Tuesday, May 30, 2023

                   

                        School Education        


My first School

Where do I start? Perhaps when I was four and a half years old and starting my very first day at the local primary school in Sussex, UK. My mother and I arrived in front of the large Victorian-gothic portal on the south side of the sandstone building which was to be my place of elementary learning from 1950-57. We were early and my apprehension increased rapidly as the big wooden door swung open. Miss M., a short, cheerful woman probably mid-50, greeted us. Soon, the other children began to arrive, and my mother disappeared. A new chapter in my life had begun. There were two classrooms made from one large area separated by a long wood and glass partition. The infant's room was on the south side and the "big kid's” room was to the north. Each had a large open coal fire for heating; later these were augmented with cast-iron coke stoves which put out roasting heat when fired up to a cherry-red glow. The walls were brick, painted green on the lower half and cream on the upper. The South Down buses and the Southern Railway shared the same scheme- I guess they had a limited repertoire of paint after the war. There were railway type clocks, with of course roman numerals. In the corner of the infant's room stood the ubiquitous abacus.

The very first lesson was a demonstration of this device. I can still hear the clicks as Miss M. threw the coloured beads from one side to the other while we drawled out the required chants of 2, 5, 10, 20 etc. Some of us could not count properly but we all went along with it. In those days, most children only started to deal with letters and numbers when they arrived at school. Now we have two-year-old kids working computers and doing simple arithmetic. My three-and-a-half-year-old grandchild (now 19 since this writing.) was attending a daycare which really resembles a primary classroom but with considerable high-tech equipment thrown in.

One special feature of our classroom deserves mention; around the walls on three sides there was a long frieze depicting the letters of the alphabet and the "times tables" from 2 to 12. I had little idea on this first day that I would be, soon, regularly stood in front of the class to recite all this material to expected perfection.

In the "Big Kids" room, the decor was predominantly of maps, which were coloured, with lots of red areas. The concept of the "Empire" had not yet fully given way to that of the "Commonwealth" in many of these rural schools. The globe, gathering dust on an upper shelf, was a neglected sepia brown with much of the text faded. If it appeared on the "Antiques Road show", I would have guessed it to be assessed late eighteenth century. After about 20 mins of arriving we were all ushered into this other room for "assembly". The head teacher enthusiastically thumped out "All Creatures Great and Small" on the piano. New pupils all tried to mouth the words in an obvious "out of sync " manner. This would happen every morning for the next few years until my brain had the score indelibly imprinted. I recall her classic hair style; she had a tightly arranged bun just above the back of her neck. I had seen pictures of teachers in storybooks; and now here was the real thing. I wondered whether she would be strict and how long it would be before I became a "big kid" to sample her wrath.

The first two or three years drudged on. There were sums, letters, and crafts. We were occasionally read to...I liked that. The crafts sessions were good too; we would make muddy masterpieces with powder paints, emulating Jackson Pollack Paintings with gluey hues carved and daubed with our fingers and thumbs. There were the paper chains at Christmas; made with painted newspaper strips and stuck together with corn flour glue. They were quite ugly, but we always expected to take our designs home to adorn our respective living rooms. Somehow, they seemed to be quickly replaced or masked by the bright high-tech varieties from Woolworths; especially as ours kept breaking due to the primitive glue we used.

In those grey, post war years, all of us were taught to knit, sew, and become experts with dried grass, soaked cane or leftover fabrics. I made trivets, trays, wooly balls, dishcloths, scarves, and purses with cross stitch sides. All seemed to be destined for mum's Christmas or birthday presents. Anyway, I began to appreciate these craft sessions as a welcome relief from "sums" and writing. To graduate to the skills of dividing four pounds nineteen and sixpence into seventeen pounds eleven and nine pence did not really enthuse me.

We had a writing book and every day the teacher would write a series of perfectly scripted letters at the top of a page (later it would be a sentence). Our task was to copy this underneath ten to twenty times for a reward of gold or silver stars. This did not make me yearn to be an author.

My life long academic love was, then and now, nature study. I took a degree in biology and am now retired after teaching science for 34 years. Each day I could not wait for the time to go fishing, collect bugs or hunt for fossils. Our surrounding countryside abounded with opportunities in this regard.

Punishments were invariably physical. We would be stood in the corner for talking out of turn. This was only deemed effective if you cried or your legs went into cramps. You might pee but the outcome was risky. Slaps on the back of the legs were dished out regularly for disturbing others and mouths were washed out with carbolic green soap for swearing. A cane stroke or two was administered for more serious offences but only later when we had a Headmaster. He once even smashed my head against a brick wall. Mum was not too happy about this, but I probably did something to upset him; exactly what, I cannot recall.

Eventually the great day arrived when some of us would be deemed fit to move to the "Big Kids" room. There would be tears from those that did not make it, and a mixture of smugness and suppressed terror from those who did. Buddies would be sadly separated; and the familiar smelling, uniquely marked desks would be left forever. The head-lowered shuffle began as we moved through the door in the partition into unknown territory. We were thoroughly scrutinized by all the residents as we meekly took our seats in the bottom standard of the class. The desks were double and looked incredibly old. Eons of ink stains decorated each folding top. Each had its own inkwell filled with a liquid made of dark blue powder and water. Soon we would become experts in its manufacture. Our writing implements were crudely-nibbed pens with stained wooden dowel shaped bodies, they had to be carefully dipped into the wells and tapped to remove excess ink. This was a skill to avoid any smudging that could have very unfortunate consequences. These pens were great darts for target practice; both on inanimate objects and one’s enemy of the day. The supply of new nibs was erratic, so this activity was to be done on special occasions. We all soon learned the routine. There would be "Ink Monitors", "Lunch Monitors" and "Milk Monitors". The latter would be the best, because this meant time off at the end of the arithmetic session before break. Also, there were no special skills required for this position; except to be as slow at it as possible without arousing suspicion.

There was another room off the west side of this classroom which was used for reading periods and dentist's visits. The periodic arrival of the school dentist put fear into all of us in the early '50's. There were no high-speed water-cooled drills and an infected tooth, with caries beyond a pinprick, seemed to be destined for extraction under the influence of "Laughing Gas". Instruments were sterilized with hot alcohol that gave us all an olfactorily confirmation of the events proceeding in the next room. The drill was positively primitive; it was run by a treadle, turning the bit incredibly slowly. As it performed its tedious task, one could smell the friction-heated dentine that must have been smoldering in the cavity. The trick was to squeal prematurely so that the operator's nervous system would have time to stop the treadle to save serious damage. I do not exaggerate; I hated these treatments. It is only my grateful recent experience of wonderful technologic advances which has allowed me to mildly enjoy my dental maintenance sessions today.

School lunches ('Dinners") were memorable. They were subsidized; parents paid a nominal fee and the rest was paid for by the local education authority. The result of this was that there were no frills. From a diet point of view, they were adequate but that is as far as it went. I recall specifically: Fatty, cubed tough beef, Belgian horsemeat, undercooked mashed potatoes, suet pudding with syrup, tapioca, and bowls of semolina. I knew some of the cooks and their skills and understand their frustration in having to cope with often-inadequate supplies and preparation time. I hope the situation is much better now.

We did not have a spectacular playground. In my first few years it was leveled sand which measured about a quarter of an acre; this is not vast. Our toilets were outside but flushing. Vigilance in the winter was necessary to avoid freezing. A brick wall enclosed the stalls and there was a divider to separate the girls from the boy's section. I remember that we used try to pee over the wall into the girl's area. The successful candidate was rewarded by hysterical screams. I have to say that this activity did not occur very often as the ensuing investigation was naturally exhaustive and usually came up with a culprit. There was no such thing as a " code of silence" amongst us little people. I do, with shame, recall telling on some poor boy for supposedly tampering with some building materials. He got the cane in front of us all but was quite innocent of the charge. I just did not like him. I have to say that I suffered several similar injustices, throughout my time at the school, and so claim some degree of forgiveness.

 Even at an early age at this school, there were "love matches": Most of the time it was expressed by sending notes and verbal messages followed by a few days of holding hands. There might have been a walk home through the "common" after school.

As time went on in this "senior" room studies became more and more serious as we neared the impending "Eleven Plus Examination". However, there was a twist. Close to the time of the examinations we were given several "Dry Runs". I had contracted measles in the middle of this and, on my return, I was given an examination that I thought was another dry run. I was wrong; it was the real thing! My headmaster nearly had a seizure when I told him that I did not feel like doing the last two questions, exclaiming, "it wasn't the real exam anyway!" Frantic letters were written to various people higher up in the system and the result was that I did get into grammar school. Fortunately, I was able to prove my worth later.

I have to say that I owe much to the diligence and continuing patience of the headmaster for believing in my abilities, modest though they are, and helping me further my studies. Perhaps he did really knock some sense into me against that green classroom wall. Of course, as a teacher myself, I am fully aware that any kind of corporal punishment is not tolerated today in schools.

Times were different then and I guess we just went with the flow. The headmaster did so many good things for the school. The dip-pens were banished. Attendance was increased to over 95% average, crossing attendants were instigated and the general academic standards were improved tremendously. In short, he took the school out of the dark ages and laid the foundations of what this school apparently is today.

 

 

Midhurst Grammar School 1957-64

As a continuation of my story after I left my Primary School, we go to Midhurst Grammar School.

Please be aware that a large proportion of these notes are ‘Boarder’ based. This is not how it should be. I am sorry here, but I was a Boarder!

If any of you were day students, please either PM me with your recollections or clearly submit them to this FB site with a label “for addition to Dave Colwell’s document” and I will include them. If you do not do either, then your precious memories could fade away as you get older 😊 Soon all will fade for me too!

                                 

First, I was given an interview which was arranged between my primary school head and the Grammar School. I arrived with my mother and was directed to a small room where I waited to be called. The first person to see was the headmaster, Mr. N.B.C. Lucas. I had to read a passage from H.G. Well’s “War of the Worlds” and then answer some comprehension questions…no problem here.

Moving on to the next: Another person, Mr. X, who asked me some mixed fraction questions…a bit of a problem here…a combo of nerves and a slight lack of expertise in math.

