25 minute read
Memories of Days Gone By
MEMORIES
I READ WITH GREAT INTEREST THE ARTICLE ON MICHAEL BISHOP IN THE KS NEWS (EDITION 16, JUNE 2020).
Bishop taught me Latin and Greek, and his enthusiastic and intelligent approach to language played a foundational role in my going on to have an academic career a theoretical linguist. (I did a Modern Language degree at Oxford, followed by a PhD in Comparative Philology and General Linguistics at Cornell in the States. I then taught Linguistics at Aberdeen for many years, before moving down to Oxford. I am now retired, but continue my academic research active. My most recent book is on teaching language to the deaf in the seventeenth century, a topic which I am sure Bishop would have appreciated and enjoyed.
Bishop might alternatively have paved the way to a career on the stage for me, following on my appearance as Cleopatra in his production of Bernard Shaw's "Caesar and Cleopatra", togged out in a slinky white dress with a slit up the side, and with rolled up rugger socks in the padded bra, fitted (if I remember right) by Mrs Sackett in person. In the following year, I played a walk-on part as a pike-holder in Pirandello's "Henry IV", which only had a single line, but required my lighting up a cigarette on stage, which won me greater fame from my class-mates than did my previous appearance as Cleopatra. However, the groves of academe beckoned more strongly.
Michael Bishop was a first-rate teacher, he was enormously and un-pompously talented, and above all he was just a very nice and kind man. I owe him a lot.
David Cram (KS 1956-62)
MEMORIES OF MICHAEL BISHOP
AMB was my Housemaster and although I didn’t appreciate it at the time he had an enormous influence on my intellectual development. I was truly fortunate in having been taught by Michael Bishop (Latin, at which I did not particularly excel), George Hubbuck (Ancient History) and Alec Dakin (also Ancient History), and was enthused to read Ancient History and Archaeology at university and subsequently pursue a career as an archaeologist. Michael was a truly humane man; erudite, witty, kindly, and with the patience of a saint which we sometimes tested to the limit. When I told him I was an archaeologist at the Middle House Centenary re-union in 1995 he beamed and said ‘what a splendid thing to be’.
At the back of my mind I can recall an oft-heard exchange with AMB:
AMB (in sonorous tone):
‘What is the purpose of language?’
Boy (who had mumbled: or been imprecise)
‘To communicate, sir’ AMB: ‘Then kindly communicate!'
Jonathan Parkhouse (KS 1963-72)
School House 1943-1944
MEMORIES FROM KEN SMITH (KS 1937-44)
I read with interest the obituary for David Sawyer in the last magazine (issue 16) as it reminded me that he was a few months younger than me, and started at Westwood a year before I did, and certainly had a varied career in later years. We met up at Uppingham a couple of times fairly recently, and exchanged Christmas Cards every year. I played trumpet in the school orchestra under Percy Hancock, but joined the Horn section for any work which required four horns (eg. Peter and the Wolf) and we also played in "unofficial" groups - organised by Mike Watson (who mentioned me in a Magazine article he wrote shortly before his death a couple of years ago). Most of this brass section attended the first Ernest Read Summer School for young musicians from all over the UK held at the Sherborne Girls School at the start of the summer holidays in 1943, which was an amazing experience. My working life was less varied than David's, and when my father died in 1976 I found he had kept all my school reports, which gave me a surprise when I read that Sackett had suggested, as a career, in my final report that of Quantity Surveyor - which was my job (after Army service) for the whole of my working life! I met my wife in the Army, and have frequently said to my children and grandchildren that if it hadn't been for Hitler none of them would be here!
The number of "Uppinghamites" must be getting fewer as the years go by, and looking through the obituaries always saddens me when the magazine drops through my letter box. I have contributed from time to time (including a piece in Michael Bishop's "Uppingham Remembered" publication). My father being in the same District as Michael's father when he was Chairman, living at Oxford, Michael and I spent some of the long summer holidays together and we both moved up through the school in School House, studying Classics under John Gardner. My memories are however different to some of Michael's as we moved in different circles outside the classroom. My two daughters (now both in their 70s) have always been amazed at my memory and have insisted that I write my own Life story, which I have done up to the time I retired from work in 1991. The following years up to the present day, although full of memories, would not be of any interest outside the family. So "watch this space" as they say! I have just become a Great Grandfather for the 8th time by the way.
HAPPY MEMORIES;
Remembrance Sunday is important for me as my father, Eugene Douglas Higginbotham, was a Flight Sergeant in the Volunteer RAF who trained Spitfire pilots for combat missions. He lost his life after an accident in 1945.
