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was different in my day Frank Grimshaw |
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Chapter 10 Chapter 11
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CHAPTER 11, page 3 instructions to achieve these magical moments. The two colourless liquids that would dramatically combine to precipitate a startlingly coloured salt, or would produce a gas that miraculously coloured a liquid as it bubbled through. One would even explode with a gratifying pop at the touch of a naked flame to the top of the test tube. My bedroom chest-of-drawers became a laboratory workbench, and, as limited funds allowed, I awoke daily to an increasing number of bottles, beakers, stands and other essentials on the shelves – each of which had rattled when ‘our’ bombs dropped (the only ones during the war within half-a-mile!) – but all profitable to John! He rode a very expensive bike! Came our graduation to Form 5.15 and, collectively, we were becoming old enough to be reckoned an athletic force in the School. Well, to be fair, most of us could reflect in the glory of our more talented Form-mates! In addition to John Cockshott, who must have gone on to brilliance in some scientific field, others clearly come back to mind for less academic, but possibly equally commendable achievements! Gerry (Gadge) Garrett, preceding me in the Daily Register and, exceeding my ability on the Cricket field, was a bowler to envy. Naturally fast, individually he gave us every chance of victory in House matches, but, of more importance was a star in the School First Team. Wednesday Sports Afternoons brought half a dozen matches against our perennial neighbouring rivals, and the opportunity of partisan support for THE School. Having Gadge there made it even more personal! Phil Starkey, was not only a gymnast but a footballer supreme. A precocious 15 year-old, so talented and fit, he played for School on a Saturday morning and Mickleover ‘Old Boys’ in the afternoon, until the ‘Authorities’ decreed it was too much for a ‘growing boy’! To his credit he elected to play for School until he left. John Roe, all of six feet at 15, was a natural runner! Annual Sports Day was his arena. The western side Lower Sports field provided a natural ‘Stand’ for spectators as we cheered his outstanding performance in breaking (probably 1942) the School record for the Mile in competition with his ‘seniors’. He was also an accomplished pianist, and entertained us (illegally, and till caught) in the Hall at lunchtime, playing ‘Boogie’ on the hallowed ‘Grand’. On the day we broke up for Christmas, after overnight activity by the hard-working staff, by ten-thirty we assembled in Hall now resplendent with seasonal decorations for the much-awaited Christmas Carol Concert. Lower Forms uncomfortably seated cross-legged on the hard parquet floor in the body of the Hall, the privileged Transitus and Sixth in the balcony, and Staff occupying the stage, were led by Music Teacher
Mr. Fitch seated proudly at his beloved grand piano. In music lessons for the past few weeks, he’d doggedly driven each Form to achieve as near perfection as feasible from reluctant ‘grunters’. But, on the day, beaming Mr.
Fitch, conducting with one hand whilst deftly playing essential chords with the other, was rewarded as communal pride prevailed and the rafters resounded. The highlight was always the one verse in each carol, but especially in ‘The Holly and the Ivy’, sung alone by the deep booming voices
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balcony swelling to the climax. Hallelujah! We ‘boy sopranos’ on the lower floor could but anticipate our turn that would inevitably come. When, in the fullness of time, it did, I knew I was helping fill the Hall with that glorious sound as others before had done. To perpetuate tradition was most rewarding. Breaking up for Christmas also brought an opportunity for the over-fifteens to swell their pocket money. The Post Office was eager to take advantage of our enviable store of Grammar-school geographical knowledge and, at low cost to them, employ us to help deal with the vastly increased Christmas Mail. For the six days up to Christmas Eve, we heaved mailbags, threw parcels into designated skips, and sorted letters and cards into frames with boxes surmounted with Town and County names. Having qualified on the ‘local’ frames I was promoted to National ones and became aware of the ‘dual relationship’ between Town and County learning to think of ‘Lutonbeds’, ‘Wyekent’, ‘Stonestaffs’, and ‘Cookhambucks’ each as a single word. Vertically challenged, I was restricted to indoor duties to remain jealous of my taller pals who were allowed actually to deliver mail. Gloatingly, they taunted us with stories of generous Christmas tips from grateful recipients of large parcels. All was forgotten when, around four-thirty on Christmas Eve, the best part of the exercise arrived with my pay packet. Happy Christmas - and don’t spend it all at once! In the ‘Why is it?’ column of a 1997 edition of the Daily Express, an answer from Mr Chris Cook of Newcastle-upon-Tyne stated that Latin is considered a ‘dead’ language because it ceased to be spoken after Rome was sacked by the Goths and Vandals in the Fifth century. Sadly, Latin passed me by! I enjoyed other languages... English, with ‘Micky’ House, encouraging use of the Library for Literature, furthering understanding of Dramatic Art, and making sense of declensions, tenses, and sentence construction. Believe it, if you will from a xenophobe – French became comprehensible, though wartime import Mlle. (?) may have exerted a certain added attraction to the language! My intensified interest in the Biological Sciences was probably largely due to the wartime appearance of Miss W (Whetstone?). In her fetching white overall, inadequately unable to hide her obvious physical charms, she aroused (unintended? Surely not!) exciting feelings amongst her captive developing teenage audience! Don’t forget, by modern standards, we were a ‘repressed’ generation!
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