Fw: OWT83 July 2014

OLD WYVES' TALES 83

FOR WYVERNIANS 1919-76

EDITED BY DENNIS J DUGGAN, ROCK COTTAGE, BROOK STREET,

WELSHPOOL, MONTGOMERYSHIRE. SY21 7NA

TEL 01938 555574   07971 282356  

www.wyvernians.org.uk

www.facebook.com/oldwyvernians

JULY  2014

 

FROM BRIAN SCREATON  1959-65   Neil Marston (1966-73) has produced a DVD of his photographs taken on the 1970 cruise to Gibralter, Spain, Athens, Istanbul and Venice.  Anyone wanting a copy please contact Neil on 07927 620348 or e-mail neilmarston@yahoo.com

 

FROM BRIAN SCREATON  1959-65   We are down to the last four copies of Andy Marlow's book about the history of CBS, and it is unlikely to be reprinted unless and when Andy produces an updated version.  To obtain a copy please e-mail me at brscreaton@dsl.pipex.com or phone 07770 413228.  Cost is £25.99 inc p&p in the UK.  Cheques made payable to Wyvernians.

 

FROM BRIAN SCREATON 1959-65   I have managed to acquire a copy of Highways & Byways in Leicestershire, by J B Firth.  This is a presentation copy, with the CBS logo embossed on the front cover in gold.  It was presented to Dennys Cope Edwards, of Form IIIA, by Percy H Wykes in 1935.  Dennys Edwards was at City Boys from 1932-37, and lived on Kingsmead Road, Knighton.  The book was purchased for a very modest sum through the good offices of eBay, and will be on display at the 2015 reunion.

 

FROM BRIAN SCREATON  1959-65  Obituary for Geoffrey Francis Matthews.  Geoffrey Francis Matthews was a pupil at City Boys from 1943 to 1949.  Sadly he passed away on the 18^th April, aged 81. Geoff spent his early years in Broughton Astley where his father, Maurice, was a railway clerk on the former Midland Counties Railway which ran from Rugby to Leicester, with a station at Broughton Astley. Geoff commuted to Leicester on this railway to attend City Boys. After he left he did his National Service with the RAF, and then got a job with Evode, which entailed him moving to Stafford. This was where he met Dorothy who was to become his wife, and they moved back to Leicestershire in 1976, settling in my home village of Cosby. Geoff was still working for Evode, who made shoe components, at their factory in Enderby.  Geoff was involved in many aspects of village life, notably the Church, where he sang in the choir, and Toc H.  Every December Toc H toured the village with Father Christmas in a sleigh, hauled until recently by a vintage tractor. Geoff was Father Christmas every year from 1978 until 2012, and I can remember my children climbing onto his sleigh to confide in him the presents they would like for Christmas. The sleigh itself was built by Geoff. He will be sadly missed by his family and the village of Cosby as a whole. His wife, Dorothy, has suffered from dementia for a number of years, and Geoff was her carer. This precluded him from attending our reunions, though I think he may have come to one. He was however always keen to hear about the latest reunion whenever we met in the village.

 

FROM ROBERT J CLIFFORD  1950-57   Richard F Clifford (1946-52) was my brother.  He passed away last year, so I cannot confirm the following story.  If any members of the Green Wyvern Yacht Club were on the same cruise I would be delighted to know if it is substantially true, and the name of the other actor.  Richard was a member, and sailed the Broads with the Howard brothers for three or four seasons.  Usually this was during the Easter or Whitsuntide holidays.  He was vastly different to me, being very interested in sport of all types.  Her played tennis with Bob Roberts after school, swam and life-saved, played squash, badminton, cricket and football.  His stories of life on the Broads held me spellbound, and this particular one has stuck in my mind.  I hope it is true.  On one cruise they were joined by Shirley Eaton, who would have been around 19 at the time though a seasoned stage performer from the age of 12.  This is the famous Shirley Eaton who was killed by being covered in gold in the James Bond film Goldfinger,  though she appeared in many other films.  They were joined by a young man, an actor, whose name I cannot recall.  Together they sailed with the Green Wyverns for a while, and Richard commented that Shirley made a brief swimsuit from two yellow dusters.  That made a lasting impression on the crew!

FROM RICH WAKEFIELD  1961-68   (The second half of Rich's school memoirs - Ed)  Next we come to the excellent and oft undervalued Mr Stanley Berry.  I had always assumed the S stood for Straw, though many years before he had been wittily christened Ras.  I learned his name the day he stood fumbling with the library door, struggling to unlock it.  Ken Witts strode by in that business-like way of his and boomed, 'Stanley Berry, just get that door opened!'  The reason I put Berry on a pedestal was thus.  He taught a group of five of us for 'A' level English Lit.  I recall two of the group, but won't name them for fear of offending the other two!  The authors we were studying were Jane Austen, who was a somewhat unlikely subject for 16-17-year-old boys, and the poet Gerald Manley Hopkins - also not a likely hero of the average 17-year-old.  During one lesson this good and honest man read a passage from Miss Austen's Emma, roared with laughter and looked seriously non-plussed and troubled when not one of us smiled.  He looked quizzical, and we feared the man might have suffered a stroke.  His voice rose sharply.  He shouted, do you not see the humour in this?  We said we did not, at which point he rose majestically, gathered his belongings and sailed from the room, not to return.

Now that doesn't sond like hero material, but some five years later the lady who was to become my wife was majoring in English Literature at university, and had an essay to do on Jane Austen.  I re-read the book, and still found it dull and pointless.  However, we move on six or seven years and for reasons I cannot recall I read Emma for a third time.  This time all the qualities that Stanley had espoused, all the humour we had missed as seventeen-year-olds came through.  I was enchanted by the book, and have remained a huge admirer of Jane Austen and her writing.

Around thirty years later I was going through a very difficult and distressing period which led to a meltdown, and almost a whole stanza of Hopkins came back to me.  I actually heard Mr Berry's mellifluous tones reciting it, it made a difference to me.  I wrote down what I had heard and went to buy a book of his poems.  I checked the relevant verses and found I was not quite word-perfect - though not far off.  My heart went out to the teacher who had done so much, I later understood, to instill in me a huge love of literature, especially the lines from Mr Hopkins.

 

FROM LAURIE FORD  1962-66   Firstly thanks to all who organised the 2014 reunion.  It was thoroughly enjoyable and also thanks to Brian Screaton who was kind enough to send me a scan of my entry card.   Í have a  plea from my old school friend Paul Wheatley. Can you pick a Saturday that doesn't clash with the Cheltenham Festival!! I thoroughly enjoyed Tony Baxter's presentation and was glad that 40+ years later I was able to personally thank him for his part in getting me through my Maths 'O' level. See also below.  Noting the photo of the badminton team I wondered if any of them are still playing.  Glad to say I still am.  When I was in the fourth year, in the two terms before I moved, I played for the team.  I seem to remember matches against Gateway, Guthlaxton and Humphrey Perkins.  There may have been more.  After the Humphrey Perkins match I was dragged into the pub.  It was the first time I had been in a pub, having led a sheltered life in the Manse.  I remember praying I wouldn't be caught.  From that team I remember Richard Abell, Dad Warner, Bill Draycott and Oakhill - first name escapes me.  I note in Old Wyves Tales  lots of references to Flo Willan.  I have strong and not too pleasant memories of Flo.  I remember well the tests referred to.  I always thought the arrangement whereby the unlucky ones with the lowest marks had to sit at the front was a bit dodgy, as those at the back with top marks usually stayed there as it was easier to use crib sheets undetected! I also had the unpleasant experience of being belted on the back for the heinous crime of not folding my arms.  Not surprisingly I failed biology (twice) at Northampton ,which was where I moved to two thirds of the way through the fourth year.  A few memories about other teachers:-  Bill Sykes: I think Paul Wheatley summed up some of our lessons with Bill perfectly in a previous OWT.   Wally Wardle: those terrifying words I'm waiting.  Bill Gates:  Bill joined around '64 or 65 and taught English. He was my form master in the 3rd year, and always seemed very fair. He was from Leeds, and was always happy to debate the merits of City against Leeds (who were then a very strong outfit). He also looked after the badminton club, of which I was a team member. Wonder where he is now?  Geoff Elliot:  Another of the Yorkshire mafia.  From Sheffield, taught French and started off rugby at City Boys.  Bunny Hutchinson: let's just say woodwork and I did not get on.  I think I probably split more wood than he had a budget for.  Charlie Varley: inexplicably thought some of my art was quite good.  I think he was probably the only one!  Tony Baxter: taught me maths in the 4th year. Had it not been for him I would never have passed maths 'O' level, as at Northampton Town & County Grammar  where I moved to as my maths teacher was  - let's just say not very good.  Ding Dong Bell: met with him on my last day before moving to Northampton. Obviously had marginal impact on him as he thought I was going to Southampton.  I think my only other contact with Mr Bell was when given the form that allowed me to get a colours tie (for badminton)  Other miscellaneous Elbow Lane memories:  Record Club: spent many a lunchtime in the hall listening to 45's. Some tracks heard again years later can take me back to those lunchtimes. I seem to remember the Record Club being closed down for a while, and when it reopened you needed a pass to be allowed in.  2nd form yard: excellent facility for use of 2B only.  Our own yard.  Also had the advantage of large cupboards where pupils could hide during lessons. Usually the above mentioned Bill Sykes lessons. After-school football: played many a long game after school in the yard.  Always played better there than at Grace Road.  I was obviously a better player on tarmac.  I was never in any danger of getting into a City Boys football team.  There was lunch time handball, with benches as goals.  A surprisingly well-stocked library.  Vestry Street swimming baths, with a sadistic instructor who pushed you into the water whether you were ready or not.  One such belly flopper just about  put me off diving for life.  The crocodile walk from Humberstone Gate to Elbow Lane.  Summing up my time at City Boys it stood me in good stead for what life had to offer. I've not had a stellar career like quite a few. However, it provided me with a good education and  I just wish my son had had as good an education as I did.  

