Fwd: OWT

---------- Forwarded message ---------
From: Brian Screaton 
Date: Sun, 11 May 2025 at 14:29
Subject: OWT
To: Brian Screaton 

  Hello All,

Dennis has completed the new edition of Old Wyves Tales, but Frank Smith is away on holiday, so it won't appear on the Website or Facebook until later this week. So as not to keep you waiting I thought the best thing is to email it out to you, as below.

Don't forget that Dennis is always looking for contributions to OWT, so if there is anything in this issue that sparks a memory, do write it down and email to Dennis 

Best wishes,

Brian

OLD WYVES' TALES
 THE ONLINE VERSION
  MAY 2025
EDITED BY DENNIS J DUGGAN

FROM BRIAN SCREATON  (This is a slightly-edited copy of Brian's round-robin dated 14.4.25 - Ed)  The Old Wyves lunch went very well, and despite being slightly down on numbers the buzz of conversation about old times was just as great as previous lunches.  We were pleased to welcome John Offord, who made the journey from the south-east.  Although he could not be present, it was still pleasing to be able to toast the 87th birthday of Bill Mann, who is a resident at Welford Court Residential Home in Leicester.  I realise that many of you live too far away to attend the lunches, but I thought you would like to know what goes on.  The next lunch will be early October.

FROM BRIAN PAPWORTH  (Original message dated 18.4.25 - Ed)  I saw an announcement in the Leicester Mercury that Clifford Roy Townsend (known by all as Roy) had died.  I'm not sure when he attended CBS, but as he was born in 1939 I believe it would be 1950-55 or 1951-56.  I knew Roy for over twenty years, and we shared an interest in local history and numismatics.

FROM FRANK SMITH   We received the following sad news from Catherine Dack's sister, Diane Robertshaw via facebook, on March 7th: Re Catherine Dack, who taught physics at CBS.  Sadly Catherine passed away on 21st February 2025, aged 83 years.  Her funeral and burial took place at Tissington church, Ashbourne, Derbyshire, on Monday 24th March at 2pm, followed by refreshments in the village hall.  Although apparently not listed in Andy Marlow's book as being on the staff, I understand she taught at the school for about thirty years.  She taught Gary Lineker, amongst others, and was deputy head for some of that time.

FROM MARK HAYLER   Pilot Officer Alan Frederick Canham  (5S, 1961) killed in a plane crash near Abingdon on July 6th 1965, is commemorated at the National Arboretum, on the RAF 1965 panel of the Armed Forces Memorial.  A small cross was placed at the base of the panel which bears his name, from his classmates at CBS.

FROM ROGER POVOAS   I often wonder what some of my contemporaries achieved after they left school.  Perhaps others feel the same way, either specifically or generally? Can I suggest that interested readers submit no more than two specific names, and await a response? Mine are Phil Kitchen and ??? Geary.

FROM PAUL NEWCOMBE  1959-64   I emigrated from the UK in 1967 aged 19, on the ten UK Pound passage to Australia via an old Italian cruise ship. We got to see the Canary Isles, Cape Town, (where I also nearly missed the ship's departure, but maybe save this story for another time) Perth, Adelaide, Melbourne and Sydney.  During the six weeks it took to get to Sydney, I met my future wife Elizabeth and we have been married for fifty three years. On arrival in Sydney I got a job as a window cleaner (Oh yes, my education at City Boys really was put to good use) and during this brief stint I got my five minutes of fame on National TV when we got stuck twenty five floors up on the exterior of a skyscraper and eventually had to be rescued by firemen, who hoisted us up to an open window. I decided to seek another career after that, and joined an American firm, Emery Air Freight, where I worked for four years at Sydney Airport. I already had experience in the UK where I had worked in the same industry for LEP Transport, Leicester and in London, for EMG Air Services. Elizabeth was not happy in Australia and wanted to return to the UK with our daughter Jennifer; I agreed to follow as soon as I had saved enough money to get us a new start. I did have access to free tickets so I was able to go back to the UK to see them but the travel time Sydney to London in those days was thirty two hours and I knew that could not continue, so about a year later I had managed to save £1000 and was offered an exchange employment transfer position with the same company at Heathrow. So I packed up in 1971 and returned to the UK. I joined Elizabeth and Jennifer in Blackpool, where they were living with family, and we married, after which we proceeded to London for our honeymoon and to find employment. When I arrived at the Heathrow office of Emery, the existing manager had decided to remain in the UK and I was offered another managerial job, however, the salary did not pay our share of rent in the Hounslow area, the cost of a car and caring for a family, so I walked away and started a road haulage company, mostly between Heathrow and Gatwick airports. Again, I had experience in this area as I had co-founded a small haulage company in Australia operating haulage between Sydney and Melbourne Airports, and an air cargo service around Australia with a De Havilland Beaver. After being rejected for financing to expand the business domestically and internationally, I decided in 1972 to fold up and move to New York but there were Visa issues so I decided to join a friend of mine who had started a business in Vancouver, Canada, where the immigration requirements were quite easy at that time as long as you had a sponsor and job to go to. We closed up our affairs in the UK and the three of us flew on complimentary tickets from Heathrow to Montreal where we spent a night in that amazing city, travelling the next day to Vancouver which was even more amazing to see from the air. On arrival we stayed with friends and eventually got settled in and employed. The job required a lot of travel and I was back in the UK within a matter of weeks on business. Then I was off to Japan, and whilst there I discovered a customer who was exporting from Canada plane loads of Holiday Magic cosmetics; believe it or not, his name was Larry Profit and he resided on a large yacht somewhere off shore in Florida/Bahamas. I secured this business with the help of my friends in Toronto and we handled this business for more than a year until the collapse of what I later found out was a pyramid scheme. Having travelled to Japan many times on business I also noticed that vast amounts of electronics, car parts and other manufactured goods were being exported to UK/Europe and South America and convinced my two friends, who by then were also partners, to invest in an operation in Japan to secure this business. It was a unique concept we developed whereby goods were moved by ocean to the West Coast ports of Vancouver, Seattle and Los Angeles and then flown to their final destination on a multimodal document in roughly half the time of all sea freight and half the cost of air freight. To cut this story short, we opened offices throughout the USA/UK/Europe/South America and Asia to handle this business. Along the way we moved to Montreal for five years between 1975 and 1980 to make travel easier and a more convenient time zone. This was followed by eighteen months living in Chiswick, UK to open a UK operation and then briefly to Los Angeles to do the same before settling down in Vancouver, BC, Canada.  Unfortunately, during the 80's when interest rates hit 22%, we experienced financial problems which caused the divesting of most parts of the business to pay banks and other creditors. I decided in 1988 to again pack up and move to Nassau, Bahamas, picking up the pieces and practically starting over again by mortgaging our home along with a partner who did the same, to the maximum, and getting as much credit as I could from vendors. We have lived in the Bahamas ever since, with brief spells in the UK and Turks & Caicos Islands.  During this time, we either had our own offices or exclusive agents in thirty countries and this required my travelling more than 200 days a year. My wife would sometimes join me when I was going to the UK and very occasionally, Brazil, Japan, India and Dubai. The business was sold in 1999 and I retired exhausted. I did not enjoy City Boys school, and left as soon as I had completed my GCSEs, just a few weeks before my sixteenth birthday,  But I must have learnt something academically and socially to add to the street smarts of growing up in a two up two down terrace home off the Melton Road near the Cossington  Street Baths. As much as we both still love the UK , watching Sky news every night and I watch every LCFC game, we have no other family or ties left there and decided not to visit anymore and limit our travel to Nassau, Palm Springs and Vancouver. My wife and I have four grandchildren, all living in Canada; three boys are Jennifer's children and our son Christopher has a girl. They are all grown up now. This is a brief story covering the past fifty seven years, and our somewhat nomadic life moving around the globe.

FROM CHRIS GLENTON   Those of you who know me, and possibly some who don't, will recall that I was heavily involved with the school plays in the late sixties, which were produced by my favourite teacher, Tony Baxter. Myself and Geoff Spencer took over sound and lighting in around 1967 along with Mike (Snowy) Thornton and this gave us a fairly free run at walking about on the hall roof (try that at a school in this day and age) and also the storage area under the stage which was a great place to go and smoke at break and lunch times. In the process of taking over the technicals, we met our predecessor, an upper sixth former Phil someone (I can't remember his second name) who was about to leave that summer. Phil had somehow acquired a master key for the school which he would lend us briefly from time to time, but it was made clear that separating him from it permanently, even when he was leaving was not going to happen. Well we couldn't have that, so I set about copying it. First a quick visit to Mrs Ward at Downing Street shops to obtain a blank, she was my neighbour so there were no awkward questions. I then set about making a copy from a plasticine impression. Hours of filing over a few days and the copy was complete. We waited until a rehearsal night and headed off to the library to try it……… It broke, and I am guessing the remains stayed in the bottom of the lock until the building was demolished. Back to the drawing board: another blank, a lot more filing which was done more carefully this time, and the job was done. This time it worked, and we were away. Its main job was to get us around the school when we were the only ones there (again what are the chances of that these days) we had free access to the woodwork room and the art room for legitimate set building reasons, and there was the occasional visit to the store room for paper, along with the odd visit to the staff room, which to be honest we avoided because aside from getting caught, the place was a bit of a dump. The smell of stale cigarette smoke still lives with me. The one question that I still ponder occasionally is: Did they know, and let us get away with it because we were reasonably trustworthy, or were they totally oblivious to the goings on when all the staff had gone home? Maybe someone will be able to answer that question, I would love to know. 

