About
St Mary's Catholic School, circa 1970!
I was born on April 6th, 1958 in Ashton- Under-Lyne, a small town outside of Manchester. My father Edward James Clissold, known as Jim, was at the time a Civil Servant working for the Ministry of Defence, who had been born in Cirencester in Gloucestershire. The Clissolds were as far as I can ascertain, Hugenot descendants who had fled France in the 16th century as a results of religious persecution, and who adopted the anglicised Clissold from the original "De Clisson". My mother, Mary Frances Clissold was Irish, who had been born in County Kildare in 1928, when her mother was in service at the Curragh, which was at the time still a British military base in the fledgeling Irish Free State. At the time of my birth my mother was a nurse. As my father was a Civil Servant, he was posted around the UK, and shortly after my birth we moved to Shropshire, and then afterwards the family was posted to Malta, where I lived from 1963 to 1967, where I attended St Andrews military school in Valetta. Thereafter, we returned to the UK, where we lived in the Clarendon Hotel in Blackheath for a while, and I attended school in Blackheath, before we moved to Eltham, where I attended St Mary's Catholic primary school from from 1969 to 1971. Upon leaving primary school, I attended Bishop Challoner School in Shortlands in Bromley from 1971 to 1975. I was a relatively clever student, but lacking in application , and it was at Bishop Challoner that I first got my taste of the demon drink - not good for a young Irish boy !I I loved the arts subjects, but loathed the sciences - mainly because of the teachers! I did OK at "O" levels, gaining seven, with pretty good grades and decided to stay on at school to do "A" levels, where I decided to study English, History, Theology, and Political Studies. However, my school was a fee paying school, and my parents constantly reminded me of how much my education was costing them, so after one term, in December 1974, I decided to relieve them of their financial burden, and I told them I had decided to leave school ! In January 1975, sitting in the Railway Signal pub in Bromley South railway station, I saw an advert in the Daily Mail for "HM Diplomatic Service" as a "Grade 10 Officer" - effectively the equivalent of a Clerical Officer, but in the Diplomatic Service. I applied, giving it no real thought, and thinking that there was no way a boy like me from a pretty modest background would be invited for interview, but several weeks later I received a letter from the Civil Service Commission based in Alencon Link, inviting me for an interview in Northumberland Avenue near Charing Cross railway station for 2 April 1975. I knew that the Diplomatic Service interviewed hundreds of people for the roughly 40 slots a year that were available to join the Service at the "DS10" level, and I felt that while it was worth giving it a go, there was little likelihood of me getting into an institution as prestigious as the Diplomatic Service.
In advance of the interview, I went out with my Dad, and we meandered off to Harry Fenton, where I bought (or should I say he bought) my first ever suit and matching accompaniments - it was a navy blue suit, with a white shirt and red tie - I thought I looked the dog's bollocks!
I turned up for my interview on the 2nd of April in a building on the corner of Northumberland Avenue, a few hundred yards from Charing Cross railway station. The building was impressive, as was the interview room itself, a large spacious room with a high ceiling and a table inhabited by a four man interview panel. The panel was chaired by Sir Maurice Hackett, whom I later established was the brother of Sir John Hackett, a renowned and respected former General in the British army, who had published a book called "The Third World War", a fictional account of the invasion of Europe by the Soviet Union. The interview had gone reasonably well I thought, even though I was a little disconcerted by the fact that Sir Maurice appeared completely deaf, and I had to pretty much repeat all of my answers to the questions he asked. The panel seemed interested in my Anglo-Irish heritage, not surprising as the interview was taking place at the height of the Provisional IRA's bombing campaign against the mainland of England. Then came the final question, the panel asked me "how would you solve the Irish problem?" I felt that this was probably going to be the make or break question, the one that would decide whether or not I was going to be admitted to the Diplomatic Service! Being half Irish I was moderately well versed in the turbulent history of England and Ireland, but this was a real googly of a question! I told the panel that my father had fought in Italy and France and Belgium in WW2, and just after the war had met and then married my mother, who had emigrated to the UK from Ireland as a nurse in 1945 - this was a microcosm of the complicated but close relationship between the two nations - I had grown up as part of a family where my father worked for the British Ministry of Defence, and where my mother played Irish rebel songs on