 

FROM CLIVE DAVIES  1950-57   I was not an academic by any means when I started Grammar School in 1950 and chose City Boys because it was considered to be a sports school and played football rather than rugby like most of the other grammar schools in Leicester. I was sports mad as an eleven year old and did just enough academically to progress through the school without too much conflict with the teaching staff. As a result most of my schooldays memories are of sporting moments on either the football pitch or in the swimming pool where I represented the school throughout my years at CBS. During my time we had a very good football team indeed and after six years together we were difficult to beat. Most of us going on to represent our colleges or universities and some even went on to play professionally. Paul Cobley I think was at Aston Villa, Graham Povoas Peterborough among others, with Bill Whittaker and myself briefly associated with Leicester City. My lifelong friend Eddie Blount says his claim to fame is to have scored against the late great David Frost while up at Cambridge.  We travelled miles to play other grammar schools, particularly when in the sixth form with visits to Kibworth, Coalville, Derby and Nottingham High Pavement and without motorways in those days it took most of Saturday to play away matches. We played in all weathers as it was difficult to contact opponents once they were on their way and in the winter particularly this could be a problem.  On one such wintery day we were playing with the wind and snow behind us when Kev Hall, playing at centre half, turned round and disappeared  into the background as he had about two inches of snow on his back. In the same match we had to carry our winger, Parker I think, off the field and into the boiler room to thaw out .No vests or gloves allowed in those days, not like todays pampered  professional footballers.

Another magic moment was witnessing the same ginger headed miscreant who was hung out of the third floor classroom window by Nobby Clarke trying to hit eight bells out of Arthur Sweet in the back of the net because he took exception to the high tackle the teacher had performed on him in the penalty area during a friendly game at Grace Road. It took two other members of staff plus a couple of sixth formers to drag him off.  We seemed to have either swimming or PE on the timetable every day, and if not there was the after school swimming club at Vestry Street baths or an evening session with the Old Wyvernians at Spence Street baths to attend if necessary. Back stroke and diving were my speciality but had large boots to fill, following as I did ,Johnny Hunt and Brian McNally who both represented the County in those events. However I did manage to win the Junior Victor Ludorum one year (I thought it was 1954 but I see from the book on the school's history by Andy Marlow that Graham Walker won it that year so it must have been 1953 as I was a year ahead of Graham)  Vestry street was either too hot or too cold as I recall, and when the boiler was working you could feel the vibration through the water in your stomach which wasn't very pleasant, especially when retrieving the brick from the bottom of the pool when practising life saving.

I particularly remember  Pete Boat who was an expert at the plunge spending the whole period nose down floating on top of the water at Vestry Street, and only coming into his own on gala day at Spence Street baths (which was longer than Vestry Street) where he held centre stage for ages, holding his breath for ever while drifting almost a full length of the baths.

The other contestants had usually surfaced half way down the pool twenty minutes earlier.  Happy days.

 

FROM KEITH WRIGHT  1948-54   Richard Thompson's mention of Spiv Beaumont in OWT81 set me thinking.  He had taught English and History to his/our form 1 Alpha in 48/49 and was held in high regard.  He claimed Norman ancestry in view of his surname; obvious perhaps, but I googled Beaumont recently to find that a certain Robert de Beaumont was given the title Earl of Leicester by William the Conqueror. I am not sure whether R Beaumont MA (Oxon) knew that!  I suppose most Leicestrians knew/ know it, but if not join the club!    I conjectured whether Spiv was a Norman Robert, a Plantagenet Richard or even a Take It From Here Ron (Glum).  On eventually turning to page 227 of Andy Marlow's The Story of a Grammar School I found it was Ron(ald),  so problem solved. Only pupils' surnames were used in those distant times, though in Andy Marlow's magnum opus an occasional Christian name can be seen.  I wonder if this has altered in schools in the 21st century, for the  irksome familiarity through overuse of Christian names seems rife in the population at large?  Despite swirling his gown and walking back and forwards whilst teaching, the dramatic effect achieved failed to imbue me with a love of history at the time; probably because he had to teach us social history- the agrarian and industrial revolutions to boot.  Turnip Townshend and 4 crop rotation not being as boy-friendly as kings and battles, though no doubt more fashionable at the time. I have previously railed against educationalists failing to take boys' likely outlooks properly into account in the field of poetry (epic rather than romantic being ,at least initially, more attractive to lads in my view). Maybe the same applies in other areas – of the humanities at least.  Perhaps Mr Gove should have a committee look into this area, in view of the poorer educational performance of boys these days?!   Mr Beaumont spent 4 1/3 years at CBS before moving, on promotion.  A fairly typical length of service for many members of staff, I realised from reading Andy Marlow's book.  So much the better for a dynamic school, though I am sure there needs to be a backbone of time servers,.  Interestingly my wife's old school in leafy N. Wales was criticised by the inspectorate a few years back for its static staff, something which, I suppose can lead to complacency.

Andrew Tear's comment in OWT81 about the 4 year course to "O" level enjoyed by the alpha stream was interesting.  Geared to some extent to make more possible a 3rd year 6th form hot house for Oxbridge entry, in my case it meant I started at Med School on my 18th birthday, probably too early, and, I would suggest, definitely too early for someone with a summer birthdate. 

 

FROM LES OSWIN  1935-39   I'm pretty certain my interest in football started in the mid-thirties when I was at CBS, and in my last quarter at the school I captained De Montfort House football team against Abbey, Bradgate and Charnwood at Grace Road.  A few years earlier my elder brother Jim had also contributed to De Montfort soccer games, and in the early days of WW2 younger brother Rex, also at CBS, kicked a ball around for De Mont, so we brothers obviously became fans of Leicester City.  They played at Filbert Street, not far from our parents' house.  This year, 2014, is a special year for Leicester City for they are being promoted from the Championship Division to the Premier League and the fans are already celebrating.  These include my son, and one of my grandsons, who are ardent supporters and season ticket holders.  From my early interest in City during the thirties to this year they have been up and down a few times, but are there any Wyvernians who remember when Leicester City gained promotion during the 1936/37 season - perhaps the 2014 reunion attendee, aged 92, might recall the occasion.  Indeed, he may even have been at the match AS WAS I

The date was 1st May 1937 when Leicester City was scheduled to play Tottenham Hotspur at Filbert Street, and if they won then City would be promoted from the second division to the first and join such teams as Arsenal and Leeds United.  I was aged almost 13 years 7 months, and probably paid a shilling to enter the Popular Side.  It is likely that other CBS pupils would have been there, possibly with their dads, but I was on my own as our dad had no interest in soccer, having spent most of his life in the Royal Navy.  Being small, the adults allowed me to get right to the front, leaning on the brick wall where I watched this important match which finished 4-1 in Leicester's favour.  The goals were scored by Jack Bowers (2) James Carroll and Arthur Maw.  To this day I remember that Fred Sharman was captain, and Sandy MacLaren was in goal - other team members were Danny Liddle, Willie Frame, Sep Smith, Dai Jones, Eric Stubbs and Percy Grosvenor.  At the end of the match, when the result was confirmed, my grown-up companions helped me over the wall and we all rushed onto the pitch to congratulate our team.

This was 77 years ago, and that match is one of my most tresured memories.  Perhaps the dads of some younger CBS pupils might have similar memories?

 

FROM DR MIKE DALY  1963-70   I seem to remember being at Elbow Lane in class 2B RE, or was it a history lesson with Mr Scott, one day in 1964-5. At some point one of my classmates, Kevin Brennan, who sat immediately in front of the teacher's desk, decided to lift the lid of his desk and eat his sandwiches and sip his school milk third. For anyone who remembers Mr Scott this was not only foolish but downright dangerous. As I remember it, although memory plays tricks, Mr Scott, without breaking his sentence, walked around his desk, picked up young Brennan and his desk, marched to the door, pushed it open with his foot, still speaking, and unceremoniously deposited said pupil and his desk outside, closed the door and calmly continued his lesson. What a star. We were all in awe and fear of him for years, until he finally left - I believe to become a vicar!

 

FROM DENNIS BIGGS  1949-56   Whilst on a recent holiday, I re-read Great Expectations and it brought back memories of this work being introduced to us by George Franey in the first term of 1 Alpha in 1949. It was a complete contrast to the books I had read until then, ranging from Biggles, Jennings, Just William, Just So books etc borrowed from the Humberstone village library and of course a weekly dose of the Rover, Hotspur and Wizard comics. We had also our introduction to Shakespeare with The Merchant of Venice and poetry from the Golden Treasury of Verse. I am sure that Mr Franey was only following the curriculum but now knowing so many works of English literature, I wonder why we were not introduced more gradually to the wealth of English literature with the books of R . Stevenson, Conan Doyle, Walter Scott, Orwell etc before having to read The Cloister and The Hearth or Brother to the Ox, which for me are certainly easily forgettable. My memory is now fading of the other set books which we had in first two years at CBS, but they were not particularly inspiring in my recollection. There is currently a debate about pupils of today not being introduced to American literature such as Hemingway, Steinbeck, Harper Lee etc and I do not recall Mr Franey giving us an insight to the wide range of other reading matter available at that time. My wife informs me that she was reading the Russian classics of Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky and French literature of Victor Hugo, Zola, Balzac, Maupassant during her early school years, whereas these were never mentioned to us at all.

My father was a member of the Red Circle Library in the Haymarket and he introduced me to Edgar Wallace, Conan Doyle, Sapper, Agatha Christie and Sexton Blake books which were not classics but certainly easier and more enjoyable reading. One of our classmates, Baines, seemed to have had a regular supply of Hank Jansen books which were surreptitiously handed around in class.

