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It was with some apprehension that in September of 1933 I moved from Hill Street Primary, or 'elementary' as it was then known, to King Edward VI Grammar School. This apprehension was due to that which, I was later to learn, is known as inductive logic. It was to do with the fear of punishment which dominated the lives of most children in those days. In the Infants' School punishment usually meant being sent to stand in a corner for ten minutes. That in itself was no hardship. The punishment lay in the scorn of one's fellow pupils. The occasional smack for some outrageous offence sometimes had the opposite effect on one's contemporaries - if one did not cry. In Junior School the cane dominated the classroom from 'Peckers' long and swishy bamboo with its curved handle - convenient for hanging prominently on the blackboard - to 'Carrie's' stubby little terroriser. The ready availability of this sort of corporal punishment was effective in maintaining day-to-day order, but its long-term effects were dubious. A certain kudos with one's mates attached to having been caned by such as 'Pecker' without flinching, and this was held in much higher regard than was 'Pecker's' approval. Of course there was the ultimate ignominy of being 'sent to the headmaster'. That never happened to me at Primary level, so I am not sure what actually happened to such felons. I was sometimes aware of their return to the classroom visibly chastened. This sort of discipline did nothing to ameliorate relationships between pupils and teachers. Until my later teens I regarded most of my teachers with a mixture of fear and contempt and would cheerfully have murdered some of them had it not meant even direr punishment. Somehow, in those days, one's conduct was regulated at school, and even at home, more by fear of punishment than by any love and respect or even desire to please. Life was a perpetual game of trying to avoid some form of punishment, if only that of being 'put down'. The pendulum appears to have swung the other way during the 20th. century so that it is the teachers who now live under stress. I'm afraid that I cannot entirely shake off a certain sense of nemesis about this, which is a sad reflection on humanity. Extrapolation of these observations meant that having progressed from the comparatively gentle regimen of the Infants' School to the hardships of the Juniors, even harsher things could be expected at Secondary School. Some time before being admitted to Grammar School, we were taken there on a visit to 'see what it was like'. There in the corridors we encountered supermen in black gowns and some with mortar-boards - one with a beard (!) who surely must have had unknown instruments of torture at their disposal. Only later did we find that they, too, were the usual mixture of the affable and able with the stupid and incompetent which characterises most human groups. We had, of course, to 'pass the scholarship'. This consisted of a written examination designed to assess our literacy, numeracy and deductive powers, followed by a viva-voce with a panel consisting of the Head of the Grammar School and two other assessors. This seemed to be rather a test of how I might one day stand up in court than anything else, but curiously in my case, had something to do with the production of wool in Australia. The fact that I knew about Merino sheep probably decided my entire future (Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causus - as Virgil has it!) After several anxiety-ridden weeks I heard that I had passed, and early in September 1933 at the age of 10 years and four and a half months, I was admitted to Form III.2. The age is interesting to note. 'Eleven-plus' was not rigidly applied in those days. I am reminded of a story, heard much later, of an applicant for an appointment, who, whilst otherwise well qualified, was, in the eyes of his prospective employer, rather young. "Sir". replied the applicant, 'Does not the assessment of maturity solely by clock and calendar, itself show immaturity on the part of the assessor? It is reputed that he got the job. Form III.2 was so numbered in spite of being the first year of secondary education. Forms I, II.1 and II.2 comprised the 'Prep. School'. The whole school was, by then, 'fee-paying', but my parents had, perhaps wisely, decided that until I showed some signs of ability, they were not going to waste good money, and that my primary education must be provided free by the state. There were many similar instances, so III.2 was allocated to boys from Worcestershire primary schools, III.3 to those from Staffordshire, and the élite III.1 to those who had 'come up' from the 'Prep.' Thus a 'racist' system was inbuilt. There was a certain amount of 'blending' in the Fourth, but this did not become effective until we reached the various Lower Fifths, when allocation became largely by subjects studied rather than by 'racial' origin.
THE 'TIN TAB'.III.2's classroom was in a 'tin tabernacle' - a corrugated iron hut situated in the main playground. Accommodation had proved to be a problem at some time after the first world war, and this shack had been erected as a temporary classroom. As has since happened so often, the temporary became permanent. This red-oxide painted shack became home to thirty one boys whose names I can still recite from the daily roll-call: Thomas W, Willetts H, Bealey F, Blakeway D, Sansome C, Green W J, Sidaway J, Sharcott P, Henwood K, Poole F.R, Rowley H, Jay JP, Lander, Bevan K.T, Bayward, Clark R, Herrington, Taylor S.J.Q,, Thompson (G Fatty), Baker, Rogers (Roy!), Elbs, Moke G, Arthur D, Smith, Bills, Yardley, Wall T, Thompson F, Malpas P, Wheeler G. Equipment in the shack consisted of the usual desks with the teacher's on a raised podium, blackboards, and a cast-iron 'tortoise' stove from which we were protected by a totally inadequate iron railing. In cold weather this was charged with coke about twice a day by a janitor, Webb by name, who had but one arm. A fascinating operation!
The "Tin Tabernacle" just before it was demolished in 1939. The location of the stove to one side of the room meant that those near it received their education under tropical conditions whilst those near the windows received 'arctic survival' training. In spite of dire threats not to interfere with the stove, we all knew that by opening the front damper a little it could be made to glow red-hot. During the short absences of supervision, curious results could be obtained by placing pieces of rubber eraser on this red-hot antiquity. This usually brought out the worst from the master next doomed to visit us. On rare occasions it was proved possible to produce even more startling effects by placing on the stove someone else's gym-shoe or even certain indoor fireworks. As the shack was wood-lined, the fire hazard must have been dreadful, and there was no fire exit, but I cannot remember any serious accident having occurred. There was plenty of potential. One master did manage to set on fire the hem of his gown, but masters could be regarded as fireproof - otherwise expendable - and so it did not matter very much. It was with sad nostalgia that somewhere about 1938, five years or so later, we witnessed the demolition of the 'Tin Tabernacle' and other temporary buildings and their replacement by a permanent new 'C-Block'. Photographs of this process, taken for the 'Gazzle', are still available. INTO THE FOURTH.My memories of the Fourth are scant. One character whom I remember from IV3 was Bevan, who had moved up with us from LM but by this time, with one F. Poole, was showing signs of precocious pubescence. Both were given the title 'Hairy' in consequence. Bevan's parents had, with a certain lack of imagination, given him the initials 'K.T.' thus causing him to be known as 'Katie' for the rest of his school life. Perhaps fortunately for him, his physical development and a hint of an incipient moustache gave him considerable 'clout', so that he was usually referred-to as 'Katie', but not addressed as such. FIRST PRIZE.About this time we were occasionally involved in a 'works visit'. This consisted of an outing to some local factory after which we were required to write an essay on our experiences. One of these was to the local Gas Works, where my father was by now the Sales Manager. My subsequent essay earned me a book prize, and no-one seemed to think that I had been given a leg-up and a head start. Oddly, neither did my puritan father who had seen to it that I got both. I still have the book ('Photography and its mysteries') and now look at it with only a tiny twinge of conscience! The experience was, however, an early presage of my later engineering career. THE LOWER FIFTH.Progress to the Lower Fifth meant a greater degree of segregation when we were divided like the sheep and the goats into 'we' who would be likely to pursue a sensible and profitable scientific/mathematical career, and 'they' who would squander their lives studying such nonsense as languages, literature, poetry and art. Similar judgements were surely made by 'them', but as 'they' were destined to go through life in utter ignorance both of Leibnitz' theorem and of the chemical composition of butadiene, there was really no comparison. At this stage there was yet another 'stream' known as the 'Remove'. This was for those who found themselves 'unsuitable for academic disciplines' and were therefore side-lined into 'Commercial Subjects', leading in time to VI.C and thence to office jobs. Our impression was that they seemed to spend most of their time learning to use a typewriter, but we were probably prejudiced. In the Third and Fourth forms we had been given experience of a variety of disciplines in an elementary way. It is only much