RECOLLECTIONS

RGS: AN EXCELLENT PREPARATION FOR LIFE

DAVID ADAMS (RGS 1947-1951)

After WWII, my parents returned to Surrey and I arrived at Reigate Grammar School in 1947. My Father’s employers had moved their London staff to Hampshire during hostilities, therefore, I began my secondary education at Andover Grammar School.

Andover used a different numbering scheme to RGS and nobody spotted the difference. Consequently, I was ‘promoted’ by a full year, entering the Fourth Form at RGS instead of the Third. I wondered why I was so far behind the rest of my class! I ended up in form 4C rather than in the ‘A’ stream that I had been in at Andover. This proved a blessing as the A stream majored on arts subjects, whereas the C stream did more science – that was fine by me!

Due to the mistake in placing me in the Fourth Form, I was still only 17 when I sat my A Levels. Back then, universities gave preference to ex-servicemen and I could not get a place that year. Thus, I spent an enjoyable third year in Sixth Form.

A richness of education

Looking back at those few years, it is the sheer richness of the education provided at RGS that stays with me. Quite apart from the subjects we studied, there was the musical input of Mr Thompson (who was actually the Woodwork Master!). His most informative music lessons, and the excellent choir that he ran, introduced me to the world of classical music, and for that I remain grateful to this day. I still sometimes find myself singing catches from the oratorios that he trained us to sing in the choir!

Then there was the physical side of education. I lived in Horley and cycled the five miles to RGS with my neighbour and friend Malcolm Palmer (RGS 1945-1951). The route included the challenge of Cockshot Hill, as well as the hill up to the school itself, so this gave us a basis of fitness upon which the PE built. Andover did not play rugby and I was not greatly encouraged by what I saw of it at RGS. Mercifully, there was an athletics option that suited my physique. I recall many happy afternoons on the sports field which, in those days, was under Reigate Hill, near the railway station. I ran many a cross-country race from there, around the lower parts of Reigate Hill, often with my classmate, Maurice Rogers (RGS 1948-1951). We were given to exploring a bit on these outings and, on one occasion having slightly lost ourselves, returned to the pavilion so late that only the now fuming/ worried Games Master remained.

In 1949 there was a PE staffing problem. Our usual teacher vanished and in his place there appeared the awesome figure of Dan – he insisted that we call him Dan. He was an elderly, retired, ex-Navy PT Instructor, heavily built with enormous cauliflower ears, hands the size of dinner plates, and a nose reminiscent of a lump of modelling clay cast aside after several unsuccessful attempts to turn it into a camel! He wore a battered navy-blue trilby and had certainly never seen the inside of an academic institution before. We were in awe of him. His lessons were brilliantly organised and we soon realised that he knew his job like no other PE Master. At the end of each session every muscle ached! He also taught us boxing, inviting us to hit him as hard as we could whilst he defended himself with one gloved hand that he lazily shifted to parry our puny best shots. We loved that man!

‘Sarge’, the Caretaker, was also an ex-serviceman. He ran the firing range in the loft space over the science labs, and taught us how to shoot – just another aspect of an unusually rounded preparation for life. We didn’t have lessons on citizenship or even sex education, although I do recall one afternoon with the Biology Master, Mr Horton, in which he did his best to initiate us into the mysteries of girls. Nothing much about the plumbing, mostly about what a very different species they are from men!

A grounding in problem solving

It was ways of thinking that are the most enduring aspects of the Maths and Science training I received at RGS. In Sixth Form, many of the Maths lessons were in the form of problem classes. A problem would be written on the board and all of us, the teacher included, would try to solve it. Applied Maths was taught by ‘Nubby’ Atkinson, a man of less than average stature with a bald head. He would stand at the board, quietly reasoning his way into the problem whilst tapping his pate with a ruler!

‘Happy Jack’ Coupland dealt with Pure Maths; faced with a near-intractable problem his attitude was to laugh at it and declare what fun we would have with it. I found this very positive attitude extremely helpful as it took away my fear of failing and gave me the confidence to strike out on my own in such things, a gift that stood me in good stead in my scientific career. Mr Lewis (Physics) had an MSc in Theoretical Physics: the ease with which he handled the more mathematical aspects of the physics syllabus again contributed to the relish with which I would later approach such things myself. I owe an immense debt of gratitude to these men for the philosophical attitude I absorbed, as much as for the syllabus they covered.

Finally, I have the happiest memories of the Air Training Corps (ATC). It was worth working at Morse code and meterological things to get the occasional flight from Merstham Airfield. There was an annual camp at Cranfield at which we went aloft in a Harvard trainer, a Prentice trainer, and an Anson. The latter was a navigational flight in which the windows were covered, and we were expected to plot the course of the aircraft from data issued at intervals. After an hour we were asked the position of the plane. I had it over the Wash. In fact we had been circling the airfield! Thank you RGS for a fantastic start in life!

MY CAREER STARTED IN AN RGS LAB

PHILIP ASHURST (RGS 1949-1956)

While Britain was still recovering from the effects of war, in 1949, a shy and nervous 11-year-old presented himself at RGS. I was placed in form 1C, at the far end of a long corridor, adjacent to what was then the Art room.

I had always been interested in Science and particularly Chemistry. Obtaining information was much more limited then, with no internet, so my knowledge was gleaned from books, which were few and far between. It was especially exciting in those first few weeks to attend Chemistry lessons!

Developing a love for lab work

Our teacher was Mrs Doris Knight, I think the only female teacher in RGS at the time, and she inhabited one of the two laboratory buildings in what was then the playground. I have a vivid memory of the first practical work she set. We were each given a mixture of sand and salt and challenged to separate them using only water, a Bunsen burner and an evaporating dish. I was hooked!

Later memories of school Science take me to the main Chemistry labs on the first floor. There were long wooden benches with bottle racks in the centre and sinks at each end with three or four working either side. Drains from the end sinks flowed into a central sump under the benches and one favourite end-of-term prank was to pour hydrochloric acid down one sink and 880 ammonia solution in the other. After a few seconds a cloud of ammonium chloride fumes appeared and the entire top floor was enveloped in fog!

I successfully obtained the required A level passes in 1956. University was the next step but, as my father had died a few weeks after my 16th birthday, my mother was unable to afford the parental contribution.

Fortunately, within a radius of a few miles of Reigate there were some cutting-edge research laboratories, which included Brockham Park where much of the early work on the development of penicillin was taking place. I opted to apply for work in what was then the research facility of Vitamins Ltd. The establishment, Walton Oaks, was centred around a country house in spacious grounds with its own farm. Work was focused on understanding the chemistry and metabolism of vitamins – in particular vitamin E and the synthesis of vitamin B6. I was appointed there as a Junior Research Chemist. In parallel, I started studies for an external University of London BSc degree in Chemistry, for the first two years at Ewell Technical College and later, Regent Street Polytechnic in London. It was a long slog, five years of day release coupled with up to four evenings each week. The benefit of a day job in a research laboratory was apparent as my acquired knowledge of organic chemistry, and particularly in materials found in plants, often exceeded that of the lecturers! Success was realised in 1961 but for a career in research, a PhD was essential.

The Brewing Industry Research Foundation, now part of CampdenBRI, had a vacancy and I was fortunate to be appointed to the scientific staff to work on the chemistry of brewing ingredients, particularly hops. The then Director of Research was an eminent chemist having previously been a Professor at Imperial College, London, involved in the early work on penicillin. With his support I registered as an external PhD student at the University of London. Another five years passed before the degree was achieved, together with the professional recognition as a Fellow of the Royal Society of Chemistry.

Decisions decisions!

I was offered the opportunity of a postdoctoral appointment at the University of Surrey as well as setting up a new team in a Reigate-based business to make extracts of hops. In many ways the latter had greater appeal, not just in the technical aspects of the research but working within strict budgetary limitations and other constraints.

That move helped me gain a much greater understanding of the possibilities offered by materials found in plants. Five years later, an opportunity arose to move overseas with a three-year UK government-sponsored post at the Scientific Research Council of Jamaica. Here, I led a team working on the chemistry and business opportunities offered by local spices and fruits. Following that, and back in the UK, I worked on the development of consumer food and drink products – an ideal base to progress into the business of developing and producing plant-based flavourings and extracts for the food, beverage and pharmaceutical industries.