The third person: a Mr. Gordon who was interested in my general interests…great! Here I could shine. I was passionate about nature and general biology. He had to listen to a long discourse on the life cycle of the Atlantic eel and various other gems of freshwater biology.

So, I succeeded in being accepted. On to September 1957 for the first term of my secondary school experience.

 Year one and notes on junior high school.

                                       

Under instructions from the school all necessary clothes and sundry items were purchased and those that needed them were marked with Cash’s name tape. They were packed in a trunk and sent to the school. I would soon be on my way.

My mother and I arrived at the door of, yet another Victorian-Gothic style build called Capron House. It was a beautiful building with some History which was to be revealed later. We rung and the door swung open with a warm welcome from a Miss Doreen Basset, the Housekeeper and Matron with whom we would all get to know well…! I later learned that she was the daughter of a policeman which, in retrospect, did fit the role which she demonstrated over the years. Doreen was a caring, hardworking person but, at the time, many of us felt a little differently. A person in her position had to be tough to deal with a house full of adolescent boys. I said goodbye to my mother and followed this lady meekly up the very imposing stairs to my first dormitory, ‘Babylon’. I would soon learn that all the ‘Dorms’ were named after Greco-Roman Cities. This first name was appropriate considering that I was in the youngest year. There were 12 beds in this room, and I was duly assigned one and given a string of information deemed necessary at this early stage. I would try to remember as much as possible about bed making protocols and general expectations. Supper was scheduled for 7pm but I recall having a brief orientation meeting with my new ‘Dorm. Mates’ before that time. Since I had arrived in the afternoon, I certainly had time to stroll around the grounds of the school and become acquainted with a few of the new boys.

The Dining Room consisted of long heavy oak tables flanked by equally substantial benches, sufficient to accommodate approximately 60 boys. We were all welcomed by the House Master, Mr. Colin Beacham. An alphabetical role call was made followed by grace given by the ‘Head of House Prefect’… “Benedictus Benedicat, Per Jesum Christum Dominum Nostrum. Amen”. Something I will never forget. Supper: Baked beans and mashed potatoes followed by a traditional desert… exactly what? I cannot recall, but not haute cuisine!

My recollection is that bedtimes ranged from 9:00 o'clock through 10:00 pm. The first night was interesting. We all had to wear pyjamas and traverse the Oak Hall which was at the top of the stairs in the main foyer of Capron House to the washrooms. Each of us had to have a sponge bag with toothbrush toothpaste etc. and a towel.  The stairs, flooring and banisters were of high-quality oak and the whole area smelled of polish. One of the other features of this hall were the stain glass windows which commemorated historical events and important people, such as Richard Cobden of the 19th. Century Corn Laws association; a former pupil of MGS.

 When we got to bed there was quite a considerable amount of conversation, as you can imagine on the first night. There were a couple of second year students in the dormitory with us and they explained things which they had experienced and more. One of them told stories about a supposed ghost in the swimming pool. Some were taken in by this but soon learned to be more wary. We looked forward with a degree of apprehension about the coming first day at school. The beds were considerably basic, had adequate blankets but everyone had to have their own ‘travelling rug’ as a back-up for those chillier nights in the upcoming winter months. Patterns could be chosen but most were some form of tartan. I still have mine after sixty years!

In this dormitory we were arisen at 7:15 to the sound of a large brass bell welded by a prefect. If you did not respond, then your bed could be quickly stripped exposing you to the cool morning air. However, on this first morning we were all expectant of the coming events of the day and dutifully trekked off to the washrooms in ‘short order’. Our new beds were made, and we went down to breakfast after polishing our shoes.  It was usually heavy porridge or cereal followed by a savory of eggs/spam etc. I should mention that the shoe polishing was considered important and involved an inspection by a designated prefect. If unsatisfactory you could be sent out of breakfast to repeat the ritual. Also, any behavioral infractions, including a discovered poorly made bed, could result in the same

Soon we would be walking to assembly in the school gym. This would involve announcements, a prayer, and a hymn. Of course, we would all be in our uniforms as described in the school prospectus. All of this would be before school started at 9:00 am. I cannot remember clearly but I assume that on this 1st. day we had a designated guide to direct us to the right places at the right times.

Next stop…our classroom. In this school we mostly remained in our Form Room and the teachers came to us for our various classes. Exceptions would be for specific courses which involved lab work, like in science or home economics.

My 1st. Form Room was room 7 (see school map. Hopefully, I have it as accurate as I can remember after more than sixty years!). The form master was Mr. Serraillier  who was also to be our English Teacher. He was a renowned author and children’s broadcaster. He wrote a wonderful novel called the “Silver Sword”; a family story set in WW2, a kind, caring gentleman. He had 2 daughters and a son. The one I knew very well was Helen because she was in my class for at least three years.

Room 7 was right at the end of a long corridor in the most northerly, older, wing of the School. There were nine rooms in this wing. The more senior pupils occupied the rooms with lower numbers. The fifth forms would be in rooms 1-3 with everyone else in between. The sixth forms were in another part of the school. The 1st. form occupied two rooms 7 and 8. On this 1st. day we were issued our timetables and then our required textbooks etc. as the various lessons unfolded during these beginning days. Each day also had a dreaded prep timetable. There were usually 3 subject slots for each day. Some teachers were more demanding of our time than others. However, generally things were fair. Subjects on the schedule were: English, French, Maths, Science, Latin, History, Geography, Art, Religious Instruction and P.E. Science would later be divided into Physics, Chemistry and Biology. I am not sure how Domestic Science came into it, but this was for the girls. When I entered the school there were girls only in the first two forms. I do not think there were woodwork or metalwork classes…a pity really. Specific instruction for Ordinary Level (a.k.a. ‘O’ levels) really began in the fourth form. After the first year there would be divisions or ‘sets’ for Latin and Maths; why not French I am not sure. There was no Greek or German and Spanish was only offered for ‘O’ level.

In the next few pages, I will take each subject and make some anecdotal comments on highlights of the lessons and the teachers. I will not be disparaging but I will comment on some humorous incidents. Not all my teachers will be remembered and the forms which they taught may not be exact, but I will give you a flavour.

English:

                                    

 

We had Ian Serrallier, Ms. Rickets and John Hearne. Ms. Rickets was fun. We used to argue with her about syntax, sometimes with ‘tongue in cheek’ and she would get very flustered. She used to give us essays which were critically marked, her standards were high. John Hearne was a renowned author and came from the Caribbean. He was of mixed descent, had red hair and a strong accent. He was an interesting person with lots of stories. He used to read to us and make the lessons exciting. His injection of a Central and North American flavour was stimulating.

French:

The 1st. teacher was Ms. Horlick. She was a kind person but sometimes had difficulty with some of our more mischievous pupils. Some would play cruel jokes on her. However, she was, besides this, a satisfactory teacher who knew her subject well. In the second and third forms we would have Mr. Douglas who was a kind generous person. He was very fond of serious music and used to give record concerts in his flat to interested boarder pupils. I was fortunate enough to go on a trip with him and another teacher, Mr. Charles Stuck, in 1959 to Switzerland. He was a prisoner of war in Burma after the Japanese invaded Singapore and he had many stories to tell of that harrowing experience. He told us of turning a record on the turntable by using a pencil fixed to a hole in the disk at approximately the right speed…of course, they had no other means to do this. There was no wind-up mechanism and certainly no electricity. I really liked French and still do like to practice it whenever possible. Some of our class developed good accents…I recall Helen Serrallier being excellent even in those earlier years. In those days French was taught with Grammar first and speaking later. Now it seems to be the other way around. I am still glad that I had a good grounding in the syntax because it has helped with other modern languages. Some might disagree.

Maths:

We had Mr. Harris. A strict teacher with a short temper. Anyone who got out of line suffered some harsh punishment, even of a physical nature. He was soon ‘promoted’ to another school. Enough said! Mr. Croft was very pleasant and was well liked. We did have Mr. Jackson (‘Jacko’) for a while in the early forms and certainly later in year four. Maths is what it is and largely based on homework and corrections. Most textbooks are self-explanatory. Mr. Jackson had an interesting style with Geometry. He would often play ‘dumb’ when it came to solving geometry theorems, proofs, finding angles etc. Pupils would feel pride at ‘helping him out’. This worked very well. None of us liked logarithms and associated questions given for homework. Now things are quite different, and the tables have long been put aside. I enjoyed algebra and trigonometry. I still see a purpose in it, even for those who are not pure mathematicians.

Science:

Well, my favourite. I excelled in all branches during junior high school and progressed to Uni. to become a science/biology teacher. We remember ‘Rocky’ Hill, Hector Canning, Allen Mason, Isobel Launder, Mr. Mills etc. Another Mr. Mason, the Geography teacher also ‘dabbled’ in Science, but it really was not his subject. He taught us science in 1st. form but…...! However, he was an expert beekeeper and that was his best lesson in my first year. Anyway, he did give me 110% in my science exam at the end of that year. He had a moustache and we called him “Wally”, a kind, personable man. On a light note: None of us will ever forget the sodium experiment. He put a large lump of it in a pneumatic trough of water and we all watched it scoot around until it exploded with a large BANG driving the newly formed sodium hydroxide up to the ceiling. This was a successful teaching aid both in science and in safety! His moustache twitched in time with his characteristic nervous coughs. In all fairness, there is, likely, not a science student on this planet who has not seen their science teacher perform this ‘folly’ of an experiment. Probably things are set up a little safer nowadays with all the latest safety measures in place. Rocky Hill had a wonderful dry sense of humour and was a great teacher. Hector Canning was legendary. I will come to him later. Isobel Launder deserves a special chapter since she was my lifelong inspiration for Botany. Allen Mason taught us Zoology but only in sixth form. I had Mr. Mills for ‘O’ level biology. I do remember him, painfully, rapping me on the head with his knuckles as a corrective remedy for my errant behaviour; probably well-deserved, as he was a good teacher.

Latin:

Hey, this is now becoming ‘Old Hat’. What schools do Latin, other than the old established Public (Private) Schools like Eaton, Harrow, Winchester etc.? My experience of it was bittersweet. I did not enjoy it, but I am glad I took it because it did give a basis for other Latin languages. I achieved the top set…big deal! The cruncher was in fourth year for ‘O’ level. We had Ovid’s poems imposed upon us instead of a set book. I could never translate those obscure sentences. I was simply lost. I failed Latin ‘O’ Level. My regret has long since faded!