FROM TONY WAKEFIELD I left City Boys in 1956 after the fifth.form and at eighty five my memory of school days is a bit dim, but I do remember that we were not allowed to go into the Woolworths store in school uniform for some reason.Was it snobbery because Woolworths was a cheap store? I don't know, all I know is that most of us ignored it. We came to New Zealand in 1974, mainly because the trade unions in England were very powerful at the time and were causing all sorts of trouble, and we wanted somewhere more peaceful. NZ fifty years ago was a very laid-back, casual slice of paradise, but over the years has had to catch up with the rest of the world. I worked mainly as a sales rep, and then we had a retail business.We have never been back to England, relatives who we wanted to see have been out here for holidays, and now we have grandchildren and last year we welcomed our first great grandchild so we're quite happy in our old age.

FROM MICK STOKES   Back in 1962, for a grammar school pupil leaving at age sixteen,  it was essential for a career in banking, insurance and the like to have a minimum of 5 O Levels, which must include maths and English. I obtained six O levels, mainly down to Mr Smith noting that I couldn't read writing on the blackboard, and suggesting that I should have my eyes tested. What a difference a pair of spectacles makes! My first job was as a cost accountant at Stead & Simpsons, shoe manufacturers. Broken promises meant that job was going nowhere, so I decided I would look for a career in insurance. I reached the Phoenix via the National Deposit Friendly Society. I probably should have stayed there, but the pay wasn't good so I was on the move again to Midland Assurance. They wouldn't let me have time off for the holiday I had booked, so I moved to the Dominion Insurance Co. I had completed my exams,  becoming a Fellow of The Chartered Insurance Institute, which led to a promotion to Harrogate in 1976. They closed the office in 2002. I am still here, retiring in 2008.

I play chess. I have been running teams since I was sixteen. I run events for local primary schools. I first represented England in the World Seniors Championship, held in Vilnius in 2014 and I continue to play in World and European events which have taken me to Vienna, Prague, Dresdenand Rhodes, amongst other places. Thankfully you don't need to be a top player to compete in these tournaments. My other love is football and I still play five a side. I watch The Foxes when I can. The last time was a 4-0 defeat.  I also got into running and completed four marathons from 1999 to 2002. Now I struggle to do the Park Run.

FROM DEREK HOLLIS  1972-79   I cannot in all honesty say that my years at  City Boys were the happiest of my life, though I enjoyed the years in the sixth form more than the previous five. I recall with fondness some of the teachers who imparted their knowledge to me over the years. I've come into contact with a couple of them since leaving school. I recall numerous occasions when I helped out with events organised by the Parents' Association, the occasional rummage sales in the school hall, setting up in advance of the sale, and often being put in charge of the toy stall.

I gained two prizes, one was the Governors' prize for Public Spirit, the other Captain R.T. Cooper's prize for Latin. The late Don Whitbread taught 'O' level Latin to sixth formers, and as I intended to study languages at university he advised me to take the Latin 'O' level, whilst I studied for 'A' levels in French, German, and Economics.  A couple of weeks before the exam, I recall Mr. Whitbread telling me I'd definitely pass. "You might manage a 'B', and although I'd be very pleased if you did, I don't think you'll get an 'A'. You still haven't learned those tables, have you?"  He was right of course, I hadn't learned those seemingly endless tables of verb forms. Nevertheless I managed an 'A' in the exam.  My only claim to fame, I often say, is that I was at school with Gary Lineker. He and I were in the same class at the school.

Church was always important in my life, and as a server at St. Denys I was always ready to carry the processional cross into the church at the start of the school carol service. Later on, having been ordained, I was pleased, as the Assistant Curate at the church, to be able to welcome the school into the church again. After I left school I studied for a degree in Modern European Studies at Loughborough University. I spent a year working with the then Missions to Seamen, in Rotterdam and then on secondment to the Deutsche Seemannsmission in Bremerhaven. This was followed by three years at university in Durham studying theology. The initial curacy in Evington was followed by a second curacy at Arnold in Nottingham.

Incumbencies followed in Nottinghamshire and Suffolk, and for a while I was adviser on rural affairs to the Bishop and the Diocese of Southwell. I retired in 2018,  initially to Norfolk, but am now back in the East Midlands, living in Rempstone. My wife and I are involved now in local U3A activities. I have permission to officiate in churches across Nottinghamshire,  and Sally often plays the organ.

FROM HOWARD TOON   I came out of the RAF in 1962 as a ground radar technician, and sent my CV to Partridge Wilson, an electrical engineering company in Leicester.  I was looking for work on the shop floor.  The personnel manager was one Don Price, who told me he too was ex-CBS and also a former flight lieutenant in the RAF.  He felt I was 'too good' for shop floor work, and offered to take me on as a management trainee.  Don sent me on a work study course at Leicester Polytechnic, September 1962, where I was taught by the unforgettable Dennis Browne, no less!  I stayed on to do an HNC in business studies, which opened the door for a three-year duration diploma in management studies under Frank Mee, still at the same establishment.  Eventually I became the first IT co-ordinator at Loughborough Technical College, and senior lecturer in the computing and IT department.  Now I am in retirement, and rarely leave the house.

FROM JON PRITCHETT  1965-72   Ernest Bell was headmaster for the duration of my time at CBS, though I never came to know him.  He came across as a cold, remote character, who only came into contact with boys who were either in trouble, or excelled in a particular field.  I was one of the former category who (deservedly) received the cane on one occasion (1969 I think)  But there was one other contact with Mr Bell!  During my second year at CBS I had a paper round, which I did in the mornings before going to school.  It was the tradition, at that time, to knock on the customers' doors just before Christmas in the hope of receiving a Christmas box to show appreciation for my services.  But, unbeknown to me, Mr Bell was one of my customers, so I was flabbergasted when he opened the front door of his house on Uppingham Road!  I mumbled, 'Christmas greetings,' then beat a hasty retreat on my bicycle before he had a chance to respond.  I have no yardstick to say whether Mr Bell was a good headmaster or not, but perhaps ex-teachers who were close to him might like to comment in a future OWT?

AND FINALLY...   I did have some dealings with Mr Bell, though it was a long time ago -1959, 1960 and circa 1963, Over sixty years have passed since then!  For various reasons, which have been well-documented in previous OWT's, I developed the habit of playing truant. But of course, it was only a matter of time before the 'Board Man' paid a visit to our house.  The game was up, and my parents were summoned to a meeting with Mr Bell.  They had no idea I was missing school, instead spending the days in town or in the New Walk museum.  I can only hope that Mr Bell believed their shock, not to say dismay, was completely genuine.  I too was at the meeting, but only recall parts of what was said.  It was agreed it would be best to move me from 1 Alpha to 1A, where the pace of lessons was slower.  Mr Bell said there was no point in dishing out any physical punishment, as I was not really a bad boy in the sense I was a thief, a bully or a vandal etc.  But obviously I could not be let off completely.  A compromise was reached.  For the next month I would stay behind for one hour after school, polishing tables.  I think that showed not only common sense, but also compassion.  The second was the infamous case of 'The Stolen Violin' which has also been published in an earlier edition of OWT.  The third occasion involved my interest in motor cars.  Mr Bell gave himself permission to park his black Rover P4  (now affectionately known as the Auntie Rover) by the main entrance.  It was a top-of-the-range model, and one lunchtime I was peering at the luxurious leather and wood interior when Mr Bell bustled up to retrieve some papers.  He gave me a friendly smile, and said something like, 'I'm afraid she needs a bit of a wash,' before returning indoors.  Funny how these random little incidents stay in our memory.

Dennis J Duggan
1959-64

Fwd: OWT February 2025

OLD WYVES' TALES
 THE ONLINE VERSION
  FEBRUARY 2025
EDITED BY DENNIS J DUGGAN

EDITORIAL   The recent news that Bill Mann has not been too well recently resulted in a number of emails from ex-pupils, which appear in this edition.
And a polite reminder from your editor:  I will not print any material which I consider to be offensive, cruel, prejudiced, unfounded etc, towards teachers or fellow pupils.

OBITUARIES   Gerry Johnson writes: Those who attended the school during the fifties may remember my cousins, the Cross brothers - Peter, Alex and James (Jim)  Regrettably, they have all passed away.  Jim, the youngest, died July 2024, aged 88.  Peter remained in the Leicester area all his life, eventually setting up his own woodwork machinery business having worked for Wadkin's.  Alex, after his PhD, moved to America and helped found Syntex, a pharmaceutical company.  For most of his life he lived in Palo Alto.  Jim took a degree in engineering and worked for Rolls Royce, ICI and, for many years at Windscale.  All remained keen fans of Leicester City.  Good people, good brothers and good cousins.

FROM WALLY PAYNE --1953-58  (Continued from the November 2024 OWT - Ed)  I understand that the school owned the Grace Road cricket ground, home of the LCCC.  We played all our sports there.  The centre square remained sacrosanct, and was roped off.  But the outfield was used as football pitches and for athletics.  At the beginning of the LCCC's first home fixture of one championship season in the late fifties, Yorkshire were the guests.  During the home team's first innings a ball was gently played towards the boundary, and the great Brian Close went down on one knee to field the ball.  Just before it reached Brain Close, the ball hit a divot left over from a football match, and smacked him right in the face.  The resulting complaints about the condition of the outfield reached the MCC, and a new sports ground was provided for the school.  That allowed the ground to be prepared for future first-class matches.
Come rain or shine, Saturday afternoon at 3pm would see me at Filbert Street.  If the first team was away, I would watch the reserves with equal interest.  One afternoon the reserves were at home to Northampton Town's second string.  An old chap was standing in front of me, and as the goals went in against the visitors he kept shouting, 'Come on, the Forest.'  By half-time it was five nil in favour of Leicester, and I felt it my duty to respectfully point out it was not the Forest team on the pitch, but Northampton Town.  He was outraged, and said, Ay up kid, I've paid my shilling to get in, like everybody else, and I can shout for whoever I want.'  He had a point, I suppose!

FROM RICH WAKEFIELD    I want to pay tribute to a teacher seldom referred to by anyone else… Mr Stanley Ras Berry.

 My school career was inauspicious, characterised by a mixture of painful shyness and diffidence, along with what I now realise was supreme laziness. I did not excel!!

  On drifting into the 6th form, with no idea of what I wanted to do with my life, I elected to study maths, geography and economics. I liked geography, and thought the other two would make a useful set of 'A' Levels. 


On the first day of the sixth form, those who had selected economics were summoned out of the classroom to discuss the options. It seemed more people wanted to do economics than there was room for, so a few would have to select something else. We were told it involved a lot of hard work and reading, so I immediately volunteered to change and selected English instead, mainly because it was next on the list of subjects we were shown. So, having read precious little up to that age, I was now doing English Literature at 'A' Level.

There were a number of books to study, and a number of teachers involved, and though I remember the books the only teacher I recall in English was Mr Berry.
He had always seemed undistinguished, but here I was unfair and didn't appreciate the man's qualities.

He led our group through the poetry of Gerard Manly Hopkins and Emma by Jane Austen. I still think the latter a strange choice for a group of 16/17 year old boys at that time, but that was what we we were studying

. I found Emma drab and dismal throughout, just didn't see the point. And Hopkins? A total wimp, as inspiring as watching paint dry. I was far happier with the module covering T S Eliot, who I still love with a passion. 

I recall a day when Mr Berry walked into the classroom, made himself comfortable and instructed us to take our copies of Emma and open them at a given page and he would read. There were were only five of us in the group, and we all sighed and did as instructed. Mr Berry started reading, kept giggling, and was amazed to see five bemused faces looking back at him and exchanging glances.
He asked if we didn't see it was comic, and as one we all said 'No… can't see anything funny,' and for the first and only time I saw him lose his temper and tell us we were all beyond hope.  He marched out slamming the door behind him

.
I recall little else of the course, but come 'A' Level my two main essays were on Emma and the poems of Hopkins. I came away with a good grade, so this good man had somehow got through to me, something I will always value and respect him for. 

Indeed some years later my (soon to be) wife was at Teacher Training College and studying literature, at which point I was reintroduced to Emma as it was in her course work. I found I could talk intelligently (by my standards) and throw light on some of the intricacies, and indeed the humour. I re-read the book, absolutely loved it and all of Mr Berry's teachings became clear. He was right and, somehow, had taught me to see deeper levels than I could ever realise  

Later, indeed nearly forty years later, I was at a crisis point in my life, very down, when words from one of Gerard Manley Hopkins' poems came back to me. It took me a while to realise where they came from, but I had written down about five lines. I was so surprised when I realised where they came from that I went into town and bought a volume of his poems and looked up the one I'd remembered. and in those five lines I had only four, maybe five, words wrong.
Again, I credit Mr Berry for teaching me so very much, even though I didn't see it at the time, and opening my mind to English Literature. So much so that some four years after leaving school I was avidly reading and loving all of the Victorian, Georgian, Regency novelists. And my love of poetry was growing, even after that moment of clarity when I was struggling, now some twenty years ago. 

Mr Stanley Ras Berry. An unsung hero, a a man to whom I owe so much. He has my undying respect and admiration

FROM ALAN PYKETT  1959-66   Recent OWT's have mentioned the first reunion at the Harrow public house, Thurmaston, in 1998.  I well-remember opening the Leicester Mercury and seeing the photo of, I believe, class 2A 1960/61 on the Mr Leicester page.  This had been submitted by our editor, who requested responses and, as we know, thus began our annual reunions which lasted until 2023.  Remarkably, for a non-photographer, I have some photos of that first reunion, and can identify the following attendees.  As was traditional, I will use surnames only,
Staff - Burrows; Witts; Lawson; Mercer; Thompson.
Pupils: Hames; Rowbotham; Davies; Billesdon; Papworth; Weston; Duggan; Screaton; Ward.
I am pleased to say I was ever-present at each annual reunion, but have missed one or two of the lunches.  I will also take this opportunity to thank Dennis for instigating the reunions which, as Brian states, are lively occasions with much chat about the times at our old school.

FROM RHYS DAVIES  (1972-80)   I am looking to trace Mrs Margaret Pooley, who taught French and, possibly, Russian.    (If anyone can help, please contact me and I will forward the information to Rhys - Ed) 

FROM ROGER GOWLAND  1957-64   When I went from 4 Alpha to the fifth form (1960-61) my choice was 5L, because my best subjects were French and German.  Along came the Mock 'O' levels and, apart from English Literature (which I found boring) I passed all the subjects with flying colours.
Messrs Brushe and Newton apparently got together, and said, 'If he can't do Eng Lit, what future can he have with French and German?'  And so it was decided I was, after all, a scientist and moved to 5S halfway through my 'O' Level year.
Achieving 70 at German, and 65 at French 'O' Level was balanced by 70 at physics and 65 at chemistry, so I turned out OK as a scientist.  The physics 70 was almost entirely down to the enthusiasm of Mr Mann as a teacher, so I add my plaudits to the guy.
I eventually graduated with a B.Sc in physics, and had a career in technology, mainly software development and testing, all thanks to the nurturing received from Bill Mann.

FROM ANDY BENNETT   It was Bill Mann who got me through my physics 'A' Level.  I always remember how he went out of his way to ensure those of us not taking 'A' Level maths alongside physics were shown how to do the non-calculus calculations (Non-Calcule students, in Bill's parlance)
Without this leg-up I would probably not have achieved the two 'A' Levels needed to land my first job, aged eighteen, in a career which saw me through forty years with a number of employers - who still bank-roll my wife and I as pensioners!
Please thank Bill for his inspirational teaching, and assure him of our affection and respect.

FROM FRED WALKER-SMITH   Bill Mann taught me physics for several years.  We met up many years later, as we were both Magistrates, based in Leicester for over twenty years.

FROM STEVE TAYLOR   Bill Mann was the teacher who seemed to inspire many pupils - including me.

FROM DAVID ATTON   Bill Mann joined the staff in 1960, and with his happy attitude and style soon became a pillar of the school for thirty years.  I left in 1962.  I recall he accompanied the junior, second and first XI's football teams to away games, which took up many of his Saturday mornings.  Bill was always fun, and the boys had great respect for him.  I recall he taught science, but I was never one of his pupils.  I wish Bill well, at this difficult stage of his life.

FROM JOHN PASIECZNIK  1971-78   Bill Mann was my form master when I joined the school during Autumn 1971.  At that age you think the teachers must be old, but I guess that Bill was 'only' in his thirties.  I recall that he commented we were a 'tall year', having been born in 1960.  When reading the daily register, Bill had to cope with my Ukrainian surname. followed by the Polish surname Poniatowski.  Needless to say, we sat together.  Bill enabled me to have the best-possible start at City Boys.  I also recall his wristwatch was always fast by ten or fifteen minutes, as he enjoyed teaching so much he did not want the lessons to end!  What a teacher! It was great to see Bill at several reunions over the years and, like all Old Wyvernians, I am so pleased to hear he has recovered from the recent bout of ill-health.

FROM CLIVE JACKSON   I haven't seen Bill Mann for fifty years, but he taught me.  He was in charge of the ATC cadets when I was in the army cadets.  I wish him well.

FROM ALAN PYKETT 1959-66   A lovely chap, Bill.  He was one of the three teachers on the trip to Paris in August 1965.  For me it was my first time abroad, and my first flight, so there was much excitement!  It was a great trip all round.

FROM BRIAN McAULIFFE   Reassuring to hear that Bill Mann is comfortable in a good home.  He taught me 'A' Level physics during 1962/63.  Some of the lessons were held in the Prefects' room, off the main entrance hall.  Amazingly, I managed to pass, and I put that down to Bill's tuition, rather than my ability.

FROM GEOFF GERMAN   Bill Mann was an excellent teacher, and such a kind and lovely bloke.

FROM DAVE POSTLES  1960-67  Let's perhaps be contentious. I refer back to a much earlier contribution by Andy Tear. The obvious candidate for Head Boy in 1966-67 was Richard McMorran. He was the only applicant pretty much expected to be accepted to Oxbridge. He was captain of the Football First XI which won the County Cup in 1967. He had been an excellent player for the chess team and so on. As Andy mentioned, however, he was not appointed. So my question is: how were Head Boys selected, and on what criteria? As far as I'm aware there was no plebiscite or consultation with the 'college of students'. Without being more personal than I have already, it would be interesting to have some analysis of the method of selection. Best wishes to all.

AND FINALLY...   What have I learned since arranging that first reunion in 1998, and compiling these regular editions of OWT?  I never, for one minute, imagined that twenty seven years later, we would still be going strong!  How did an 'ordinary' state grammar school manage to leave such an impression and, one might also say, affection, on so many of its pupils and staff that sixty-plus years later are still fresh.  Given my own sorry career at CBS, you might think I would have been the last person to arrange a reunion!  But looking back, with the advantage of hindsight, the problems were of my own making.  Not the staff, not the other boys, not my parents.  Yet I too eventually felt a strange attachment to the school, and perhaps, in some way, I wanted to make amends.  In  my mind, every pupil fell into one of four categories:
1)  A small elite group who effortlessly excelled in both sporting and academic matters.
2) A larger group, who were very good at sport, but weaker academically.
3) A second larger group, who were good academically, but less so at sport.
4)  The remainder, which included me, were a motley bunch.  Some were out of their depth, some were content to simply keep their heads down until they could leave school and find a job, a few didn't seem to worry about anything at all!  Some of us could regularly be seen outside the staff room, proffering our forged excuse notes to Jock Gilman.  Homework was rushed, if attempted at all etc etc.
But what I now realise is that the vast majority of staff, at least during my time, were more than willing to give extra help to any boy who they felt would benefit.  Some extra tuition, helpful advice and encouragement with their future plans etc.  I did not warrant such attention!

Dennis J Duggan (1959-64)

Fwd: OWT NOVEMBER 2024

OLD WYVES' TALES
 THE ONLINE VERSION
  NOVEMBER 2024
EDITED BY DENNIS J DUGGAN

OBITUARIES   Alan Cox (1952-58) passed away recently.
John Atkins passed away recently.  We believe he was a teacher at Downing Drive, and taught English.  He produced some of the school plays, with Tony Baxter
Roger Pearson (1947-52) passed away during November 2022  (Information from his son, Ian)
Frank Smith informs us of the sad news that former pupil Peter Read (57-62) has also passed away recently.  Frank goes on to say that Peter never made contact with Wyvernians,  but he was a good pal of his big brother, Pete (also a pupil at CBS) during their teenage years back in the sixties.  They lost contact until about twenty years ago when, thanks to FriendsReunited, they again linked up.

FROM DAVE FOGG POSTLES  1960-67   The lunches at Elbow Lane are still impressed on my mind.  Divided into two sittings there were, if I remember correctly, seven or eight boys at each table, headed by a third-year boy who served the meal.  After the first sitting there was an anticipatory wait for the second sitting to finish, for the invitation to second helpings of desserts.  Next to the 1B classroom (I think) was a table tennis room, which was always well-populated.  Upstairs, adjacent to the gym, was the chess room, over which Spud Murphy reigned.  Gorringe, transferred to CBS at some point.  He was a competent chess player.  When I advanced to Humberstone Gate I cycled home for lunch, so I missed all the activities.  I don't recall much about the lunchtime activities at Downing Drive 

FROM SHEILA TAPPING, VIA BRIAN SCREATON   Hello, Brian, thank you for your email, but unfortunately my husband, Roger Tapping (1952ish) is now in a care home with vascular dementia.  Coming from a very poor family background, Roger was very proud to pass the eleven-plus and attend a grammar school.  I am happy to pass this information on for the benefit of anyone who might remember him.

FROM DAVID LEIGH  1956-64   (OWT is a text-only document. Photographs appear on the facebook site, via Frank Smith - Ed. )  I have a photograph from the Leicester Evening News, dated 1960, showing us leaving London Road station en route to the Olympic Games in Rome.   L - R, back row: 1 Mr?; 2 Ian Neal; 3?; 4?; 5 Chris Brierly; 6? 7 David Leigh. That's all I can remember now.  I still have the programme and tickets for the events.  Can anyone recognise themselves, or have further tales? About the only thing I vaguely recall is a party from a girls' school staying in the same accomodation as our group. At the time, girls were becoming a significant interest!  The weather was hot, and how exotic and remote Italy appeared to us...

(Click/tap HERE for a link to the photo on our Facebook page & reaction to it - Frank Smith).

FROM BRIAN SCREATON 1959-65   A few random remarks in the last OWT jogged my memory, and as the one who is always chivvying the rest of you for contributions I thought I'd better make one of my own!  Alan Pykett mentions getting home for lunch (or dinner, as it used to be called) whilst he was at Elbow Lane.  The reverse was my experience - it was only the two years at Elbow Lane that forced me to have school dinners, and with a few exceptions I can't say I enjoyed them.  The other years, including the first one in the huts on Lee Circle, and the rest of my schooling at Humberstone Gate, I was able to catch the L38 bus to Thurnby Lodge, just past the Palais de Danse, at 12.25, and be home at Perkyn Road about 12.45.  Like Alan's mum, mine would have a mid-day meal ready, and I would return on the 1.11 bus, or the 1.26 if I felt like cutting it fine.  I can't remember a bus ever being late, or cancelled,whatever the weather.
My old friend, and former work colleague, Roger Gandy, mentions the Town Arms, Pocklington's Walk.  Well, I never went there whilst at school, but when I left to go to the Leicester College of Art and technology (As it then was - now De Montfort University) my course was taught in a former factory at the top of Newarke Street  (It's been demolished, but was where the Magistrates Court is now)  The building was the number one fire risk in Leicester, as it was an old multi-storey factory with timber floors, and prospective plumbers were taught in the basement, waving their blow-lamps around!  I was doing a surveying course on the second floor, with the architects above us and the Central Institute (For cooks and caterers) below us - with their gas stoves and lighted matches.  There were several false alarms whilst I was there, and the fire engines from Lancaster Road were always there within seconds.  But I digress - where was I?  Ah yes, the Town Arms - well, it was just round the corner from Newarke Street, so me and my new student friends spent many bibulous lunch-times in there, downing a pint or two and eating the excellent cheese and onion crusty cobs prepared by the landlord, John Vann.
Whilst at college I got press-ganged into a band, playing bass, and we did a couple of gigs in a back room of the Town Arms, which I seem to remember was on the first floor.  We were probably a truly awful band, but somehow got a gig supporting John Lee Hooker at the County Arms, Glen Parva.  I kid you not.  John Lee played at the County Arms on Friday 29th April 1966 - I still have the advert to prove it.  He must have been down on his luck, as he also played at the Burlesque on Humberstone Road (Now long gone) which was a bit of a dive.  I must emphasise we were only the support band - John Lee had wisely recruited a band called Julian Conway and the Machine to back him on the tour and they were fantastic.  We later got banned from playing at the County Arms, as our short-sighted manager lit some smoke bombs rather too close to the curtains at the back of the stage.  But that's another story.
Basher Brewin is mentioned by Tony Baxter as an effective teacher, and I agree.  He must have been, as somehow he managed to get me to a standard whereby I scraped an 'O' level pass in maths, which was essential for the surveying course mentioned above.  And who can forger Basher's well-worn quips such as, 'You won't pass, Duckie' and 'Dy-Dx it' or, indeed, being bashed on the head with the marble he kept in the folds of his gown.  I very much doubt that would be approved by Ofsted, whatever results it produced.
Dennis asks if anyone remembers the first Wyvernians reunion at The Harrow, Thurmaston, in 1998.  Well, first of all let me tell you that despite the demolition of many pubs and other nice buildings throughout Greater Leicester, The Harrow is still there.  I passed it the other day, on my way to a splendid lunch with Old Wyvernian Ken Kelham and his wife Dolores, who were over here from Vancouver, Canada.  So yes, I was at the first reunion, but my only memory is of standing at the bar when Ken Witts came up behind me, slapped me on the back and said, 'Hello, Brian, what are you having?' Considering the last time I was in close proximity to Ken I was probably receiving the sharp edge of his tongue, I struggled with the surreal idea  of him buying me a drink, or even remembering my name, so I probably stammered something like, ' Er, half a bitter, sir, er, sorry, er, Ken, if that's alright?'  And that, apart from us all agreeing we must have another reunion, is my only memory of that momentous event which led to so many happy reunions.