later that I have realised that it was not only my aptitude for some disciplines compared with others that decided my fate, but also the quality of teaching that I received in each, and my rapport with those who taught. English and Latin I enjoyed when taught by 'Daisy' Druller, but her good work was nullified when I came under such as Halliday, Easterling, Blomfield and Rollason, all of whom, we considered, would have difficulty in teaching 'a dog to cock his leg' and whose lessons most of us regarded as a penance. Similarly with History - see 'BURLEY' in commentary on teachers. It was sometimes the case that the more highly qualified academically a master was, the lower seemed to be his teaching ability. Beware of those who are designated 'First Class Tripos'... etc. THE UPPER FIFTH.In the lower, and later the upper, Fifth I flourished reasonably well with some of the best of teachers, Carter, Timbrell and Rose in particular, and in 1937 managed to get a string of credits in the School Certificate, but with a mere 'pass' in Latin. The latter I blame entirely on Blomfield's, and previously Halliday and Easterling's appalling teaching methods. I have since and in other circumstances taken to Latin with some enthusiasm, and still value my copy of Kennedy's Primer. (The legend, 'Shorter Latin Primer' on the cover of this book was invariably altered to 'Shorter Cheatin' Primer') INTO THE SIXTH.So later in 1937 I passed at the early age of fourteen, into the Science Sixth, known as VI S., where I was to spend three years before going on to University. In the first year sixth (VI.S1), for the first time, we had no 'form room', being provided with a steel locker-cupboard in the Physics Dept. corridor. In this the few of us each had a shelf. As we spent most of our time in laboratories or lecture rooms this was no great hardship except that for our first week or so there were only two keys. One of these was held by the Physics Master so that any trafficking in explosives, opium or pornography could be dealt with, together with last month's sandwiches. Possession of the other key was a matter of contention. Having access at home to a vice, (engineer's!) some warding files, a hacksaw and an old coal shovel for raw material, I solved this problem by making an extra key for anyone willing to pay for it. Also, throughout the school, the light switches were operated, not by the usual 'dolly switch', but by a key, held only by masters and janitors. Whilst manufacturing cupboard keys, I also managed to knock up a few light switch keys, which added to the profit and to my popularity. I cannot swear that my end-of-term, report said, 'Shows considerable initiative', but I felt that it should have done!' TADPOLES.At that time also, some idiot decided to further his acquaintance with biology by rearing some tadpoles in the 'Battery Room' attached to the Physics lab. I then had a 'frogophobia' and anticipated that should the tadpoles reach maturity, one of the frogs could possibly be put down my neck. Being sure that this would bring on a heart attack or drive me insane, drastic action was called for. I managed to smuggle one crystal of Potassium Ferrocyanide out of the Chemistry Lab. which the tadpoles did not like 'up them'. No-one found out the real cause of their demise, it being put down to their being put too near to the radiator. It is nice to be able to confess this crime after more than sixty years knowing that it is now too late for retribution! GENERAL KNOWLEDGE.Each year at the school we sat for a written paper known as 'Mr. Hackwood's Prize for General Knowledge'. As there were no academic plums to be gained from this it was regarded by most as a 'recreation', but the book prize was quite a good one. The paper was set each year by a different master and consisted of a long list of short questions such as "What is the currency of Spain ?" "What is the capital of Mexico?" etc. During the assembly at which the winner was announced, the Headmaster took great delight in reading out the 'howlers'. For example, it appeared that that the currency of Spain was 'Pieces of Eight', the sea dividing Europe and Africa was the Spanish Main and the capital of Mexico was Deadwood Gulch. I wish I could remember more. My first year in the science sixth saw this paper being set by John Timbrell, our much-respected Chemistry Master. I would be the last to suggest that his questions were a bit 'loaded', but having answered such as, 'Give the every-day terms for a. Sodium Carbonate b. Acetic Acid c. Sodium Chloride etc. etc. I found the paper a bit of a doddle and won the prize. I stocked up on Chemistry books which I still value. PRE-UNIVERSITY.During our second year in the sixth we were introduced very well to a more University type discipline, and were left increasingly to our own devices. A work programme was set, and there were tutorials, but having been given access to study material we were left to get on with it to a great extent. Amongst the 'spurs' which were applied was being told that "At University it will be up to you. You win not get nagged-at for not working, and no one will weep to see you sent down." This proved very valuable advice and experience for the years which followed. However, I still have the horrors sometimes when I realise that amongst the places to which we had access was the Chemistry Lab. chemical store where lurked such innocuous substances as Phosphorus, Potassium Cyanide, Carbon Disulphide and various compounds of Mercury. 'STINKS' and THE CARBYLAMINE REACTION.At the end of the summer term we were allowed one great privilege. On the last day of term, during the last 'period' of the day, we were allowed to carry out the 'Carbylamine Reaction' in the Lab. This involved the preparation of a substance known as Phenyl-Isocyanide. Not only was this highly poisonous, but it had the vilest smell that it is possible to imagine. All windows in the Lab. were fully opened, and we had strict instructions to get outside quickly as soon as the experiment had been completed. I never did discover the purpose of this experiment - it could have been to ensure all vermin were asphyxiated before the holidays. I have never had use for the reaction since, but it was good fun, and perhaps John Timbrell's idea of an end-of-term party. Occasionally, of course, things did go wrong. I once made myself unpopular by emptying a fair quantity of '880' Ammonia down a sink which was very near to where another master was tutoring some fifth-formers. We did hear that before our time, one student had managed to make 'by accident' a fair quantity of pure tri-nitro-glycerine. This had resulted in a little perturbation, not least to the fire brigade and the Royal Engineers who had to be called in. PRESENTS.It was during this period at King Edward's that I was given two presents which between them had a profound effect on my subsequent career. As a reward for 'winning the scholarship, I was given at Christmas 1933, when I was still ten years old, a large Meccano set. It was the third largest of the range and cost 'Santa Claus' 63 shillings (I found out by looking in the catalogue.) This was my first introduction to 'engineering'. I had, at some time before, had a very small set, but its facilities were limited. This one had brass gears of various sizes, chain wheels, bearings, trunnions, bell-cranks etc. etc. all of which were described in real engineering terms, as well as the purely constructional items. There was also a clockwork motor. Whereas this Meccano set was on a 'toy' scale, its embodiment of sound engineering principles and terminology was to be of untold value in years to come. It is my great regret that in that form it is no longer available and generations of youngsters have thereby been deprived. This may have something to do with Rover being supplanted by B.M.W. and others by Nissan. The other valued present came some years later, probably after I passed School Certificate. This was a bicycle. 'ON YER BIKE!In my earlier days at K.E.S. one or two special friends and I used to get together and go for all-day walks. We used to pore over Ordnance maps for days on end, working out a route incorporating as many foot-paths as possible. Then on Saturdays or in the school holidays we would set off with a pocket filled with sandwiches, for places like Bromsgrove, Albrighton, Wolverhampton, Droitwich, Bridgnorth, all about ten or eleven miles from home. Having had our sandwiches and bought some ghastly coloured drink, we would catch bus or train home. I was, however, always jealous of those of my contemporaries who had bicycles and could thereby range further. Not many of them did, but they could. The reason for this was that we lived, at the time, in a town house in Stourbridge, the front door of which opened directly on to the pavement of a road which was a busy bus route. My parents, being both over-protective and having no faith in my own instinct for self-preservation, considered a combination of myself and a bicycle to be potentially lethal. However, at the age of thirteen I was apparently more responsible - either that or beyond hope, and the bicycle was received. It was not quite what I wanted, being a large heavy job with pull-up brakes and a chain guard, but I made the best of it, having heard somewhere that there was no advantage to be gained from looking a gift horse in the mouth, even if the 'horse' had two wheels. I had always had the reputation of having an insatiable curiosity for 'what was over the next hill'. The bicycle now made it possible for me to find out what was over the next hill but three! Having learnt to 'balance' on a scooter belonging to my younger brother by riding up and down the garden path, I was not utterly clueless, and on the day following the bike's delivery, I