Educating Black Children

“You don’t have to walk this journey alone. Our cancer support gatherings are created with cultural understanding, warmth, and community at the heart. Whether you’re living with cancer or supporting a loved one, you’ll find connection, strength, and a safe space to breathe, share, and heal. You are welcome, your story matters, and we’re here to walk beside you.”

Any questions, please feel free to contact Sonja on 07778224342

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Calls for ‘student premium’ to support disadvantaged young people after GCSEs Social mobility groups say post-16 funding gap risks young people falling out of education, work and training

The Mary Quaile Club is delighted to announce its latest publication, “I am here to meet all comers”; the story of Len Johnson, Manchester Uncrowned Champion Boxer and Communist, written by Michael Herbert.

The book launch will take place on Saturday 24 January 2026, 2pm, in The Lounge, Central Methodist Hall, Oldham Street, Manchester.
This book tells the story of Leonard Benker Johnson (1902 to 1974) born in Clayton, Manchester. His mother Margaret was Manchester Irish; his father Bill was from Sierra Leone
Len was one of the most successful middleweight boxers of the 1920s, defeating leading boxers such as Ted Lewis, Roland Todd and Len Harvey. Despite his successes Len was barred by the British Boxing Board of Control from a chance at a British title because he was not white. This ban was only lifted in 1948.
In 1945 he joined the Communist Party and was an active member, speaking at public meetings and standing for the Council in Moss Side on six occasions between 1947 and 1962. He attended the Pan African Congress in Manchester in 1945 and was a co-founder of the New International Society in Moss Side which campaigned against the “colour bar” and racial discrimination at home and abroad in the late 1940s. Len was a friend of the singer and actor Paul Robeson who in 1949 sang at the NIS to a large crowd gathered outside in the street.

More information here on the book and the launch

https://maryquaileclub.wordpress.com/

As the largest charity for Black medics in the UK , we have dedicated the past 8 years to making an intergenerational impact within the Black Medic community . From helping aspiring medics into medical school to helping doctors get into surgery, we have done it all! With that being said, please keep us in mind for your Christmas donations so we can continue this work ! #blackmedic #medicine #blackdoctor #melaninmedic #melaninmedics

ACMS is hosting a special interactive event with Clive Lewis MP this week. 🗣️🗣️

This is your chance to ask questions, share experiences, and explore how as future clinicians we have an active role in decision-making that will shape patient care, medical training, and the future of the NHS.

Earlier in the evening, Clive will be touring the medical school, including a short clinical skills demonstration and a time to talk about current research and projects.

The open conversation/Q&A will take place in the second half of the event, so if you’re coming from placement or arriving a little later, you won’t miss the main discussion.

Let us know you’re coming by scanning the qr code!

Everyone is welcome; bring your friends, and be part of an important conversation!