FROM GARETH BOWDEN  (1961-68)   I joined at Elbow Lane in 1961.  Those of my generation, and earlier, will doubtless recall the toilet block in the playground.  It was a grim, insanitary, building which reeked if urine or Jeyes Fluid.  It was certainly not a place to linger.  During my first, or perhaps it was the second, year Wally Wardle assembled the whole lower school in the playground.  I recall nothing of what he said by way of preparation, only that we were made to file through the toilets one class at a time, and directed to look in one of the cubicles as we passed.  There, on the back of the toilet pan behind the seat, coiled like a sleeping cat, was what (How can I put this politely?) a stool of superhuman dimensions.  I imagine the purpose of the parade was either to instil revulsion - or perhaps to identify the perpetrator by the guilty - or proprietorial - look on his face.  I don't believe anyone owned up.  We were left to speculate why, and indeed how, it had been done.  I wonder if any reader remembers the incident or, indeed, was the guilty party?

FROM WALLY PAYNE  1953-58   (Part 1 of 2 - Ed)
Art Teacher:  Art wasn't my best subject.  The truth is that drawing a straight line with the help of a ruler was probably the limit of my ability.  My form position at the end of each term was adversely affected by my post-impressionistic daubs.  Marks were given for a submitted item, fifteen being the maximum.  My efforts seldom resulted in more than two or three.  I once achieved a sympathetically-awarded single point for a piece of paper covered in cherry-red poster paint.  I had intended to draw a couple of boxing gloves on top of the splurge, but could never draw anything vaguely resembling a glove.  A search of the CBS archive might reveal that I once stunned the art teacher with an effort for which he awarded no less than six points.  Six out of fifteen!  The set subject was a circus scene and, by chance, my mam had an embroidery pattern (the sort which was ironed onto a piece of material) of a person riding a horse.  By cutting out the man, and ironing it upside down onto a piece of cartridge paper, there was the start of my masterpiece - a trapeze artist.  Six out of fifteen, my personal artistic peak. 
No one can know how much I detested those art classes, and the highlight was cleaning the tables during the final five minutes.  Each boy was presented with a rag, and a jam jar full of water.  This was poured liberally over the table, and swished around with gay abandon.  There was invariably a modicum of tomfoolery, something in which John Dyson and I were the main protagonists.  One day John splashed me with more water than was reasonable and I was soaked.  I responded by launching my rag at his face.  He ducked, and it hit the teacher on his head.  There was a stunned hush.  The teacher required me to stay for an hour after school, after which I was ordered to apologise.  I was a bolshie sort of chap and refused, so I was told to stay again the next afternoon, and again I refused to apologise.  I declined and the process was repeated three times.  He realised I was wasting his time, and kicked me out of his class, adding that my chances of a pass in the GCE were as improbable as Leicester City winning the first division title.  The teacher arranged a transfer to the woodwork class, hoping I might become a latter-day Thomas Sheraton, but that only lasted a few weeks.  My mortise and tenon joint was deemed so pathetic it was felt my time would be better spent in the library.
School Bully:  In my view it was all rather infantile, but when the new intake first arrived at the school they were subjected to a series of demeaning japes in the yard by the older boys.  It bordered on bullying, and despite being in the second year and thus permitted to join the baiting, I had no desire to participate in this so-called fun.  I witnessed a third year boy untie his own shoe laces, and approach a weedy young fellow and order him to retie them.  At this point I took over, and retied the laces myself. I knotted them so tightly he was unable to unpick them.  This brought a titter from the audience, whereupon the bully took grave offence and elected to deal with me.  He raised his fists  and, to the cries of 'fight, fight'  from the audience, advanced towards me.  It was immediately apparent that the fellow had never engaged in fisticuffs in his life, and following his few pathetic attempts to connect with my face I adopted the boxing methods taught by my father.  Whether his insistence on coming forward was inspired by the hope he might succeed with a lucky haymaker,  embarrassment at being outclassed by a junior or sheer bravery was never ascertained, but he continued his advances.  Each time he was met with two or three sharp left jabs, and suffered the inevitable results before calling it a day.  Over the next few years our paths crossed several times, but he never acknowledged my presence.  He had learned that neither bullying, nor boxing, were his forte.
Crusaders 440 Yards Handicap Race:  I was always pretty nifty on my feet, and when it came to sprinting could beat all the local kids and fellow pupils.  I was a member of The Crusaders, a Sunday school club for those aged between twelve and eighteen years of age.  We met on Sunday afternoons.  The annual sports day was held at a facility on Narborough Road.  I was fourteen at this time.  There was only one sprint event, a 440 yard handicap pace, the handicap was calculated by the athletes' age.  I had not registered, but Richard, John Dyson's younger brother, wasn't keen to take part so I took his place.  That gave me an immense advantage, and there was no doubt who would win.  And so I did, by a considerable distance.  Alas, someone ratted on me, so the stewards disqualified me and I went home without the gold medal  (To be continued - Ed)

FROM FRANK SMITH   The following message was received on September 27th from Bea Montgomery, the daughter of ex-pupil Des Christy:  I am the daughter of Arthur Desmond Christy {Des} He passed away last week.  Does anyone have any memories they could share?   He was born in 1953.  Frank writes; We don't have a record of Des's attendance at CBS, but based on more detailed information supplied so far, he was probably there c 1969/70 or 1970/71.  This is because he most likely joined the school in the fifth form, then moved on to the sixth form to complete his 'A' levels.  Please email any replies to Dennis, who will forward them to Des's daughter via me - Thanks.

FROM BERNARD CAPP  1955-62   Joining the school in 1955 meant spending the first two years in the temporary buildings on Lee Circle.  Our form teacher was Ken Witts - boyish, enthusiastic and ideal for guiding the transition from junior to secondary school.  The following year I remember convoys of tanks being transported round Lee Circle, on their way to (or from) the disastrous Suez adventure.  A South African boy joined the school that year and Mr Bell, the headmaster, called a special assembly where he explained that while we had probably seen a black person before (possibly true for most of us) we were to treat him just like anyone else.  A couple of years later we had the typical schoolboy satisfaction of seeing the Lee Circle huts demolished by a wrecking ball.  In the late fifties the staff still included several veterans of WW1, including Percy Jeeves, who taught elementary French, and Mr Bufton, who taught history and was also deputy head.  He had a bad limp, possibly from a war injury, but still cycled to school each day (Including returning home for lunch) I think he was universally respected.  I remember him telling us anecdotes about the boys who had once sat at the same desks, used the same books (Some still had their doodles of Spitfires) and had died in WW2.
Most of the teachers were decent.  I don't remember any as inspiring, but many stick in the memory for other reasons.  No one who experienced Flo Willan's biology could ever forget him..He was a purely Dickensian figure, with a forte for withering contempt for anyone who fell short, and an obsession with tests and facts.  Every day, you should go home with fifteen new facts, he would intone.  Why fifteen?  The fortnightly tests had fifteen questions too, each split into an a) and a b)  We had double biology on Friday afternoons, which were awaited with great trepidation, and I remember the lesson which came next having an atmosphere of demob-happy liberation.
I was hopeless at PE, and hated it.  Jock Gilman, who notionally taught it, was by then too overweight to do anything gymnastic, and had to get one of the boys to demonstrate whet we were supposed to be learning.  The only subjects I really liked were English and history (I ended up as a historian) which at 'A' level was taught byWW1 veteran Ron Smith (history) and George Franey, the latter also produced a school play each year.  One production was an all-male Romeo and Juliet,  memorable when Juliet (David Jones) got stuck trying to exit the famous balcony scene, alaugh to the actor and audience alike.  The sets were a bit basic!  During 1962 Franey produced Sheridan's School for Scandal, this time with girls from Wyggeston, I think, in the female roles, then took it to Dusseldorf and Monchengladbach.  I had no talent or interest, but Franey very kindly invented a place for me as prompter, which gave me my first trip abroad.  Keith Hill, who went on to become a Labour MP and minister, had a starring role in the play, and also in the general studies/current affairs lessons which Mr Bell took with the upper sixth.  Keith always had lots to contribute, but was often denied the opportunity.  I know what you think, old chap, Bell would say, but you're wrong.
A few more random memories.  Wally Wardle, year one geography, clasping his hands over his ears and moaning in despair, The noise, the noise.  A student teacher from Turkey hiding under the table in panic when the air raid siren on top of Lewis's sounded, as it was tested from time to time.  Mr Brushe, the kindly but irascible French teacher and former Hurricane pilot, savaging a boy with an insult  that would have lead to repercussions today.  S***o McNulty, maths, who left CBS to teach at a secondary modern, a very rare move.  He said he thought there would be more scope for real teaching, free from the need to teach to an exam-level syllabus.  During my final year, 1961-62, we started on beginners' Russian, after being told that would probably be most necessary in later life.  It was the height of the cold war, and no one was sure which side would come out on top.
I have no anecdotes concerning Gravelguts Remington (Maths) Grit Whitbread - why Grit? who taught a crash-course in Latin for Oxbridge entry and Mr Pace (Geography) but they were all decent and committed teachers.  I had no love for science subjects, but got on well enough with Mr Lawson (Physics) and Doc Burrows (Chemistry)  I saw Doc Burrows at the one reunion I attended some years ago, and was staggered to note he had hardly changed in over forty years.
Reading Andy Marlow's excellent book I was struck by how many of the staff had committed a great deal of time and effort in coaching and leading sports, clubs and societies, and arranging trips in the UK and abroad.  Most of that had completely passed me by, and some of the clubs I'd never heard of.  Philosophy, anybody?  But maybe that's just me.