My Latin teacher in Junior High was a Mr. Kelly. When he was angry or in a punitive mood he would say “I see, I see” …not listening but repeating these words. He also used to report on any activity that he observed boarders doing that could be remotely clandestine. Very annoying to us all! Like hitchhiking to Chichester etc. I do not think he was a happy man.

 Now there was another Latin teacher of much more colour. He was a Welshman called Sam Shirley. This man coined some wonderful quotes: “Boyo, if you don’t learn your Kennedy verbs, you have as much chance of passing the exam as my arse is cracking walnuts” ...in a rich Welsh accent. I did not have him in junior high, but I could have…a pity! I remember in fourth year Mr. Jones asking our class to repeat a test result. One pupil blurted out 1/10. The reply was “One whole mark Jack!” He loved to belittle his students…some are like that, I guess. Anyway, all is passed under the bridge for Latin. My one enjoyment was being able to read “De Bello Gallico” by Julius Caesar in Latin and be able to understand it.

History:

Now there was a teacher, Mr. Peter Stempson. He could talk with us spell-bound for an hour. We would take rough notes. He would the ask us (for homework) to synthesize, in essay form, what he had said. We each had a notebook to record the key points of the lesson. It was the Stuart period. I learned so much of basic parliamentary history with him. He was a great tennis player and well-remembered. Yes, he had a traditional style, but it is all in the delivery. A quirk, he used to flick his nose periodically with his forefinger.

 

 

 

 

Geography:

This was not offered until fourth year for ‘O’level. Mr. ‘Wally’ Mason was the teacher. He had a unique style.

He would prepare colourful detailed maps of a country before class on the blackboard. And then he would talk about it for five to ten minutes. We would be asked to copy it. Meanwhile he would spend his time with other business while we did this.

He had many idiosyncrasies. So, we adapted. Concocted a game and we called it “Geography Cricket”.

There was a score sheet, and each idiosyncrasy was worth several runs. For instance, a scratch on the cheek could be 1 run, one on the nose 2 runs, a cough 3, a picked nose 6 etc. We had a whole repertoire. The room was divided into two teams and we played cricket. There were muffled cheers and “howzats?!” I guess this is what immature students do when they are bored while their teacher is reading his newspaper. This was, of course, a childish prank from a group of immature adolescents. Fortunately, he knew nothing about it and went home happy! I passed Geography and so did everyone else! Style is everything!

Art:

My art teacher in the early years was a ‘Bogie’ Bennet. He used to drive a Bubble Car. These were fashionable in the late 50’s. There was even a pop song featuring them. A traditional teacher, no frills. He gave you a sheet of paper and you painted a picture. The best ones were praised, others not commented on much. I enjoyed painting and did get some good comments from time to time. We did no sculpture and no other techniques or media were provided.

 R.I:

This was not religious at all. Colin Beacham used to come in and chat to us. A bit of philosophy and general topics. Not much to comment on here. Colin was a young popular house master who love to drive sports cars. During my stay he had an MG roadster, and an MGa. Sometimes we were puzzled as to what he thought about a given situation or what was his real mood   at the time…some nicknamed him “Phoney”.

P.E.

The head of the P.E. Dept. was Ken Allport. There was Soccer, Rugby, Grass Hockey in the winter months with Tennis, Cricket and Stool Ball (an old Sussex game) in the summer. We also had Basketball indoors and the girls had Netball. Occasionally we played rounders (a sort of watered-down Baseball). Of course, there were athletics for the spring and summer. There also were a variety of ‘circuit’ exercises in the gymnasium. I did not play on a school team until third form when I took up Rugby with enthusiasm in the Colts. XV…this would lead on to me being captain of the 1st. XV in the sixth form; fond memories.

I should say that we did have an outdoor swimming pool which was NOT heated. The water was the clearest after being newly filled but it was about 45 degrees F. The clarity of the water descended to pea green as it warmed to almost a tolerable level. The filtration system and chemical treatment was not the best. This pool was much used by the Boarders; but then they were tougher, right? At some stage we would have a swimming gala which was really a competition between the boarders and the day school. Despite the disparity in numbers we usually won!

Such was the framework of the day school at M.G.S. The ultimate goals were to get as many ‘O’ Levels as possible, move on to the sixth form to do 2-3 more years culminating in 3-4 ‘A’-Levels. Many would also add scholarship to embellish their records prior to University entrance.

I skipped fifth form because I achieved high enough marks in third form to be included in fourth year ‘Remove’. This was an accelerated bridge to the sixth form. It was a small class and we got what was considered more selected teachers; at least it seemed that way for the most part. I am not quite sure that it was the best for me, but it did enable me to easily spend three years doing my ‘A’ Levels etc. Midhurst was more ‘geared’ towards the arts rather than science, so it was not surprising that we got good language teachers. Mrs. Lucas and Mrs. Canning were both excellent; though I did not take ‘O’ Level Spanish, sadly. I will not record my marks for ‘O’ Level, but they were sufficient for me to enter the next phase; sixth form. We will return to that later.

(A quick note on Meals: In the beginning of my time at the school all boarders ate all their meals in the boarding house dining room and the day pupils ate lunch at the town library in two sittings. In the last two years or so a new dining area was built next to the school gymnasium and tennis courts on Lambert’s lane. The boarders ate in this building too).

But, for now, we will go back to the boarding house and include various anecdotal social comments.

                                   

School ended at four pm. The boarders were served tea, white bread, and jam prior to the prep bell ringing at 5:00. We all headed for the classrooms for this and the sessions were supervised by prefects on duty. Juniors had 1-2 hours and sixth forms had 3. Strict silence was observed. Supper was from 7-8 and the sixth formers had an extra hour to make up their 3 after this. We were all free after this. So, there was plenty to occupy us. We had 3 common rooms in which to play games, listen to the radio and in later years a TV. In good weather we had a nice lawn outside one of the common rooms on which we could play our own concocted games like ‘Bunker barrel’, ‘British Bulldog’ and other team games. Many will remember these with nostalgic affection. The house was three stories high with 9 dormitories: Babylon, Rome, Sparta, Carthage, Alexandra, Thebes, Corinth, Troy, Athens; in order of seniority. Athens was for prefects and was divided into cubicles. Corinth was soon converted into a prefect’s common room. That is how it was arranged when I was in the sixth form. There were two Housemaster’s rooms, a Matron’s room, and a surgery. There were two boot rooms, a clothes storage room, and a boiler room. There was a large downstairs washroom in addition to the two upstairs ones and at least 3 toilets. There were several baths. Gym kit was stored in designated wire cages. Our trunks were stored under the stairs in the oak hall. Attached to the boarding house was a substantial library above two sixth form classrooms. Boarders had the run of all classrooms except labs and the 1947 block where the school staffroom was situated. There was also a locker room. Each member had his own key. Books, personal items etc. were kept here. Some had tuck boxes in addition in which to store food items sent by their parents. Sometimes this created jealous reaction on the part of those who did not have these boxes. The demography of the boarding house was quite diverse. Many had ‘well-heeled’ family backgrounds and others not so. Many had professional parents who lived and worked overseas and sent their children to boarding schools such as this. They would go ‘home’ during the vacations to places like Singapore, Nigeria etc. Mr. Lucas, our headmaster would ‘collect’ his boys from all walks of life and social backgrounds. Many with serious to minor family issues. It was his quest to mix them up and help them adjust to society. It was like a kind of ‘sociological bootcamp’. For the most part I really think it worked. At least, I am sure it did in my case; but I will elaborate on that later.

As a little bit of History of the school here is this:

(A school was founded in Midhurst for poor boys in 1672 by local businessman Gilbert Hannam.  Initially a school for just 12 pupils, it has varied in size over its 300-year history. The buildings were extended in 1821, but fell into disrepair, with the school closing in 1859. It was re-opened in 1880 as a boys' day and boarding grammar school. By 1944 it was classified as a  Voluntary Controlled school, run by  West Sussex County Council. Later, in 1956 the school became a mixed school, accepting girls for the first time. Falling pupil numbers, and the opening of the new Herbert Shiner secondary school in Petworth meant that in 1966 the school merged with the then Midhurst County Secondary School to form a comprehensive, while retaining the historic name.  Shortly after this in 1970 local re-organization saw the school change to become an upper school accepting pupils at age 13 (rather than 11). Younger pupils attended either  Midhurst Intermediate School or the Herbert Shiner School in Petworth. Proposals were brought forward by the Local Education Authority in 2002 to revert to a two-tier structure in the area, which would have seen the Grammar School become an 11-18 school once again. However, this was opposed by the local community. The school then soon became an Academy, lost its uniform and name. Now it no longer functions as a school, many of the buildings have been replaced.)

                                 

 

Midhurst Grammar School alumni are known as 'Old Midhurstians', including:

·         Sam Callis - Actor

·         Seth Cardew - Studio potter

·         Field Marshall Sir Frederick Haines - British and  Madras Army officer

·         Charles Lyell - Geologist

·         Peter Jerrome - historian

·         Dan Pearson - Garden designer/ TV presenter / columnist

·         Mick Robertson - Children's TV Presenter

·         Mark Rowland - Athlete

·         Ian Serrallier - Author

·         Nick Talbot FRS, Molecular geneticist

·         H.G. Wells – Author

 

 

As mentioned before; on Saturday morning we had activities which you could sign up for. We had art, aircraft modelling, some indoor sports etc. They liked to keep everyone as occupied as possible. I seemed to recall it, maybe, not have been compulsory. My memory fails me a little on this; perhaps someone will help me out here.

I have mentioned church, Sunday letter writing etc. Most of us had minimal pocket money to spend but many had bikes, and a few went fishing in the local river for trout and some course fish like pike, carp etc. A Michael O’Brian was a keen expert who introduced me to trout in Cowdray’s river rother. If we caught anything, it was customary to donate the catch to Colin Beacham, the senior house master. He may or may not have shared with other staff members. Anyway, there was no point in us keeping them because we could not cook them ourselves anyway.

