived within a radius that it roamed around, rather than appearing in a location for a set amount of time before vanishing. I think being able to genuinely hunt for them would have been more engaging.

“When my kids were with me over the summer holidays I was able to convince them to get out more. They usually act like they're allergic to grass and air. So although it was a bit of a disappointment I think the concept is sound and that when it's eventually done well, location-based gaming could become an industry in itself. There are so many possibilities.”

The possibilities are indeed endless, and developers Niantic might still redeem themselves and the game in one of their frequent app updates. Despite Pokémon Go's rapid decline, it's also worth remembering that the app still has an incredible 30 million users. As far as mobile marketing goes, Niantic really did Catch ’Em All. Now they just have to figure out how to keep them. 

Amelia Tait is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman.