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

OWT Memorial Edition March 2024

OLD WYVES' TALES
 THE ONLINE VERSION
SPECIAL MEMORIAL EDITION
MARCH 16TH 2024
EDITED BY DENNIS J DUGGAN

EDITORIAL   The recent sad passing of John Larry Lawson and Dr Arnold Doc Burrows prompted several Old Boys to share their memories of, and appreciation for, our teachers.  As I grow older, and more nostalgic by the day, I often think back to my own unfortunate time at CBS.  I have always admitted to being my own worst enemy, especially during my first year (1959-64) but still can't decide whether I was simply a bone idle, deceitful boy, or if I had some sort of mental health problem which no doubt would be diagnosed today.  The truth will never be known!  What has become apparent is that several teachers were more than willing to go the extra mile if they felt a particular pupil showed exceptional promise, and clearly many of those pupils appreciate that to this day.  Here are a few of my own memories.  Wally Wardle walking so quickly his gown billowing out behind him.  Alan Jasper Mercer's lunchtime meetings of the Crusader Club.  Bill Sykes regular temper tantrums, which resulted in heads being smacked indiscriminately as he went round the classroom.  Jock  Gilman standing at the staff room door, reading the proffered excuse notes.  Ken Witts breezing into the room, banging his briefcase on the desk and shouting, 'OK, you lot...'  Basher Brewin, the only teacher who ever made me cry, via a public humiliation accompanied by rapping me on the knuckles with a ruler.  He had fought in World War 1, and once told us that because he was such a short man he was provided with a box to step on so he could leave the trench more easily!  And meeting Brian Sadie Thompson on a cruise to Iceland in 2002.  One day we shared a lunch table, and he noted my Wyvernians tee shirt.  He did remember me, but for all the wrong reasons, as he was my form master during my short tenure in 1 Alpha.

FROM PETER BATES 1953-58   Thinking back almost seventy years is not too difficult with regard to John Lawson.  He was the form teacher in 3A, went with us to games sessions at Grace Road, taught me maths every day.  Physics and chemistry were double periods once per week.  I loved those lessons, and (apart from games) was quite successful.  And that success was due in no small way to Mr Lawson.  He commanded my great respect, and there was always a hint of his great sense of humour.  John was a great motivator, and made his lessons interesting.  He was a brilliant teacher who was kind. I had problems at school, but John was fair and sympathetic, even when I deserved punishment,  How I regret being unable to attend the annual reunions.  I would like to say a belated thank you to a brilliant teacher, who was kind and compassionate even to naughty boys.  Rest in peace.

FROM DAVE 'FOGG' POSTLES  1960-67   There have been many references to the late Michael Palmer, along with eulogies,  Here is the link to an obituary written by his daughter, Emma.
https://issuu.com/stedmundhall/docs/stedmundhallmagazine.2015-16
Regarding history teachers, I value the short time that John Anderson was with us.  I had the benefit of his teaching in the third year sixth.  He widened my horizons, offering to lend me his copy of Das Kapital.  He mentioned people such as William Davies, the supertramp, and Eric Fromm's Fear of Freedom.  I met him subsequently when I was working at Leicester Museums.  He brought in a school group from Desford to work on archive material.  A wonderful man, I wish I'd had a greater association with him.  In our short acquaintance he really helped me to mature.

FROM BOB CHILDS  1976-2009   Written from information in Andy Marlow's book:  John Lawson can be seen on page sixty, as a member of the First XI cricket team, which he went on to captain in 1946.

Some readers will be aware that John was an all-round sportsman, and in the 1945-46 season was a regular member of the First XI football team.  Indeed, in 1946 he was noted on speech day as one of the school's top three sportsmen; this is marked by a photo of the winners on page sixty eight.  John is sitting on a bicycle at the front of the Humberstone Gate building.

In 1952 John was appointed to teach maths and physics.  Soon he teamed up with Dave Lawrence, another gifted sportsman and physics teacher.  They can be seen together on page 102, in charge of the 1957 First XI cricket team, which included Frank Whitelam. 