I wonder what the views of other classmates are on the teaching of English Literature at CBS, and perhaps they may be able to refresh my memory of other books which were in the curriculum at that time.

 

AND FINALLY...   This edition of OWT has used up all my material, so I hope that you will be able to dredge up some memories of our old school.  This particularly applies if you have not yet made a contribution to OWT.  I look forward to hearing from you.

 

Dennis J Duggan 1959-64

July 29th 2014 

 

 

Fw: OWT82 April 2014

OLD WYVES' TALES 82

FOR WYVERNIANS 1919-76

EDITED BY DENNIS J DUGGAN, ROCK COTTAGE, BROOK STREET,

WELSHPOOL, MONTGOMERYSHIRE. SY21 7NA

TEL 01938 555574   07971 282356  

www.wyvernians.org.uk

www.facebook.com/oldwyvernians

APRIL  2014

 

REUNION 2014   The 17th annual reunion was held at Clarence House (the former school building) on Saturday March 15th 2014.  We are fortunate that Age UK allow us to hire the premises for the day.  This year almost one hundred people attended, including several wives.  The oldest person present was 92 years old!  It was pretty much business as usual, though because the cafeteria was being refurbished we had lunch in two other rooms which Age UK kindly sorted out for us.

The latest batch of the memorabilia rescued from Downing Drive was on display, and proved very popular.  Of particular interest were the sets of index cards, one of these being made out for every boy who entered the school. 

Click on the photo to enlarge it
The pupil index cards (numbering several thousand) were available for inspection

My wife, Stephanie, looked after the raffle and helped Frank on the door.  We had twenty five raffle prizes, and £102 was raised.  Complimentary tea and coffee was available in the hall, along with an honesty bar.

Before lunch I gave a short talk, which was followed by the AGM.  It was a nice surprise(!!) that Brian and I were re-elected as secretary and treasurer!  As we had ten ex-members of staff present (unfortunately Bill Mann felt unwell and left early) Mike Ratcliff arranged a suitable photograph.  He described the experience as akin to herding cats! 




Click on the photo to enlarge it
Ex-staff at the 2014 Reunion - Can you name all of them?

 After lunch, which everyone agreed was excellent, we re-assembled in the hall to hear an amusing presentation by Tony Baxter.  Tony was both a pupil and a teacher at CBS, and his talk was called 'A View From The Other Side of the Desk.

Brian Screaton then gave an account of two ex-pupils who were killed on active service in World War II, and whose names appear on the honours board.  By 4.30pm it was all over, and God willing we can look forward to next year's annual gathering.  My thanks to Stephanie, Brian Screaton, John Offord and Frank Smith for their continued support, without them the reunions would not happen.

 

AGE UK   The news of the Age UK cafeteria refurbishment came as a last-minute shock to us, and for a while we feared the reunion might not happen.  But thanks to Antony Foster, Centre Manager at Clarence House, and our own John Offord (1958-63) alternative lunch arrangements were put in place and worked very well.  As a gesture of appreciation, Wyvernians made a donation of £50 to Age UK, and the following response was received from Antony:  Thank you for your letter and donation.  It's really appreciated, and we are pleased the reunion was a success.  I apologise for not acknowledging you sooner; the restaurant is finally finished and I can return to my normal day job (Whatever 'normal' means!)  We look forward to seeing you all next year, and hope that members of Wyvernians will visit us between now and the next reunion.

Thank you to John Offord for the kind words in the Leicester Mercury, it was totally unexpected.

Leicester Mercury 26/3/14

 

 

FACEBOOK PAGE   Thanks to the good efforts of Frank Smith (1959-66) we now have a very successful facebook page.  The address is www.facebook.com/oldwyverniansor you can reach it via the web site.  Simply click on the big blue/white F on the left-hand side of the home page.  You will find a guest logon for those who have not already registered with facebook, though Frank tells me that registration is quite painless!

 

FROM J ROBERT CLIFFORD  1950-57   (Continuing Robert's school memoirs - Ed)  German: Herr Hantusch and Herr Mollenauer.  The latter was an exchange, or student, teacher.  He was short, thin, blond and wore rimless glasses.  However he did not last long with 3 Alpha, as he was unfamiliar with the English concept of respect earned, rather than respect demanded.  I had German in 1 Alpha and 3 Alpha with Herr Hantusch.  My exercise books had more red ink than blue, and I was so discouraged I considered I was hopeless.  In 4 Alpha we had to choose between German and geography, and it was no contest - WAG Pace won hands down.  Totally unexpected in the wandering course taken by my life, both career and private, the German language played an incredibly important role.  Without further formal schooling in the subject, the resurrected memories from those far-off days have led a number of people in Austria, where I am now happily settled, to ask if I am Dutch.  Not sure how to take that!

Mathematics: Horse remington and OFT Bob Roberts.  The Christmas party we laid out in the staff room on the last day of the 1957 school year was only possible because it coincided with the retirement of Mr & Mrs Grundy, the long-serving caretaker and his wife, so they had left the lodge.  This enabled some of our number to remain in school overnight and access the canteen and its crockery and cutlery.  Only the teachers' nicknames were used on the place cards, and staff would sidle up to a pupil and ask which one of them was Horse.  On hearing it was Mr Remington they asked why.  It was blindingly obvious to us - he had a mane of hair and a centre parting.  I note my conclusions on the aptitudes of people to acquire particular skills.  Some become proficient in one or more languages, and to keep them separate.  Others are able to learn large amounts of dialogue then discard it, like repertory actors.  There are many other illustrations.  I found it easy to visualise three-dimensional products from two-dimensional engineering drawings, and to use pure maths.  Such skills are not universally given.  They are not something to boast about, it is just the nature of things.  It is on that basis that my opinion of Bob Roberts should be viewed, and explains the diametrically opposing views held by others who endured the chaos of his classes.

My greatest regret is that I did not have the grace or generosity to overcome my antipathy to school in time to thank him for the education he gave me in pure maths.  His teaching was so effective that during my first year at college the head of the Maths Faculty tried to poach me from my chosen course.  In later years I recognised its value in problem solving, which has been a large part of my life.  Even today, Bob's last words ring in my ears.  What the merry hell have you been playing at all these years, Clifford?'  This was shouted across the entrance hall as I saw the 'A' level results, finding to my disbelief two distinctions.  Three times per year, in every report, Bob's comment had been Does not seem to have grasped that which he shoud have learned long ago.  It seems the penny had finally dropped!  The chaos in his classes disguised his determination to convey the abstract concepts of his subject to those who, by a quirk of nature, had the ability to absorb them.  He probably recognised those who could not, and endured the disorder caused by their frustration.

Founders Day.  I remember this was introduced by Mr Bell.  To me it seemed a pretentious construct, not in keeping with the CBS ethos.  The school's modest approach led to results which challenged those of brasher establishments.  It did not sit well with the fifth and sixth forms to be marched from school to cathedral in double file, exhorted by Hoppy to keep in step.  After a while I remarked that since we were treated as children we should hold hands, and the idea was quickly taken up.  Hoppy, glancing back, nearly had a heart attack.  The whole thing was manufactured, and the cathedral staff seemed oppressive.  The final straw was the collection, which was conducted with a menacing air.  The phrase shooting fish in a barrel came to mind.

Jazz band  1956/57.  In the sixth form, a number of us decided to form a jazz band.  There was no encouragement from the school, but that did not matter.  We bought our own instruments.  Richard Tansley was on clarinet, Pooch Pearson on trumpet, Midge Midgeley on tea-chest bass.  I can't recall if another Pearson was on trombone or not.  I was on drums, totally miscast.  Enthusiastic, but too shy and no sense of rhythm - enough said!  At the Christmas concert our renditions of St James Infirmary Blues, Cherry Pink & Apple Blossom White, When The Saints Go Marching In, Basin Street Blues called up a storm, with five hundred comrades on their feet cheering.  Our encore of Tiger Rag threatened the structure of the building.  It felt good!  (The Final instalment will appear in OWT83 - Ed)

 

FROM COLIN MUNRO  1943-46   (I was not sure if I should publish this item or not, as its content is somewhat risque.  Hopefully no offence will be caused - Ed)  Most of your correspondents seem to have gone to university and reached eminence in various professions. I was one of the scruffs from Belgrave, whose parents  could not afford to keep me on in the sixth form, let alone support me through university. Will you allow me to lower the tone of OWT with an anecdote?   One day in 1943 I was in the bogs in the back yard when in came two six ft-tall prefects. As they enjoyed the flow one said to the other, What's the difference between a British soldier having a pee and Yank from Texas?  The other played the stooge, I don't know....etc.  Well, when the Tommy finishes he gives it a shake, the Texan taps it with his boot. They both found that hilarious.  For my part I couldn't see anything funny at all. I envisioned the Texan standing on one leg and trying to reach with the other.

Eight years later I was in the Royal Air Force, stationed in Gibraltar.  A friend and I had taken the ferry to Algerciras, and were hitch hiking back along the road to La Linea when we heard a horrendous noise from an adjacent field. Looking over the fence we saw a jack donkey in an advanced state of sexual excitement, his elongated member almost touching the ground. In that moment I saw the point of the joke.