Consultancy and voluntary work

In 1982, it became apparent that the knowledge I had gained was helpful in business settings and I began consulting. Over 38 years later – with several hundred clients in over 60 countries worldwide and 25 specialist books and book chapters written – my services are still called on.

During the latter part of the Cold War, I was recruited as a Scientific Advisor for the UK Warning and Monitoring organisation. In the 1990’s I was invited to become a Justice of the Peace for Herefordshire. Fifteen years on the bench, the last three years of which as Chair, was one of the most rewarding activities of my life. An appointment as a Non-Executive Director and Chair of Audit of the local NHS Primary Care Trust provided insight into the outstanding work of local GP surgeries. My work in the county was honoured by my being appointed a Deputy Lieutenant of Herefordshire.

Looking back, a career that started in an RGS chemistry laboratory in 1949 has led me to travel from the USA and Caribbean to the deserts of Saudi Arabia, from New Zealand to China and sub-Saharan Africa, I encourage today’s students to find and follow a path in science.

“I remember my first Science lesson. We were each given a mixture of sand and salt and challenged to separate them using only water, a Bunsen burner and an evaporating dish. I was hooked!”

MEMORIES OF AN 11+ LAD

ROGER PEARSON (RGS 1949-1954)

In 1949, I scraped though the 11+ exam and interview and was lucky to be offered a place at Reigate Grammar School – me a young lad from a modest single-parent home in South Park. My mother’s pride was bearable, but I was horribly embarrassed when my entire primary school applauded my achievement in a morning assembly.

Somehow my widowed mother, who worked in a laundry at the time, scraped together enough money to kit me out and I set off on my bike up Cockshot Hill, known for politely doffing my school cap to any old lady I passed.

I detested Mr Bedwood, the Maths Teacher, who would tweak ears or throw the blackboard duster at inattentive boys. Mr Thomson, the Music Teacher, would rehearse us mercilessly to sing the Hallelujah Chorus. Us adolescent boys struggled to find the higher notes with voices on the brink of breaking. His favourite phrase, when our efforts were a little feeble was, “Open your mouths and let the sound come out”. I am still ambivalent to Handel’s masterpiece!

Mr Emery, the History Teacher, was a character. He had seen service in the war, wore tweeds and drove a Bentley. History lessons were not always about history. Often, he would draw a diagram of the combustion engine on the blackboard and talk about cars. No lesson plans in those days! Miss Knight, the Biology Teacher, tried to teach a class of 13-yearold boys the basics of human biology – I’m not sure who was more embarrassed!

My only encounter with the Headmaster, Mr Holland, was getting the cane after being caught in the cloakroom of the local girls’ school, trying to pinch their hats.

My memories of my time at Reigate Grammar are mixed. Not naturally academic, I struggled with the schoolwork, as my positions in the class will testify. However, I enjoyed the sporting side of school: rugby, cricket and running. A rugby injury to my fingers took me out of the game for a while (I have two bent fingers as a result), but my time was usefully spent in the school gardening club whilst recovering. My main claim to fame came on Sports Day 1953. Run on grass and without proper shoes with spikes, I broke the 1924 school record for the mile. Somewhere, this was recorded on a board in the school.

I remember taking part in the coronation pageant at Reigate Priory. The weather was unpredictable on the day, but undaunted and dressed as Lord Effingham, I marched out of a wooded area to the strains of Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance.

Outside of school I played for a local football team and for Surrey boys, once coming up against a young Jimmy Greaves! When not playing sport, I attended the local Sea Cadets, was an errand boy for a local grocer’s shop and a paper boy. I wonder when I ever found time to study!

Sport and Sea Cadets shaped my career, and after leaving school in 1954, I joined the Navy to train as a Marine Electrician. I continued to play football until I was nearly 40. Although I did not appreciate the opportunity at the time, I am grateful for the time I spent at RGS and look back on those days with pride.

I WOULD LIKE TO COMPLAIN!