 John was a real enthusiast, and set up a squash club.  This used the facilities of the Leicester Squash Club on London Road.  By the time John's twenty-year stint at Downing Drive ended he had morphed into teaching physics and electronics in a department led by Dave Lawrence.  This included Bill Mann, and Dave Sarson, one of his ex-pupils.  If you have access to the book look at page 221.  You will see a photo taken at the 2002 reunion of what we might call The Famous Five.  Messrs Burrows, Baxter, Lawson, Thompson and Mann.

Some Further Information   John was born on July 12th 1929.  In 1939 he was living at 37 Doncaster Road, Belgrave.  The rear wall of the house was adjacent to the footprint of the Cossington Street baths.  His father is described as a Traveller Grocer and Wholesale Merchant.  No 37 appears to be part of a terraced block called Burfield Villas.
A Personal reminiscence   I always found John to be a helpful and cheerful colleague, so I hope he forgave me for this unusual incident.  It took place one Saturday night  in the early eighties.  As a cricketer myself, for Newtown Linford, I enjoyed the non-league fixtures in September against different clubs at different grounds.  This incident followed a match against Wigston Town, their team included an ex-City footballer - Howard Riley??  I can't remember the result, but do know I stayed longer in the bar than was wise.
Thankfully my drive back to Wintersdale Road, Evington, was uneventful - until I drove past the school on Downing Drive.  I noticed the lights were on in the block of twelve classrooms.  By the time I reached the shops opposite The Dove I had resolved to turn round to investigate  (Think Starsky and Hutch, but in a Ford Fiesta!)  I slowed down by the unlocked main entrance, and turned off the engine and lights.  To my horror, I saw a shadowy figure loading computers into a car.  Not wishing to confront the burglar I shot to the nearby telephone box (No mobiles then) and called the police.  They took my details, saying they would meet me outside the school.  On returning, I was horrified to see someone lock the gate and drive off towards Evington.
I decided to do my own version of Z Cars and followed the vehicle to Whitehall School with the registration number committed to memory.  Then I returned to Downing Drive, where I found three police vehicles, a very lively police dog, blue flashing lights and powerful torches.  With a warm glow I described what I had seen, and passed on the number of the car.  I was then instructed to sit in my own vehicle.
By now it was around 10pm, and the police had conducted a complete sweep of the site.  And then I looked on in amazement as the police produced a boy called Michael Trickett, one of our pupils, plus his girl friend.  Even more surprising was to see our Head of Music, Dr Peter White, in full evening dress.  He had been round the back looking in his car for sheet music.  Then the sergeant told me they had traced the suspect vehicle.  Did I know a Mr J A Lawson...?  Briefly my brain recoiled at the thought of John Lawson being a master criminal, and it was not until Monday I learned he had taken the computer to see if he could repair it.
The sergeant thanked me for my actions, but strongly advised me to return home without delay, without asking me to blow into a bag.  For some time hence certain colleagues delighted in whistling the theme tune of The Pink Panther films every time I entered the staff room!!

FROM DAVE WINTER  1959-66   I was never taught by Doc Burrows, though he had an informative influence on me through the swimming team.  'City Boys' Sweeps the Board' had been a familiar headline in the Leicester Mercury swimming gala reports even before the Doc's time.  That success and status was due in no small part to the school's proximity to Vestry Street baths, and to the energy of Mr Brushe, a French teacher who left the school just as I joined.  But when Doc Burrows took over, the whole enterprise moved to a new level.There was a sense of serious purpose, almost professional, in his approach.  The frequency and intensity of coaching and training increased.  Any boy displaying a degree of ability was talent-spotted and encouraged to join the sessions.  Finer points such as starts, turns and take-overs were practiced rigorously.  The team acquired its own strip - lightweight tangerine trunks!  Speedos had just come on to the market, and had instant wow appeal.  Doc Burrows - the early adopter!
Inter-school galas across the Midlands became regular events.  I would regularly get out of lessons to travel by coach to Hinckley, Loughborough, Ashby, Burton On Trent, Leamington Spa, Derby and Nottingham.  The only school we feared was King Edwards Camp Hill in Birmingham.  Through this serious commitment there arose a real team spirit, which was important as swimming is, in many respects, a highly individualistic sport.  This team spirit manifested itself most during the return journey.  Led by senior boys in the rear seats we would roar an impressively wide repertoire of appalling songs.  These included, The Hairs on a Dicky Dido, As I Was Walking Through a Wood - to the tune of The Old Hundreth - and an absolutely filthy adaptation of The Twelve Days of Christmas.  I don't know what Doc's classroom manner was like, but I'm sure that many of his colleagues would have stamped on such dubious bellows and guffaws.  But throughout the journey he would sit serenely at the front, never batting an eyelid.
As I grew older my role in the team diminished, and by the sixth form I only made the freestyle relay squad.  But it left me with a lifelong enjoyment of competitive swimming, which I am pleased to have passed to my children.  And they, in turn, to their children.  And for that I am grateful to Doc Burrows.