 

FROM GRAHAME HURST  1955-60    I have been meaning to contribute for many years, and at last I have got round to it. By and large I enjoy reading Old Wyves Tales, but I do get very hot under the collar when Basher Brewin is denigrated in these pages. From memory Basher taught me maths in every year from 1A to 5L with the exception of 3A, when Larry Lawson took over. In my first term I was 25^th out of 28, but from 2^nd year on I was never out of the first three. I remember well in my first year myself, Colin Smith and Geoff Wright, who came from Woodstock Junior School on Stocking Farm, were christened the The Woodstockians  by Basher because we had not done fra_ctions or decimals before. We would be made to stand at the front of the class, and Basher would tap us on the head with his thermometer case until we got the answer right. I think that experience made us all determined to do better. I managed to get an 80% GCE pass, so he couldn't have been all that bad. I always found Basher to be a good teacher, and I think if people have nothing good to say about any of the masters who taught them they should keep quiet. I have nothing but good memories of City Boys, and I thoroughly enjoyed my school days and  am not looking back through rose-tinted specs. I have nothing but respect for the masters who taught me, and  believe I owe them all a great debt of gratitude. Unlike our esteemed Editor I did enjoy games, playing in the school soccer teams in years 1 through 5 with Dave Atton, John Blaikie, Graham Walne, John Whalley, Geoff Wright, Alan? Watson, Rocky O'Grady.  Sorry, I apologise to those I have missed. I also played cricket, captaining the Junior XI and playing for the second XI in year 5. After 'O' levels I left City Boys and became articled with Hopps & Bankart in Friar Lane, where I met John Rudge, Albert Witherington and Denis Kilburn,  all Old Wyvernians. I qualified as a chartered accountant in 1966. In 1983 I left Leicester for Kidderminster, then Gosport in 1986, Sheffield in 1997 and finally settling in Shropshire in 1999. Now retired, I keep busy doing volunteer work, Scottish Country Dancing and umpiring cricket on the Shropshire Premier League panel.

 

FROM PAUL JOLLEY  1961-67   I was caught up in the alpha stream during the same years as Andrew Tear.  I think I was promoted beyond my abilities, and it did me few favours. Because my birthday was in late July I was always going to be among the youngest in any form, and I ended up taking my O levels at age 14 and my A levels at 16.  It became obvious fairly quickly that I was not Oxbridge material, and I botched my 'A' levels fairly badly so I stayed on in third year 6th to retake them.  I was taking physics, chemistry and biology, and this led to a bizarre and rather comic situation.  No one else was doing biology in the third year 6th, so I became a form all by myself.
For that year I was 6Sc3 (Bi ) I was absorbed into the second year sixth for chemistry and physics, but Bob Dennis and Flo Willum had 6Sc3 (Bio) on their timetable so I had to be taught.  Needless to say a number of lessons ended up with the master coming in, making sure I was occupied for 40 minutes, then going back to the staff room to put their feet up and have a fag!  It all worked out pretty well, as I scraped through my 'A' levels second time and got a place at Birmingham University to study dentistry. I spent 36 years looking after the dental condition of the good citizens of Leicester before retiring 6 years ago.  I do sometimes wonder if I was unique in the history of the school, being a one boy class!

 

FROM ROGER PEBERDY  1950-57    I very much enjoy reading the newsletters -and was amazed to see myself mentioned in a recent article (by J Clifford, who I remember well)  As I seldom travel anywhere these days, and have not visited Leicester since my mother, my last link with the city of my youth! - died in 1993,  I shall not be attending the reunion, but my good wishes go to all who do and all connected with its organization, especially any of my 1950 to 1957 contemporaries  (I did 3 years in the sixth, as Birmingham Medical School wouldn't let me in when I got my A levels at 16, insisting that I must be nearly 18 to be allowed on the course!)  As I had guaranteed my place I spent a happy year enjoying myself rather, messing around and became genuine friends with Flo Willan....   But I did have to do the 'A' level exams a second time in order to be able to get a grant from the LEA, which was a bit of a bind!

 

FROM RICH WAKEFIELD  1961-68   So there I was, sitting moodily in my armchair as the rain pounded on the windows behind me.  I had planned a walk in the woods, but the inclement weather put the kybosh on that.  So I fell to musing, which is, I believe, a very respectable pastime for a fellow of a certain age.  My mind sought sunnier times, and strangely it alighted on the glorious summer of, I believe, 1966, the third term we had been ensconced at Downing Drive.  The sky was a clear blue, and the sun shone energetically on the pristine paintwork - the very same paintwork which I suspect still graces the building until it finally goes.  I was feeling quite relaxed, even though we had the delights of a French lesson with our own, our very own, Mr E S Orton, to look forward to first period after lunch.  We were relaxed because we were about to wander round to the classroom and copy the dictation which Mr Orton had written up for the morning shift, prior to cunningly revolving the board so it was hidden.

We had latched onto this idea a couple of weeks before, and made a practice of copying the dictation which we reproduced with a few errors both accidental and deliberate.  We reasoned, sensibly I think, that Mr Orton might have been a tad suspicious had we all scored 100%.  So having made usable copies we ambled smugly back to our form room and lounged around for the rest of the break.

The bell rang, and we trooped to the form room.  You know the one, upstairs in the science block with a commanding view of the gym.  Oh, the sights you could see from that window.  Groups of human flotsam, some not natural athletes nor blessed with simian qualities, were being mercilessly chivvied up ropes for no apparent reason - once at the top, the only thing to do was come down again.  We felt smug because it was not us being chivvied, though we knew that tomorrow it would be our turn.  We had considered various ways of breaking a limb in such a way that we could not climb a rope, but could still play football.  Alas we never found such an injury.

From that same window on a good day one could witness the stately, though businesslike, stride of EJW himself, his gown billowing behind like a latterday superhero intent on stamping out all crime and malpractice.  Or as we saw it, stopping our fun.  His inexorable march along the covered way was indeed impressive, spreading fear into the hearts of those who had been less than angelic recently.  Let's face it, that was 95% of the pupils (the other 5% being absent for one reason or another)

But we were discussing Franch dictation.  You might recall we had already copied it, and were confident of obtaining our standard mark of 8/10.  Our taskmaster announced the dictation, our already-completed version was ready, but when Mr Orton began to read the passage we realised that something was wrong.  Knots formed in stomachs, you could feel the communal knots in the room.  What we were hearing was very different to what we had written.  We tried frantically to catch up, but the man was a vertitable Sherlock Holmes of the teaching trade.  The task was beyond us, the bounder had seen through our ruse and outflanked us by giving a different dictation.  I can't remember the marks, but it was somewhat less than 80%!

 

FROM CHRIS PYRAH  1964-69   Size mattered.  Or at least, so it seemed to eleven-year-old fags,  above whom all masters appeared to tower. However, as time took them towards senior school, relative heights changed and some pupils found themselves growing level with - or even taller than - a number of the teachers.  Here are a couple of recollections relating to two of City Boys' shorter masters, both of who, as it happens, taught music.

 Bill Sykes was a school treasure, the Mr Chips of the City of Leicester Boys School, a man who had not only been born back in Victoria's reign but was still teaching in the year of the Beatles' A Hard Day's Night.  He had famously written and composed the words to another well-known song, one which we belted out each morning in pride and fitting praise.  Whether it was down to his advanced years or not, to the eyes of the boys and most masters Mr Sykes seemed rather short.  With that low, querulous voice that put me in mind of Albert Steptoe, his stop yer messin' was growled out with almost enough menace to cut the noise that was beginning to build up from the back of the room.  Each first-former had to endure audition by Bill at his old upright piano in his attempt to winkle out any likely recruits for the school choir.  Being rather shy, as well as short, I had no wish to join in any such public display of singing, so I performed my test piece in a cracked, tuneless manner.  He saw through my ploy.  You've got quite a nice voice, he observed, if only you'd stop messin' .  Not nice enough, thankfully; I never was called up for choir duty.
 Possibly the shortest of all the short masters that I came across, Dick Cleverley, appeared a few years later than Bill Sykes, who had decided to call it a day rather than make the move from the Victorian building on Humberstone Gate to the Wilson-era superficiality of Downing Drive.  Dick had introduced some wishful experiment that he called Music Appreciation, a once-a-week  period in which he attempted to interest uninformed youth in the somewhat arcane delights of classical music; to put things in context, the year was 1968 and although Flower Power was definitely wilting, the Vietnam War raged on.  One of the more progressive pupils in my form at the time was Kev Gorringe, who decided to stir Music Appreciation up a bit by bringing in Disraeli Gears, Cream's latest L.P, to be played on the hallowed school gramophone.  Perhaps due to a misplaced sense of fair play and tolerance, Mr Cleverley agreed to play one side of the album; half an hour or so later he complained  it all sounds a bit the same to me,  evidently unmoved by the glories of Sunshine Of Your Love and Tales Of Bold Ulysses.  Curiously enough, many of the boys seemed to agree with him, but then again, Clapton, Baker and Bruce were surely better appreciated outside the classroom.  The following week, Dick was back to his beloved Bach,  Beethoven and the like and the wild woods of rock were never again visited during class time.

 

FROM ALAN PYKETT  1959-66   As always, I enjoyed reading the last OWT.  I took particular delight in the reminiscences of Trevor Dixey and Dennis, our editor, about games, PE and swimming.  I have mentioned some of these points before, but I think they are worth repeating.  Regarding games, although never good enough to play for a school team I enjoyed the house matches played by the also-rans  (Abbey, Bradgate, Charnwood, De Montfort)  I got very excited when I scored a goal, which wasn't very often!  Whether at Grace Road or Rushey Fields, I believe there were three pitches.  One was used  by the team for the particular year and reserves, the other two for the games between houses.

As with football, I was never good enough to play for the school cricket team, but can't recall much cricket between houses..  It was not possible to play a full game in the time allotted, especially with limited-overs cricket being in its infancy.

I could tolerate cross-country, but was always disappointed when it replaced football.  Usually that was because of bad weather.  I always managed to complete the course without cheating!  I believe the distance increased as we moved up through the years: short for first and second years, medium for third and fourth years, long for fifth and sixth years.  Moving on to PE, I generally enjoyed it apart from the detested game of Pirates.  If Dennis had been at the school in 1965/66 his ruse of being out early in the proceedings would not have worked.  Mr Read was the master that year, and during one game I decided not to move so was caught early on.  This was noted, and Mr Read sent me outside to run round the perimeter of the playing field for the remainder of the lesson.  To me that was preferable to another thirty minutes of Pirates.  Of course that was the first year at Downing Drive, and I believe that for the first time in the school's history the playing fields were adjacent to the main building.