I used to like airplane modeling and balsa wood kit construction of such. Many had little engines to power them and you could often hear the high-pitched sound of them being tested in our locker room. I recall the sweet smell of the special fuel used… not at all unpleasant. Some enjoyed putting plastic scale model kits together (‘Airfix’ (tm)). They would take great pains in their painting. Bike riding was popular, and the beautiful surrounding countryside lent itself very well to this activity.

There was a local cinema which was certainly visited whenever possible. It was even better when you had the company of one of our girls. I remember such classic films as: “North by Northwest”, Tiger Bay”, “Tammy” and many more.

The pop music records of the time were natural signposts of these heady 1950’s and early sixties. There were the 45’s, E. P’s and L. P’s Nothing new here but ours were the best, of course! Close your eyes and remember: Buddy Holly, The Everly Brothers, Elvis, Duane Eddy, Gene Vincent…endless. Then, naturally, we had the Beatles! We would arrange “Juke Box’ sessions at weekends. The necessary technology was provided by the electronic experts among us…and there were several qualified individuals. One of the highlights was the development of a small radio station. This was on, and restricted to, our campus. It had to be only powerful enough to reach the boundaries. Otherwise we would be committing a crime of illegal broadcasting. Of course, we pushed it to the limit.

We would have performances of plays, reviews, and musical events. During my stay there was a group who would present pieces involving songs related to our social activities and there were instrumental recitals with guitars and small bands. At Christmas we used to have a feast of turkey with all the trimmings. We so looked forward to this because it seemed that we were perpetually hungry. After this there was the traditional carol singing accompanied by Mr. Theodore Jackson at the grand piano in the school hall.

Our health needs were well looked after by Miss Doreen Basset and her assistants. She held a daily morning surgery where pupils would line up with minor ailments; some hoping to be given a day or two off from school. She could tell the malingerers from the truly sick. The standard remedy for a sore throat was a saltwater gargle. Temperatures were always taken.

On occasion we had acute illness. I recall the great Asian flu pandemic. (H1N1). The fall of 1957. The whole boarding house became a sick bay. Some became quite ill. There were a couple of these I recall. They were dealt with very efficiently. She is to be commended for what she did for us all. We had no vaccines for it in those days. For ordinary times we had a little sick bay at the very south end of the building near her bed sit. It had a radio and reading material and was quite comfortable. I spent a few times there.

We used to have formal House Meetings run by the senior pupils (A House Committee). Robert’s Rules of Order were strictly adhered to. An agenda was prepared by the secretary in between meetings (monthly if I recall). There were often heated discussions, and some were more prominent in this than others. I recall a Richard Hinton with some nostalgia. He would stand and deliver his opinions with a ‘boffin-like’ manner. While we might have been amused at his style, we all realized his effectiveness. A lot of the topics were particularly important and there were many important results which came out of these discussions once the summaries of them were passed on to the authorities. These meetings were great practice for many of us which would be useful in later life.

We had ‘play readings’ in The Lucas’s drawing room. Attendance was voluntary and the plays were selected by Mrs. Vera Lucas. The parts and the readers were negotiated. I loved this experience…all good. We had such plays as: The Cherry Orchard (Chekov), Arms and the Man (Shaw) etc. It was this experience that led on to me taking up amateur dramatics in my local town in Canada many years later. Several of our boarders did indeed become professional actors.

I will say at this point that my admiration for Vera Lucas was extensive. She was a brilliant French teacher. Her education equally matched this. In fourth year ‘Remove’, She would give us class translations to do from English to French and vice versa. These would be meticulously marked and thoroughly discussed at the next lesson. All mistakes were noted. All vocabulary was discussed, and any associated words would similarly be included in a life context. We had a notebook to record all these words and phrases. In a subsequent lesson-period we would be tested. We soon became very proficient. There were also oral lessons. I am still benefiting from her expertise in this subject even though I did not take languages in the sixth form.

With the diverse mix of boys from different backgrounds there were corresponding differences in behaviour. Some showed almost criminal tendencies and others were frail and meek. Indeed, there was quite a bit of bullying. In short comfortable survival necessitated a positive quest to ‘fit in’ or, at least, ‘lie low’. In retrospect, I think I failed to do this in my first year and so things were rather painful. I had entered the school with some chips on my shoulder which needed to be modified. Boarding School will do that, and it did. By the time I left, and with the help of Rugby Football, I became well rounded, forging some lifelong friends.

I had several wonderful girlfriends to help me hone some romantic skills as well. Yes, in those days, things were more romantic. The raw sex that we see today was not so obvious for us teenagers. Birth control was not so prevalent, and things could have had unfortunate consequences, so we were much more guarded in our behavior. Most of the girls saw to that aspect! But that did not take away from the fun of it all. I was no saint but still practiced a degree of conservatism necessary at the time. Of course, the practice of 1st.base, 2nd, base etc. has always prevailed to some degree. That is what growing up is all about. At least it was then!

Many of us did have romances which lasted for short or more lengthy periods of time. We might   go to the pictures or take a Sunday afternoon walk on St. Ann’s Hill. There is little need for details, and I have explained some of this above. There were some memorable relationships but as with most of these situations they often peter out once school is left behind. However, I will never forget anyone and that is good. In 2009 I went to a reunion at Capron house and saw many of the people I went to this school with. I recall sitting at a table with at least four of the young ladies with whom I have walked on Saint Ann’s Hill on a Sunday afternoon. I was the subject of some lighthearted amusement at this! By the way, I have been married to the same wonderful, beautiful woman, Alison, for 52 years at this time of writing! And she did not go to MGS. Also, of course, she does the proof reading for this little document! This is a current picture and we are both 74. I hazard that she has fared better than me!

                                                       

 

Rugby games were wonderful to me. I started off with the Colts XV team after third form. Chris Lacey was my mentor in this. He taught me some basics and I soon became proficient enough to ascend to captain of the team. I used to throw myself into it and some thought I was slightly crazy. Anyway, it seemed to serve the purpose and I went on to the 1st. XV and became captain.   

I loved the fixtures we had where we travelled to different schools on a Saturday and were royally entertained and fed well. We so enjoyed the raucous songs on the bus on the way home, especially after a good win! We played all kinds of schools…from ‘lowly’ high schools to Winchester and Christ Hospital. The latter two used to field their third teams and we still usually lost! It was still an education to see their schools and to get something of their lifestyle and history.

I remember a game against the old boys where we won, and I was hoisted onto someone’s shoulders and transported to the river Rother and dumped. There was quite a current and I ended up going right through the bridge at the end of the causeway.

There was another game which we played on the shared the Cowdray Polo grounds. It was against Worthing High School. The whole field was covered with sheep shit. We lost 34-0, of course because of the sheep shit. The interesting thing is that one of their players had a Peter Hotston among them. After I emigrated to Canada in 1969, became a teacher, and settled in Squamish, BC, Canada, he turned up as a new teacher in the mid 70’s and was able to recall that game. He eventually became my Principal, is now retired, and lives down my same street. Small world! The Polo Grounds mentioned were adjacent to the rest of our playing fields, but we used a couple of them for Rugby during the winter months when there was no Polo. These fields were famous for the latter game. Royalty and various famous figures like Jimmy Edwards played there. We used to be amused at the colourful language expressed from time to time by the Duke of Edinburgh and Jimmy Edwards when they got frustrated with aspects of the game.

Regarding our education in the ‘Arts’, we were so fortunate. We were profusely encouraged to take every opportunity to go on any trip which would enhance this. Our house master would canvas us to partake. We went on many trips to London to see the current theatre and opera productions of the time. I attended many at the Old Vic, the Aldwych, Covent Garden, the Royal Festival Hall and more. I saw, when they were young, such names as: Lawrence Olivier, Frank Finlay, Max Adrian, Fay Compton, Joan Plowright, Paul Scofield, Maggie Smith, Judy Dench, John Gielgud, Peter O’Toole, and so many more. I saw Bob Dylan and Pete Seeger at the Festival Theatre and Victoria de los Angeles at Covent Garden. I could go on and on! Our Headmaster used to take us to see art galleries in London: The Tate, the National, the Courtauld and numerous smaller ones. I saw the second night of Olivier’s Othello at the Chichester Festival Theatre for ten shillings! Mr. Lucas would give us general lessons on modern art. He had a ‘healthy’ collection himself. After he passed most of his stuff was donated to the College which his wife Vera attended at Oxford.

We would usually go on these excursions by bus and return late at night to the school. We had no trouble sleeping! They remain warm memories. If you would talk about privilege, this was it! No apologies and much thanks!

Mr. Douglas used to give his evening Friday night stereo-concerts to an interested group of boarders. He would kindly post them on our notice board and people would then choose to go or not. We would respectfully sit as a group in silence to listen to his selection. I enjoyed it as a form of meditation. One such day on November 22nd. of 1963 something catastrophic happened. John F. Kennedy was assassinated. We learned of it on returning to the boarding house. Most of us were devastated. Tchaikovsky’s 6th. (Pathetique) Symphony was played in a ‘wallowing’ respect. Perhaps we were overly emotional but young people can be that way and that may not be a bad thing. Anyway, we were a bit upset! So, most of us can say where we were when that happened!

There is a bit of an irony here, because during that time there was the Cuba crisis and Kennedy was well prepared (backed up by his strong Catholic religious beliefs) to ‘press the button’. There were peace marches in London by many young people decrying him for his possible intentions. Such is Politics! He just called the Russian’s bluff and was fortunate to win!

During the Cuba Crisis we saw V Bombers flying regularly over our school and we knew that it was most likely that they were armed with some very nasty weapons. There was extreme tension everywhere. On one occasion I went to London to purchase some textbooks and ran into a large protest march outside Foyles book shop. I joined this march which proceeded to Whitehall. The atmosphere was ‘electric’. There was chanting directed at the world leaders involved in the issue. There was a kind of hysteria to which teenagers are very apt to react. I certainly did. We now know so much of the History involved and can see the issue in a better perspective. But at that time communications were not so good.