FROM ED FEATHERSTONE  1959-65   My failing memory tells me I first came into contact with John Lawson in 1 Alpha, when he taught us maths.  Rather more clear is the memory of being on the receiving end of a well-aimed piece of chalk for not paying attention.  However, as a football enthusiast - though not a very good one - I recall the dedication and effort he devoted to the sport. On one games afternoon John was refereeing another game when a player broke his leg.  We all heard the crack.  Instantly John calmly took charge, dealt with first aid and arranged for the boy to be taken to hospital.   On many a Saturday morning I would join John and the Junior XI at yet another fixture.  I was the reserve, so seldom got to play, but he noted my constant attendance and loyalty.  So to my surprise I was awarded my football colours.
Later, between leaving 5L and joining 6A1 (English, history, geography) I was awarded a scholarship to the Royal Naval College.  All I had to do was matriculate in order to take my place.  Very soon the headmaster was invited to a weekend conference in Dartmouth.  When he returned Ernie was full of good ideas, and summoned me to his study.  He was convinced I was taking the wrong 'A' levels.  He said the navy wanted scientists, and wanted me to switch to physics, maths and geography.  I pointed out that I only had 'O' level general science, and my 'O' level maths was not designed for those taking it at 'A' level.  Anyway, as Ernie would be sending written reports to Dartmouth each term I though it best to do as I was told.
To catch up, I was offered one-to-one tuition with Tony Baxter (Maths) and John Lawson (Physics)  By the end of my first term in the sixth I had caught up sufficiently to join the main classes.  There is nothing like one-to-one tuition to get to know someone, and I developed a deep respect for John and Tony.  I owe them both an enormous debt of gratitude.  I enjoyed being taught by them, and I know my fellow classmates felt that too.
At one of the reunions I told John that you definitely needed to be a scientist to be a naval engineer,  I, as a seaman, might have made a more successful naval officer had I stayed with the 'A'levels with which I had a greater aptitude.  John replied, 'So we failed you?'  'Absolutely not,' I replied.  Being a naval aviator requires a good grasp of maths and physics.  But, more importantly, John Lawson taught me how to apply myself to learning a subject outside my comfort zone.  Thank you, John Lawson.

FROM MARK HAYLER  1956-64   So sorry to hear that John Lawson has passed away.  He was my 5S form master 1960-61, and also instrumental in my obtaining a pass in 'A' level physics.  We had some very clever mathematicians in our year (I was definitely not one of them!) who would spot any errors on the blackboard and quickly point them out.  To which he would respond, quick as a flash, 'Well done.  You spotted the deliberate mistake.'  RIP Mr Lawson, and thank you.

FROM MIKE RATCLIFF  1958-64   I was very sorry to hear the news about John Lawson.  He was always the most enthusiastic, approachable and friendly of teachers.  He, together with Bill Mann and Dave Lawrence, formed a very strong team teaching physics when I was in the sixth form.  In later years we had a few interesting conversations after the reunions, as John would park his car on Toller Road, off London Road, and complete the journey into town by bus.  On several occasions we were on the same bus together as we headed back towards Knighton and Stoneygate.

FROM STEVE TAILOR  1973-78   So sad to hear about John Lawson.  I was a Downing Drive pupil, and started the school electronics club.  Despite the fact that Mr Lawson had never taught me physics, he immediately offered to stay after school as the supervising teacher.  John helped me to believe in myself so as to have a long and continuing career in electronics.

FROM BRIAN SCREATON  1959-65   I shall always remember John losing his walking stick at the first Wyvernians lunch, and a frantic search of the building ensued.  Then, to everyone's amusement - especially John's, the stick was found hanging on the back of his chair, concealed by his coat!