Finally, swimming.  I dreaded swimming lessons - but were they lessons?  I can't remember being taught to swim whilst at the school.  When we arrived, aged 11, you could either swim or you couldn't.  Like our editor, I spent the 'lesson' splashing about in the shallow end at Vestry Street, and neither Jock Gilman, nor the resident swimming coach, seemed to take any notice.  I think that by the fifth year I could just about manage half a width.  That is possibly the only negative aspect of my time at CBS.  I really enjoyed my education there, and feel very proud to have been a pupil.  So much so that, picking up on Brian Screaton's sttendance at the funeral of Mike Hutchings, I have also requested To Be A Pilgrim and I Vow To Thee My Country, another school favourite, be sung at my funeral.  But I hope there will be many more reunions before my final event!

 

FROM BRIAN COPE  1954-62   Living now in Cumbria, I noted recently that schools in West Cumbria were performing so poorly they were to be closed or replaced by new academies. Apparently the proportion of pupils achieving 5 A*-C GCSE grades (incl Maths and English) in Cumbria as a whole is approx. 56%, and these schools were well below this standard.  Well, I could not resist looking at 'O' Level exam results at  CLBS in the 'golden years' and here are the results using the same criteria:- 1957 50% of intake achieved at least 5 O Levels incl Maths and English,  1958 52%,  1959 48%.

If we assume we were an average Grammar School intake, and therefore among the top 20-25% in the city, then we may say that only about 12-14% of that school year reached the standard now regularly achieved by 56% of Cumbrians!!   I should also add that some of the pupils who failed English or Maths first time went on to Oxbridge Firsts, PhDs etc, so it's a  fairly odd set of criteria one might think. If exams are now 'easier,' and statistics  massaged, then one might think this a rational response to the setting of impossible targets.  Of course it may well have been that education in Leicester then was in crisis...but it didn't feel like it.

 

AND FINALLY...   A very interesting submission from Grahame Hurst in this issue, it certainly made me think.  If we have nothing good to say about a teacher, should we keep quiet?  Over the years OWT has printed items giving both points of view. For every teacher criticised, there is another who receives the highest praise.  Clive Davies (1950-57) has just sent a piece which will appear in OWT83, and he makes the comment that what some of us experienced at the hands of some teachers would be considered as assault today!  That is not to say it did us any long-term harm, in fact it probably did many of us good!  Times change.  Certainly the respect for authority instilled at CBS - and by my parents -remains with me today.

 

Dennis J Duggan

April 16th 2014

 

 

Fw: Old Wyves Tales 81 January 2014

 

OLD WYVES' TALES 81

FOR WYVERNIANS 1919-76

EDITED BY DENNIS J DUGGAN, ROCK COTTAGE, BROOK STREET,

WELSHPOOL, MONTGOMERYSHIRE. SY21 7NA

TEL 01938 555574   07971 282356   www.wyvernians.org.uk

JANUARY 2014

 

FROM J ROBERT CLIFFORD  1950-57   (Continuing Robert's school memoirs - Ed)   Physics and Mr Philips.  Like many of his colleagues, Mr Philips taught his subject far beyond the minimum requirements.  His lessons on optics, X-rays, spectometry and diffractometry - amongst many others - turned out to be invaluable in resolving technical problems with equipment at a number of American universities.  There, professors of departments assumed, incorrectly, that I was fully qualified in their specialities.

Mr Franey, Macbeth and The Play.  I remember similiar experiences described by others concerning the line-by-line nitpicking of English classics.  However, one hot lunchtime the sixth were anticipating another mind-numbing session of Macbeth, under the direction of Mr Franey.  Amidst the groans someone said, Whoever gets the roles let's ham it up in the Richard Burton/Lawrence Olivier style.  Those who don't have a part can do the noises off.  And so it was decided.  Mr Franey allocated the parts, named the scene and told us to begin.  We launched the play as planned, and a few moments later noticed Mr Franey look up to see who was taking the mickey.  But the class had Macbeth by the horns, and in that and subsequent lessons there was no further analysis and we, as a class, gained a great deal more from EngLit.

During my time at CBS the Little Theatre was hired, along with costumes from Stratford, for a few nights each year for the school play.  It seemed an ambitious project, but the execution bordered on the professional.  For some reason I vividly remember the production of Macbeth, but less so King Lear.  However the blinding of Gloucester stays in my mind; the throwing of two grapes to the floor and stamping on them, whilst very dramatic, provoked considerable discomfort in the audience.

But back to Macbeth.  Having a very poor memory for lines I was recruited to man the spotlight at one side of the balcony.  On the first night, as Macbeth was delivering the line If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly (referring to the murder of Duncan) a burst of laughter from Bob Roberts in the audience caused a disruption.  Mr Franey was furious, and asked him later what was so funny.  Bob explained that as the line was delivered extras were seen carrying mockups of haunches of meat in preparation for a banquet at the back of the stage, and he had associated the words with beef.  The next night the sequence was changed.  Later the lad playing MacDuff blanked his next line, and the prompt gave it to him as What?  All my chitty dickens in one swell foop  which was delivered as prompted - no one seemed to notice.  The following day I was approached by a third former who said, My mum was at the play last night, she thought it was a bit off that you were reading a book through the whole performance.    In fact it was my copy of the play, with my hand-written directions for manipulating the spot!

Sport.  Jock Gilman and Hoppy Bufton.  I can confirm that Jock was a partner in his brother's second-hand car business, on Humberstone Gate near The Fountain pub.  As I waited for theNo 37 bus at lunchtimes I would see him manning the stock.

I don't suppose the records mention the strike, or mutiny, which took place at Grace Road during 1956/7.  It came to pass that on an extremely unpleasant day, when games would normally have been cancelled, that the sixth were loaded onto two corporation double-deckers and taken to the sports ground.  The heavy sleet was driven by a cruel wind, and the glum silence was broken by the comment This is madness.  At Grace Road Hoppy, in his ringing Welsh tones, said, Alright, boys, upstairs and changed as quick as you can, and we noted the sleet was worse than ever with a heavy mist descending.  We trooped up to the changing rooms and someone said, What have we done to deserve this.  We'll be lucky if we only die of pneumonia  (Hypothermia had not been invented at that time)  Contemplating sitting in the sleet on soaking benches , while the captains made their choice of teams, someone said, I'm not getting changed.  The hell with it, and there was immediate unanimous agreement.  We sat there, and when the Welsh voice said, come on, boys, and did not receive a response Mr Bufton came upstairs to find a strike, but from the other side of the fence to those he had seen in his formative years in the Welsh coalfields.  Right, everyone back on the buses, followed by his most bloodcurdling retribution, We'll go back and do mathematics.  We remained impassive at this good news, and returned to school.  Next morning Mr Bell asked the sixth to stay behind after assembly, and referring to an incident yesterday went on to tell us how fortunate we were to have the sports facility etc etc.  His words failed to impress, and we recalled how the staff had kept on their duffel coats, scarves, gloves and hats.  Our guarded e_xpressions did not entirely conceal our contempt, his voice tailed off and we were dismissed.

RE and Mr Holman.  I seem to remember he was referred to as the Rev Holman, but he was one member of staff who did not prosper in teaching the fifth year.  In his teaching of Comparative Religion we had been outraged at his denigration and superficial treatment of the subject.  We were so incensed that, in our own time, we undertook to investigate more thoroughly.  One of our number was already very interested in Egyptology and hieroglyphics, others looked into Buddhism, Islam, Taoism etc.  So when Mr Holman said he wanted us to write an essay on Why I Am A Christian this arrogant assumption and intrusion into our private beliefs caused an explosion of anger of which he was totally unaware until he read the essays.  Mr Holman was shaken to the core, for regardless of our own beliefs we had all agreed to write as though we were anything but.  He was visibly shaken at the next RE lesson, and told us he was appalled and would only return our excercise books after he had received individual apologies.  We never saw the books again.

 

FROM ANDREW TEAR 1960-67   I was at City Boys from 1960 to 1967 and went from 1B to 3 Alpha and then 4 Alpha and then 5S (Science) I had gone to a primary/junior school in the county called Revenhurst Road, as my parents lived just outside the city boundary. But we moved in September/October 1960 to inside the city boundary.

So I had passed the 11plus at junior school, and I guess my mother put me down for a city grammar school. It was to be City Boys and Form 1B, and on top of that I was in De Montfort House which I was quickly told was the worst of the four (This might, or might not, have been correct?)  I was terribly unhappy, as I knew no one and seemed to be at the bottom of the pile. However there were exams at the end of the first year (and by the way I had been coming near the top of 1B) my memory is that the same exam was sat by all 3 forms. I assumed the top 30 went to 3 Alpha, the next 30 went to 2A and the the last 30 to 2B. so yes we did  'O' levels in 4 years instead of 5 years. I heard it was scrapped a few years later,  Educationalists thought that the lack of vocabulary and general immaturity of 15-year-old boys did not substantially improve their 'O' level results. I never found out if this was true or not.  It did mean that  we were, by the 5th year, a mixture of 15 and 16 year olds.

On into the 6th form, and it meant that those with aspirations for Oxbridge (entrance exams held in December) were able to get their 'A' levels BEFORE they did those entrance exams. It probably helped indicate who had a realistic chance by what 'A' levels they achieved. and it meant there was a focus from September to December just on those Oxbridge entrance exams. I didn't focus enough, or was not good enough, as I didn't even get called for interview!!

