Mark Goodliffe* confirmed his position as the leading current solver by winning today’s final by a distance from a field including 6 other previous winners. This puts him in an elite group of three with John Sykes and Bill Pilkington – the only people to win more than twice, and also the only ones to defend the title successfully.
Mark completed the toughest set of finals puzzles I can remember in 27 minutes. Second was Peter Brooksbank in about 36 minutes, followed by Dr J Daddow in around 40. David Howell* and our new recruit Simon Hanson had finished between Brooksbank and Daddow, but with wrong answers. The other five contestants to complete the puzzles correctly inside the 60-minute time limit were Roger Crabtree (not Richard as I fear I’ve called him before), Peter Biddlecombe* (c. 43 mins), Tim Smith, A J Dorn and Tony Sever* (c. 52 mins). The finishing order for the finalists after 8th place was: David Howell*, John Henderson*, Helen Ougham*, Peter King, Hilary Seidman, N Petty, Simon Hanson, Guy Haslam*, Shane Shabankareh, Lord Aberdare, Philip Meade, J Roberts, Adam Sanitt, Brenda Widger, Phil Jordan, K Burton.
The morning prelim was a proud moment for Eastbourne Grammar School, which at last got two people into the final when Shane Shabankareh, who used to sit in the same maths class as yours truly, reached his first final after quite a few near misses. Another old boy, Paul McKenna, set last Sunday’s Mephisto, reviewed in the previous post. A strange coincidence – there’s no obvious reason for this, and I didn’t know Shane was into xwds until I bumped into him at the first Times regional final I entered.
As ever, the social side was fun, and I met a few more people I’ve only known as names on websites, such as RTC speedster Hilary Seidman who was one of three women in the final – a record for recent years and very good to see. Recent commenter jetdoc finished 19th in the first prelim so may be ready to make it four in a year or two.
I expect the three finals puzzles to be in the paper and on the club website tomorrow (Monday), and will write up reports for them next week. The preliminary round puzzles will probably appear on the next 6 Wednesdays.
Today’s (i.e. Monday’s) article about the championship is here.
All nine championship puzzles are on the Times website in PDF files:
First preliminary
Second preliminary
Grand Final
Solutions
Full Results – Word document, not PDF
I’ll put up reports about the grand final puzzles tomorrow (Tuesday), so that you’ve got a day to try them unaided. Reports for the preliminary round puzzles will follow later this week. This report will be updated later today with more detail about the day, though without anything about identifiable clues. Please reserve any clue-related comment for the reports on individual puzzles.
The day from my point of view …
The championship entertainment started with the usual gathering of the hard core in the Kemble Brewery pub on the Saturday evening. There was much jovial banter, partly about possible ways of dong something about Mark Goodliffe – someone had seen a bit of wall-building and referred to a Poe story, presumably The Cask of Amontillado, about “immurement”. We also had the chance to try out a future Nimrod puzzle for the Independent, though I won’t say anything about the date or content as this was a draft.
On the morning of the championship, Mrs B and I turned up promptly at 10 am, got me signed in and collected the goodie bag (about 3 Times puzzle books, though the cryptic xwd one was Jumbo book 7 as last year) and joined John Henderson* at one of the bar tables outside in the morning sunshine. As the others rolled up, it became clear that the first preliminary would be loaded with talent. I’d certainly seen David Howell*, Roger Crabtree, Tony Sever*, Michael MacDonald-Cooper* and Neil Talbott. Just as we were remembering that Mark Goodliffe usually walked past the exam hall windows with a cheery wave to early finishers at about 11:40 as he arrived to sign up for the second heat, he appeared to tell us that he was in the first one this year. Now it was just like an old-style London regional final, with several more really good solvers than the 12 qualifying places.
In we went, with quite a few of the main contenders sitting in a group at the back left. The puzzles were certainly tougher than last year’s prelims but were perfectly solvable. Mark finished in about 18 minutes, and my hand was about the 7th to go up, after about 26. I’d had to correct three or four early punts at answers which turned out to be wrong, so was rather worried about whether I’d found all of them. I’d also had to leave one stubborn answer unsolved in the first puzzle, which fortunately fell fairly easily when I returned to it after finishing 2 and 3. While idling away the remaining time (stupid boy forgot to take his ipod), I was pleased to see Shane Shabankareh’s hand go up in what looked a pretty safe qualifying position (see above for the reason why), followed by Philip Meade, Tony Sever, and a near dead heat between Neil Robinson and John Henderson for what turned out to be the final qualifying place. This didn’t matter in the end, as Neil had a mistake. A few good solvers missed out – Neil Talbott found one of those fake answers that can so easily look good enough when you’re in a hurry, and Michael MacDonald-Cooper’s arthritis didn’t help him to write quickly enough.