FROM TERRY HOLT  1954-59   Very sad to learn that John Lawson and Arnold Burrows have passed away.   They were two of the most inspiring teachers I was privileged to encounter during my time at CBS.  The last time I spoke to John at a recent reunion I reminded him of the encouragement he gave to those of us interested in amateur radio.  He had informed us he was clearing out his garage and one Saturday morning I, along with Dennis Brown and Terry Cox, went over.  We were gifted with lots of components, and asked if we required any more!  One of our favourite haunts for such components was Dick Kerr's Army & Navy surplus shop, opposite the Odeon.  We must have been a real nuisance to John, as we often knocked on the door of the staff room at lunchtime to seek his advice.  But he never seemed to mind.  A really kind and inspirational teacher. 
Arnold Burrows gave me the best career guidance I ever received.  My interest was jet and rocket propulsion, and he encouraged me to apply for an engineering apprenticeship at Rolls Royce after sixth form physics and double maths 'A' levels.  I only completed one year in the sixth before leaving at sixteen to follow Dr Burrow's valuable advice.  I spent twenty four years with the company, and for over fifty years have been a chartered engineer M.I.Mech.E.  My grateful thanks to two outstanding and inspirational teachers.

FROM JOHN OFFORD  1958-63   The passing of John Lawson was sad news for me.  He was responsible for me becoming an athlete.  It wasn't school policy, but he cared enough to give me his thoughts on the potential danger of wearing spectacles whilst playing for his Junior XI team.  He knew I would be disappointed, but had seen enough evidence to show I should concentrate on running.  John's support gave me the confidence to change, and he was proved correct. We chatted about it at the reunions, and I always thanked him.  I know he was proud that I became an international runner.  John was a kind, approachable teacher, always generous with his advice and help.  RIP.

FROM ALAN RICHARDSON  1970-77   I was very touched to receive a message from John Lawson's son, Peter.  Enclosed was a letter I had written to John in 1982, after I had started my first job in Rochester.  Peter had found the letter amongst John's papers, he had kept it for forty two years.
John taught me physics in the second form and the Upper Sixth.  I was top in the form, and also top in most subjects for almost all my time at the school.  It was not an unconditionally popular situation, and for much of the time I tried to avoid too much attention.  In those days Oxbridge had an entrance exam to which students could put themselves forward.  It could be taken in the fourth term of the sixth form, or sometimes after staying on for 'A' levels.  Despite my academic accomplishments I did not put myself forward in the fourth term.  Instead I applied through UCLA and gained conditional offers from Leeds and York.
I was in the Upper Sixth when John went to work on my mum and dad at a parents evening.    He insisted I should apply to Cambridge.  It was a transformative intervention, and following top A & S grades I returned to the City of Leicester School in August 1977 to apply to Churchill College and to prepare for the entrance exam in November.  But I was offered a place in early September, so left school then.
At Cambridge I achieved a first in maths, vindicating John's judgement, and after three years working on antenna design for C & S Antennas, Kent I returned to Cambridge and joined Cambridge Consultants.  They are  a product development consultancy.  I stayed for thirty four years, including fifteen as a director, and five years as CEO.  I doubt any of that would have happened had I not attended Cambridge university, which would not have happened without John Lawson's advice.
I met John again at the 2015 reunion, but he did not remember me.  Not surprising - there were so many different faces over the years!  But I will never forget John Lawson.

Dennis J Duggan (1959-64)
March 16th 2024

Fwd: OWT March 2024

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

FROM HOWARD TOON  1951-57   Does anyone remember the regular bicycle inspections?  During my time at CBS I was a keen racing cyclist, and I spent the money from my three paper rounds on replacing the steel components with alloy equivalents.  Amongst these was a single-ping bell, as opposed to the usual ting-a-ling-a-ling version.  This incurred the disapproval of Johnny Jeeves, the inspector, who would not listen to my protests that the Tour de France  riders used them.  He threatened to bar me from cycling to school unless I reverted to the old-style bell.