But the question asked of what happened in the 3rd year 6th as it was called, was partly that, Oxbridge entrance. I did some innovative organic chemistry with molecular models with Doc Burrows that I found useful for my future biochemistry course at London. And I played a lot of tennis and other sports that did not help any Wimbledon career at all. Some boys in the 3rd year 6th thought it pointless and got a job, which Clanger Bell frowned on. In fact I was offered a job at Bostik in Leicester, and when I told Mr Bell I wanted to leave he put pressure on me to stay and phoned my parents!!  I stayed, a bit poorer, and did all that sport and chemistry. Head Boy Paul Warburton, a surprise choice at the time (beginning in September  66) defied the Head and went ahead either at Easter, or was it Christmas, and took employment. It felt like a minor scandal,  as the Head had to appoint a new Head Boy (I forget who!).

My own sons went through high school and on to university without any express stream, and I did not think it affected them either positively or negatively. My memory is that for me it was a bit of a privileged time, I learned a bit of independence that in the 60s was probably a good thing (my two sons had a similar level of independence, it could be argued, at age 10!!! - maybe not.) I didn't feel I was immature to do my 'O' levels at 15 - you just did what others were doing and it felt normal.  Interestingly, nowadays nearly 50% of young people go to university, whereas in the mid/late 60s it was under 10% - someone said even under 5%.

 

OBITUARIES   (The following was received from Dr Arnold Burrows - Ed)    Yesterday (November 30th) I received the December edition of the RSC News and , as always , turned first to the Obituary page.   There I found  the announcement of the death of Dr Neil Anthony Bailey  MRSC , retired Senior Lecturer (Chemistry) at the University of Sheffield      

 I  remember Neil very well for two reasons; firstly because he was the  first lower Sixth Former at CBS to whom I taught Chemistry  (1957) – and he was top of the class!  Secondly he was the Captain of Swimming.   I recall very clearly being told off by EJWB because I had not influenced him to try for Cambridge or Oxford  (both EJWB and I had London degrees!) and he went to University College London for his degree; I believe he did well there, but  I then lost touch with him until this Obit.  I am surprised that he did not stay in the University of London; I am sure it would have been to his benefit.   No dates were mentioned, but from the above I deduce that at the time of his death he was 73-74 years of age; it makes me feel older than ever!

(The following was received from Brian Screaton - Ed)  I recently attended the funeral of old Wyvernian Michael Hutchings (1943-48), who died on the 11th October. He was 81. Mike was always an enthusiastic supporter of the reunions, and this was mentioned by his brother Roy Hutchings in his tribute to Mike at the service. Roy is also an old Wyvernian (1949-56) and he recounted that both he and Mike had Basher Brewin as their maths teacher in their first years – Basher was still setting the same homework in 1949 as he had in 1943, so Roy resourcefully found his brother's old maths books and simply copied out the answers. By this ruse he came top in maths, but his true abilities were unfortunately revealed in the second year when Nobby Clarke took over maths duties, and Roy was relegated to a much lower place in the rankings! One of the hymns was one of the school assembly favourites, To be a Pilgrim which was particularly appropriate. If any one would like to make a donation in memory of Mike, the chosen charity is Crossroads Care (East Midlands), 19 Pelham Road, Sherwood, Nottingham, NG15 1AP. A donation has been sent from Wyvernian funds.

(The following was also sent in by Brian Screaton - Ed)  My brother noticed an obituary in The Guardian for an ex-City Boy called Tony King.  He was 72, and at some point moved to Norwich and then Ipswich.  According to the index cards he was Reginald Tony King, and attended the school 1952-58 .  The address given is Glendower Close, off Averil Road.    His brother, Dave, was at CBS 1958-65 and was, I think, in the band formed by Brian Stevenson.

Also, Graham Wilford, 1932-37, passed away November 27th 2013

 

FROM TONY 'FRED' INGHAM  1953-58   I have read OWT for years and contributed a couple of times, but the gang of young people I ran around with in my youth never seemed to contribute. I often wondered if they had ever been aware of it, because being one of those who moved from Leicester at the age of 19, and never lived there again, my attention was only drawn to it by an Old Wyggestonian of all people! I thought that perhaps a lot of them were like me and just lost touch. I did travel to Leicester to attend two reunions and once met a couple of classmates from the fifth year, and we actually had our photographs taken and compared, in print, to a class photograph from that old photograph year and they were put onto the School DVD.  People I spent years with, playing very poor-quality guitars (I made my own, and what a thing that turned out to be) and zooming from the Melton Road side of the City in fleets (flocks? What is the collective noun for a large crowd of teenage boys on fixed-wheel racing bikes travelling to a city-centre school, at speed, and back every day?) . Well reading OWT80 caught my attention because there was Chub Chambers who, although I do not remember him as a regular member of that cycling crowd, was certainly a friend for years whilst at City Boys' and who I thought was lost for ever in obscurity.

I last saw Dave when I was in my twenties and my family and I popped in to see him and his family in Nottingham, when we were living in Worcestershire, so we must still have been in touch then. He was always a zealous Elvis fan (sorry Dave, no secret is safe) and I remember his brother Gwynne too as we all shared a common occupation at that time. I was in touch with Roger Marston in Hastings for years, and last saw him when I spent an intoxicated day with him there on the day of Prince Charles's first marriage, and Ken Kelham and I still exchange news by e-mail, he has been in Canada since his twenties. He met Bruce Wood once when visiting Leicester, and Paul Putnam lived in the East Goscote area and I did bump into him several times years ago. The group of boys that Dave and I were part of were largely good, decent people and thinking back most of them must have been slightly shocked at some of the things a couple of us  (not including Dave) got up to. The fact that we were not totally ostracised is pleasing in retrospect, and they must have been better friends than we deserved at that time. My life was back to front because I stupidly did things in the wrong order –  family very young, struggled for years in a poorly paid profession, then rapid promotion in middle life alongside years of catching up on education to MA standard and then old age and increasing infirmity (and moderate affluence thank goodness). Being away from Leicester since the age of 19, and moving around a great deal through my occupation, I couldn't put my son through any City Boys link but at least everywhere I went in those days he was able to transfer to a good grammar school and then went to university in Birmingham in his mid-twenties, thus bettering my back-to-front system of university late in life. AND the icing on the cake is that his eldest son is doing a four-year Physics Masters at Hertford College, Oxford right now, straight from school.

I have always bored the family stiff with how good my education was, and how much I neglected my chance badly and only appreciated it in later life. It is true and I wish I could do it again with a large slice of hindsight guiding me. Nevertheless these glimpses back give pleasure so thanks to Dave Chambers for tipping me out of my bath-chair for five minutes.

 

FROM J RICHARD THOMPSON  1949-56   I was puzzled by one statement in Robert Clifford's reminiscences.  Robert said that Spiv Beaumont was form master to 1 Alpha in the year 1950 to 51. However I was in 3 Alpha in that year, and Spiv was our form master then.  I well remember Mr. Bell's claim that the sky is blue because it reflects the blue sea below.  I think he made it in the RE class he took in the hall with second and third year sixth together. I think I was in the third year sixth, and Robert in the second year at that time. Several of us tried hard to explain blue skies but, as was often the case, Mr. Bell was impervious to reason.  Incidentally, I've  just remembered that OFT Roberts once referred to Bell as The Abominable Showman, alluding to Bell's love of publicity.

FROM TREVOR DIXEY  1956-61   Thank you for the latest addition of OWT80 in which you again request more material. I feel a little guilty having not contributed in recent memory, so I offer the following in an attempt to redress a little of the balance.  Robert Clifford's recollections of our headmaster rang a Bell with me, as his memories closely mirror my own. I too hated sport (as I believe did our editor) and dreaded Fridays (I think) when games afternoon came round. I probably expended more energy in devising ways of avoiding it than I would have done had I participated. This wasn't an issue with EJW – he probably wasn't aware of my existence – until at the age of thirteen I wished to earn a few shillings doing a paper round. At that time written permission was required from your headmaster, as well as approval from your parents. EJW gave the impression (at least to me) of an impersonal ogre, and I approached his study to request said permission with a deal of trepidation. If you weren't one of his jolly good chaps in one of the 11's you knew you were in for a rough ride.  What do you do boy, football?  No sir. Cricket?  No sir. What do you do then? Are you a cabbage?

Two weeks earlier, having retrieved a dilapidated violin from my grandfather's attic, I was under some pressure from my mother to enlist in the school orchestra. It proved a godsend.  I'm in the orchestra sir, I said brightly. He signed the form immediately.  Mission accomplished; the downside was a spell as a violinist of dubious talent under the watchful eye of the maestro, one Mr H. H. Sykes, but that is another story. 

Back to games avoidance. Although I found cricket mind-numbingly boring (and still do) summer cricket wasn't too bad for skiving opportunities. We were taken to Grace Road by bus. There were enough of us for two matches to be played, with teams chosen by lads keen to be captains, with a handful left over which almost always included me. We were sometimes allowed to simply spectate, which was fine by me, but on other occasions we were told to jog around the field perimeter which wasn't so clever. On the odd occasion I had to get involved with one of the matches, it wasn't too difficult to engineer a position of double long stop which brought me close to one of the site screens. It was quite easy to slip behind this to light up an occasional woodbine. I cannot recall ever having to retrieve a cricket ball. When it was our innings I was always close to the end of the batting order, and time ran out before I ever had chance to wield a bat.

At least it was usually warm. My recollection of school football is shivering on a foggy, frost-hardened pitch at Rushey Mead, in kit with boots two sizes too big, trying to keep as much distance between myself and the ball as I was able. It didn't help that the teacher refereeing (I think it might have been Isaac Newton) was muffled up in overcoat, scarf, gloves and hat. This cemented my hatred of football ,and I've despised it ever since.