Between the first prelim and final, I met various people for the first time, including Hilary Seidman who’d travelled from Northern Ireland to compete in only her second Times championship, and justified the trip by qualifying for her first final. Also met other Race the Clock contender adamsanitt, who said he reads this blog but stays away from commenting as he sets puzzles for one of the other papers. I think Hilary, Adam, Shane and possibly one other from the second prelim were the only first-time finalists this year. The line-up for the final included 7 former winners, about another seven who have finished in the top 6, and about another 6 with at least one previous final appearance.
Into the torture chamber for the final puzzles, and as you’ll have gathered already, they were tough! These timings are estimates, but I think I finished No. 1 in around 11 minutes. There had been plenty to think about but I was quite pleased and moved on to No. 2. This was REALLY hard, and after 10 minutes or so, I gave up with about half the puzzle still unsolved, hoping that No. 3 would be easier and help me to clear my head of wrong ideas. (I believe an audible page turn about five minutes beforehand was Mark Goodliffe doing the same thing for the same reason). No. 3 was easier, but not much – very few of the acrosses fell on first look, and my estimated time for this one was 14 minutes (this is the sample finals puzzle printed in the paper today). Back to No. 2, and the remaining answers gradually fell into place for a time of about 18 minutes. My last answer was (you’ve guessed it) a deviously-clued four letter word, which turned out to be the answer which David Howell got wrong – his first mistake in the 24 puzzles since the championship was revived (probably the only remaining clean sheet from this period). Looking round the room, I guessed I was somewhere in the lower middle of the top ten, and just hoped that I’d avoided any slips – my guess is that when I write up the puzzles and indicate the answers which went in without full wordplay understanding, they’ll be at least 30 of the 90. After seeing a few more hands go up, I spent 5-10 minutes watching Tony Sever, my right-hand neighbour, finishing the third puzzle – a very calm and methodical-looking process, completed with something like 8 minutes of the time limit still remaining (the desks are too far apart to be able to read anything he was writing).
Nothing remarkable afterwards, except that Kate Mosse, author of the appropriate Labyrinth, presented the prizes after giving a nice description of breakfast solving by various relatives in what sounds like an entertainingly full house.
I hope to receive the full results later today (Monday) and will post them if they’re not already on the Times website. I’ve now noticed that there’s a link to the results in the Times article – I’ve added this to the set of links above. I won’t repeat the results here unless I hear of problems displaying the Word doc – you should be able to download a “reader” application if you don’t have Word itself.
Mark’s achievement is quite phenomenal. Having now had chance to have a proper look through the three puzzles, I think it’s pretty amazing that anyone managed all correct grids within an hour. To at least some small degree, puzzle solving involves a bit of mind-reading. Successful solving of these three must have been more like ESP.
Well done to all who got anywhere close to finishing them!
Perhaps the trickiest of all were those used at the 1975 final. In those days you had four puzzles to complete, and were given half an hour for each, with short breaks after each of the first two puzzles and a longer break (for tea) after the third. You were awarded a puzzle point for each clue you solved correctly (the maximum was 124 that year), and if you solved a puzzle correctly you were awarded half a time bonus point for each unused half-minute within the half-hour.
The top eight were:
1 John Sykes (124 puzzle points/84 time bonus points)
2 Edward Hillman (124/77)
3 Terry Girdlestone (124/70.5)
4 Hugh Stubbs (122/44)
5 Sir David Hunt (121/63
6 John Brightley (121/62)
7 Michael Rich (121/42)
8 Tony Sever (121/38.5)
So there were only three “all corrects”, and although I got three clues wrong, I finished in the same position as I did today – in fact Sir David Hunt had three clues wrong and still came 5th.
The puzzle that did most damage was the third one, where I made two stupid mistakes (ones I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have made a few years later). This puzzle can be regarded as “historic”, since it led Brian Greer (who was in the final that year and only solved about half of it correctly) to resolve that if he ever became crossword editor, a puzzle like that would never appear again. And (sadly, IMO) he got his way.
John Sykes took 6.5 minutes for the first and second puzzles, 13.5 minutes for the third puzzle and 9.5 for the fourth, giving him the same average time as Mark today.
If Mark Goodliffe wants a really tough challenge, there’s the Times Crossword and Mastermind double – Sir David is AFAIK the closest to it, with a Mastermind win and top 5 Times championship finish – he never won the championship, but may have finished higher than this fifth position.
Of the others listed here, I can remember Tony describing Hillman as one of the best contestants never to win, and Mike Rich organised the championship from some time before I started competing (1989) uo to 2000.