During the time I was at Midhurst, I did go on a ‘Peace March’. This was large protest of approximately 60,000 people starting at Aldermaston and proceeding to a rally in Hyde Park London. We carried banners and slept in large tents, halls, and schools on the way. It was quite fun, and we met many interesting people. It was the time of Bertrand Russell, the CND, and the Committee of 100. I vividly remember going to the Royal Festival Hall on two occasions to see respective concerts by Bob Dylan and Pete Seeger, icons of the peace movement. At school we had a student’s strike to protest the dangers implicit in the Cuba crisis. It was organized by senior pupils and our plan was presented to Mr. Lucas, our headmaster. He was sympathetic to our opinions and we marched the town carrying banners during a school day. The Board of Governors was not pleased, and we got mixed press. Mr. Lucas got into a bit of trouble over it too.

 

            

 

 

Just for fun Let me take you on a virtual tour of the Boarding house from my memory of what it was like 60 years ago:

We enter the normal entrance from what has been called the Granite Sets”; they are not made of granite at all, they are limestone (we did an acid test). What you see facing you down a short corridor is the surgery. On the left, is a flight of stairs leading up to the first landing where there are two toilets. On your immediate left is a heating radiator in front of a window looking out to the “sets”. Here a big brass bell is stored to wake us all up in the morning. On the right is a notice board. Fines are posted here and any other important messages. There is a common room adjacent to the stairs on the left. This looks out to the back lawn common room. On the left of this room is a door which leads to the walk-through common room to another door which leads into the Oak Hall (already described).   Right, around the corner from the notice board is a corridor. On your right is Miss Bassets office. On your left is a common room with a radio on a shelf near the window on the left. This window looks out to a common lawn. Go further down the corridor and you will see ahead the room where all the linen and clothes are stored. On the left is the locker room which has on the left as you enter, two large tea chests for rubbish. There are two tiers of lockers in a U-shape, one for each boarder. Opposite the locker room there is a small boot /shoe cleaning room under a flight of stairs leading up to two landings. On the right of the 1st landing, on the right again is the Athens Dormitory. Proceeding up to the second landing you will see ahead the senior washroom, toilet on the right before you enter. If you turn left on the landing you see another corridor. On the right is the Troy dormitory. Proceeding down the corridor you see ahead two doors leading respectively into Carthage and Sparta. On the left at the end of this short corridor is a bathroom and bedroom for one house master. If you go through either dorm, you will find yourself in a large washroom which leads out to the upper Oak hall and on to Babylon, Mr. Jackson’s room, and Rome up a short flight of stairs. Go back to the entrance to Carthage and Sparta and you see a flight of stairs leading up to the top floor where you find two dormitories above Carthage and Sparta (Thebes and Alexandria).In between these two dorms is a trap door to the roof (well used). Near the entrance to Thebes is Colin Beacham’s bedroom. Further along the corridor is his sitting room. This is opposite to the entrance to what was Corinth but became later the Prefects common room. Proceeding past Colin’s room, you come to the return flight of stairs going all the way down to the ground floor arriving at the corridor leading to the linen room at the exit door adjacent to the locker room. This exit goes into a large boot room and out through a final door to a parking lot in front of the library and large School hall. Oops, you missed the large coke fired boiler room opposite the small boot/shoe cleaning room. This is a place you can dry wet clothes and warmup. You even roast chestnuts on the hearth of the stove!

This is where we lived as boarders

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Sixth Form

 

I had chosen Zoology, Botany, Chemistry and Physics for my A- Levels. It was now September 1961. I had enough O-levels (7).

My Zoology teacher was Alan Mason. He had red hair, slender build, and a pale complexion. We plodded through the course. It became my desire to proceed to University to study Zoology as my main degree subject. I very much enjoyed the labs which included lots of microscope work and dissections. I can still remember with little joy the smell of formaldehyde. This chemical has since been given the label of carcinogen, but thankfully I am still here at 74! I even was exposed to it when I became a biology teacher in later years. I ended up after three years with an A plus a scholarship designation in this subject. I will not say that he was anything but a basically good teacher, but I was highly motivated in this subject from an early age. I also had as an external mentor, my Uncle Alec Gunner who used to be a teacher at MGS several years before I went to the school. The Biology lab was part of a string of skimpy Classrooms called the 1947 Block. At the back of it, Mr. ‘Wally” Mason kept some beehives against a wall which separated them from the Lucas’s lawn. As a wee diversion here, I have always intrigued by surnames and how in many cases they become related to the later careers of their owner. Some are obliquely related to something else appropriate. “Walley” was a beekeeper and coincidentally there are “Mason” bees. My Bryophyte (Mosses and Liverworts) lecturer at Uni. was a Dr. Moss. The Ichthyologist was Dr. Fish. I am sure many who read this know of similar examples.

For Botany I had Isobel Launder. She was a brilliant teacher and I still have a lifelong love for the subject. She demonstrated a great attention and demand for detail which enabled me to immerse myself in the finest aspects of the structure and function of Fungi, Bryophytes, and all Plant life. Again, I did very well in this subject. The results for both Zoology and Botany enabled me entrance to university.

For Chemistry there was ‘Rocky’ Hill. A good teacher but I did not do so well in this subject. I very much enjoyed the lab work. He had a great sense of humour, albeit, dry. He also Refed our Rugby games. In this he was excellent.

Physics with Mr. Hector Canning; I only studied for a year, but I enjoyed the labs very much. I have already said that he was a very bright man. Most who had him as a teacher will remember some amusing incidents; especially one which comes to mind: The false teeth incident. When he was exasperated with a student, he would point his index finger at his temple and say,” Mama PUMPH!”  He did this once (only once) and his false teeth fell out onto the desk. Hector was also famous for bellowing out “Don’t run…Go back and walk”. Prior to 1960 the Physics Lab was in the dual building backing onto Lambert’s lane, adjacent to the school pond and swimming pool. It was shared with the Chemistry lab. Later new buildings were erected, housing new Chemistry labs and a new Art room. The old Art room, built in 1947, became the home of the Physics lab. Where the new buildings were situated there used to be a cabbage patch.

During my time in Biology during the Sixth form I went on a couple of extended field trips to places which were part of the Field Studies Council of the UK. The first was at Slapton Lee in South Devon. This village was famous in WW2 because it was here that British forces practiced the beach landings which were to be soon enacted at Normandy during D-Day. Unfortunately, a German patrol boat discovered the activities and reported the information back. Anyway, our course was to study shore life in the area. We were there for several days. It was most instructive and piqued my interest in marine ecology. We got into a bit of trouble while we were there. One of our more senior members suggested a prank which involved placing a sixpenny coin into one of the light sockets. On activating the circuit, the whole centre was plunged into darkness. The authorities were not happy and sent a letter back to the school! We were all duly chastised. Those who were there will possibly remember a field assistant named Mr. Peters. He had one eye, so we naturally gave him the nickname “Cyclops” …yes, tut-tut. Well later, when I went to Newcastle University, guess who turns up as an assistant in the Zoology dept. there? Cyclops! He remembered the incident!

I was, in a subsequent year, allowed to go on another course at Dale Fort, Pembrokeshire doing similar studies. There we all behaved ourselves. A wonderful area. I believe these types of centres still operate.

I soon became a prefect in the sixth form and then finally Head of House. We had more privileges and more freedom outside of the necessary exam work. My days at the school ended with a big party near some wood in a field on a July day. I got very drunk, paid for by money I had earned potato picking at a local farm.

Thank you to all my teachers and all those I met at this great school.

 

 Comments and Anecdotes from Old Midhurstians

From Jeremy Fox:

There were many fascinating characters: The Hamlett brothers, Claude Guppy, Penny Cloutte, Stephen Fisher-Short, Michael Stepan, Nick Robertson, Michael Gerson, etc. Then there's the atmosphere of the House ,the cubicles, the Christmas show... Lord Cowdray with his high-pitched voice & single arm, and the Argentinians with their magnificent horses playing polo  in Cowdray Park with a UK team that included Prince Charles. They still come over, by the way - and when the previous Argentinian ambassador was here (she's a good friend of mine) I’d get an invitation to a gathering there for tea and to meet the team.

For me the magical moments were the play readings and the trips to London Theatre - which initiated me into the world of drama and led me, in turn, to launch and direct a theatre company during my years  in Mexico (I still have a couple of the programs).  I was surprised you did not write a little more about Jacko who, apart from being a rather good maths teacher, was a fine classical pianist. 

There was evidence of PTSD among some of the older teachers who had been through the war (not that we had the concept at the time). (Perhaps we should be sympathetic here, regarding some of our teachers and their behaviour …Author)

 

From Dave Colwell:

Boarders: Who remembers 'Causeways'? Roused out of bed for minor infringements punished by prefects who watched through binoculars to ensure that you ran down that causeway to the castle, around via the Mill pond and back to school before breakfast in gym gear. Not nice in mid-winter at 7 am! The prefect was the one who rang the bell and pulled you out of bed. Then there was shoe inspection and the dreaded 'pound men ' who would enact a 'garnishee' of some of your treasured pocket money! Heavy fines from Jacko for dormitory rags! Also, those 'hospital corners' and the resultant bed stripping if you did not do them right. Most kids were kept busy most of the time. Supervised prep (1-3 hours), 'activities' on Saturday morning, supervised 'Letter writing' on Sunday and Church. And if you were in a school team there were fixtures on Saturday too...We still had fun, but your girl friends were restricted to those in the school...at least they tried to enforce this!

 When we were in the senior sixth, we had a designated pub. We were NOT to be seen in the 'Angel’, the 'Wheatsheaf' and only in the public bar of the Egmont Arms. There were a couple of others I cannot remember.... of course, we were mostly underage, so we did not drink, right? We used to play bar billiards.

Another thing that would not happen now: Often The 'Big four' would go off to London to the theatre etc. and leave the Boarding House apparently solely under the charge of the head prefect and his team. I remember being in charge once and putting everyone to bed relatively successfully.  Unfortunately, a huge water fight broke out and there was quite a mess. I did manage to get it pretty cleaned up. There probably was someone on staff on call somewhere but largely unreachable. Prefects used to supervise Prep periods. You had to keep your charges in silence for the session and provide as much help to them as needed. Good training for discipline if you wanted to be a teacher. We had some powers of punishment to help, 'Causeways' were one. We also had Hall duty in the Day School during lunchtime which none of us liked, especially during bad weather as you can imagine.