From the fifth form onwards, we were allowed to cycle to Rushey Fields instead of using the bus. (In the sixth form I used a motorcycle I had purchased from Bunny Hutchinson). This meant I could go straight home from there without the need to return to school. We also had a choice of football or cross-country running (mercifully, rugby was never part of the curriculum) No contest! Since the latter was largely unsupervised, all manner of skives were available.  Not that I was a runner. I could manage a 100 yard sprint, but any more than a few minutes prolonged jogging and I was doubled up with an abdominal pain we used to call stitch. We were allocated both long and short cross-country courses, which both started from Rushey Fields and went along Melton Road. I believe the long course went through Thurmaston, but I never did it. A few of us soon found a shorter-than-short course. It entailed turning right immediately past the Thorn Lighting factory (recently demolished), over a stile and across the corporation landfill site (now a housing estate) dodging bulldozers and flocks of squawking gulls to reach the railway bank bordering Barkby Lane.  By the railway bridge we would have a smoke and wait until a few of the keen runners appeared down Barkby Lane, when we would join them to jog the few hundred yards back to the sports field. Why on earth we smoked Woodbines and pretended to enjoy them I don't know. They were vile. I suppose we imagined it made us look grown up and sophisticated.

Other dodges included pedalling like mad to arrive well before the bus, donning kit, feigning a sweat and swearing that we'd already done the short course and could we go home sir? If Jock Gilman was in charge, he always said yes.  I remember hitching a lift (with a few others) on the back of a pickup truck on one occasion, and on another freezing cold day I completed the short course fully clothed including gloves and bearskin motorcycle coat which weighed about 3 kilos.

Very difficult to avoid was the annual cross-country run, when the whole school had to take part. The route had checkpoints manned by sadistic teachers, so short cuts were out of the question. Not even a freshly-forged note from your mum would get you out of this one, leave alone the dog-eared copy you'd had in your pocket all year. The one exception was the boy chosen to wield a camera to record the event for the school film. He shall remain nameless, but there was a fair amount of resentment that he got away with it.  It was resentment at this compulsory torture which culminated one year in a few like-minded individuals deciding to walk the entire course at an exaggerated leisurely pace, despite some encouragement from checkpoint marshals wielding knotted ropes behind us. It was almost 6pm before we got back to the sports field, only to find everyone had gone except the deputy head Mr Nosebag Remington, who had been compelled to stay to supervise our return. Suffice it to say that he wasn't best pleased!

 

FROM JIM JOYCE  1951-59    I remember clearly in the early day in 5S a teacher I didn't know coming  into WAG Pace's classroom and asking us all whether anyone was taking more that 8 GCE's.  Being by then generally disruptive I put up my hand, and amazed myself by announcing that I was taking history and art.  This was duly noted, and my name was put forward for these two extra subjects.  No one seemed to question my decision.  Of course, I had no lesson space available to study these two subjects.  Art was no problem, as I could creep into any art lesson and do my painting at the back.  I had an easel constantly set up, so I would creep in for the odd half hour.  I was given the text book for history and studied it by making copious notes on the floor of my mother's front room (the one that you were never allowed to use)  I had zero contact with the history teacher.  Came the time for the mocks, and suddenly the teacher remembered that I was doing the GCE.  I was called to the staff room door and informed that I would have to do the mock like everyone else.  OK I said, and proceeded to sit the mock.  You came top, a perplexed history teacher said.  I never saw him again, and sat and passed both.  So, I had minimal help in art, and no help in history, and still passed them both!  Incidentally I understand that I was the first student at the school ever to pass 10 subjects at GCE.

 

AND FINALLY...   Trevor Dixey's item about the horrors of sport (see above) certainly rang a bell with me.  Over the course of 80 OWT's I have oftem mentioned my aversion to sport, and the incredible lengths that Peter McDermott and myself would go to avoid as much PT, swimming, football and cricket as possible.  In fact it would have been less bother, not to say less risky, to have taken part in sports and simply accepted we were useless.  I quite liked cross-country, cricket was just about bearable.  As Trevor points out, if you were one of the last batsmen the session was invariably over before it was your turn, and I think I only had to bat once.  When fielding it was a simple matter to place oneself in such a distant position that contact with the ball was extremely unlikely.  Football was a nightmare, during one match I was briefly knocked unconscious when the heavy, wet leather ball (accidentally) connected with my head.  Nowadays the paramedics would be called, an inquiry held - and perhaps a compo claim from my parents would be considered - but after a quick once-over by the ref (Mr Sweet, I think) we just carried on!  Worst of all for me was swimming at Vestry Street.  I could not swim, and still can't, as for some reason I do not float and just sink to the bottom.  I spent my time clinging to the rail, praying for Jock's whistle to signal the end of the purgatory.  Probably my crowning glory was to forge a permanently excused note for awimming, citing asthma, which allowed me to sit on the balcony with my fellow skivers.

Boys fell into one of three categories:  those who loved sport, those who were indifferent, and those who hated it.  Personally I have never been a team player, which is why the only sport I liked was cross-country.  As regards PT, Pirates was OK because it was easy to be quickly touched by the chaser and be out, and with a bit of luck the game would go on for ages.  As I have said many times, surely there was no way that Jock Gilman was taken in by those pathetic forged notes?  Can one of our teacher readers comment?

 

Dennis J Duggan

January 12th 2014

 

Fw: OWT80 October 2013

OLD WYVES' TALES 80

FOR WYVERNIANS 1919-76

EDITED BY DENNIS J DUGGAN, ROCK COTTAGE, BROOK STREET,

WELSHPOOL, MONTGOMERYSHIRE. SY21 7NA

TEL 01938 555574   07971 282356   www.wyvernians.org.uk

OCTOBER  2013

 

EDITORIAL   If relevant, please note my new mobile number is 07971 282356.

 

2014 REUNION   Date for next year's reunion is Saturday March 15th, at Clarence House.  Invitations will be sent in January, we envisage it will be business as usual.  If it ain't broke, why fix it?'

 

OLD WYVES' TALES   Material for future OWT's is, as you see from this truncated issue, desperately short, but after 80 issues and over 1,000 items that is probably not surprising.  However many of you have never s_ubmitted anything, so why not get those memory cells working?  So long as its not libellous, hurtful or nasty, you are guaranteed to see your name in print!

 

FROM J ROBERT CLIFFORD  1950-57   (The first installment of Robert's CBS memories - Ed)  E J W Bell.  The headmaster and I had a mutual antipathy best illustrated be the last exchange we had in 1957.  Those leaving school were expected to attend him individually in his study to receive his best wishes for the future.  As I had not the slightest interest in sport of any sort he coldly told me he could not give me a reference for whatever purpose - 'as I had not been in any of the 11's'.  This did not disturb me one bit, for I knew a number of citizens whose words would carry more weight.  He then launched into a personal attack which I shall not detail, but he ended by asking where and what course I intended to study.  When I replied London, and Chemical Engineering, he said I was a fool and should stay on for an (unprecedented) fourth year in the sixth and try for Oxbridge.  'Good Lord, Clifford.  Engineering!  You'll get your hands dirty.'  My response that at the end of the day it washed off seemied to infuriate him further, probably due to the implied comparison with the law which he had studied.

His last words were, 'You don't realise, Clifford, that schooldays are the happiest days of your life!'  It was an unfortunate choice of words, for he was not to know that I had positively hated every day I had spent at both primary school and CBS.  I had done the werk and applied myself, but my heartfelt reply that day was, 'If that is true, hesadmaster, I shall be dead by my own hand before I am 21.'  That I am still around 56 years later is a fair indication that things looked up after that.

Mr Bell did not feature on the list of people I valued highly, particularly in comparison to his predecessor, Mr Pedley.  The sixth had General Studies with him (Mr Bell) and this only seemed to reinforce our views.  He told us of his wartime experience with Army Intelligence, when he was made Intelligence Officer for Derbyshire, given a bicycle and maps and instructed to survey the county recording all natural water sources 'in case Jerry dropped something nasty in the Ladybower Dam and wiped out Birmingham.'  He recalled leaning his bike by the dam on a hot summer's day to be questioned by the dam keeper, and on revealing his mission (wartime security) the man reeled with disbelief and laughter, finally asking if he had any idea how many trainloads of something nasty would be required to give the people of Birmingham a runny nose.

He had also been sent on a survival course with others, in case they ever found themselves behind enemy lines.  'We had to eat grass, to see if we could live on that,' he said, but it was insufficient to sustain them and they realised that cows and sheep ate the stuff all day.  Perhaps Mr Willan could have helped by explaining the five stomachs in herbivores.

Mr Bell completed his own reputatational demolition one day when he stated, 'Italy is a long, thin country, and the sea makes the sky blue.'  I failed my 'O' level General Studies exam that year.  I should record the disastrously stupid advice he gave us, though to be fair I discovered that heads of other schools had given the same to their sixth formers.  Recommending the joys of university life he said, 'You have a wonderful time.  In the first year you just enjoy yourselves.  You don't have to work, or even turn up for lectures.'  Of the thirty students starting the first year at college, after the first year's exams we saw and heard nothing of eighteen.  They were the ones who repeated the mantra they heard - that time spent attending lectures reduced the time available to spend at the bar.  Once thrown off one course in those days, local authorities were unlikely to offer another grant for a course.

As a number of Old Boys have observed, the first year at CBS was somewhat traumatic.  It was not so much the perceived physical threat posed by the masters - to a certain extent we had that at junior school- but combined with the nature of the building, even its colour scheme, it had a disheartening, oppressive, impact for some.  However at the time I could not know that which I came to appreciate, the superb education gained despite the total lack of pleasure in its acquisition.  I joined 1A in 1950, with Flash Gordon as form master.  Our 'form room' was the third-floor library.  During maths with Nobby Clarke he became enraged at the antics of one class member, and I clearly remember him holding the miscreant out of the window by his jacket collar suspended three floors up.  He aubsequently commanded a silence which was deathly!  We had Bull Smith for chemistry.  He was extremely intimidating, his nickname coming from the fleshy connection between chin and throat.  His roared command, Come here, small boy, and stand on that nail, accompanied by the swish of a length of red rubber tubing, ensured a rivetted attention.