FROM DAVID ATTON 1955-62   I first met Doc Burrows at the beginning of the 1957 spring term when I was in 3 Alpha.  He was my chemistry teacher, a replacement for Mr Guy.  When I asked the latter, 'How does litmus paper know how and when to turn blue or red?' he barked back, 'I'll ask the questions round here.'
I was twelve years old, Doc was twenty seven.- almost certainly one of the youngest teachers at CBS.  However, looking back his no-nonsense professional approach, and his ability to clearly explain subject matter using impeccable green/yellow chalk presentations, were remarkable given his relative inexperience.
He persuaded my parents and myself that I should pursue science in the fifth form, on the basis that I was a solid student and eventual career options would be wider.
In the sixth form Doc taught me how to study, work hard, and the best way to approach exams and interviews.
My cohorts, Bruce Adams, John Herrick, Bob Neill and Jim Taylor, were more talented academically.  Doc was extremely helpful in my being accepted at Oxford, as were Adams and Herrick.  Neill and Taylor attended University College, London.
Doc's  most enduring influence was to show how to study privately, to work hard and use the distractions of university life for fun.  That formula not only made me successful and happy at university, but also in my business career and retirement.
Thinking of Alan Bennett's The History Boys, the Doc's approach to teaching was more akin to the ambitious Irwin than the devil-may-care Hector.
I owed Doc a great deal, and I made that clear to him at several reunions.  However I owe more to the school which these newsletters commemorate, the school I chose to attend simply because soccer was the winter option, not rugby.  Most of all I made some great friends, and still correspond with many from my home in the USA.

FROM JOHN BLAIKIE  1955-62   The passing of Doc Burrows was sad news indeed,  He was a much-liked figure, a very good teacher who never lost his cool.  Others of my era who took chemistry through to 6Sc3 can better confirm that, as I dropped chemistry and only took maths and physics.
My only distant memory of Doc is when we were doing an experiment involving phenolphthalein.  He made it very clear we should avoid ingesting any, as it would involve us sitting in one uncomfortable place for a long time.

FROM DAVE 'FOGG' POSTLES  1960-67   I was saddened to hear that Doc Burrows had passed away.  I only have vague recollections of lessons in the labs at Elbow Lane, where Mick Quincey and I shared a bunsen burner. 
I do remember the Neill brothers, the older brothers of Alex, remarking on their respect tor The Doc, who assisted them on their passage to Oxbridge.  I send my good wishes to all remaining Wyvernians.

FROM JOHN BENNETT  MBE  1956-63   I received the very sad news of Arnold Doc Burrows' death from his son, Simon, soon after his passing.  Doc was a very special person to me.  He was not only my chemistry master during my sixth form year - 1960-63 - but also a big influence on my later life, for which I will ever be grateful.
After taking my 'A' levels, and receiving a distinction in chemistry, I stayed on for a third year in the sixth form.  At my father's suggestion I applied for a place at dental school, and was accepted at London, Birmingham, Manchester and Bristol.  I then had to decide which one to choose, and went to Doc for advice.  His response was: 'Before you decide, I think you should consider taking the scholarship examinations at Oxford.  And I would recommend you apply to Christ Church, because this school hasn't had a boy at the college, and to read biochemistry, because it is a less popular course than chemistry.' 
So I applied, and in March 1963 found myself in the huge hall at Christ Church taking the exams.  I didn't get a scholarship, but was awarded a place at the college.  Dentistry was abandoned, and I spent four very happy years at Oxford, met some lifelong friends and met my wife, to whom I have been married for fifty three years.
Rather then being a retired Leicester dentist I'm a retired banker, having retired in 2005, then having a second career as a local politician in the City of London, where I chaired several committees and was the City's Chief Commoner, the 'Leader of the House'.  I stepped down in 2023, and continue to live very contentedly in London.  This is in stark contrast to what I could have been had I taken my father's advice rather than Doc's.
Several years ago I contacted Doc through the Old Wyves and asked if he remembered me.  He responded immediately, saying of course he did and recounted things I had long forgotten.  He reminded me that during my time in Oxford he had attended Wadham College as a school master fellow.  We continued in contact via Simon, his son who, like me, is involved in the City livery movement.  None of what I describe would have happened if I had not had that decisive conversation back in 1963.  I owe Doc a very great deal, and I am so sad at his passing.