 

 John Ricketts

I remember the rugby pitch behind the ruins was always flooded in the corner. A good memory would be emulating Isaac Newton measuring the speed of sound nearby bashing a dustbin lid (not a girls' beret!) and timing the echo - on a nice summers day, one of Hector Cannings' very good physics practical. If I remember right, we got quite a good answer.

 

  

 Emigration to Canada 1969

Well, it all started at the warden’s office of the University of Newcastle upon Tyne. I had just returned to do my Diploma in Education to tack on to my degree in Zoology. I was looking for a new place to live.

One option was a converted Edwardian three story house. It was run by a Pakistan family. They had divided many of the larger rooms with thin partitions to make more rentable room for students. The thing is, I had to find several students to fill it. There were already several volunteers, but I needed just one more. There was a guy in the waiting room who looked a good prospect. I called and, great; he wanted somewhere. His name was Ed. We were now full. It just so happened that he was also going to do a Dip. Ed. We moved in and conversations started.

Ed had had been working at a private school in BC. Canada and had returned to England to his Dip. Ed to give himself more scope for future employment. Although being born in the UK, he intended to return to Canada and, perhaps, work in regular public schools. He painted a rosy picture of Canada and I was impressed.  I stored this in my mind for later. I did my Dip.Ed. and got to know Ed well during that time learning more about BC. I got engaged while I was doing my course and the year rolled on through Christmas and through to the early spring.  As it happened Alison got pregnant. We were both of complete acceptance. All we could do was look ahead and be positive. Our families figuratively shrugged and gave us their support. I completed my Dip.Ed. and Alison completed her degree.

I secured my first job for September at a Comprehensive school at the west end of Newcastle. I had already done my long practicum there this year anyway. We got married June 22nd. at the University Church after a civil ceremony in the morning! Our baby was due at the end of December. Time to plan.  During my first year of work we lived in a flat on Elswick Road, small but comfortable. Richard, our baby was born on December 22nd.

Those cold foggy dark winter mornings waiting for the bus to school got me thinking that there could be something better. I recalled my conversations with Ed. I also knew that there were some Canadian Education recruiters at the University. We both attended and got interested in the possibility of emigration.  “All hands-on deck”. We attended the necessary interviews, had medicals etc. We decided to go to BC so now I had to get a job via mail. I kept trying right through to the time we had to book our flight. Still no job. Well I booked a flight over a month before Alison and the baby to Vancouver. Heads down and hope!

I left at the beginning of August. Alison and Richard would arrive at the end of August.

So, here I was on the plane to Vancouver, Canada. I was sitting next to a lady who was returning to Canada and had just been visiting her family. She asked why I was going to Canada. I told her I was emigrating and that my wife and baby would be following in a month. She looked surprised and sought more information, understandably. I said I would be seeking employment on arrival and explained the background circumstances. She asked where I would stay. I said I did not know yet…. more surprise from her! I told her I would get a taxi to the nearest motel and rethink. More surprise! She suggested the Y.M.C.A. I took her advice. I must say here that I had already sent my trunks with all we meagerly possessed to a friend of Ed’s in Point Grey.

So, here I was in the Y.M.C.A on Burrard street in Vancouver, Canada. In retrospect, such naivety! I was jet-lagged and tired. I soon realized I was not in a good place. I was propositioned twice by some very weird individuals. I had also, in the middle of an insomniac night, taken a walk at 1:00am down Davie street which, at that time, was of a very colourful reputation. In the next two days I contacted Ed’s friend who had received our trunks. He adamantly insisted that I come and stay with him until I found a job…salvation!

I went out every day for at least a week looking for employment, preferably teaching. I went to ‘Manpower’ one day and they said I would “probably be walking the streets in Christmas”. There were very few jobs in the paper. Well, I did get one in Oliver, BC. Hallelujah! My host Gordon introduced me to a friend who was prepared to ‘put me up’ until I started work! Will my luck ever run out?!

I worked during that month installing roof shingles and firefighting in Okanagan Falls. Gordon’s friend was Ben. He finished my driving instruction started in England. They told me I had to have ‘wheels’ in this Country. So, we visited a car salesman in Oliver. There were two cars in the show room. I got in one, liked it, and asked what it cost. He told me, and then said I could afford it with no payment for a month; saying I already had a trustworthy job in the local school. I bought it.

 All that remained was for me to get a license! That car sat in the parking lot of our new motel home until I got my license, three weeks later. I dutifully washed it every day! BTW, when my wife arrived, I did not have the license and exclaimed to her that we had a car. She immediately opened her mouth very wide! She had, incidentally, been apprehensive after receiving my letters about the indigenous wildlife presence around- such critters as: Rattlesnakes, Scorpions, Black widow spiders and Poison Ivy!

Soon I would start my new job in a new school in a new Country!

Unfortunately, I have to say that this next year was bittersweet. I made many friends, enjoyed the environment, hunting, fishing, and skiing; but I was given a lousy timetable. My principal was old school with a touch of paranoia. I left trailing some clouds of something I do not wish to dwell on. Ed, my old friend, had called me and invited me to seek a job at Squamish Howe Sound Secondary School. He was teaching there. I drove through the night for an interview and was accepted. Luck still with me!

We found an apartment, comfortable, near the school. Of course, as a new young teacher I was given a basic assignment again; junior science and general math. At least I did not have to teach English 9B! The year went fine, and I settled in. What a wonderful area we had come to. I progressed through the years and had many wonderful experiences teaching.

It took five years of ‘Landed Immigrant Status’ before we could become full Canadian Citizens.  After two years of teaching in Howe Sound Secondary I would be given permanent status in the District.

There will be much more in future sections of this narrative.

 Reminiscences from the early 1950’s to today from Coldwaltham, West Sussex, UK

Let us start in the early 1950’s   

What about the layout of the village then? Not much different than from what it was twenty years before that., I should not wonder!

There were few new buildings except for some in the Council estate. Life centred around the church and the small local school. Let us take a preliminary tour to see it as it was.  We will start at the railway bridge at the southern end of Hardham. We will deal with this ‘hamlet’ later. We will use the present tense for fun. Just imagine you are me as child, aware of everything! Enjoy.

We are on the A29 proceeding toward Coldwaltham and on to Watersfield. On the right is Mitchell’s farm. A relatively small section of land upon which vegetables and particularly raspberries are grown. My mother sometimes works there picking the fruit, she gets money by the number of punnets picked. I get to eat them too! - rather too many sometimes. Opposite this there are farm buildings for storage of equipment and a cottage.

Proceeding along the road a bit there is a turn off to the right which was the Old London Road but it now leads to Cooper’s Farm house past first the 1930’s “Lady Doctor’s house” as it is known, then on to Mr. Michell’s house. If you keep bearing left, you will rejoin the A29 road. If you turn right just after Cooper’s house you will be in King’s Lane which is flanked on the right by several houses together including a couple of ‘tide’ semis; the rest (3or 4) are private cottages. On the left are fields all the way down terminating at the end of the made-up road at Mr. Float’s house. Once we leave the cottages on the right we get into pure farmland. If you keep going along this lane you will get to Secomb’s Farm and the road toward Fittleworth.

Now let us go back to Cooper’s House. Proceed along the old London Road, across the A29 and toward the Labouring Man Pub. Several established houses here. Oh, yes, on our left, we just passed a horse-riding paddock complete with jumps. It is owned by the Cooper’s (Roy and Gloria). On what is left of T.O.L. R. I know of a few who live there: My friend Raymond Johnson lives in a cottage right next to the pub. Across the road is the bus stop for the Southdown bus and also the ‘Old Forge House’ where a Miss Ford, a retired school teacher, lives. She has big tortoises which I love to visit from time to time. They say she was an extremely strict teacher who used to poke her students in the back with a knitting needle. She had other punishments apparently. The other day she told my Mum that she will soon emigrate to New Zealand. At the end of this little diversion we enter the A29 again. Right opposite the intersection is a big field and you can see my school at the end of it. We turn left onto the main road.

On the right is a house where Mr. and Mrs. Duke live. Just a bit further along there is the White House owned at this time by an Ethel Charman. My Mum and I lodge there in a bed-sitter. When we look out of the window, we can see the smallholding owned by a Mr. Tommy Grace. My mother works there sometimes. The white house has electricity but no main water supply, so we get it from the next house in a large container. This house next door is the business of a Mr. Charley Williams. He is a general greengrocer who grows his own stuff, sells it on site and tours the village selling out of a van. He also provides fish. His land finishes at the church and is adjacent to Saint James’ School. There is a lane to his house opposite the Old Priest House across the main road where there is the beginning of a lane which leads to the Greatham road across a railway bridge. On the South side of this lane there is a large field owned by the Clarke family of Watersfield. Their house is opposite to Rowland’s butcher Shop. Somebody said there are plans to build a housing estate on this field as well as on Tommy Grace’s smallholding land.

A word about the lane to the School. After the School there is a small driveway to the Vicarage, a large building with a big garden. The vicar (Mr. Newcombe) is a Ham radio enthusiast. Beyond this, further up the lane is the Dudman’s property. They run a haulage company.  A large family which lives in a pair of long corrugated iron roofed buildings. They have quite bit of land. Several of this family went/go to the local school. One of the elders runs a funeral director’s firm (undertaker).  

Going past the church and the lane to the school there is a graveyard. There are just bushes on the other side of the road shielding Clarke’s field. Keep going up the hill and you get to the village hall. Opposite is a big house The Brown Owls and some newer cottages. A little further along on the hall side is the post Office and Store owned by a Mr. Besant (a.k.a. “Bezzey”) next to two semi-detached old cottages. My friend Roy Tunnicliffe lives in one and his dad is a plumber. All these properties back onto what we call “the Common”; a large, wooded area complete with three sand pits. I do not know who owns it, but we get to play on it; at least the big kids do! We are now at the crest of the hill. This quickly dips down to a crossroads. Turn left and you are on the Greatham road, turn right and you go up Champ’s hill toward Fittleworth. If you go up this latter road you will come to Coldwaltham House on the left and Ashhurst Farm on the right. Keep going and you will pass “Muddy lane” and then Jim Secomb’s Farm. Before you get to Ashurst Fm. Corner there is a steep road up to the left which leads to Lodge Hill. This used to be owned by the Paddon family but has become a Conference Residential Centre. Lodge Hill is up on the top of a woody knoll and overlooks a good bit of the village.