Her father was Jamaican, her mother was white English. In 1950s Britain, she faced rejection after rejection. Then she opened her mouth to sing—and became Britain's greatest jazz voice.
Her name was Cleo Laine.
And she proved that genius transcends every barrier placed in its way.
Clementina Dinah Campbell was born on October 28, 1927, in Southall, Middlesex, just outside London. Her father, Alexander Campbell, was a Black Jamaican building laborer who had served in World War I. He loved opera and earned extra money busking on London streets, singing for coins.
Her mother, Minnie Bullock, was a white English farmer's daughter from Swindon, Wiltshire.
In 1920s and 1930s Britain, mixed-race children faced extraordinary prejudice. They were called "half-caste"—a term dripping with contempt. They belonged fully to neither Black nor white communities. They were constantly reminded they were different, wrong, other.
But Minnie believed in her daughter. Despite poverty and social stigma, she sent young Clementina to singing and dancing lessons. She nurtured a talent that was undeniable.
Clementina—nicknamed "Clem"—performed at local events from age 3. At 12, she got a small role as an extra in the film "The Thief of Bagdad." But when she left school at 14, reality hit hard. She needed work, not dreams.
She became a hairdresser. Then a hat trimmer. Then a librarian. Then she worked in a pawnbroker's shop. She tried repeatedly to get jobs as a singer.
She was rejected. Again and again.
Too Black for white venues. Too white for Black venues. Too working-class. Too untrained. Too much of everything wrong and not enough of anything right.
In 1946, at age 18, she married George Langridge, a roof tiler. They had a son, Stuart. The marriage didn't last—they divorced in 1957—but Clementina kept trying to sing, kept believing there was something more than factory work and rejection.
Then, in 1951, at age 24, she heard about an audition. The Johnny Dankworth Seven—a respected British jazz band—was looking for a female vocalist.
Clementina showed up. She sang.
The bandleader, John Dankworth, hired her on the spot.
But "Clementina Campbell Langridge" was too long for a marquee. The band brainstormed. They settled on a name that sounded sophisticated, exotic, memorable: Cleo Laine.
Clementina Campbell became Cleo Laine. And Cleo Laine became a star.
For seven years, Cleo sang with Dankworth's band—first the Johnny Dankworth Seven, then his larger orchestra. She toured British nightclubs and concert halls. She developed a reputation for her extraordinary vocal range—nearly five octaves, from deep contralto notes that rumbled like thunder to soaring soprano highs that seemed impossible for the same voice.
She could s**t like Ella Fitzgerald. She could belt like Sarah Vaughan. She could handle classical lieder, contemporary pop, traditional jazz, and avant-garde compositions with equal skill.
By the mid-1950s, British critics were calling her the country's top jazz singer.
In 1958, Cleo made a decision: she wanted to perform solo, not just as part of Dankworth's band. She told him she was going out on her own.
John Dankworth responded by proposing marriage.
"He thought he was getting a cheap singer," Cleo joked years later.
They married in secret that year. Ella Fitzgerald sent roses and a note: "Congratulations, gal—and about time too!"
Together, John and Cleo became Britain's royal couple of jazz. They had two children—Alec and Jacqui, both of whom became musicians. They performed together for decades, with John as her musical director and Cleo as the voice that could do absolutely anything.
But Cleo didn't limit herself to jazz. She wanted to do everything.
In 1961, she had a Top 5 hit on the British pop charts with "You'll Answer to Me." That same year, she appeared as a nightclub singer in the film "The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone" and received glowing reviews filling in last-minute for Lotte Lenya in Kurt Weill's "The Seven Deadly Sins" at the Edinburgh Festival.
In 1962, she appeared in "Cindy-Ella, or I Gotta Shoe," an all-Black musical based on Cinderella. She identified as Black and biracial, and she took roles that reflected her heritage—a rarity in 1960s British theater.
She performed in Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream" and Euripides' "The Trojan Women." She played the title role in Henrik Ibsen's "Hedda Gabler." She sang lieder by Robert Schumann and Arnold Schoenberg—complex classical works that most jazz singers wouldn't touch.
In 1972, Cleo toured Australia for the first time. She was a sensation, releasing six top-100 albums there throughout the 1970s.
Then she conquered America.
Her first U.S. performance was at Lincoln Center in New York in 1972. The hall wasn't full—few Americans had heard of her. But The New York Times gave her a glowing review.
The following year, 1973, she and John sold out Carnegie Hall. It was the beginning of a love affair between Cleo Laine and American audiences that would last decades.
She returned to Carnegie Hall repeatedly. Her third live Carnegie Hall album, "Cleo at Carnegie: The 10th Anniversary Concert," won the Grammy Award for Best Female Jazz Vocal Performance in 1986.
Cleo Laine became the first—and still the only—British artist to win a Grammy in that category.
When the award was announced, Ella Fitzgerald sent two dozen roses and a card: "Congratulations, gal—and about time, too. Love, Ella."
But here's what makes Cleo truly unprecedented: she's the only female singer ever to receive Grammy nominations in jazz, pop, AND classical music categories. She did it in successive years in the 1970s—proving she couldn't be confined to any single genre.
She sang Schoenberg's "Pierrot Lunaire"—a notoriously difficult modernist work—earning a classical Grammy nomination. She sang pop standards earning a pop nomination. She sang bebop and won a jazz Grammy.
No one else has ever done this. Not Ella. Not Sarah Vaughan. Not anyone.
In 1985, Cleo originated the role of Princess Puffer in the Broadway musical "The Mystery of Edwin Drood," earning a Tony nomination.
In 1992, at age 64, she performed a week of sold-out concerts at London's Royal Albert Hall with Frank Sinatra. "He sounded even better live than on records," she said later. "It was a real thrill."
She recorded duet albums with Ray Charles, classical guitarist John Williams, and flutist James Galway. She performed on "The Muppet Show." She sang at jazz festivals worldwide.
In 1970, Cleo and John founded The Stables—a theater and music venue in the old stables block at their home in Wavendon. It eventually hosted over 350 concerts per year, becoming a crucial part of Britain's jazz scene.
In 1979, Queen Elizabeth appointed Cleo an Officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE). In 1997, she was elevated to Dame Commander—the equivalent of a knighthood for women.
Dame Cleo Laine. The biracial girl from Southall who'd been rejected as a singer because of her race had become one of Britain's most honored artists.
In 2006, John was knighted, becoming Sir John Dankworth. They were one of the few couples in British history where both partners held titles in their own right—and the only jazz couple ever so recognized.
On February 6, 2010, Cleo and John were celebrating the 40th anniversary of The Stables with a concert. Both their children performed. Cleo sang. It was a joyous occasion.
Hours before the concert, John died suddenly.
Cleo performed anyway. At the end of the show, she announced her husband's death to the shocked audience. They had been married 52 years.
She was 82 years old. Most people would have retired, retreated into grief.
Cleo kept performing. She kept recording. She kept running The Stables. She told interviewers she didn't think about being old—"What would be the point?"
At 87, she was still touring. At 90, she was still giving concerts. Her voice—that remarkable, impossible five-octave instrument—remained strong.
On July 24, 2025, Dame Cleo Laine died at her home in Wavendon. She was 97 years old.
She had performed for more than 70 years. She had broken barriers as a biracial woman in British entertainment. She had proven that jazz was universal, that genre boundaries were meaningless, that talent transcended every artificial limit society tried to impose.
Derek Jewell of The Sunday Times once wrote: "Cleo Laine is quite simply the best singer in the world."
He wasn't exaggerating.
Dame Cleo Laine proved that a biracial girl from a working-class London suburb, rejected repeatedly because of her race, could become Britain's greatest contribution to jazz—a quintessentially American art form.
She proved that one voice, properly trained and fearlessly deployed, could master classical music, jazz, pop, and theater with equal brilliance.
She proved that barriers are just suggestions for people with enough talent and determination.
Her father busked on London streets for coins. She sang at Carnegie Hall to standing ovations.
She was rejected as a singer because she was Black and biracial.
She became a Dame and a Grammy winner.
She opened her mouth to sing—and the world had to listen.
Dame Cleo Laine (1927-2025)
Britain's greatest jazz voice.
The only singer nominated for Grammys in jazz, pop, and classical.
Proof that genius transcends every barrier.