I was only a few months old at the time and as I was a semi orphan and my mother had to work as Deputy Head at Ledbury Grammar School, I was sent at 2 years old to an Orphanage near Gloucester (I remember it well!) thence on to Infant and Junior schools in Ledbury. As my mother had to look after my sister (4 years older than me and still going strong at 80!), I was then sent to Priors Court and then on to Kingswood, which I enjoyed every minute of!
I only found out recently, that the then Head at Ledbury Grammar School, Mr Brewin, was an ex KS boy and must have helped my mother with the fees (then about £300/year!) and often visited me at KS and gave me lots of Mars bars from the tuck shop!
Pocket money was 1 shilling and we had to put 6 pence in the Sunday Chapel collection!
John Higginbotham (KS 1954-63)
MEMORIES FROM DAVID BOTT (KS 1951-58)
Living as we did on top of a hill, water sports might not be seen as a recreation pastime. In fact sailing had an enthusiastic following in my final school years. Encouraged by FGR (Bob) Fisher we became members of the Island Cruising Club at Salcombe, Devon and crewed a yacht (Provident) to Guernsey in 1957 and thereafter took holidays on the Norfolk Broads in 1958.
KS had a longstanding sporting reputation in the West Country which was enhanced in 1955 when KS athletes were outstanding in the Somerset AAA Championships winning 14 medals including several County records. As a point of interest one medal winner was a Millfield girl, Mary Bignall, who as Mary Rand went on to win the Olympic Gold at Rome in 1959. With the splendid facilities on the Upper I am sure that the school continues to turn out “stars.”
Further to the last edition of Kingswood Association News, the School was contacted by John Talbot (KS 1955-60) to let us know a few facts we had forgotten to mention. He told us that;
The shotput record was initially set during my time at the May sports day of 1956 when David Waterhouse achieved 46 feet 0 inches (14.02 metres). He subsequently represented the school in several inter-public school competitions and possibly others I was not aware of. But I do know, later that summer, he increased the school record to a staggering 51 feet 8 inches (15.75 metres).
I did achieve many landmarks in the shotput when in 1959 I represented Kingswood at the All England Schools Athletics Championships at the White City stadium in London as well as becoming the Junior shotput champion of Somerset. In my final year of 1960, I improved significantly on those results, but was not quite able to emulate David on either Sports Day 1960 or in subsequent inter-school matches.
With regard to the discus, I refer to figures 1-4 , which show the sequence of events of me throwing the record winning throw on 21 May 1960 at 145 feet (44.20 metres). This took place on the sports day of 1960 on the then new cinder track with the new concrete circles for throwing on the Kingswood Upper.
Figure 5 is a team photograph of the school’s athletics team of which I was the captain seated in the middle of the front row of which it is interesting to note also Mr RA Clark seating second to my right and RG Curtley (team vice-captain) sitting second to my left.
With regard to all the above information, these throwing records were achieved using a 12Ib shot and a 1.5kg discus as being the correct weight for under 19 year old competition at that time.
SPORTING MEMORIES
(Fig. 1) KS Sports Day, 21 May 1960 (Fig. 2) 1.5kg discus, 145 feet School record by 7 feet
(Fig. 3) 1.5kg discus throw, approx 135 feet. Best throw was 145 feet, the School record (Fig. 4) School record discus throw. 1.5kg discus, 145 feet
MEAL TIMES
1950. Seventy years and two generations have passed since I entered Westwood, although I recall nothing of the dining arrangements.
The Second World War had ended a mere five years earlier, leaving the Country scarred and deeply in debt. Food would be rationed for a further four years. The Health and Safety Commission wasn’t formed until 1974, and the Food Standards Agency wasn’t created until 2001 with its Food Hygiene Award. This historical context is important for what follows.
The early bell rang at 7.20am and again at 7.30am I think, allowing 10 minutes for us to wash, dress, turn back our bed covers, and get down to breakfast. Mealtimes were something of a ritual. We sat on backless wooden benches at long scrubbed designated House and age tables. At lunchtimes, Housemasters dished up, at other meals prefects presided. It was at mealtimes that the roll-call was taken; the names of any absentees were passed to the Master on Duty at the High Table, together with any staff notices to be read out. At the end of each meal, he would stand at the edge of the platform facing the assembled masses. The hall would fall silent, and the prefects from the Duty House for the week, filed out and assembled under the doorway at the entrance. Following Grace and the notices, the Master on Duty bowed to the prefects, who returned his bow.
This routine could, however, be easily disrupted. By a stroke of good fortune, the school bell hung just outside by dorm window. On April Fool’s day one year, I muffled the clapper, so that no sound was heard at 07.20 or 07.30. Chaos ensued at breakfast.
On another occasion, having perfected the signature of my Housemaster, J.W. Gardiner,
I placed a notice, ‘signed’ by him on the High Table, for the Master on Duty to read out. “Any boy intending to visit the Sevena-Side tournament at Rosslyn Park during the Easter Holidays, should see Mr Gardiner immediately after breakfast.” There was a queue of curious boys stretching from his room on the first floor, down the stairs and along the school’s main corridor. It was some time before a master or prefect enquired into the situation, and dispersed the numbers. Mr Gardiner had left for London with the team, the night before.
I can’t say objectively whether the food was good or bad, children never can, but I do have some recollections which may provide an insight. We were quite resigned to the persistent lumps in the morning porridge, but a cockroach was not acceptable. One night, feeling more hungry than usual, I left the dorm and crept down to the kitchens in search of something to nibble. As I turned on the light, the floor literally moved; it was covered in scuttling cockroaches.
Meat was still on ration, but that didn’t apply to game or rabbits; or fish for that matter. Now I would have had no objection to eating rabbit, had it not been served up with whole skinned animals lying pink, naked
and swimming in brown glutinous onion gravy. The second course was an alternating daily offering of milk or suet pudding. Rice and semolina, I could stomach, but not tapioca – frog spawn. The stodgy suet pudding came in the form of long cylinders, cut into rings and smothered in custard, plain, chocolate or spotted with currants – babies’ legs.
During the summer term as local produce became available, salad appeared on the menu. However, the lettuce was not the tight Icebergs I love, but the loose-leafed variety, generously served with slugs, extra meat ration.
I always contrived to sit at the end of the table at the centre aisle. As such I was partly responsible for piling up the plates and dishes which were loaded onto the trolley pushed by one of the maids. I was always curious about the legend burned into the side of the wooden box for the used cutlery: Substandard, dried fruit salad.
KS Food Hygiene Rating 0. ‘Urgent improvement is required.’
Mealtime fare was supplemented by the buns at morning break and at 4.00pm before lessons, by tuck from home, from the tuck shop, and by visits to the upstairs café in Kingsmead Square.
The lasting effect sadly, is that for me, like Margaret Thatcher, “Eating is merely refuelling”. MEMORIES FROM PETER REVINGTON (KS 1966-71)
I was sorry to note the demise of Charlie Moss, with whom I shared a ‘Bath night’ while in the fifth form in Middle. The two baths were separated by a wooded partition, but shared a common light bulb… which one night broke when Charlie squirted it with water, leaving us in the dark with bits of glass…I remember that he sported a silk suit in the sixth form, which he had made in Hong Kong, and which was the sartorial envy of many!
I was also amused to read Marcus Sealy’s reminiscences. I remember his first days quite well… as one of the prefects in Westwood to whom he alludes… I am still in touch with two of the others… J Roger Jones, until recently Headmaster at Dean Close in Cheltenham and David Morgan (His Honour...Judge Dredd!) in S.Wales.
I think I was in company with them when apprehended one Christmas by Bob Clarke, in the 'Claremont Arms’, along with most of the sixth form, who had already seen the end of term film... 'The Charge of the Light Brigade’. The empty rows drew attention to our absence! We all got ‘gated’ the following term.
The place seems to have changed beyond all recognition, from an all boys boarding school of approximately 500 to the size and make up that it is now, but then so has the rest of the country.
I am sometimes asked where my son (who is a minor rock star) gets his talent. Since I can neither read music, nor sing a note, I invariably reply that he owes it all to me… since my role as ‘Cousin Hebe’ in the Beaconsfield production of HMS Pinafore in 1967, directed by Mrs Prins-Buttle, which even went on tour to Priors Court…
I ended up in the South West, after a spell in the Army and a decade in London, I started as a consultant at Frenchay Hospital in 1994, but moved to the BRI/ Children's hospital after it closed, where I continue as part of the regional cleft lip & palate team… I shall retire next year, when I shall be 67. I reverted to the reserves after the regular army, and was fortunate to have got to teach on a bunch of courses that we ran for others, which took me to countries like Sweden, South Africa and of course Germany. I did a tour in Afghanistan in 2007, during the conflict having got leave from the NHS; which was one of the most memorable experiences of my career, serving in the Role 3 multinational hospital in Kandahar… which was a bit like MASH, only colder, as I was there in February/March.