Go back to the beginning of the Greatham road then on your right there is the large Council house estate. Many of my school friends live there. The Greatham road passes through the wild brooks including the river and extensive cow pasture soon leaving the southern boundaries of the Parish. Adjacent to the council houses to the north there are some old cottages and there is an old farmhouse on the right as you leave the housing estate. One mile to the south of the crossroad, we come to the hamlet of Waterfield at the base of Swallow hill. There is the Three Crowns pub, Bell’s Garage, and a general store. There are several old houses along a lane to north, leading to a playing field and one branch eventually reaching Jim Secomb’s Farm past another.

The lane to south leads to a few houses and eventually the railway electrical substation and the brooks. At the top of swallow hill there is the Swallow Inn.

So now you have a gist of what it was like in the early 50’s. So now for many changes since then.  I write, now, from the present time looking back to the beginning of these big changes.

The changes which have taken place up to the present day are truly awesome. One hardly knows where to start. One of the saving graces about the UK is that most of the buildings are sound and remain so over the decades. Demolition is not taken lightly. Rather, new buildings are added around existing older buildings. True there may be extensive renovations but usually the existing plans are only added to without drastic intervention. So, let us start at the beginning of my little cursory tour.

Mitchell’s old farm is larger now than I implied. I do not know whether more land has been purchased and added or the land that was owned is simply used more now. Anyway, its use by the present owners seems more diverse and more efficient. There are more buildings in the complex. The road to Cooper’s farm has many more buildings now and the hedges are much more overgrown. The Horse Paddock seems to have the same use. The main farmhouse has been added to. But the King’s Lane buildings are much the same with a few out-building additions to that south side of the lane. The fields have hardly been changed. The preservation of agricultural land is always slower to be overly modified. We also see the most renovation toward and including the Labouring Man. Some larger buildings have been added between this road and the main road. Since the 50’s. most of the drastic changes are between the Labouring Man and the Council Houses crossroad. This has become the core of the village including Maple Leaf, Silverdale and ArunVale. In this area almost all the former agricultural land has been converted to housing. The start of it was in the mid 50’s with the building of Canadian style houses on what was Grace’s small holding. It became Silverdale. It was controversial at the time not only because of the loss of the original use of the land but the new style of the buildings. Now we do not care so much about the latter! Then the first of the Arun Vale subdivision was begun with three bungalows on Clarke’s field right by the road adjacent to the lane which ran by the priest house. As a teenager I helped a bit with the building of these; at least I made the tea for the workers and carried some bricks! I presume they had planned out the future destiny of the area by this time and it simply grew exponentially. It is now the core of the village and extends right up to the old Council estate and down to the beginning of the ‘wildbrooks’. Now the latter has become a nature reserve or bird sanctuary. There are now many regulations to keep this running well. When I was a kid you did not even need a fishing license.

Up the road towards Fittleworth from the crossroads, on the right, there used to be a tile factory. It was active until, at least, the war. At the back of it was a large sandpit with pale silver sand which was prized for this factory. Anyway, the sandpit was used extensively during WW2 for armament practice by allied troops. Many of these soldiers used to visit our family fruit farm (Ashurst Farm). My Mother remembers the Canadians well, particularly one, who happened to end up being my biological father…. another story! I used to play with my friends in this dis-used factory and in the sandpits. We used to fly model airplanes, played all manner of games, and climbed the sandy outcrops. Above this was “The Common”. This was really a misnomer because it was, and still is, owned by the Bowerman family. In recent times they have extensively developed the area. They created beautiful gardens and ran music concerts up there; where we, as kids, used to freely play. There were three sand pits. There was the one I have just mentioned and there was James’ pit and what we called Dudman’s pit… not sure if the latter is true, but what the heck! I think they got sand from there anyway. There used to be regular bush fires because of the extensive gorse. This plant burns quickly and fiercely.

Right at the crossroads in front of a raised pile of soil I remember seeing an old petrol pump from bygone years. I wonder if there was a petrol station there.

There were some beautiful, thatched cottages right on the corner of this crossroad. I hope they are still there. Probably the oldest houses in the old Council estate are the ones right by the A29. One was inhabited by an Eadie Goble. She was a character. She once told us of her trip to lake Como, Italy. I remembered this and two years ago, I went there, remembering well her reminiscences. Talking of characters, we must realize a lot of the old accents of our ancestors have died out or are almost gone. Anglo Saxon was/still spoken by Coldwaltham residents. When I say “still” I am stretching it. There was a lady I remember. She was a Mrs. Adsett and she spoke the closest to the old Anglo-Saxon dialect. Would that we had taped some of those conversations. I think Sandra Sayers does allude to this in her book. The old Sussex accent is fading fast or even…! “Yer teeth be lik a flock of ship just shard, dat come from de ship-wash; every one of em bears tweens, an nare a one among em is barren”.

 All villages like excuses for fun and celebration. Historically this has always been driven by the church or some sort of religious impetus. They could be Fetes, Carnivals, or any celebration of important political events…Jubilees, Coronations etc. Our village was no exception. I have attended many such events on the vicarage lawn or the patch of grass by the village hall. Now, apparently, the village hall is used for coffee mornings and several other sundry activities. There used to be a youth club there. Is it still running?

I now hope that there is no prejudice regarding church attendance. There used to be. Good people were supposed to go to church regularly. The Vicar might stop you in the street to canvass and try to make you feel guilty for not attending. This kind of died out in the sixties but I think that is good. I am rather surprised that Saint James’ school is still so tied to the church. I would really like some feedback on this! We have so many faiths now and diverse outlooks on life.

Nevertheless, the local church is beautiful. I am not particularly religious and do not follow an organized faith, but still appreciate the history and architecture of the place. The Norman tower, the bells, and the stain-glass windows I remember. I was a choir boy and recall all the rituals of the services. I used to get sixpence a service and two and six for weddings. I remember when they put in the central heating for the church. Hitherto it was freezing. A great improvement. And then we had the ‘Deathwatch Beetle’ in the belfry! There is History all around. You have the supposedly 3000-year-old yew tree. You have Earnest Shackleton’s wife buried in the churchyard. And you have the legend of the tunnel from the Priest House to Hardham Priory. Good stuff!

Coldwaltham goes back a long way and is even mentioned in the Domesday book. One wonders what events happened in this village with the tumultuous shifts in religious politics that occurred. How many arrests, how many punishments and what manner of retribution!? We will never know.

I mentioned the sand pits in the area. Someone today asked me about the source of iron for building etc. Well, one of the pits mentioned (now covered over) was “James’ pit which had lot of iron ore nodules imbedded in the strata. Such would have been used over hundreds of years.  Much of this darker sand would have been used and still is to make bricks throughout Sussex. There are quarries and brick works all over. When I was a kid, Dudmans used to make breeze blocks with a sort of press device which I learned to operate. Many haulage companies like Dudmans benefited immensely from the construction of Gatwick Airport in the late 50’s. There were many loaded trucks on the road North at that time. There used to be an active canal system years ago and we can still see what is left of the old lock gate system on the ‘Wildbrooks’. The brickwork is still there but very broken. The Home Guard used to practice with their ‘Sticky bombs’ blowing bits off it during the war. This canal ran from a bend in the river Arun right through Hardham toward Pulborough and joined the Arun there.

After the WW2 there was a great drive to rebuild the fabric of the Country. In the 50’s the employment situation was different. Most of the armed forces which returned had to find jobs. Many worked on the farms and I remember them still wearing their old battle dress etc. Why not.

Employment for people in the village was varied. Many found work on the railway and there were a few light engineering firms around which switched from their war-mode to civilian demands. A firm such a Spirogills in Pulborough comes to mind. Many worked at the large mushroom farm in the Storrington area called Lindfields (pardon my spelling in some of these). I worked there as a teenager during the holidays. They used to pick their workers up in buses from all over. There is still a farm there but under new management and, I think, smaller. It was a good employer. I worked in every department there over several years even as a Uni. Student. Entrepreneurs sprung up… like plumbers, electricians, and home fixers of all descriptions. Many were supported by apprentice programs, day release and new tech colleges.

Gradually Britain got ‘on its feet’. Let it not stumble now! Right up to the late fifties the state of Education was in a flux. In the past, particularly in rural areas, progress of any real measure was not encouraged. The feudal notion of keeping the population in their place remained. There were ‘Standards’…1,2, 3…. etc. which had prescribed but limited achievable goals.

After the two wars the structure of Society and its hierarchical nature begun to be modified. You have all watched ‘Downton Abbey’ and seen how this worked. Now, there are many more opportunities for young people. I was lucky; I squeezed through the net, went to grammar school and on to University. Many were not, even though they had the ability. My first head teacher (before Mr. Norris) in Saint James’ told my mother one day” Oh, he will never amount to anything!” This was not encouraging. But then she still spelt “show” as “shew” …go figure!

The new housing sub-divisions in the Coldwaltham area now have a wide range of demographics. There are professionals of all descriptions, entrepreneurs, people in the service industry. Many commute to nearby towns and to London. Quite different from when I lived there. But I have fond memories.

In my youth I recall many colourful village characters who many of you may have heard of down through the decades. Many are indeed legendary and have provided a good legacy to many today. There was Mrs. Page. She was the hub of the church in her time. She worked tirelessly and was a genius of organization. Fetes, fundraising, and kind donation of effort for the good of so many. ‘Darky’ Pollard a Countryman in the full sense of the word. A rough diamond perhaps but he provided much information about the old ways and was a good organizer himself. He was an accomplished fisherman and he ran the annual boxing day shoot which was famous in the fifties. He had what I remember as a real Sussex accent. Mr. Cousins was a well-known Church warden in Reverent Newcomb’s time…great service. He also won most of the vegetable prizes at the Annual Flower Show Fair. Mrs. Tiltman was a local Author who wrote a definitive work on the village called “Cottage Pie”. She lived in a big house across the road from the Council Estate. It has long been ‘swallowed up’ by Arun Vale’s sprawl. She had an old open-top double decker bus which she used as a studio. We kids used to creep in to play there… she was not too happy with this. I was lucky enough to get a copy of the book from Sandra Sayer when I was visiting ten years or so back. And you have all read Sandra’s book “The Three Hamlets” no doubt.