pushed it a mile or two into the country and managed to ride back. Having been warned many times as a pedestrian to 'keep off the road', terror assailed me whenever a motor car approached, as I was convinced that its driver was bent on suicide, murder or both. Later in life I discovered that I was right about this in the case of the majority of car drivers. The very next day I agreed to go on a bike ride with some mates. At last I was on a footing, or wheeling, of equality. I had not, of course, reckoned with the fact that the muscles needed for cycling were not the same as those used for walking. After thirty six miles I arrived home practically paralysed, having had to keep up with unsympathetic companions whose muscular development had the advantage of a year or two's practice. The freedom and extended range which the bicycle offered were, however, so appealing that I determined to 'lick this thing' and within a year my problem was finding a suitable companion to go with me on the distances I liked to cover. Until the Anglesey trip described elsewhere, my targets became 100 miles a day, and 86 miles in 8 hours. This was not exceptional by professional standards, but with a heavy loaded bike it was nothing to be ashamed of. In my later years I have traversed by car many of the hills up which I used to ride with gay abandon and have wondered how on earth I managed it. SPORTS.One disadvantage which I suffered whilst at School was that I had a somewhat cynical attitude to the traditional sports. For one thing, they took up time which could be filled with more interesting things, and various people's attempts to inculcate some sort of skill into me usually ended either in them getting exasperated or in my being injured - sometimes both. Having once been hit on the head with a cricket ball and later having witnessed a friend breaking his neck playing rugger did not eliminate my cynicism. Courting disaster seemed to me to be an occupation for the stupid. I think I would have taken to things like athletics or golf, but such were not readily available at K.E.S. We did have an annual 'Sports Day', but it was a 'one-off' and no coaching seemed to be available.
W.J.G. Leading the field in 1939 In the third form I was 'Shanghaied' into running in the '100 yards' I had no idea, then how far 100 yards was, and I recall running all the way to Oldswinford and back - about a mile and a half - to make sure I could last the course. After that I was much better at the long distance races. The principal aim of an influential coterie at the school seemed to be to get your picture taken with the 'first eleven' or the 'first fifteen' and thereby to decorate the headmaster's corridor until the end of time. For this privilege one had to give up most of one's Wednesday and Saturday afternoons, when there was much to be explored elsewhere. The bicycle therefore, was the cause of my becoming very fit in spite of playing a minimal part in those activities deemed to be 'for the honour of the school'. (pace - Henry Newbolt!) At the 'Duke of York's Camp' on Anglesey which I attended in August of 1939, there were no 'standard' games, so as not to give schoolboys an advantage over the apprentices who formed 50% of the personnel. Equally demanding, but 'novel' games had been decreed by an imaginative staff, and with these, together with much endurance testing, such as steeple chasing, I found I could not only cope, but be competitive. I returned from that camp with confidence boosted in more ways than one. PREFECTURE.In spite of my revolutionary attitude, I was to my astonishment appointed a House Captain of Wollaston House whilst in the upper Sixth. I had been appointed a Junior Prefect whilst in the first year sixth and enjoyed the first taste of power over others by ordering various small boys about. I never expected to attain the Senior Prefectship which went with a House Captaincy, after all there were only six of us in the whole school. The above events may have had something to do with this, but I have an uneasy feeling that a wimp of a House-master taking the easy way out may have been one reason. There were six Houses, School, Swinford and Wollaston for Worcestershire, Kings, Brierley and Quarry for Staffs. Each had its own coloured ribbon as identification on sports day. Ours was pink, which I didn't like for obvious reasons. It should not have been part of 'life's rich tapestry'! One's home address determined, within limits, which house one was in. As House Captain I was permitted to wear an elaborate Tudor cap-badge which meant that we who until then had abhorred wearing a school cap and only did so under threat, once again wore it proudly whenever possible. I still have my prefects caps! Whereas I was no use 'on the field' my duties included the selection of teams, for which I had the essential assistance of Harry Brettell, my 'Mr. Vice'. (So, very