FROM BRUCE PEGG 1971-78   (Editor's note - the following item is taken from Bruce's book Goin' Down De Mont, and is reproduced with his permission via a third party.  The book was mentioned more fully in the February OWT)  My endearing memory of the show [Showaddywaddy concert, De Montfort Hall, Tuesday June 25th 1974] is of getting there.  A few of us pupils from City Boys had bought tickets to the show, only to find out it was on the same night as the school prize giving.  A week or so before the show we met with our headmaster, Mr Bell, and begged him to let us out of the evening. 
But he ignored our pleas, even when we told him that we would be out the price of the tickets.  In no uncertain terms he told us that our attendance at the school that night was mandatory.  In those days, if a headmaster told you to do something you did it or you suffered dire consequences.  We had no choice, or so it seemed.
Then Rog Mortimer pleaded with his mother to drive us to the De Mont as soon as the evening ended, which she agreed to do.  So as soon as the last note of the school song was over, we flew out of the assembly hall, ripped off our blazers and ties and piled into the waiting car like bank robbers leaving the scene of the crime.  Off she sped, down Whitehall Road, up Evington Road, breaking every speed limit on the way.  Finally she dropped us off on Granville Road and we sprinted into the Hall in time to see Showaddywaddy take the stage.  We may have missed the support band, and we were still wearing part of our very uncool school uniform,   but at least we were able to join the sweating throng and scream for our hometown stars.

FROM TONY WAKEFIELD  1951-56   The photo of 1952 is my class, 1A.  For some reason, I am at the back in civvies though I did own a school uniform.  The teacher is Flash Gordon.
Unfortunately, without any encouragement, I wasted much of my time at CBS, ending up in 5F and getting three 'O' levels without studying.  I was too busy enjoying life away from school to bother, much to my regret.  My ambition was to be a Teddy Boy, which I achieved, but I still have strong feelings for CBS.

FROM DENNIS BIGGS 1949-56   One of the teachers to make a lasting impression was Mr Goddard, who taught us basic German grammar in 3 Alpha.  I still recall him striding between the rows of desks, ruler in hand, drumming into us the declension of the definite and indefinite, articles in the nominative, accusative, genitive and dative cases so we could chant them forward and backwards to him.  This grounding stood me in good stead, as later I took 'A' level German and later in my career I lived and worked in Germany for twelve years. 
One of the impressions and experiences of working in Germany was the general recognition of the preventative benefits of keeping fit and healthy through outdoor exercise, perhaps a legacy of earlier generations.  Employers, and the health care system, fostered the tenets through their policies of allowing workers to undertake exercise and sports. 
All workers can spend four weeks or longer on a spa break, to regenerate their health and learn better ideas about nutrition, diet and outdoor activities.  I attended such a spa break where we spent our time doing hiking, swimming, gymnastics and other sports as well as learning about diet and leisure activities such as yoga, pottery and weaving etc.
One of the lasting ideas and legacies was the teaching of Dr Kneipp that we undertake exercise in water, and to tread water on a daily basis to promote good health as well as drinking medicinal spa water.  I returned to work a stone lighter, I think in the fittest state of my life.  I am sure we in the UK could learn lessons that prevention is better than cure for many of today's ailments.  It seems to me there is not enough emphasis on the idea that a healthy mind and body are the best way to enjoy a long life.  I have continued to take holidays in several German spa towns, as well as breaks in Buxton and Harrogate.  I recommend them to maintain a state of good health.

FROM NICK 'NED' MILLER  1961-68   A belated tribute to Mr Palmer in a new book on Leicestershire Church History.  Several folk have mentioned the inspiration they gained from Michael Palmer, a history teacher during the sixties.  In particular they have recalled the Saturday excursions, which were such great fun and really brought history alive.  I was particularly taken by the treasure hunts.  On Saturday mornings we collected a sheet of clues concerning places round the county and set off on our bikes to seek the answers.  We all hoped to be in the winning team, thus the prize winners, when we returned in the late afternoon.
Many clues were about churches, not surprising given that Mr Palmer was the son of a clergyman.  Somehow that interest has stayed with me, even though my career took me far away from history and far from Leicestershire.  Inspired by an old 1950 British railways poster showing Hungarton church up on its hill, encouraging people to visit this historic county, I have written a book. Church History in Leicestershire 520 pages, plus 41 colour illustrations, it's just been published by Book Guild ISBN  9781916668065 at a giveaway price of £14.99.  Find out more at https://www.bookguild.co.uk/authors/authordetail/2289  The book is for the general reader, you will find something about everything! 
Michael Palmer is duly acknowledged in the introduction as planting the seed for the book.  It might have taken over fifty years to germinate, but great to see it flowering at last.  Mr Palmer receives due thanks, as compensation for the pranks we played on him.  (This was originally written 22nd January 2024 - Ed)