AND FINALLY...   It's odd, but mention of the school dinner arrangements made me realise that, whilst I remember the routine at the main school, I have no recollection whatsoever about Elbow Lane!  Not to worry. For this edition of OWT I wanted to talk about satchels.  In my day (1959-64) the form room was our base.  We had our own desk and chair, and the teachers came to us - unless, of course, it was one of the science, or geography, lessons when we moved to the labs or the geography room.  Today, it is usually the opposite system, whereby the pupils move from room to room for each lesson.  Thus they are obliged to carry all their kit in some sort of rucksack!  But we could manage with a satchel, a type of briefcase for use in schools.  The main supplier was a shop in Belgrave Gate, almost next door to the ABC cinema, as was.  I'm sure we all remember the scent of leather in that shop, I certainly do.  Our satchels were hung on the backs of our chairs, as they were seldom required during the day.  Their main use was for transporting the relevant homework materials to and from school.  Mine always contained a bottle of ink, or a supply of ink cartridges, for my fountain pen, a PacaMac in case of unexpected showers, a geometry set, pack of coloured pencils, some sweets and a ruler.  Usually there was also room for swimming kit or PE kit.  At one time there was a vogue for shortening the shoulder strap so the satchel could be carried like a proper briefcase.  The standard design was one large compartment, with two smaller ones on the front, all with buckles.

Dennis J Duggan (1959-64)
November 1st 2024

Fwd: OWT August 2024

OLD WYVES' TALES
 THE ONLINE VERSION
  AUGUST 2024
EDITED BY DENNIS J DUGGAN

EDITORIAL   I have held-over the last three, relatively brief, items received recently as they will be needed for the next OWT.  But the memories still trickle in. No one seems able to explain why so many ex-pupils retain such an affection for what was, at least on the face of it, a perfectly ordinary state grammar school.  As Tony Baxter points out, it was not for everyone, a prime example being myself! 

OBITUARIES   Geoff German (1965-71) reports the sad passing of David Stone (1964-71)  David's wife, Yvonne, is happy for the following announcement to appear in OWT.  We ere sad to announce the passing of David Stone in April of this year.  He attended CBS between 1964 and 1971.  Affectionately known as Jed at that time, Dave had a very successful career in the Customs and Excise service, and played an important role in the Public and Civil Service Union.  He was a committed family man, and leaves behind his wife Yvonne, son, daughter-in-law and three lovely grandchildren.  Renowned for his great sense of humour, passionate about cricket and an avid collector of Wisdens, he was a good and loyal friend to many.  This man will be greatly missed.  Go well, Dave.

FROM MARK HAYLER  1956-64   I remember John Lawson's instructions regarding exams: Study the question carefully, because if you misread it - or even answer the wrong one - you might receive some credit but NO marks.  That advice stayed with me through my subsequent university exams.
I loathed football and cricket with equal intensity.  The solution?  Don't go!  But on one particular games day, John Dan Gurney and I had an inkling there would be a roll call.  So we rode to Grace Road on our bikes, removed our blazers and ties, then sat down with members of the batting side.  Mr Lawson noted our names, and roundly admonished us for not wearing the correct kit.  But he failed to count the number of players and did not spot there were eleven sitting out, instead of nine.  So when the sides changed over it remained at eleven.  After an enjoyable afternoon sunning ourselves we rode home.

FROM TONY BAXTER   When I attend the Old Wyves' lunches I meet and chat with several Old Wyvernians, and try to remember their names and how they connect with my own memories.  On returning home I pull out my copy of Andy Marlow's remarkable book, and once again realise that City Boys' school was a very special place.  It didn't suit everyone, but certainly created memories.
On my first day, aged 10, 1950, I recall walking to Room 11 (I think) which was on the top floor.   We could sit anywhere, so I chose to the desk next to John Bird, as we had both come via St Barnabas junior school.
We sat nervously as our form teacher entered the room.  We stood up.  We sat down.  It was Basher Brewin.  He tapped his fingers on the table, and said slowly, 'You are all little puppies, and you have to be trained.'
Basher  may not have been the world's greatest mathematician, but as a teacher he was very effective.  You certainly did not mess with him.
A day or two later I remember, as I tried to finish a maths question, noting how the raindrops slid down the telegraph wires visible from my desk.  How can it be that, seventy four years later, I should recall those events?
Paul Bond was a classmate.  Fifteen years later he was Best Man at my wedding.  We both love classical music, and keep in frequent touch.
At the age of sixteen I decided I decided to become a teacher.  I wanted to offer what I had received at City Boys..... Positive memories!
In 1975 the City of Leicester School came into being, and accepted girls.  During March this year I was contacted by two girls, pupils from the 1980's, because they wished to set up their own reunions.  They visited, and we chatted for an hour.  I won't attend their reunions, but I hope they create the same memories that I have of City Boys'. 

FROM ALAN PYKETT  1959-66   Certain contributors, including our editor, have pointed out that pupils attending between 1959-64 were located in three different buildings.  But some, myself included, who stayed on until 1966,  managed four!  I consider that remarkable, when you consider  the norm was one building.
Moving on to my forty-year working life, with only one employer (Albeit with several changes of name) I was very parochial.  My longest commute was from Colchester Road to Wellington Street.  Linking that to my thirteen years as a schoolboy, I think my longest commute during those fifty three years was from Matlock Street to Elbow Lane.  That was from 1960-62.  Incredibly, during those two years, I managed to have lunch at home!  I ran all the way to the No 66 bus stop outside what is now Clarence House.  Mother had everything ready, so by eating the meal fairly rapidly I was able to return to Elbow Lane in a rather more leisurely manner.
On another topic, having just read the last OWT, I was always under the impression that the words of the school song were written by Mr Gimson, and the music was composed by Mr Sykes.  But I could be wrong.  Great memories of a great school (I seem to recall the lunch break was 12.20 - 2pm - Ed)

FROM ERNEST WELBOURNE  1948-55   I purchased a copy of Andy Marlow's book when my wife and I travelled to Leicester in 2012. I enjoyed the visit, noting the changes in the layout, but appreciating there was still much that retained the familiar feel of the building I recalled from my time at the school.
One of my more famous contemporaries was Joe Melia.  He was a couple of years older than me - quite a character and a born actor!  I recall his fabulous impression of Danny Kaye during a Christmas concert.  After attending Cambridge Joe entered the acting profession.  His career blossomed in films and TV, and we saw him play the comedy role in A Winter's Tale, at Stratford, where he received a standing ovation.  He was also goalkeeper in the school's soccer team.  (If you have the technology, find the episode of Public Eye titled The Comedian's Graveyard to see Joe at his best - Ed)

FROM HOWARD TOON   The Carbuncle - and I must agree it is an eyesore - seems to occupy the site of the previous brick building which was used to store the Cadet Force's Lee Enfield rifles. There was a bicycle rack behind the store, where many a Woodbine was puffed, well out of sight from the Prefects' room.

FROM BRIAN STEVENSON  1959-65   I am indebted to John Skevington for his reference to Boot, Saddle, To Horse and Away  (OWT May 2024)  For some reason the chorus has stuck in my mind all my life, but I had no idea where it came from.  Now I realise it must have lodged there during one of Bill Sykes' music lessons.  He must have decided to set Browning's poem to music, though for what reason we will probably never know.  Very catchy, anyway.  And the fact I've remembered it for sixty-odd years suggests it was quite an earworm!