‘Pinafore’ in the old Pegasus Theatre L to R: Patterson, ? Martin Gough, Colin Frampton (Capt. Corcoran), Self (Hebe), Ian Royle (Sir Joseph Porter KCB), Ball (Dick Deadeye).
MY KINGSWOOD LIFE By Stephen Pillow
During 2019 my wife encouraged me to write about my time at KS for my children and grandchildren, which I did, and in the process unlocked many memories.
WESTWOOD In the first week of September 1960 the journey began. The first thing was ‘the trunk’. Everybody transported all their worldly goods to school in a cabin trunk as used for voyages across the sea. My name was meticulously painted on the lid with the initials SJP on one end to make it easily identifiable when the hundreds were all stood on end in the collection point between the senior and junior quads. Currently it still lives with us. The trunk was picked up by courier a few days before term and, taken by train it would be there on arrival. Immediately you needed a friend to help you lug the thing to the dormitory for unpacking.
Westwood was a separate junior house away from the potentially terrifying ‘big school’ the other side of the road. 3rd formers, as I was, were all new to boarding school but 4th formers were a mixture of last years 3rd form and those coming from Prior’s Court, the boarding prep school in Newbury – and very cocky and assured they were generally. Life was not a bed of roses initially. I was terribly homesick. Probably many others were as well but it was a painful loneliness. The only contact with home was one letter a week each way. There was no telephone or other means of communication. I don’t recall a lot of support from the Housemaster (the rather terrifying Phil Arnold) but there probably was and I sort of understand the idea of toughing it out – nowadays I guess I would have had a pastoral support team and counselling! There was no half term as such but we had two separate days known as ‘Whole Holidays’ when we could do essentially what we liked providing it was approved by the Housemaster. We had half days on Thursday and games on Wednesday and Saturday, lessons in the morning and sport in the afternoon.
We younger 3rd formers were housed in 6 bedded dormitories, four of us, plus an experienced 4th former as ‘dormitory leader’ and a prefect – mine was Dormitory A. Prefects for Westwood were selected, one from each of the five main school ‘houses’, almost certainly on their perceived ability to be caring of younger boys and we idolised them. Unsurprisingly there were a lot of us who shared a passion for football and, pre-TV and the internet. We relied on reports in the newspapers which appeared in the library every day. We were allowed to pencil round and initial any report we wished to cut out for our scrapbooks on a first come first served basis and there would be a mad rush for the library after breakfast. We could then cut them out after prep in the evening. My team in those days were Southampton in the 3rd Division South but there were still reports to cut out even for a team so lowly (and also nobody else supported them so I always got what I wanted!)
Moving on to the 4th form meant of course being joined with the next intake of Priors Court boys who were less intimidating being the same age and many of my longer term friends came from this group. I progressed to Dormitory C – about 20 of us –
where our prefect, Gordon Bridge was popular with a fairly relaxed approach to pillow fights (if you will excuse the pun) and who, weekly, read us a ghost story on a Sunday night after lights out. What was more scary was the fear of world obliteration just round the corner as the Russians and Americans came within blinking distance of nuclear war over Cuba. It seemed quite likely I would never see my family again.
Then on to the Lower Fifth and Main School – everyone’s a lot bigger – help!
HOUSES AND PREFECTS Hall House dormitories are above the dining hall. I was proudly in Hall House, forever labelling me (even my socks) as S.J.Pillow (H). Each house had two dormitories, Junior for the Lower and Upper Fifth and Senior for the Lower Sixth and Sixth form (when A Levels were taken).
The dormitories were pretty basic of course. Plain wood floors, no curtains, an iron bedstead with a foot bar excellently placed for practising head stands on the bed, sheets, a couple of blankets and a thin white bedspread. Behind and to the left of the head of the bed was the ‘locker’ about 5 foot by 3, with wash basin, hooks and a lift lid storage box for clothes, and within which you got dressed modestly. We wore uniform throughout the day, except for games. White shirts with separate collars and therefore collar studs – a skill I have not needed since. School tie and blazer with grey trousers (shorts in Westwood). Laundry was in house and on Saturdays and Wednesdays a bundle of clean clothes appeared on the bed – a shirt, 3 collars, 2 pairs of socks, undies and handkerchief - presumably also a mechanism for dirty ones but I don’t remember. Clean sheets and a towel weekly.