our old record player, and I recall asking her when the Irish problem began, and I think this is a well known quote, but I cannot trace it, she said "when Strongbow invaded Ireland", and I followed up by asking when they would end, and she said "when Cromwell breaks free from hell!" I also had in my mind the vile obscene phone calls we had received in 1974 after the Woolwich pub bombings - this was pre-google and the internet age, and with a surname of Clissold, not a an obviously Irish name to trawl through the then phone book - so the callers who made these appallingly violent and obscene calls obviously in some way knew we were partly Irish! I also recalled my gentle, kind mother going to a hairdresser in Eltham, to be told that they did not serve "the fucking Irish", and her returning home in absolute tears! Still, the next day, somehow or other, a large brick went through the plate glass window of that particular window - police are still searching for the slight Anglo-Irish 16 year old boy who allegedly did the deed! At the back of my mind was also my mother's story telling, where as a young child I recall her telling me to be proud that our branch of the O'Conners were descended from Rory O'Conner, the last high king of Ireland in the 12th Century! I told the panel that politicians, academics and historians had all pontificated on this subject, and as a 16 year old my views were unfinished and immature, but from my perspective it was clear that there was far more that united the peoples of Ireland and England than divided us - the solution had to be a political one, and that regardless of the violent campaign being waged by the IRA, both sides would at some stage have to sit down and come to a workable diplomatic solution, one where neither side got all that it wanted, and that was going to be a hard sell to each of its constituent parts, and that each side would have to compromise - I had no idea if this was the answer the panel were searching for, but it was the best answer I could summon in the moment! I left the interview and had a celebratory drink in the then Swiss Bierkeller on the corner of Northumberland Avenue. One month later I received a letter from the Civil Service Commission, informing me that the results of my interview were inconclusive, and that I would be informed of the final result shortly! I took this to mean that I had been unsuccessful, and I immediately started to look around for other jobs in the Civil Service! However, in mid-June I received a further letter informing me that my application to join HM Diplomatic Service had succeeded and that I should report for duty to take up my appointment on 14 July 1975 in King Charles Street!
After spending three years in London in the Library and Records Department in Sanctuary Buildings in Great Smith Street, and in our Financial Relations Department in Great George Street, I got my first posting to the United Kingdom Mission to the United Nations in Geneva in 1978. After three years in Geneva, I was posted to the British Embassy in Rabat in Morocco in 1981.
In advance of the interview, I went out with my Dad, and we meandered off to Harry Fenton, where I bought (or should I say he bought) my first ever suit and matching accompaniments - it was a navy blue suit, with a white shirt and red tie - I thought I looked the dog's bollocks!
I turned up for my interview on the 2nd of April in a building on the corner of Northumberland Avenue, a few hundred yards from Charing Cross railway station. The building was impressive, as was the interview room itself, a large spacious room with a high ceiling and a table inhabited by a four man interview panel. The panel was chaired by Sir Maurice Hackett, whom I later established was the brother of Sir John Hackett, a renowned and respected former General in the British army, who had published a book called "The Third World War", a fictional account of the invasion of Europe by the Soviet Union. The interview had gone reasonably well I thought, even though I was a little disconcerted by the fact that Sir Maurice appeared completely deaf, and I had to pretty much repeat all of my answers to the questions he asked. The panel seemed interested in my Anglo-Irish heritage, not surprising as the interview was taking place at the height of the Provisional IRA's bombing campaign against the mainland of England. Then came the final question, the panel asked me "how would you solve the Irish problem?" I felt that this was probably going to be the make or break question, the one that would decide whether or not I was going to be admitted to the Diplomatic Service! Being half Irish I was moderately well versed in the turbulent history of England and Ireland, but this was a real googly of a question! I told the panel that my father had fought in Italy and France and Belgium in WW2, and just after the war had met and then married my mother, who had emigrated to the UK from Ireland as a nurse in 1945 - this was a microcosm of the complicated but close relationship between the two nations - I had grown up as part of a family where my father worked for the British Ministry of