ANDY HOWLAND (RGS 1975-1982)

Many years ago – from 1975 to 1982 – I attended RGS and had a great time and solid education. I was in Northdown House and although I made it to Prefect, after about a week, I went to the Headmaster, Mr Ballance, and asked for it to be rescinded! This was primarily a case of not wanting to snitch on my friends and fellow pupils. You see, Mr Ballance instilled in me two great principles that have stayed with me since school days: honesty and integrity. One of the duties of a Prefect was to ensure the best behaviour of fellow pupils. This included patrolling Broadfield Lawn, where there was a dip at the far end and a large tree – ideal for hiding behind to have a smoke! I knew this but couldn’t bring myself to ‘dob’ in my friends. I also couldn’t do the bus stop patrol as I was just as big an offender as everyone else for pushing my way on board in order to get home early on the 410 bus. Hence my handing back the badge of honour. Mr. Ballance said it was the first time a Prefect badge had been handed back in! He did, however, allow me to keep the badge for prosperity.

So why the complaint? In 1975, the school celebrated it’s tercentenary and amongst many celebrations including a 300 -mile relay marathon throughout the night. The school sold celebratory merchandise and I have used a leather key ring since then and it has finally broken, so who do I complain to after nearly half a century?

FROM ROCK STAR TO PR

GEOFF LAWRENCE (RGS 1958-1964)

On a brisk January morning in 1958, my Father told me to get ready to go. The exam wasn’t for two hours but he was insistent. So we headed off to Reigate Grammar School. As we passed the entrance, he drove straight on. I said, “You’ve missed the turning!”, but he continued down West Street and we found ourselves at Reigate Heath Golf Club. “Let’s go for a walk”, he said.

I don’t remember a word he said during that half-hour walk, but I recall the underlying message: “This is an important day so I am taking this special time to tell you we love you, we have high hopes for you and we know you have it in you to succeed. On the other hand, should you fail, that is not a problem. We know you will do your best and if that is not enough, so be it. Life doesn’t stop here with the 11+. It is a big step forward for sure but there are lots of other options if you don’t make it.”

The sense of warmth and the promise of continued non-critical love had a profound effect on me. No-one in our family had been to grammar school before and the level of expectation was high and I was feeling the pressure. But my Father’s words acted as magical balm and left me feeling relaxed yet positive. It was a tour de force in parenting for which I am constantly grateful.

Starting school the following September was bewildering and exciting, with new timetables (rolling six-day weeks of lessons), new rules (stand up when a master enters the room, no hands in pockets, no running indoors), new people to meet, group dynamics to play out and some growing up to be done. I loved it!

Being at ‘big school’ was exhilarating. I learned my way tentatively through the first year, only starting to feel comfortable in the Second Form when we had some juniors below us. I had one talent in the First Form (beyond football at lunch times) and that was Latin.

Our Latin Master, Mr Burrows, seemed unaware that I had learned Latin for over a year at prep school. In his eyes, I exhibited what he saw as a precocious gift for the subject. The wheels came off in the second year though when I got as far as I had reached in my prep school. The master couldn’t understand my sudden intellectual collapse. I remember him writing on one of my submissions, “Can this be Lawrence?”. My days of Classics stardom were over.

I’m sorry to say that I never encountered the inspirational teacher that others recall from their school days. One man came near – Mr Paxton. He taught us English in the Fifth Form, at which I excelled, and his attitude was positive and encouraging. Otherwise teachers were very rigid. Two teachers (whose nicknames were Taffy and Holy Joe) used to say, “I won’t teach you that at this stage because you are too young to understand it”. That infuriated me – where was the aspiration and ambition?

Extra-curricular interests

I was far more interested in the social side of life than in working hard – illicit smoking, the girls at the County School and music were my main interests. In the Fourth Form I formed a band, The Sabres, with some school mates which became quite popular locally. We started out at the Market Hall in Redhill as support band to the top-of-thebill acts, then scaled it up to support star names such as The Searchers, Merseybeats, Four Pennies and Marianne Faithull at bigger venues around the the Southeast. We also played the legendary 2i’s Club in Soho - birth place of British rock and roll. We weren’t good enough to top the bill, but then, our singer, Mike King, got us on to the debutante’s circuit and we played many mansions and marquees over the south of England (often midnight to dawn). This proved both pleasurable and profitable, earning £30 a booking between four of us plus food and drink. Two of these gigs a week meant that we were each earning the national average weekly wage (£15) for two nights work – while still at school!