Nancy Wilkinson, the winner of the first Mastermind series, reached the Times Crossword Championship final in 1978, 1981 and 1985 and I think she may have come 2nd in 1978.
John Sykes was a Mastermind contestant (in 1976 according to this webpage), but he chose “Physics” as his specialist subject in the semi-final round and despite scoring 19 points on general knowledge was beaten by a woman who’d chosen “The life and works of Jane Austen”.
The second semi-final had some fairly tough puzzles too (although the slower times may be partly because almost all the former champions entered the first semi-final). I missed out on the final again, finishing 16th, in a slow 45 mins or so. I feel like the tortoise who sometimes beats hares who are faster but make the odd mistake. Oh well, at least a free place next year.
(There’s another possible way to foil the great Magoo – make him do an extra puzzle – tho I’m not sure that would be enough!!)
But I have to say that although the Times has today only published one of the final puzzles, the one they’ve gone for is an absolute gem.
We must say no more about it here though – but I thought it was possibly the best Times puzzle I’ve done. Thanks Anax!
And good to see Anax, Tony, Peter and his really charming wife and everyone else.
Roll on next year!
Tony’s fascinating insight into past championship puzzles raises an interesting point for me. When you say puzzles were more difficult, can we say that clues were just as fair/sophisticated then as they are now? I know there tended to be more references to literature/classical mythology etc etc, but were the clues as technically sound?
IIRR 1975 was the year Alec Robbins published Teach Yourself Crosswords – it was the year I bought my copy anyway. As a teenager I was at the very beginning of my interest in cryptics, so while I was constantly thrilled by the beauty of the book’s sample clues I can’t remember if they were of a standard that would withstand modern scrutiny.
Talking to Big Dave, while one of the prelims was taking place, conversation turned to cryptic definition clues and how, many years ago, a reasonably good CD would serve perfectly well as a stand-alone clue. These days it’s more likely that a clever CD will form one half of a clue, with equally clever (perhaps) wordplay forming the rest.
How do the most contemporary techniques stack up versus those from, say, 30 years ago? Do you far more experienced guys sense that there have been major changes or do the styles remain quite similar?
But this is arguably nothing more than the puzzle reflecting the people who solve it. Tony is living proof that the people who were quick enough to do well in the 1970s would cope perfectly well with current puzzles, and vice versa(!).
Between the ages of 6 and 14 (or thereabouts) I used to spend a week each summer staying with an uncle and aunt in Filey and, as well as doing the Yorkshire Post crossword with them each day (once I’d reached the age of about 8), used to read some of the books they had on their shelves – I remember particularly enjoying Anthony Hope’s The Prisoner of Zenda and Rupert of Hentzau, which used to be much loved by Times crossword setters.
One of the books I read was F. Anstey’s Vice Versa, so BULTITUDE presented little problem (though it’s possible I needed my memory jogging by some crossing letters). I suspect this name would have been common knowledge to the generation before mine, and perhaps would have been not entirely unfamiliar to my generation, particularly as there was a 1948 film of Vice Versa starring Roger Livesey and a young Anthony Newley.
I have to admit that by 1989 the nation’s memory of it would probably be beginning to dim.
210 people entered that day, suggesting that about 1000 must have competed in the six regionals combined. One J Speelman, better known for playing chess, was 139th, though Mrs M Speelman, presumably his better half, was 75th.
I was pretty chuffed with my equal 33rd, solving all but 5 of the 120 clues correctly and finishing my two correct puzzles in about 15 minutes each – Paul’s average was about 10.5 minutes so they were not easy ones. There were two nice little coincidences – bumping into Shane Shabankareh (and recogninsing him!) about 12 years after we’d been at school together, and discovering that John Grimshaw, who I knew by sight from the Proms queue, was at the reception desk to check me in. Times setter Richard Rogan was in the same finalm and the “R Hesketh” in 145th might be Bob Hesketh, another current Times setter.
I remember at possibly my first London Regional final setting next to Tony (Sever). I remember the stop watch and – I think, set of “warm up” puzzles he had with him. I didn’t know who Tony was at that stage but I remember not being surprisesd to see him announced either as winner or certainly comfortable qualifier
RR
A clue from the third puzzle that Edmund Akenhead had to admit was a bit of a stinker was “This wizard Proteus, out-of-the-way description of Heraclitus (10)”. I actually solved this correctly, but mainly by choosing a word that fitted the crossing letters (and incorporated an element of the wordplay); however, I had no idea about either of the classical allusions!