early, I learnt the most important Army command: "Carry on Sergeant!") The Captain also had to organise prefect's rosters for various duties, to bully small boys occasionally when one's Junior Prefects could not cope, to supervise the detention class on a rota basis, to call the Assembly to attention as the Headmaster entered, and when on duty, to read the lesson at the Assembly. My first assay into this latter field was an occasion when the hall was being decorated and morning assembly was held out-doors when weather permitted. So, on a fine morning out in 'B-Block' quadrangle, a stage had been erected on which the Head's chair had been placed, together with those allocated to the Head Boy and to the Deputy Head. Being outside, it required a much louder "School-Shun!" than normal, so I was relieved to see that mine seemed to have penetrated even to the remote ranks of the 'Remove'. The lesson was from the book of the Prophet Jonah. I doubt whether anyone received any Divine inspiration from my reading, but I derived immense satisfaction from bawling out at the top of my voice, legitimately, and in the presence of the 'whole company of the heavenly host' the words, "And the Lord spake unto the fish and it vomited out Jonah upon the dry land." Not at the time did I realise that all this confidence-boosting experience, coupled with physical self-confidence gained, was to be of immense value, both in my subsequent military and ecclesiastical training and in all sorts of ways in later life. PROBLEMS.It may be inferred from the foregoing that most of my life at School was relatively happy and amusing. Well, some of it was, but it was probably a fair mixture of pain and pleasure - "So it is in life children!" My mother was a gentle soul and my brother and I were brought up with little contact with the aggression which was only too common in the world outside. This, coupled with the avowed pacifism and Puritanism of father and mother, not only protected us from the rough world, but made it sinful, and thereby provocative of the wrath of God, to do other than 'turn the other cheek'. In addition to this, I was born with a family characteristic of having a rather large cranium and light bones. These things left me ill-equipped to deal with the inevitable bullying, physical and mental, which goes on amongst any group of children. This left me as a 'skinny big-head' who ran away from fights and was not involved in the gang warfare which went on in the Junior School playground. Thanks to my mother's tutelage, I was always, academically at or near the top of the class, and this did not endear me to some other pupils of my age. At Grammar School I was not, because of my parents' pacifism, allowed to join the Cadet Corps, which I think I would have enjoyed. As already indicated I was not fond of traditional games or Gym, and in this respect was sometimes regarded as 'one apart' - with the natural results. I cannot say that I was aware of anything like continuous bullying, but the possibility was always there to be feared. After leaving Junior School, this aspect of life had eased somewhat in that the physically muscle-bound and mentally 'thick' who had not 'passed the scholarship' had been shunted off into that outer darkness known as Brook Street School. It is perhaps a comment on the times that the threat of 'going to Brook Street' had been used as much to encourage working for a scholarship as had the promise of glittering prizes to be had at the Grammar School. Going to Brook Street implied that you had landed on the slippery slope which led to manual work and thus to the disgrace of a fall in the social scale. As your parents' and grandparents' principal motivation in life had been to drag themselves by much effort UP the social scale, it was more than your life was worth to "let them down". INTO BATTLE.I did at KES have one memorable fight. This was with one, Dicky Clarke, the son of a local Police Inspector - no less! Dicky suffered from ichthyosis, was ugly and dim, and he annoyed me - both by his appearance and by the fact that he continually tried to 'take the mick'. One day he went too far and a burst of adrenalin caused me, much to his surprise, and mine I think, to try and beat the living daylights out of him. I don't think I had quite succeeded before the 'heavy mob' of prefects burst through the surrounding crowd and tore us apart. I suffered no censure from the staff and less injury than expected. Frankly, I rather enjoyed the experience. Clarke thereafter continued to harass, but at a greater distance. Not perhaps until I was able, at Grammar School, more to 'do my own thing' and have confidence in it, did I finally pull out of this phobia. Certainly the Anglesey Camp, described elsewhere, followed by the military training in which I later participated at Birmingham made a tremendous difference in this respect. Even the coming of war had