Inevitably my schoolwork suffered and the train hit the buffers when I took my O Levels. I needed five passes to enter Sixth Form but I achieved only three so I was put into the infamous Remove. This meant another year of Fifth Form in the hope that I might get enough O Levels to get into the Sixth Form (which I did). I just could not contemplate the ignominy of joining up with the successful pupils from the year below. Besides which, the band was earning reasonable money, so I left RGS and went semi-professional (I say semi because I had a job as well). It was fine for a few years but I became tired of jogging along at a lowly musical level so I gave up the band and went to London to find my fortune!

I started at the bottom in publishing in a firm called Fountain Press in Chancery Lane and became their Publicity Manager within a year. From there I moved to the smallest multi-national company in the country at the time, Letraset. After some years I was promoted to Communications Director. I got a lot of experience at that company and received a lot of good training which gave me the confidence and the opportunity to set up my own company in 1979 – Lawrence Publicity. A one-man band PR consultancy which lasted for twenty years. Additionally, I joined forces in 1988 with a business colleague to form a successful marketing agency, Lawrence Cheung, from which I retired a happy man in 2010.

The Sabres promotional shot in 1963, featuring Geoff Lawrence, Chris Giles, Mike King, Phil Brown and Bari Sparshott

Over the years, The Sabres played occasional gigs but sadly our singer died five years ago which brought that to an end after more than fifty years. Musically, I had also devoted my efforts to a jazz duo (sax and guitar). We play at clubs and venues around London including the Savoy, Simpsons-in-the Strand, Ministry of Sound, RIBA, Emirates Stadium, Colony Room, French House, Ronnie Scotts (upstairs!), Black and Blue and have had a number of residencies including Gerry’s Club (Soho) and the Jazz Café (Newington Green).

Looking back, it is the boys I met at school that have had the long-term influence on me. I have stayed in touch with many over the years: Jeff Addison (’65), Mike King (’64), Bari Sparshott (’65), Tristram Breaks (’66), Joe Turner (’65), Barry Morgan (’65), Frank Van Loock (’65), Graham Samuel (’65), Brian Mann (’65), Drew Baker (’65), Sir Peter Gershon (’65) and Sir Peter Lampl (’66).

I have visited RGS a couple of times in the past few years. The differences are obvious – the presence of girls and no bike sheds! But, I was aware of a more generous ethos which permeated the school. I was deeply impressed and immediately signed up as a bursary donor. Floreat RGS. You gave me an excellent start in life. Thank you.

NURTURING A LOVE OF HISTORY

RAKESH PATHAK (RGS 1986-1993)

One of the things that got me thinking about RGS again were your podcasts on Spotify – one of them featured Martin Hetherington (RGS 1986-1993 and staff 2011-present) and Anna Hetherington, née Rose (RGS 1991-1993 and staff 2018-present), both of whom are now teachers at RGS, and were in the same year as me back in the day. Also, I think it must be the onset of middle age as increasingly, I find myself reflecting quite a lot about my school days, which shaped me much more than I appreciated at the time.

After leaving RGS, I went to St Edmund Hall, Oxford to study Modern History and English. I then did a PGCE at the Institute of Education and got a job teaching History at Forest School in 1997. I taught there until 2006 and have been Head of History at Felsted School in Essex ever since. I got married to Katherine (a crime fiction author) in 2003 and we have two children (and a disobedient dog!).

I started my 25th year as a History Teacher in September 2021 (it’s still a great job most of the time even in the midst of a pandemic!). My interest and aptitude in the subject were really nurtured at RGS, especially by Graham Best (RGS staff 1975-1993), with whom I am still in touch. What I took away from Graham’s lessons was the way in which he (effortlessly it seemed to me!) created a warm and happy environment. Here was a teacher who was always going the extra mile, whether coaching me for the Oxford entrance exam or running numerous trips – the highlight being a trip to Paris linked to our study of the French Revolution.

I should also give recognition to two teachers from the English department, who really influenced me. Mr Carpmael (RGS staff 1974-1989) taught me English lower down the school and I remember him fizzing with ideas and enthusiasm; every lesson was an adventure. I also owe a lot to Mr Worthen (RGS staff 1987-2008), whose rigour and dedication set a great example for us to follow. I can still quote some of the Chaucer that he taught us! I have done my best to try to incorporate elements of all three teachers into my own teaching; I am not sure how successful I have been but one of the best things about teaching is that you always get a blank slate each September.