BTW, go to the churchyard and you will find names that go back multiple decades but have now faded away. Charman, Cheeseman, Puttick, Williams, Padden, Adsett and so on. My apologies to some of you to whom this stuff may not be of too much interest or importance; but, hey, I am old!

One thing that really sticks in my mind is the terrible rabbit disease that went through in the area during the mid-fifties (Myxomatosis). It was concocted and used in Australia to quell the invasiveness of these animals. Unfortunately, it came here and caused devastation of our native population of these beloved creatures, nuisance that they can be. You do not want to witness the suffering that this caused. It inspired “Water Ship Down”. Before the disease, most rabbits lived in burrows. They were ones who caught the disease with a vengeance. The few that did not live in burrows tended not to become infected. So once the pandemic passed, most rabbits did not live in burrows…sort of natural selection here at work. Now they have mostly returned to burrows, a happy ending.

The other day I was reading a book written by a person who interviewed an old Sussex Countryman who was born at the very end of the 19th. Century. The subject described his way of life as a growing child and his experience during and after the end of WW1. What he described was, no doubt, common to this area in question. Poverty was rife. The class system was stark. Unless you were landed gentry, life was rough. Food as we know it today was quite different. Fresh good meat was at a premium and most had to grow everything themselves and make do with what foraging they could enact. There would be trapping of all manner of critters. All species of birds were eaten. They were caught by whatever method was easiest…catapults, air guns and sometimes heavier weapons. Bird’s nests were raided with no remorse. Medical treatment was very “home-grown” with all kinds of bizarre recipes. There was the Spanish Flu which killed millions. More died from this than from the fighting in the war itself. The Latin phrase ”Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori” (It is a sweet and fitting thing to die for one’s County) underlined an almost mindless patriotism prevalent at that time. Pure Victorianism. Millions of young people were sent to their early often pointless deaths. Do not think that Coldwaltham Parish escaped this. Let us hope for something much better in our future and that of all that follow us.

Then there was WW2. I was not yet here but I might well have been with all the stories I have heard, read, and seen in the media. It is just I did not have to go and put my life on the line. Members of my family have told me much about life in Coldwaltham during the war as I am sure many of yours have. It started slowly in 1939 with what was called the ‘Phoney’ war. No action that directly involved us happened for quite a while. The only real events that directly affected the village was from the German air force during the Battle of Britain and the odd bomb that dropped nearby from returning planes as they jettisoned their load which was not placed on any specific target for whatever reason. To save fuel they needed to lighten their load to get back safely. There was one famous incident where the school at Petworth received a direct hit resulting in the deaths of most of the children. My mother heard the explosion. There were the dogfights involving fighters from both sides dueling above which was exciting, I guess. And then in 1944 D. Day. The sky was full of aircraft of all descriptions.

Troops were everywhere and the local girls enjoyed this, of course. There were many Canadians and Americans besides our own. The British men were rather annoyed at the Americans; particularly, because they had more money and sundry supplies to woo the British girls! There were many dances etc. in Pulborough and towns about.

There was also the home guard who practiced regularly in anticipation of a possible invasion. There were a few defenses. There is one which can be still seen, I understand, from the Greatham road just to the south of the railway bridge in a field near the barns. It is a large concrete structure to house some sort of large artillery. War measures regarding food production were enacted. Farmers had to grow a maximum amount of food and this was severely controlled by the government. And, of course, there was rationing. This extended to the beginning of the 50’s. I remember it well. Orange, rosehip syrup and milk was provided adequately to all children. Saying all this it took a long time for life to return to any real normal levels. Many young people had left their family to be in the forces or associated organizations. This had a definitive effect on many lives.

One little relatively modern event, at least to me, was the plane crash in the mid 50’s in a field between the “Withy Beds” and the Arun river near the Greatham bridge. Germany at the end of the War had developed a jet. It was not particularly good, so Britain brought out their version; the ‘Meteor’. All people who remember that era will remember this plane. During the ‘Cold War’ it flew over regularly, as did the ‘Hawker Hunter’ and the ‘Swift’. The trouble was the engines of the Meteor were not well developed and were prone to problems. Such a problem happened one day, and the engine did fail. The pilot, fortunately, bailed out. The plane nosed-dived into the field, forming a great smoldering hole. Not much was left of it, but we kids loved it. I still know exactly where this happened. On Google Earth you can still see a shadow. But I know exactly where it was! Some of you, older, people will remember the test flights of these early super sonic planes. The booms were common. Today, we think nothing of this technology.

A word or two about Hardham: This is the small hamlet to the north of Coldwaltham about halfway towards Pulborough. There has been little change to the houses along the road. The most drastic changes which have continually occurred since the 50’s have been to the water treatment facility at Hardham Mill and to the management of the river on the Arun and the Rother flood plain. The facility mentioned has expanded both in size and in the scope of its technology. This is particularly visible by using Google Earth. There have been changes on the Pulborough flood plain. Flooding has been an ongoing problem. Diking has been enacted for many years, but newer changes have been deemed necessary. A new channel has been cut helping to short-circuit the water flow in the Arun river which goes past Pulborough.

Hardham has an interesting old Saxon church (Saint Botolph, the patron of weirs) which has some of the oldest painted murals in the UK. Much work has been done to preserve them. You can still see Roman bricks at the base of its foundation. The old Roman road, “Stane Street” passed nearby, so there was a lot of activity from them in this area. Stane Street is the modern name given to an important 90-kilometre-long Roman road in England that linked London to the Roman town of Noviomagus Reginorum, or Regnentium, later renamed Chichester by the Saxons. There is an old priory ruin set back from the road on the right as you enter the hamlet. Rumour has it that there was a tunnel from the Priest house in Coldwaltham to it; but the truth of this is illusive. There are many stories about tunnels and priest holes in our religious history which adds a richness to our culture.

 .

 

 

 On present Humanity

So who makes the decisions to: Trim our population / reduce its growth, ensure food and resources, provide essential life-sustaining energy, or keep the peace/law and order? Those in power... but power corrupts and absolute power................! Sadly democracy is haphazard and unpredictable... just look at the USA! 

Most dictators carry the baggage of child abuse or some kind of mind-altering trauma. AI is probably the only way to ensure the continuance of any trace of humanity on this planet... but who will direct that!? In the long run, the Universe will continue and follow its own algorithms... the Religious will merely say, "God will prevail"! 

We are just a bunch of bags of mostly water that have a degree of self-awareness that is so often distorted. Many still dream of the order and logic of an ant colony lifestyle but who wants that either!? China tried that years ago and now look at her!

Saturday, June 13, 2020

School Slave Days in Schools etc.

School Slave Days and Racism

 I am on very shaky ground here but: Is ignorance of Racism always culpable? 

Often humans act out the reprehensible. We COULD see the following situation in this light: If we were to ask any student or staff at the time of 'School Slave Days' (During the 70's and late 80's) what they thought about 'Slavery' as a concept, I think I know the answer. Yet they acted it out. We see many examples of this. 

'Racism' is a weird word with shades of meaning. 'Prejudice' is not. It is very specific and implies a consciousness of consequence. Nobody can be prejudiced without being conscious of it. But anybody can perceive a person as being Racist even when the perpetrator might have no motivation to be, or consciousness of it. 

Sometimes we can condemn the 'act' but shouldn't always condemn the 'actor'. Like: "Forgive them for they know not what they do". But once they do know what they do, they should not do it again! And so, there are no more School Slave Days in BC Schools.

It is still, apparently, OK to perform in plays and movies which depict atrocities and rank 'Racism'... Othello, Merchant of Venice, Deep purple, War movies depicting the Holocaust and American Westerns. Humanity is still able to pick and chose what it sees fit; right or wrong, good or evil. Protests can be conjured up to suit whatever taste. Today we are destroying Historical Monuments and Statues.

Abraham Lincoln was a slave owner...should we tear his statue down?

Winston Churchill's statue was not erected because in his youth he projected prejudice and Racism but for many other reasons...So why should it be defaced?

The English, Spanish, American, Portuguese and the Dutch are all guilty of their part in Slavery and the wealth achieved from it. So?



Give the kids a break, they were just having fun at the expense of nobody. They were unaware of all the significance of what they were doing. Most kids have a pretty high moral sense.

They did not dress up as negro slaves or anything like that. They just had a friend to carry their books for the day. And if they were not friends they would not have even been bought.  This is why this is so ridiculous to call this "Racism"! 
I remain appalled at the 'Preciousness' of certain sections of society today. We need to address reality!











Tuesday, June 9, 2020

Monuments to Slavery etc.

I agree that symbols of slavery should not be celebrated but they and monuments to it are part of History; and History should never be forgotten. The worst of it should never "be swept under the carpet" or destroyed. They should be preserved in a museum setting of some kind. Even the major Nazi Concentration Camps; monuments to Evil, are kept to remember.
Otherwise most of the Stately Homes of the UK (Most now under the Umbrella of 'The National Trust') which were built from the 'Slave, Sugar and Cotton Triangle' should be torn down...Try that and see who cries "Foul"!
BTW, nobody has suggested that Caligula's obelisk should be removed from St. Peter's square in Rome....The most obvious centre piece in front of the Vatican....Look up his History!

Now, should we go to every statue and monument in the land and prepare a tally sheet of good and evil acts before we decide whether or not to destroy them? Let's start with Oliver Cromwell outside the UK Houses of Parliament...he was controversial enough right? How about all the pictures of Henry V111; or even Queen Victoria? She was inspiration to a lot of debatable acts throughout the world. William the Conqueror?...Tear down the Tower of London? Endless! "The evil that men do lives after them, the good is oft interred in their bones" (J.C...W.S.). But statues and monuments remind us of both..."So, let it be..."!
What is even more astounding is that many of these protesters cannot even get their history right in the first place; Baden Powell was NOT a supporter of Hitler's totalitarian policies in any way, in fact he publicly rejected them...he only had a wish to collaborate on outdoor education for the youth (before the war) and even then rather perfunctorily...Read!!!

THEGUARDIAN.COM
The slave trader’s figure loomed over Bristol for 125 years. Now a multiracial protest has achieved what past campaigns couldn’t, says historian and broadcaster David Olusoga