its advantages, in that one found oneself from time to time in positions of unexpected crisis, and I was not alone in discovering abilities and attitudes which I had never before acknowledged. "THE GAZZLE"Admission to the sixth form, particularly the second and third year 'sixths', carried the privilege of our being given 'Private Study' periods. One could look on this as a valuable pre-cursor to University practice, as a tacit admission that the school staff could not teach us any more, or that having become cleverer than they, we had been written off pending our passage on and up. We did not debate the issue, being ready, as ever, to be grateful for small mercies. Our 'team' at the time consisted of Ian Hope, Peter (Cuthbert) Ainsbury, Philip Jay, Saxon (Thatch) Taylor, Jack Holloway, Philip Genner and myself. In the science sixth a year ahead of us were Harold Perks and Eric Hulland about whom many a tales could be told.
(From left to right: Peter Ainsbury, Ian Hope, Philip Jay, Saxon Taylor, Harold Perks, Eric Hulland, John Green) At one such private study period, someone came up with the idea of producing a VI.S magazine. Whereas 'Private Eye' had not then been even thought of, the idea was the same, to produce satirical if not libellous articles about various school personalities and to provide 'Advertisements' which satirised current press advertising. There was a preliminary discussion concerning the name of this magazine. Someone recalled that a local paper in Kidderminster was called 'The Shuttle' - probably having some reference to the carpet industry in that amorphous town. This title was eye-catching in its curiosity, but of little relevance. One person of more prosaic character suggested that we call it the 'Gazette', there being at the time a 'Stour Gazette', published by Councillor Walker who thought that he could compete with the local 'County Express'. He couldn't. A compromise was agreed and thereafter we 'went to press' as 'The VI.S Gazzle'. In those days, copying facilities, other than by carbon paper, were practically non-existent, being confined to some messy process involving gelatine and violet ink. So there could be only one copy of each issue. This would have a limited circulation amongst the cognoscenti, and eventually among those who had sufficient clout to lay their thieving hands on it. It was essential that we should have what is now known as a 'logo' and this was designed by combining the red and green school tie with a shield, the motif of which was supplied by the 'pollywog'. This motif was stolen from the makers of the glue supplied throughout the school to those who needed it and to some who didn't, and which was known as 'Pollywog Glutin', the pollywog being a stylised tadpole - etymology unknown. As Philip Genner, being small of stature, was at one time known as 'tadpole' it seemed appropriate; I'm not quite sure why. As I had unlimited access to a typewriter, a somewhat cynical attitude to school life, and a desire to see the enterprise succeed, I found myself elected Editor unanimously. After the first issue, Philip Jay managed to obtain, by fair means or foul, a quantity of school 'foolscap' and brief access to an 'Adana' home printing press. He was therefore able to produce paper with a printed heading 'The VI.S. Gazzle'. This upgraded our image considerably. Philip was also the proud possessor of a camera, and so was appointed official photographer. Harold Perks and Eric Hulland graciously accepted the positions of Gossip and Scandal Editors, the distinction between their respective duties being finely drawn. Some small items of expenditure had, of course to be met, and this was partially supplied by our organising a Salvation Army style 'Self Denial Appeal', printed envelopes being circulated in the staff room. This brought a mixed response. It was better than nothing - but not a lot! Had we taken a course in 'Business Studies', there is little doubt that we would have made a profit, but in those days such mercenary motives were considered rather common. THATCH PRODUCTS.We had one tremendous asset in Saxon Taylor. There is some doubt as to whether his parents called him 'Saxon' because of his fair hair, not knowing that the colour of babies' hair does sometimes change, or whether the name was due to some knowledge of ancient ancestry. However, both in appearance and personality, Saxon invited satire. His hair had, indeed, remained of Saxon blond appearance, and in defiance of the fashion then in vogue for young men of that age to comb their hair backwards, he persisted in allowing his to flow freely forward in a sort of cow-lick. In this his appearance was similar to that of Alan Bennett of a later age. His hair with a little imagination, suggested the eaves of a thatched cottage so he was therefore known as 'Thatch'. We had previously had a meeting at which pseudonyms were suggested for all