At the end of the junior dorm was the ‘PR’ or prefects’ room. Within was a separate bedroom for the senior prefect and a small lounge for the six prefects, complete with toaster, kettle, record player (and later on, in my tenure, my guitar). One would be duty prefect for the week and patrol the dormitories to keep order after lights out (about 8.30 in the junior and 9 in the senior dorm). Prefects wore a rather nice silver tie with black wyverns on it (the wyvern being a mythical bird and the school emblem) and I was so proud of mine in the fullness of time and kept it as a memento for years afterwards. Sanctions were in the charge of the prefects, only more serious offences warranting a visit to the Housemaster or, (in my case only once I think), the Headmaster. Thankfully there was no fagging or any sort of bullying culture. Usually the punishment was ‘sides’, meaning however many sides of ruled foolscap the sin demanded, usually 4 or 6. Commonly just copying out the dictionary, but sadistic prefects could be quite inventive and my most memorable was one side of Greek with individual letters alternately red, green and blue. It must have taken hours and I suspect I never repeated the offence which caused it. The other common sanction was to be woken early to go on an early morning run, usually to the Blathwayte Arms on top of Lansdown Hill and back – about 3 miles. A further mile away was ‘The Monument’ erected to commemorate the Battle of Lansdown in the Civil War. A nasty prefect would send you there to count the number of iron uprights that made the railings and report back – I can’t understand why nobody ever seemed to remember the number or sell the information on!
“The dormitories were pretty basic... plain wood floors, no curtains, an iron bedstead with a foot bar excellently placed for practising head stands on the bed... ˮ
Prefects were also in charge of prep and basically stood no nonsense so we were able to concentrate on work for 2 hours – covering three subjects usually. My most memorable prep was in November 1963 when it was interrupted dramatically by another prefect coming in to announce the assassination of President Kennedy. He had an heroic status having seen off the Russian threat and averted nuclear war and was a young charismatic president who seemed set to change the whole world for the better. We, along with the rest of the world, were stunned.
Prep was in our day rooms – as with dormitories there was a junior and senior one for each house and we each had a desk in which we kept all our books, stationery and personal effects. Whilst there was a door to access our junior day room it was much more fun, and a short cut, to enter via the upper sash window. This was at the same height as a sloping path outside and just meant straddling a four foot gap over a six foot drop, grabbing the sides of the frame and pulling yourself over. I can’t recall anyone coming to grief. This was the era of early Beatles and other fantastic groups churning out what have remained classics ever since. Someone had a record player and all our down time was to loud background music and we were brilliant air guitarists. FOOD The dining hall of Main School is impressive, wood panelled and lined with honours boards of those who went on to Oxford and Cambridge by scholarship. There were a lot! Needless to say my name is not up there. On a recent visit back, however, I noted that 1966 and 1967, which covered my contemporaries and our era of leaving, had the most of any other year before or since. There is a central aisle and tables off both sides the length of the hall each accommodating about 20 on benches (Harry Potter will give you an excellent visual image). We sat in houses with a prefect at the end who doled it all out. Hall House had the two tables furthest from the master’s elevated dais for sixth formers and a small upstairs balcony for its Sixth formers with a good view over everything.
A quaint and archaic tradition, probably dating back to the school’s foundation, was ‘The Bow’. Each house had a duty week and, at the end of each meal, the prefects of that house solemnly lined up at our end facing the headmaster. He bowed gracefully and the prefects bowed back, but each house had a different bow speed. Ours was long (sometimes mischievously very long!) down and long up, another house was quick down and up and others a mixture of slow down quick up or vice versa etc. I’d like to think this still goes on. THE WEATHER Two dramatic incidents relating to the weather occurred during my time at the school. In 1961 the River Avon overflowed after what must have been terrible storms. The flooding took out the centre of Bath with the streets under about eight feet of water and the main bridge washed away. The army were called in and had to build a ‘Bailey’ bridge (a temporary metal one) until it could be rebuilt. The Bath rugby ground is next to the river and at a lower level than the streets – the water came almost to the top of the posts. Fortunately the school is on a hill high above the city but I remember senior boys, and presumably staff, all going down to help with the clearing up.
Then in the winter of 1963 came the ‘Big Freeze’. The South West was particularly badly hit. The snow started on Boxing day and by the time term was due to start it was really thick We thought the start of term would be delayed but the trains were still running and we all made it but it was perishingly cold. The dormitory windows were made of small diamond panes held together by strips of lead and some of these were missing. The heating system either stopped working or just couldn’t cope and it was literally freezing. We put on as many layers of clothes as we could and just had to stick it out. The snow continued to fall and got to about four feet deep on the Upper (so no hockey, hooray!). However the strong winds created drifts about fifteen feet high up there which is taller than a double decker bus. The freeze lasted until the middle of March which was almost the end of term so the snow didn’t melt until then. It all seems quite hard to believe now.
Happy days!