FROM DENNIS J DUGGAN  1959-64    (The following will be published in the local church magazine, but it is also relevant here - Ed)  This little tale is true, a rather trivial story of a guilty conscience and atonement.From 1959 to 1964 I was a pupil at the City of Leicester Boys Grammar School.  Apart from the secretary, and a few dinner ladies, it was an all-male environment. Christian names did not exist.  Most of the masters were old-fashioned disciplinarians, and wore gowns.  At least one had fought in the first world war, and several others were hard-bitten veterans of the second world conflict.
Physical punishment was common, but we accepted it as part of school life and never complained.  The teachers demanded, and for the most-part received, our respect. That said, two or three of the younger teachers had a more sympathetic approach, which endeared them to the more timid boys such as myself.  They managed to strike a balance between the very strict traditional approach and a gentler one, without losing the respect of the boys.
One of these was Alan Mercer, who taught maths.  Alan was a devout Christian, and formed a lunchtime club called Crusaders which met weekly.  As I recall, it was religious but not overly so.  I think it was mainly bible stories. I was not particularly religious, but went along because I liked Mr Mercer, and it was something to do over lunch (The school was in the city centre, so most boys stayed for dinner)  My pal Peter McDermott joined for the same reasons.  I think there were about a dozen of us in total.
Now to the point of this story.  Around 1962, just before the Easter holiday, Mr Mercer - obviously we did not refer to him as Alan, his nickname was Jasper - set a competition for us to enter.  Over the holiday we were challenged to write a bible story in our own words, and the prize was a book. Naturally I decided to have a try, but such matters took a back seat in favour of more interesting pursuits. Before I knew it the holiday was almost over, and I had not put pen to paper once!
It so happened our bookcase held a book of bible stories, and here the trouble began.  I opened it to find an idea for a story, but ended up copying one word for word, which I submitted without any feeling of guilt or shame.  It was Jonah and the Whale. Not surprisingly I won the competition, and duly received the prize.  I still have the book, The Third Curiosity Book for Boys, by Montague Goodman.
And there the matter might have rested, except in 1998 I created an Old Boys Association, which put me back in sporadic touch with Alan Mercer. Late last year he sent me an email, saying he had terminal cancer and his end was near.  He had declined treatment,  having 'no wish to prolong my already miserable existence.'
This provoked my repressed feelings of shame and guilt about my deceit of sixty years ago to resurface.  I confessed, and hoped I would be forgiven. The prompt reply, 'Of course I forgive you,' brought a tear to my eye

FROM FRANK SMITH  1959-66   (Frank is our IT guru - Ed (Guru's a bit tooo strong a word to describe my "skills"! - Frank))  I received this Facebook message from Rebecca Jacobs-Farnsworth.  "I just wanted to say thank you so much for this page.  I did a random search for images of my father and came across one.  It brought a big smile to my face, so thank you.  It's wonderful to find a photo I might otherwise never have seen."
I asked Rebecca for more details and offered to try to find more references to her dad, and she replied, "My father's name is Derek Green, date of birth 19.01.45.  He was good friends with Dave Hornby and Jim Gilfedder.  That's so incredibly kind, thank you.  I just appreciate you looking, anything on top of that is a bonus.  I was over the moon to find the photo.  My father passed away twelve years ago"  Derek Green is listed on the online database as attending the school from 1956-61.