of us, but 'Thatch' and 'Cuthbert' (Peter Ainsbury) were the only ones which endured. So a vast range of 'Thatch Products' was thought up. These were advertised in a similar way to commercial products, the publicity for which was by that time becoming faintly ridiculous. Several of the latter had a name ending in '0' - Rinso, Brasso, Bisto, Silvo, Oxo, etc., so we advertised 'Thatcho' which would do almost anything from restoring the roses to the cheeks of anaemic girls to putting the glitter back on ailing goldfish. There was also 'Thatch-i-Creme' which, unlike Brylcreem, was capable of holding back the most recalcitrant of fore-locks. Our roving reporters were quick to note all school events and the eccentricities and peccadilloes of the staff. Furthermore they amply anticipated the skills of the professional reporters of today by applying such necessary tendentiousness, exaggeration and innuendi as distinguish the profession. We had to guard each issue carefully lest it be whipped off prematurely to the staff room. When it eventually did go in that direction, it usually came back, a fact that says something about the staff which was not always apparent. One Speech day however, we brought out a special edition. The local M.P., one R. H. Morgan (Con), had obviously over-imbibed at lunch, and gave, in the afternoon, an exhortation which was a little confused in its delivery. We made much of this of course - rather too much in fact. It was the one time when the Gazzle was confiscated, but the Head who had summoned us to his presence, explained pragmatically and without rancour that this issue was not 'in the best interests of the school'. He did manage nevertheless to leave us with a distinct impression that privately, he considered that Mr. Morgan's speech was not that either. Fair enough! Later, at University, I was appointed Editor of the Birmingham University Mining Magazine, and have since edited many Parish Magazines. Whether this has even the remotest connection with my having edited the Gazzle, I never found out, certainly the contents have usually been somewhat different although I have often been tempted! I still have what may well have been the last copy of the Gazzle to be produced. This was a joint effort by Ian Hope and Peter Ainsbury. I was then occupied with examinations and so was not available. That issue contains a record of the demolition of the 'Tin Tabernacle' and the beginning of its replacement by the new 'C.Block'. There are photographs, too, of various personalities at a school sports day, including a fine action shot of 'Fungus' (Revd. E. G. Horner) in straw boater, exerting himself beyond the call of duty on behalf of School House tug-of-war team. There is, furthermore, a record of a unique event, when Kenneth (K.O) Morris of VI.L, and himself a prefect, was put in detention by some unimaginative master.
I do not know what felony had initiated this draconian measure - he had probably split an Infinitive or something - but practically the whole sixth stayed behind after school and chaired K.O shoulder-high to the detention room. They then waited during the punitive period and then chaired and cheered him back to the bike shed. That story has a moral, children. Would anyone like to tell me what it is? SIC TRANSIT.My days at K.E.S. came to an end in July 1940, by which time the second world war had broken out and I was then seventeen. I had hoped, and it was expected of me by my mentors that I should do yet another year in the sixth and attempt a State Scholarship to Cambridge with a view to a career in some sort of scientific research. However, thanks to Hitler this was not to be. A term or so before I left school we were advised that the University of Birmingham was offering scholarships to the Mining Dept. where Prof. Moss had opened a course in 'Coal Utilisation' designed to produce technologists for the various coal treatment industries which, with their production of petrochemicals, had assumed a greater importance with the outbreak of war. This course was to be incorporated with a business course designed for technical sales personnel. I applied for an interview, and rather to my surprise, was accepted and given the princely sum of £120.p.a. plus tuition fees. My interest in gas production because of my father's career may have had a little to do with this. So in the summer of 1940 I said farewell to K.E.S. The future was obviously uncertain in wartime. At least I had the advantage of knowing that I had a little time before reaching the 'call-up' age of eighteen. That provided a powerful incentive to work hard so that I could be allowed to complete the course. In fact, the Mining Dept. undergraduates were the only ones at that time who were allowed to complete a full three-year course. That is the next chapter. © The Estate of William John Green, 2004 | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