I have lots of other fond memories from my school days. I was in one of the writtenfrom-scratch drama productions in the late 1980s about the Knights of the Round Table, Excalibur III. I got to sing a song dressed as an Arthurian knight. There was also a Brecht play and then Measure for Measure in the Sixth Form, both of which I really enjoyed and probably set me up for teaching (which in some ways is really just a branch of acting!). We also did some improvisational stuff in the style of Whose Line is it Anyway?, which was popular at the time. I also got involved in the Christian Union and this definitely set me on the path to becoming a Christian in later years.

I would love to say that I was a great sportsman, but I was inept! I did, however, play a bit of cricket, an occasional game of hockey and even once, unbelievably, a D team game of rugby! I have remained a bit of a cricket bore and in 2021 I even wrote a mini-book on cricket which I have used to raise some money for the Trussell Trust.

It is clear that, in recent years, RGS has become a more progressive, outwardlooking and community-focused school and this can only be for the betterment of the school and its pupils.

GOVERNING – AND RELINQUISHING – HONG KONG

Clinton escorting the Prime Minister of Canada, Brian Mulroney, and his wife around a refugee camp

CLINTON LEEKS (RGS 1966-1971)

The British were once considered quite good at managing retreats – after all, since Dunkirk and the later winding up of the Empire, we have had plenty of practice! When I joined the Hong Kong government in 1975, straight from Oxford, there was an unspoken assumption that Hong Kong was one place from which we would not need to retreat. 92% of the territory was held by the UK on a 99-year lease from Imperial China, and Mao Zedong’s new regime seemed happy to leave things as they were.

So I was taught Cantonese and put to work as an Administrative Officer. I helped run Hong Kong’s biggest new town (half a million people, soon heading towards a million); I managed the food markets and the abattoir; haggled over civil service pay-grades. In 1980, we faced a new crisis with hundreds of thousands of Chinese immigrants seeking better lives in Hong Kong by climbing the border fence or swimming the bays to enter illegally. We tightened up controls, built a better fence, introduced a new secure identity card and negotiated a deal for those caught to be safely returned to the communist mainland. That went so well that I was put in charge of a bigger problem, running the camps established for the thousands of Vietnamese who had been fleeing to Hong Kong since the Fall of Saigon in 1975, while we hunted for new homes for them in the West. I have written about that tragic episode in past RGS magazines.

Clinton (left) and a colleague as the airport building got under way

An aerial shot of the airport construction nearing completion

Negotiating our retreat

Meanwhile, Mrs Thatcher had officially visited Beijing and explained that the UK proposed to continue to run Hong Kong after the lease ended in 1997, to safeguard its way of life and prosperity. The Chinese made clear that was not their plan, and two years of fraught Sino-British negotiations began, to come up with a plan that could protect the future of Hong Kong when the British left. I was involved because of my responsibility for the border and relations with the British Garrison. We came up with a detailed agreement which everyone, including Hong Kong, welcomed. I was then loaned for two years to the Foreign and Commonwealth Office in London to help implement it.

I was back in Hong Kong by early 1989, working as the Governor’s Private Secretary, when new storm clouds gathered. A huge new influx of Vietnamese was under way – now no one would take them overseas, and the people of Hong Kong had lost patience. Huge student demonstrations for more democracy in China were crushed in Beijing, and Hong Kong people began to clamour for more local democracy before China took over in 1997. I was put in charge of the Vietnamese problem again and flew to Hanoi to negotiate and implement a programme of safe returns of those determined by international law to be non-refugees (the huge majority). Meanwhile, the Hong Kong government announced a new programme of reforms, to rebuild local confidence – a bill of rights, more university places, more democracy, more British passports, and a plan to massively upgrade Hong Kong’s infrastructure in preparation for 1997.

Building an award-winning airport

The key to the last of these was a huge new airport, the same size as Heathrow. Meanwhile, the last British Governor, Chris Patten, had just arrived and Beijing was making clear it did not approve of his new democratic plans. It showed its displeasure by blocking international finance for the airport. We went ahead anyway, borrowing from Hong Kong’s reserves and building a 3,000-acre airport in the sea, linked to central Hong Kong by one of the world’s biggest road and rail suspension bridges. I regularly briefed the Chinese government, local politicians and the media on progress. We opened the new airport on 6 July 1998, soon after Hong Kong’s peaceful return to China, and I ran the opening-day press conference in the new terminal. The airport has since been often voted the world’s best.