FROM KEITH NICHOLSON  1961-68   I arrived at Elbow Lane September 1961, when Tony Baxter commenced his teaching career.  He was my form master, and made a bold statement on my end-of-year report regarding my maths abilities,  Turned out I did not disappoint, as I went on to Cambridge to read maths.  I was awarded an exhibition for my final year, having just missed out on a scholarship.  I must confess I was not displeased, as I spent my final year playing various sports for my college without having to fret about expectations.
My early years at CBS were unremarkable - I suspect consistent with most of my contemporaries.  I was more of a late developer than a star. 
My first memories are of the trip to Russia.  Even today, friends regard it as an extraordinary venture for a school in 1966.  Sad to say, I have not been back since, but would very much like to do so.  I have, though, returned to Berlin many times, mostly on business.  One member of our party attracted the attention of the border guards.  He refused to wake up and leave his couchette, so they could search for anyone trying to escape from East Germany.  The rather large guard managed to throw the boy out of the couchette.  The second occasion concerned our departure from Russia.  The boy had bought a camera - in those days Russian cameras were very good compared to those available in the west.  The issue was that its value exceded the money he had taken into the country - he had been trading on the black market!  He was allowed to depart and, from memory, take the camera with him.
Our maths set during 1965-68 was very small, only five.  Neil Darlison, Mick Bromilow, Steve Preston, the late Steve Zanker and myself.  At the end of the school day we regularly played cards.  Unsurprisingly it was usually bridge, though we also played poker from time to time.  Stakes were the old penny and halfpenny.  I recall the head sometimes dropped into the room after school when we were playing poker.  Coins were quickly brushed into laps, or the odd one onto the floor, but he never uttered a word.
My last memory is of Tony Baxter giving Neil and I, in his words, some experimental teaching experience.  We taught a first year sixth maths group for two terms, and set their year-end exam.  I had one further experiment - keeping a lower-school English class quiet whilst they carried out set tasks.  I was also invited to play for the staff cricket team on one occasion - it must have been as an honorary member of staff.  No doubt Tony Baxter hoped the experience would turn us into teachers, but it never happened for me.  However, I did head KPMG's training department for two years.
Tony wanted to know where people are now.  Neil Darlison went to Oxford to read maths.  Steve Preston headed to Lancaster University, and Mick Bromilow to Oxford, he became a lecturer in the Open University, and was heavily involved in athletics in Milton Keynes, for which he was awarded a BEM.  He also won blues for cross-country and athletics at Oxford.  There was a brief obituary for Steve Zanker in an earlier OWT.  But I did not keep in touch with anyone.
I went into The City, joining the firm that is now KPMG.  I qualified as a chartered accountant, picking up a prize on the way.  I became a partner, and eventually headed their UK insurance practice, as well as being an honorary partner in the Swiss firm until I retired in 2009.  I was also a member of the UK Auditing Practices Board, with special responsibility for setting standards in the audits of financial sector firms.  I should add that another Old Wyvernian, Stephen Purse - he was younger than me - also became a partner at KPMG.
Today I can be found in Sussex playing tennis four or five days per week, having retired from all my diirectorships.

AND FINALLY...   Having rashly volunteered to join the school orchestra, I was duly issued with a violin.  One day per week we had a lesson after school, with Bill Sykes and a peripatetic music teacher called Mr Hall.  They were held at Elbow Lane, in a room off the gym,  To complicate things further, my parents conceived the idea I was a musical prodigy, and enrolled me on a course of piano lessons at a house on Aylestone Road.  We had a piano at home, and I practiced for half an hour per day after school.  Now, one of my many failings is a short attention span so after a while my interest in music began to wane.  But by then my parents had purchased a lovely violin for me, so I had to keep going!  By the fourth year the remaining trainees were ready to join the orchestra, and I took part in at least one concert in the Great Hall, with parents present.  The orchestra rehearsals took place once per week after school, and lasted one hour.    By that time the piano lessons had long-ceased as a waste of money, and I began to skip the odd orchestra practice.  I had to make sure my parent's suspicions were not aroused, so I spent the hour wandering round the city centre before catching the later bus home.  Carting the violin to and from school was a right nuisance, so I began to leave it in the corner of the hall with the spare school instruments.  When my parents queried this, I fed them a cock-and-bull story which, because I was such a plausible liar, they swallowed hook line and sinker.  I thought I was being clever by attending occasional practices after school to keep Bill  happy, but unbeknown to me the first of two calamities was about to befall me  (To be continued - Ed)

Dennis J Duggan  1959-64
February 27th 2024