After a month or two, and some tests, I was transferred to 1 Alpha without a by-your-leave.  This was a nightmares, as the two forms did not pursue a common curriculum.  Luckily Tony Baxter befriended me, and lent me his exercise books each night so I could copy them out.  I had to try and catch up, as well as coping with the new daily input and homework.  Paul Bond and Roger Peberdy were also companions.  The form teacher was Spiv Beaumont, so-called because of his long swept-back hair, corduroy clothes and suede crepe-soled shoes.  He was an inspirational history teacher, and once became carried away with his description of an early battle.  His launching of the window pole as a spear served to burn the lesson into our collective memories.

I am amazed at how much of the education proved relevant and invaluable to me, opening opportunities which would otherwise have been closed.  This was particularly true of some subjects I judged would not be useful in my intended career.  Physics, chemistry and maths were fundamental, but the role of biology, English Lit, German plus fragments of geography often proved pivotal in both my business and private life.  But that is another saga.

Biology, and Phlo (sic) Willan.  I shared the despair of other correspondents over Mr Willan until the five-year ownership of a small hill farm in the Peak District National Park brought the information back into focus.  It was the foundation of a highly beneficial co-operation with our vet.  It's perhaps time to give the background to his nickname.  At short notice he substituted for Mr Philips, who had suddenly been called away.  The topic he chose was the Phlogisten Theory, which was proposed in the 17th century and totally discredited in the 18th.  The words dephlogisticated air seemed to fesature regularly, and in our bewilderment we awarded Mr Willan his nickname.

Johnny Jeeves and Tweetipie Sweet.  I have very great respect for Mr Sweet, albeit based on a short contact.  To qualify for university, regardless of arts or science courses, we needed an 'O' level in one modern language.  We'd had four years of French, and in 4 Alpha and 5S Johnny had taken the mock 'O' level classes.  I don't think anyone reached 40% and most (me included) managed only a single figure.  We understood that this result was such a shock for Johnny that he was obliged to take an extended leave of absence  in France to recouperate.  For the next French lesson the tall, distinguished-looking gowned figure of Mr Sweet entered the room and, looking anxiously at the class, uttered the unforgettable words, 'Well, gentlemen, I think we have a lot of work to do.'  If I remember correctly, we all passed the 'O 'level exam later that year, though some just scraped through  (To be continued - Ed)

 

FROM GEOFF MANCHESTER  1961-66   A recent OWT set me thinking about how I was selected for each class.  My route through school was 1B, 2A, 3A, 4A, 5L and briefly 6A1.  Why did I start in 1B, rather than 1 Alpha or 1A?  Was it my 11+ efforts?  I recall that a league table was published in the end-of-term reports, and my position at the end of terms 1 and 2, in 1B, was close to the bottom of approximately thirty boys.  But at the end-of year exam I somehow managed fo finish in 18th place, and began my second year in 2A.  Was this because of the exam result?  Did the top ten go to 3 Alpha, 11-20 to 2A and 20-30 to 2B?  Whilst in 4A we were asked, without any warning, if we wished to pursue the arts or sciences route into the fifth form.  I can't think of any reason why I chose arts, as I did not have a career in mind.  Perhaps I just followed my chums.  I wonder if anyone can explain the selection process  (Perhaps one of our former teachers could answer Geoff's questions - Ed) 

In the And Finally section of OWT78 there was mention of cars driven by staff.  The only ones I recall are the headmaster reversing his black Rover (One of the P4 range, for the benefit of car buffs - Ed) into Clarence Street, and I have a mental picture of Mr Miller, the art master, using a hearse to travel to Downing Drive.He was on duty in the hall at Downing Drive where I sat my 'O' level art exam.  My vague recollection is that we had to make some sort of artistic creation around a given phrase.  The only detail I remember is the word yarn.  At the end of the session Mr Miller walked along the line of efforts, which had been propped against the stage.  He stopped at many of them, and made encouraging comments as we crowded round to listen.  He passed swiftly and silently past mine, and not surprisingly I failed 'O' level art!

 

FROM ALAN PYKETT 1959-66   I was interested to read the reference to the Alpha stream in the previous OWT. Not being of such ability to have experienced that stream I am not able to give any opinion to as to whether it had any benefits or not. However, related to that I have often pondered the following.  If boys in the Alpha stream took their 'O' levels after 4 years at the school and 'A' levels after 6 years, what did they do in forms 6A3 and 6S3 and what was their real purpose, though I realise they would have to have waited an extra year for university entrance. It would be good to hear from previous incumbents of those two sixth forms (or teachers) the answer or answers to this question.

 

FROM RON CUNNINGHAM  1943-48   It was pleasing to note the short attempt to introduce the game played in Heaven to CBS was recognised.  A couple of us had some experience of the game, but most of us were soccer born and bred - our knowledge of rugby came from watching one or two Tigers games.  After 60-plus years the abiding memory is of us being pushed back continually, until our fullback got his hands on the ball and obtaining some relief for us with his prestigious long kicks.  The result was meritoriously close, though inevitable.  It did encourage me to play for a couple of years or so with Aylestone St James (The Jimmies) after leaving CBS.  Thanks to all concerned with the production of the CBS history book, it is a remarkable and treaured memory chest.

 

OBITUARY   Michael Hutchings, 1943-48.  Passed away October 2013.  Mike was a staunch supporter of our reunions, and took a keen interest in OWT.

 

FROM DAVID CHAMBERS  1953-59   I am the David Chambers of Bradgate House, mentioned by Ivor Holyoak in issue 74.  My nickname was Chub and I did have 2 broken front teeth, though my recollection was that they were broken when they came into contact with the school playground. . I do remember Ivor and also Peter Bates who he mentions. Dave Ellicock was also a friend even after leaving school,  he joined City Boys from Northfield House School with me. How does Ivor remember all these details when I have trouble remembering what happened yesterday?

I attach the only 2 school  photos I can find. The first is of me in about 3 alpha posing in the library and the second is of 5Sc in about 1958  (Not attached to this OWT - Ed)  I am in centre front row with Ken Kelham, who is mentioned in an issue as a cyclist and trainspotter, on my left.  Others whose names I recall in the photo are John English, Roger Marston, Bruce Wood, John Binley, John Wardle, Peter Bates and Peter Woods. Not too bad for 55 years ago.  I did have some old school reports but cannot lay my hands on them, I don't think I was particularly proud of them so they may have gone.

I recall the usual gang of teachers mentioned in issues around my time, and in particular Mr Brushe, who taught languages but also managed the swimming team of which I was a member until training interfered with my paper rounds.. Chas Howard I remember as a bit of an anarchist who did not attend assembly, and to this day recall him telling our class of 12 or 13 year olds, tongue in cheek I hope, to aim to achieve the distinction of dieing owing a million pounds!!    I am part of a family with City Boys connections. My father-in-law Bill Johnson was a pupil in the 1930's, my brother Gwynne Chambers was a pupil from 1955 to 1960 and my brother-in-law Christopher Johnson was a pupil from about 1962 to 1967. I recall him showing me Sports Day programmes from the mid 1960s which showed me  as the school javelin record holder. I shall introduce Gwynne and Chris to Wyvernians, I am sure thery will be interested.  Gwynne and myself  both appear in the school panoramic picture in the CBS book. My parents did have a copy of this picture in its cardboard tube, but it seems to have disappeared.

 

FROM JAIME GILL  (NOT A WYVERNIAN)   My Father, Regnald Frank Gill, was a Wyvernian, and having been born in 1921 was  an exact contemporary of Prof John Harrison.  He won 1st prize in the Junior Dive Competition in 1936:  I know this to be so as I still have the inscribed bronze medal he was awarded.  There is no misprint in his name, the Registrar of Births missed the 'i' out and apparently it had to stand.   He became an electrical engineer and joined the RAF in 1941  (His RAF records have been corrected to reflect the Registrar's error)   He served as a RADAR Engineer for 35 years. Retiring in the rank of Squadron Leader  he died at the early age of 61 in 1982.

I also have an uninscribed City Boys'  (I was at Ashby and the s'  was also ingrained into us!!)   School silver medal from the same era.  It was for many years displayed in the top of a cigarette box in my grandparent's home at Grange Road, Wigston.  I have no recollection of the reason it was awarded.   The box eventually disintegrated as a result of overuse -  Dad died of lung cancer, but my eldest son carries the name forward.  When I look at your website I see that you have a panoramic school photograph.  Dad told me two stories about such a picture.  One was about the lad who ran round the back and beat the camera to appear at both ends..............the other was about the boy with the big nose who sneezed as the camera went past him and finished up with two noses!!

 

AND FINALLY...   Like many regular contributors to OWT I am running out of things to say.  So it is possible that the following amusing and true anecdote has already appeared, but it might be new to some readers.  WAG Pace was taking my class for a geography lesson, I think it was towards the end of my CBS career.  He had fixed a map of the world to the blackboard, and in view of what happened next he clearly suspected I had not been giving the matter my full attention.  The topic was the West Indies, and to my dismay WAG invited me to approach the map and point to the location of said islands.  The truth was I did not know, but had no option but to do as I was told.  I had a choice.  Admit I did not know, or make a guess.  Of course I had a good idea where the West Indies were NOT situated, but that still left a lot of scope for error.  Or I could simply admit that I did not know.  All that went through my mind as I walked to the front of the class, and a snap decison was made.  My finger made a random stab at a likely spot, at which point WAG  Pace apologetically told me to return to my desk.  My aim had been spot-on, and I was off the hook even though it was by good luck rather than good judgement.  A minor victory, but strangely satisfying, and incidentally I still remember where the West Indies are located.

 

Dennis J Duggan

October 13th 2013

 

 

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