After that, it was time to return to the UK with my family and begin a new life back home. For all of Hong Kong’s difficulties over the past two years I still adore the place, above all the energy and drive of its people, and cannot wait to resume my regular visits once COVID restrictions end.

SCHOLARSHIPS AND TITANS

PETER TAYLER (RGS 1962-1970)

Reading and remembering about Aubrey Scrase and Robin Bligh in recent editions of The Reigatian made me appreciate the incredible long-lasting benefits of scholarships, potentially through several generations. It would be wonderful if the philanthropists who set up such awards could see the benefits that they endowed – almost a century after they were awarded. It is also essential to acknowledge the role that great figures, the titans, play in facilitating the maximum yield from the gift.

Grasping opportunities

Both of my parents were born in the Great Depression between wars. My father was brought up by a divorced single mother who had a remarkably tough life working in a factory in Doncaster. He was able to win a scholarship to a major choir school and then a scholarship to read Medicine while Head Chorister at King’s College, Cambridge. The head of the choir school was a titan who provided an environment where it was possible to thrive, despite the privations of 1940. We heard much about the teaching and school life that formed so much of his development.

My mother was the daughter of a pitman. I was told that she was the first from her high school to go to university. She won a scholarship to study Physiology. Both of my parents took part in a major nutrition study at Cambridge to examine how the wartime rationed diet could be designed to maintain sound physical health. This experiment was run by another titan with an extraordinary range of abilities. He flew aircraft off the front of cruisers in 1916 and survived to become a professor.

Undoubtedly, the monies from the scholarship funds enabled my father to leave Cambridge to be a GP and my mother to be offered a chair in physiology. I feel, however, that this would not have been possible without the titans in their lives acting as a catalyst to their successes.

Five children later (four sons having been to Reigate Grammar School and a daughter) their family had accumulated five medical degrees and a degree in Electronic Engineering as well as five Oxbridge places. My siblings and I were certainly grateful for the benefits that our parents could give us, but our success was catalysed by the incredible encouragement given by a number of charismatic teachers during our years at the school: the titans.

The titans of teaching

Mr Lewis (Physics) certainly stood out as a titan – he was able to teach and make scientific thinking exciting. Aubrey Scrase (Latin) was instrumental not least for making Latin fun! This was no mean feat in itself, but he also introduced us to opera, ballet and theatre. The very quiet, and in many ways unassuming, way in which Robin Bligh introduced us to the dark arts of calculus and integration was valuable in itself. But he also gave us the great advantage of acquiring life skills and standards from the Scouts that have enabled all of the children, now retired or approaching retirement to lead rewarding lives, but also ones which have probably given much back to society in a variety of ways – both socially and at work.

The power of philanthropy

This account has two purposes. Firstly to underline the long-term benefits of scholarships and philanthropic giving. I would like to have been able to thank those who made it possible for my parents to benefit from an excellent education. I hope they would feel their provision of the scholarships was worthwhile. It is not just a way to get a child to school or university, but also gives recipients benefits which have an impact on future generations.

The second point is that it was, however, not just the scholarships that my parents received that led to their success, but the titans of teaching and learning that they came across who helped catalyse the processes leading to success.

In my present position I can now only help with one stage of the process. The other stage of catalysing progress is in the hands of the successors to men, and now women, who have the ability to follow in the footsteps of the likes of Lewis, Scrase and Bligh to teach and inspire in all aspects of life.

Was there a particular teacher whose influence set you on a path to success? Please share your memories and career journeys – call 01737 222231 or email foundation@reigategrammar.org.

Help change lives for generations to come

As Peter has highlighted – giving disadvantaged children access to an outstanding education can have far-reaching benefits for more than just that one individual. From giving a modest monthly gift (see p11), to leaving a legacy to RGS in your Will (see p20), together, the Reigatian community transforms lives. For more information, email us at foundation@reigategrammar.org, call 01737 222231 or visit rgs.foundation/support-us/donate-now/.