Defence, and where my mother played Irish rebel songs on our old record player, and I recall asking her when the Irish problem began, and I think this is a well known quote, but I cannot trace it, she said "when Strongbow invaded Ireland", and I followed up by asking when they would end, and she said "when Cromwell breaks free from hell!" I also had in my mind the vile obscene phone calls we had received in 1974 after the Woolwich pub bombings - this was pre-google and the internet age, and with a surname of Clissold, not a an obviously Irish name to trawl through the then phone book - so the callers who made these appallingly violent and obscene calls obviously in some way knew we were partly Irish! I also recalled my gentle, kind mother going to a hairdresser in Eltham, to be told that they did not serve "the fucking Irish", and her returning home in absolute tears! Still, the next day, somehow or other, a large brick went through the plate glass window of that particular window - police are still searching for the slight Anglo-Irish 16 year old boy who allegedly did the deed! At the back of my mind was also my mother's story telling, where as a young child I recall her telling me to be proud that our branch of the O'Conners were descended from Rory O'Conner, the last high king of Ireland in the 12th Century! I told the panel that politicians, academics and historians had all pontificated on this subject, and as a 16 year old my views were unfinished and immature, but from my perspective it was clear that there was far more that united the peoples of Ireland and England than divided us - the solution had to be a political one, and that regardless of the violent campaign being waged by the IRA, both sides would at some stage have to sit down and come to a workable diplomatic solution, one where neither side got all that it wanted, and that was going to be a hard sell to each of its constituent parts, and that each side would have to compromise - I had no idea if this was the answer the panel were searching for, but it was the best answer I could summon in the moment! I left the interview and had a celebratory drink in the then Swiss Bierkeller on the corner of Northumberland Avenue. One month later I received a letter from the Civil Service Commission, informing me that the results of my interview were inconclusive, and that I would be informed of the final result shortly! I took this to mean that I had been unsuccessful, and I immediately started to look around for other jobs in the Civil Service! However, in mid-June I received a further letter informing me that my application to join HM Diplomatic Service had succeeded and that I should report for duty to take up my appointment on 14 July 1975 in King Charles Street!
After spending three years in London in the Library and Records Department in Sanctuary Buildings in Great Smith Street, and in our Financial Relations Department in Great George Street, I got my first posting to the United Kingdom Mission to the United Nations in Geneva in 1978. After three years in Geneva, I was posted to the British Embassy in Rabat in Morocco in 1981.
1985, Istanbul
With my wonderful friend Joe Cunningham outside the British Embassy during martial law in early 1983
I was then posted to the British Embassy in Ankara in Turkey in 1983. It was there that I met my wife Belgin in 1984. Two years later we were married on April 7 in 1986, and in January 1987 we were posted to Lagos in Nigeria, where I was to spend three years as an Entry Clearance Officer. Our wonderful daughter Melissa Lara was conceived in Nigeria, and was born in Ankara in Turkey in March 1988. We then returned to London in 1990, where I spent two and half years in our IT Deparment, before being posted to Istanbul in 1993 as a Trade/Commercial Officer. We left Istanbul for Warsaw in 1996 where I took up a posting as Consul Commercial, a strange hybrid job, where I was Her Majesty's Consul, looking after British nationals visiting or residing in Poland, and at the same time responsible for supporting British businesses trying to do business in Poland.
My wife receiving her MBE at the Palace in 2016!
From 2000 onwards I was posted back to Ankara where I spent the next six years. It was during this time that I received an OBE for my work in the aftermath of the terrorist attack on our Consulate-General in Istanbul in November 2003, where 14 of my colleagues were murdered, and later for my work and support during the aftermath of the tsunami in Phuket in Thailand in January 2005.
In 2006, I was posted to Helsinki, Finland - which was to be my final posting. I retired from the Diplomatic Service in 2010, and have since been living in Ankara and working at the British Embassy as Head or Corporate Services for the Turkey Network, but as a locally employed member of staff.
In 2006, I was posted to Helsinki, Finland - which was to be my final posting. I retired from the Diplomatic Service in 2010, and have since been living in Ankara and working at the British Embassy as Head or Corporate Services for the Turkey Network, but as a locally employed member of staff.
2018, Barbados