Sunday’s clues were generally far more convoluted (in an entirely delightful way) than those of 1975, but (as you observe) required far less literary/classical/mythological knowledge. I like both sorts of puzzles, but suspect I would fare better (compared with other solvers) with the old-style puzzles.
***”TOYS” I believe was the answer
I think getting two or three errors out of top solvers of those days would have needed something much nastier than a Shakespeare quote!
At my first regional final in 1981 in Bristol I seem to remember only one finalist achieved 4 correct solutions. I also remember that the general feeling was that that was unusual – even for 1981. And in fairness I also don’t remember anything as outrageous as an obscure 4-word quotation leading to a 4-letter answer (T.Y. would at least have given one a reasonable chance of an accurate guess), or a BULTITUDE-style horror. But there were certainly more indirect references to general knowledge/literature with little in the way of helpful wordplay. I could confirm this by hunting out a book in my possession which no doubt contains at least a couple of those puzzles.
The Bultitude one wasn’t too bad – it was based on a single letter swap in “multitude”.
Alec’s book was absolutely invaluable to me and I was heartbroken when it went missing some years ago. My sincerest apologies if my comment came across the wrong way – it certainly wasn’t meant to lessen the value of Alec.
I don’t see any real point in the debate about comparative difficulty, particularly as against puzzles set over 30 years ago. I’m a far more experienced solver than I was then which makes comparison virtually impossible.
Loved your puzzle Anax.
Among my own similar experiences, the Championships are just like the English National Cross-Country back in the days when our best distance runners took part in it. The people who “really don’t have a prayer” still seem to have a good day out, just as I had a good day out finishing 313th about fifteen minutes behind Julian Goater, who blew away the 1981 National field over a notoriously muddy course in much the same way as Mark strolled through yesterday’s puzzles.
Thinking back, I’m sure I’ve been to Times finals where the winner averaged considerably more than 9 minutes a puzzle, so the idea that yesterdays were the hardest ever seems pretty debatable if it actually matters.
Perhaps the other side of the coin is that if GF puzzles are of average difficulty you’d have the potential nightmare of forests of hands being raised in the air at roughly the same time.
Suppose your golf club’s monthly medal suddenly offered the top 10 the chance to play in the Open? – I’ll bet my shirt that you’d go if you qualified, and even if you missed the cut by 20 shots, you’d come home and tell your friends about playing in the same event as the best, not moan about the difference between your local course and Carnoustie.
I’d just re-emphasise that, previous caveats aside, the difficulty of the puzzles probably doesn’t really affect the average contestant’s competitive chances, so in that sense the running analogy you use isn’t wholly appropriate
I agree however that if one fails to complete, or at least almost complete, 3 puzzles in an average of 20 minutes, then one might feel one has not had one’s money’s worth.
As for the debate about comparative difficuly or fairness in a sense it is indeed pointless, but it is also interesting. I am also a far better solver than I was but if one accepts that the top solvers from the seventies and eighties are at least as brilliant as the top solvers nowadays, then Tony’s stats (and others) speak volumes for the case in favour of the puzzles having got fairer. But of course as Peter righly points out they were of their time. Nowadays we regard cruciverbal expertise generally speaking as the ability to work out the answer from the clue, whereas previously there was more of a GK element. We might say nowadays that that is more hit and miss, or “unfair” but that is only when judging by today’s standards. I mention the TOYS quotation example simply for amusement. But I don’t think John M was too amused at the time!
But I’m sure Anax is as big a fan too. Sometimes these forums lead to all sorts of misunderstandings: I should emphasise to Peter – and no doubt to the great relief of all – that I shall tonight happily reminisce on past competiton puzzles from the Masterclass book (thanks for reminding me!) over a quiet glass of something, without the slightest intention of reproducing any further examples here 🙂
Thanks to everyone – fellow competitors , setters, and those just there for the ‘craic’ as well.
(ps – the TOYS clue would have been Glasgow in the 80’s (can’t be more precise) and I think it probably did have (Macbeth) after it).
I think it makes interesting reading! Peter is right that there are now no solvers who have solved all 24 puzzles correctly.
There are 8 people who have entered all 4 times or 3 out of 4 and reached the final every time – in alphabetical order: Biddlecombe, Brooksbank, Crabtree, Goodliffe, Howell, Jordan, Smith. Then there are 3 who have only missed out on a final appearance once – Ougham, Sever, Widger. About another 10 have reached two finals. If these ones continue at this standard, that leaves about 9 places in a typical 24-person final for the rest to fight over. Seeing previous finalists as low as the 40s in the prelims, that means something between 30 and 50 people who are trying hard to win one of those places. I well remember being in that group myself, and the elation of breaking through at last.