FROM ROGER GANDY  19??-1959   I moved to Sidney over thirty years ago, so not been able to attend the reunions.  But I like to keep in touch with a few ageing reprobates such as Tony Baxter, Alan Manship and David Williams.  And I would like to commend Dennis, Brian, Frank and John for taking so much time and trouble to ensure these links are maintained.
I remember The Fountain pub, though don't recall ever going inside.  I believe it was owned by Holes Brewery, Newarke.  Their beer had a distinctive taste, and was never one of our favourites.  It was often dubbed Holes Piercing Ales, the reason being self-explanatory.  Our favoured watering holes were the Cherry Tree, the Saracen's Head, the Crown & Thistle and the Town Arms.  The latter was a lunchtime favourite when revising for 'A' levels, as it was close to the reference library.
The Cherry Tree, East Bond Street, (down the road from Joe Kay's trendy Espresso Coffee Bar) holds a special memory.  On my last day at CBS, July 1959, a few of us gathered for a lunchtime pint or two.  Most of the others were returning for their third year in the sixth form.  Somehow Mr Bell, the Headmaster, discovered this misdemeanor and we were summoned to appear before him.  He had various options, the most serious being the threat to withdraw our references to universities.  But so far as I recall no punishments were carried out, and I believe some of the group even continued their behaviour quite frequently and still managed to move on as planned.

FROM DENNIS BIGGS  1949-19??   My grandchildren had a giggle when I showed them a photo taken on my first day at CBS (September 1949)  They were amused to note my school cap, an essential part of the uniform, and the rules about where and when it should be worn were rigidly enforced.  That especially applied to the first-year pupils who, for their first few weeks, were often ragged by older boys who would snatch the caps and thrown around to tease them. 
I never understood why caps became so controversial, as it was a standard item for almost all schools at the time, and I even have photos of me wearing one as a member of the Wolf Cubs.  Johnny Jeeves, the master of Bradgate house, gave me a detention for not wearing my cap.  I recall that when I was in the sixth form a rumour circulated that the headmaster, Mr E J W Ding Dong Bell, intended to issue boaters to senior boys.  I was thankful that nothing further was heard, but it made a good talking point at the time.
After graduating I purchased a trilby, and thought I was the bees' knees.  Many men wore a peaked cap in those days.  My wardrobe contains a Russian hat, numerous sun hatsand assorted pork pie hats.  For chilly weather I don a French beret or a yachting cap.  I don't care how I look, so long as they help keep me warm.

FROM JOHN WILLIAMSON  1960-66   In the hope I might be accepted to read English at one of the Cambridge colleges, I had some additional tuition from Chris Lowe, Head of English.  Part of this required me to read, and analyse, various essential modern works of literary criticism.  One day Chris, referring to the author of several such studies, asked me a question along the lines of, 'So, how did you find Elsie Knights?'  I had not been diligent enough to actually read anything by that particular author, so I replied,'I think she has made some very interesting conclusions.'  Chris let out a long, exasperated sigh.  As I discovered later, he had been alluding to L C Knights, aka Lionel Charles Knights.  I didn't get into a Cambridge college.  I understand that Chris went on to teach at Wyggeston Boys, and eventually became Head Teacher at Prince William School, Oundle.

AND FINALLY...   I would just like to thank everyone for their continued support and enthusiasm.  I am so pleased that, even though the annual reunions reached their inevitable end, Brian's lunches carry on regardless.  That says it all!

Dennis J Duggan  1959-64
Founder of Wyvernians way back in 1998, at The Harrow, Thurmaston.  Anyone recall attending that first reunion?

Fwd: OWT MAY 2024

OLD WYVES' TALES
 THE ONLINE VERSION
MAY 2024
EDITED BY DENNIS J DUGGAN

EDITORIAL    I have held the latest three contributions back, as the basis for the next OWT.  Please consider sharing your memories, however trivial they may seem.  I reserve the right to edit material, usually to make it more concise and thus easier to read.  Anything considered hurtful to individuals, or libellous, will not be published.  Send to djduggan2023@outlook.com  If possible please include your dates.

FROM ROGER LIVERMORE   My running at CBS was remarkable for its unremarkableness, unlike the eminent John Offord!  I seem to remember Rushey Fields in 1965, next to the house on Melton Road where I spent the first four years of my life.  And there was token running round the cricket pitches at Grace Road.  Moving to Downing Drive, Jock Gilman introduced us to the joys of cross country.  The course was Chatteris Drive, into the fields across Bushby Brook, up to Thurnby.  Down Stoughton Road, then along a wooded path.  This ended in a mud bath known as the Amazon Basin, out of respect for Mr Wardle's evocative geography lessons.  I must have run the full course, but the Basin was memorable as a hangout for reluctant athletes.  Track running was for Tony Baxter's Bradgate House, wearing red jerseys.
The 6th form involved motor cycling.  My second bike was a monster Honda Dream (aka Nightmare)? the first 100mph 250cc.  Shutting the throttle brought a sound like an approaching thunderstorm.  A bored-out version is featured in the book Zen and the Art of Motor Cycle Maintenance.  My bike featured in the sixth form-science gazette The Pubs of East Leicestershire.  The headlight was prone to switching off when I changed gear, which made cornering interesting.  One night it gave up completely, and the late-lamented Kevin Flint and I pushed it for miles back to his house.  A few years later I was in full-on Bob Dylan Triumph Highway 61 Revisited style, though unlike him I never crashed.  I went on to be The Health & Safety Guru, as the tabloids referred to me.
I went to St Andrews to study astrophysics.  Our house, St Regulus Hall, did early morning runs along the west sands, splashing through the water.  The idea was stolen by the film Chariots of Fire.  The running was done by the shinty team, which is hockey without rules.  My first match was as a sub against the Glasgow police team, after one of our players went off to hospital.  I spent the match running away from the ball, or whatever the wretched thing was called.
Only in my mid-thirties did I abandon machinery in favour of human power, with long-distance cycling events.  These included Lands End to John O'Groats and coast-to-coasts.  It does mean I can look at the weather map and say 'Yes, done that.'  At the same time I was doing martial arts, aikido and laido.  Paradoxically Zen Buddhism is pacifism at the point of a Samurai sword.
Running did not return until I saw the 2002 Manchester Commonwealth Games.  Watching the marathons made my eyes light up.  I had to have that!  But no more Amazon Basin hideouts, I joined Sale Harriers - the Manchester United of the running world.  Clocking up the marathons, I think I'm now at twenty seven.  The Marathon marathon, New York, Venice, Rome and the 2012 Olympic marathon, Shropshire's Much Wenlock version, where the modern Olympics began in 1850.  During 2012 Graham, my brother (also ex-CBS) and I ran with the athletes' Olympic torch - rather than the ceremonial one.  We were part of the relay on the twelve-mile stage across Leicester in the middle of the night, passing the old school in Humberstone Gate.  I also returned to the school cross-country course wearing my New York marathon vest.  That was for old-time's sake, and was a pleasure.
I am now addicted to park runs, as a visitor at Victoria Park and on my home course at Abbey park.  I joined my local athletics club, and run with the youngsters and a few over-seventies.  There is something about communal running, as if dating back to being hunters - evolutionary psychology at work?  As if time was running backwards I acquired the juvenile disease of type one diabetes.  It is controlled, and contrarywise my personal bests are being smashed.  But I would not recommend it as a training regime.  So that is how a reluctant runner became a compulsive one.

FROM DAVID 'FOGG' POSTLES  1960-67   Nick Miller asks for news of Michael Palmer, a history teacher.  He died a few years ago.  Michael became a head teacher in Surrey but, during the cutbacks, was redeployed as the Surrey County Archivist.  His wife, Margaret, pre-deceased him, leaving Michael bereft.  He is survived by his children.

FROM STEFAN WOZOWCZYK  1965-72   Michael Palmer chose to take orders.  He left the school mid-year, I think late 1967.  My recollection is that he went into a retreat at one of the reclusive English monasteries.  He only taught us in our third year for a short while before leaving.  I remember Michael because he was one of those teachers who seemed able to teach any subject under the sun, so could fill in when a member of staff was away.  I hope he found peace.  Perhaps someone could provide more details?

FROM TONY WAKEFIELD 1951-52   The class photo dated March 1952 is of 1A.  For some reason I am in civvies at the back, but I did own a uniform!

FROM MURRAY WALNE   I shall always remember a highly amusing incident involving Flo Willan soon after we moved to Downing Drive.  There was a small sixth form intake of new pupils from other city schools, and naturally they did not know the staff.  Now, Flo always wore a brown lab coat - in fact I don't recall him ever wearing anything else.  At break one morning a lad was violently sick in the corridor and one of the new recruits, being helpful, spotted what he thought was a caretaker.  He flicked his fingers and asked the chap to clear up the mess.  Of course it was not a caretaker but Flo Willan, who needless to say was not amused.  But the rest of us thought it was hilarious.

FROM STEFAN WOZOWCZYK  1965-72   The correct chorus of the school song:
Vivat, crescat, in aeturnum floreat                              May it live, grow and flourish for ever
Schola quam laudamus                                               School how we praise/extol thee
Primem lucem juventutis                                            First light of youth
Semper te amamus                                                     We always love you

Taken from the COLS 1968 prize distribution leaflet.  Have we a definitive answer as to who composed it?  I was told that Mr Gimson wrote the music, but not the words.
Below is the glorious translation effort from webtran:  Long live the youth will always be increased at the first sight of eternity, we praise you, we love it flourish and be a school than

Jon Prithett, who knows me but possibly wishes he didn't, might recall I was in Charnwood House and made a spectacular absence of contribution to its sporting achievements.  After failing selection for football, Geoff Elliott put me at No 8 in the rugby squad.  From there I was successively relegated to inside centre, full back and, finally, wing.  Everyone knows that in schoolboy rugby you end up on the wing because wingers never get the ball so can't cause any damage with it.
But I should point out I was also in the Boy Scouts, and learned a lot of rope work.  Thus in the gym I could scale a rope up to the ceiling, touch it and come down again without falling off.  I doubt I was the fastest, and it probably wasn't even considered to be a sport, so I probably was not much help to Charnwood House.
References to concerts at De Montfort Hall are relevant to the school from the mid-sixties.  That is because there would be quite a large group of us hanging about outside before the concert began.  As OWT does not accept tales of illegal behaviour I shall be delicate!  I think my first concert was The Incredible String Band, circa 1969.  None of us paid for a ticket, though I don't think that fell into the category of genuine illegal behaviour.  I shall say no more...  I mean,what if you really were helping a roadie to carry in a Marshal stack?  Or what if David Bowie had said you were allowed in, but to sit down and not make a song and dance?  Yes, we were clever.  The school taught us well.

FROM ALAN FISHER  1964-71   Tony Baxter's mention of his involvement in the school plays triggered memories of my own participation.  By that I mean scene shifter.  However that did involve the wearing of costumes, as Mr Baxter liked to have scene changes taking place in front of the curtain or, in the case of Sergeant Musgrave's Dance, amidst the audience.  The play was performed in the round, with the audience seated round the acting area.  I was also involved in Mr Baxter's excellent production of The Tempest.  Fantastic memories! 
Mr Baxter was the only teacher who almost enabled me to understand maths but, through no fault of his own, it was a dismal failure. Strangely, arithmetic has played a major part in my business career - eg, budgets and accounting.
I experienced one year at Elbow Lane, one year of Friday mornings at Humberstone Gate and Vestry Street baths and six years at Downing Drive.
Keep up the good work.

OBITUARY   David Bates passed away January 1st 2024 after a short illness (Dates believed to be 1953-60)

FROM JOHN SKEVINGTON  1945-53   I was sorry to hear that Ivor Bufton (1944-52) had passed away.  He was one year ahead of me, but I remember his keen involvement in school affairs. I recall a crossword clue in the school magazine This person claims to have something that no one has ever heard of.  The answer - Ivor Bufton!
Before writing more reminiscences I glanced at OWT 106 to make sure I did not repeat myself.  However, whilst we had close involvement with pupils in our own year, memories of those ahead and behind us become tenuous, and I might be the only one from my lot still standing!  So I will confine myself to teachers, who will be known to a larger cohort.
Ivor's father aws a history master at CBS.  During one lesson he reeled off, from memory, all the English monarchs from 1066.  Pure showmanship, but we were greatly impressed.
I remember Bud Fisher as a very kind person.  My specific memory is of an RE lesson (Presumably based on the miracle of the raising of Lazarus) when he told of an old man he knew in his childhood who was nicknamed Dead 'Un.  This was because he had once been pronounced as dead, and was in a coffin in the parlour so friends could pay their respects before the funeral.  But while a few friends were talking in another room they heard a great clatter, and in walked Dead 'Un in his shroud!
Bull Smith has been mentioned.  I remember his phrase when he enlisted the help of a pupil with a chemistry experiment: Stand on that nail, small boy.
Finally, Bill Sykes.  He seemed to obtain reasonably recognisable orchestral performances for concerts and speech days.  When trying to get us to sing a piece in class he would be constantly yelling at us, in his Yorkshire accent, to observe the syncopa-a-ation.  One day he handed out the score of a work called Boot, Saddle, To Horse and Away.  It was really good, and I was even more impressed when I noticed the composer's name was H H Sykes.

FROM DAVE POSTLES  1960-67   I didn't know that Mick Bromilow obtained an Oxford Blue for cross country.  I remember running with Mick and Tag Taylor for the school, and the training ground in Abbey Park on Wednesday (?) evenings when the three of us formed a little group of mediocreties. Sometimes we would visit the biscuit counter at Lewis's after a race.  I recall sitting on the packhorse bridge in Anstey after one race, nattering away.

FROM DENNIS BIGGS  1949-56    I have arranged a boating holiday on the Broads with my son and grandson, this being after I told them about the week I spent there in Easter 1951 with the Green Howards  Yacht Club.  This was run by one of our teachers, Chas Howard and his brother.  Unfortunately my memory is hazy after so many years.
But I thought my musings might prompt further memories from other pupils.  I was just a cabin boy, with no boating experience but keen to learn.  My overall memory is being constantly wet, as we had a lot of rain and I was not properly dressed for the conditions.  But we still had lots of fun.
The yacht did not have an engine, and I don't think the conditions were ideal for sailing.  Sometimes we had to quant - using a punting pole - or tack endlessly to catch the wind.
Not sure where we went, though I do recall visiting Beccles.  'm not sure how long the Green Howards continued after my adventure, as I think Chas Howard left the school shortly after  (Chas  was at CBS when I was there 1959-64 - Ed)
I don't remember much about the food or conditions, but it was very cramped.  Hopefully we will have more room and comfort on our four-berth cruiser, with better weather.
Does anyone else have memories of those school visits to the Broads?

FROM MICHAEL ROSINGER  1962-69   OK, Mr Baxter, you have shamed me into writing something!  I can remember a few lessons as if they happened yesterday.
Biology with Mr Willan, my scariest teacher.
'Rosenger, what do you call the movement of digested food into the cells where they are used?'  A series of ums and errs result in Mr Willan erupting with rage.  Assimilation was the word, and it has remained with me forever.
'Rosinger, what is respiration?'  After more umms and errs my answer is 'breathing.'  I feel the class waiting for the onslaught coming my way.  Mr Willan's face screws up as if in agony, followed by the explosion.
Physics.  Mr Lawson asks 'what causes the sound of thunder?'  I remember my father telling me it was clouds banging together, and up goes my hand.  Thankfully Mr Lawson asks someone else, who provides the correct answer..  I was so relieved, I would have looked such an idiot.,
During the next lesson, Mr Lawson asks, 'What causes the tides?'  I remember my father telling me it was something to do with the moon, but quickly refrain from raising my hand.  How ridiculous, I think to myself.
Woodwork.  I have a lot to thank Mr Hutchinson for.  A stick across the hand, when I decided to liven up a lesson by playing a tune with my mallet and chisel.  That gave me bragging rights for future conversations regarding corporal punishment in schools.  Everyone seems to have a story about being caned, and thanks to Mr Hutchinson I have one too - albeit with a bit of exaggeration here and there!  
By the way, my book stand and table lasted for over forty years in my mother's house.  She was so proud, and didn't seem to notice the poor mortice and tenon joints.  Or probably she did, but didn't say anything.
Musical Appreciation.  Mr Reminton's lessons in the sixth form were a great way to finish the day.  No pressure, no questions, just listen to some Debussy.  By the end of the lesson I was perfectly relaxed, and prepared for the future University Challenge music questions.
Many lessons at the City Of Leicester Boys' School (Notice the correct use of the apostrophe, Mr Whitbread) prepared me for the future.  I can order a beer in French or German; I can use a chisel.  And if the Times quick cryptic crossword ever has the following clue, I will be the first to get it:  A small phone card with great happiness I hear, for this biological process.  But no one prepared me more than Mr Baxter who, to me and many others, was truly inspirational.  For many years I taught maths in secondary schools in Sheffield and Nottingham, followed by three wonderful years training maths teachers at a university in Tanzania.  I return there each year to continue the training.  So my sincere thanks to Mr Baxter for setting me off along that path.

AND FINALLY...   The next episode of my disastrous CBS musical career - Ed)  We have reached circa 1962, with my own violin ignored and stored with the spare school ones in the corner of the hall by the stage.  It was there before we broke up for Easter, as I checked.  But when we returned I was dismayed to note my violin case had vanished. Compared to the tatty school ones, my case was rather smart, so I made what, at the time, seemed the reasonable assumption it had been stolen.  There was nothing for it but to tell my parents, who immediately contacted Mr Bell.  Consternation ensued, as in those days such a thing was unheard of, and a full enquiry was launched.  Eventually the caretaker was interviewed, and he was able to solve the matter.  With good intentions he had moved my violin to the storage area under the stage, and it was duly produced.  The resulting enquiry did my already dodgy reputation no good at all, both with my parents and the school.  But what I recall most of all is the humiliation of being hauled into Jill's office (School Secretary, and still with us as Jill Povoas!) and being handed an adhesive label.  I wrote my name on the label, and stuck it on the inside lid of the case, all the while being closely watched by Jill and Mr Bell.  Next tine I will recount the tale of an even worse violin disaster - I was my own worst enemy and no mistake...

Dennis J Duggan  (1959-64)
May 10th 2024