Memories of School: Elizabeth Mahoney and Kathleen Ricketts

Elizabeth Mary Mahoney (née Young, 1936-1945) shares her memories of attending Bolton School in the mid-1930s and 1940s. She writes that she is grateful for the education she received – and, aged 93, she still likes to pick wildflowers! “When I was a child, my family lived in a house on the northern edge of Bolton. My friends and I would walk up the road a short distance to play on an outcrop of the moors. We picked sprigs of heather and the occasional blueberry – which we called whinberries – although we never found very many. In the spring of 1936, when I was nine years old, the small private school I had been going to closed its doors. So my parents enrolled me in Bolton School; it was much bigger, and much further from home. To get there I had to take a bus downtown, and then a tram to the School; a trip of about 40 minutes. Attendance at Bolton School meant that my mother had to make sure I was dressed in the required uniform: navy gymslips and cream blouses in winter, pink and white checked cotton dresses in summer. And long stockings, black or beige, which had to be held up by garters or suspender belts and were not all that comfortable. I think we were all happy when the School decreed we could wear ankle socks instead. Hairstyles were regulated too; long hair had to be braided or tied up in some way. And of course, we all had a school tie. The teachers were excellent. They were mostly single women – the only man, Mr Harris, was the science teacher. They spoke with ‘educated’ accents, while we, of course, spoke with Lancashire accents. Later I wondered if some of these women were single because they had lost sweethearts during the 1914-18 war. One afternoon a week was devoted to a sport. We played netball and lacrosse in the winter; we played tennis or went cross-country running in the summer. The boys’ school, which was right next to the girls’ school, had its own indoor swimming pool. In the summer we were allowed to swim there instead of gym class. That was always a pleasure.

Bolton School had a big library with a good selection of books. I volunteered to work in the library, which meant checking out books and putting them away when they were returned. Later in life, I completed a Master’s degree in Library Science, and worked for many years as a research librarian. Once a month there was a Junior School meeting, so that we children could practise how to hold one. If it was your form’s turn to do the meeting, you had to choose a chair and a secretary. Minutes of the previous meeting were read and their acceptance voted on. Then there were speeches, which had all been carefully prepared. One subject that came up fairly often was ‘My Summer Holiday’. We were encouraged to learn about wild flowers. In Junior School, we were each given a little notebook in which to record every new flower we found. We were told to pick only one of each, to write its name and where we had found it in the notebook, and to bring both the flower and our notebook to school the next morning. Each entry was checked by the form teacher, and when we had recorded a certain number, we could take the notebook to the office of the Headmistress and join the line of girls waiting to go in to sign the Excellent Book. If your name was in this book four times, the Headmistress would include your name in the list she read out when we were all assembled in the Great Hall for Prayers first thing on Monday mornings. For my birthday, I had been given a book called Flower Fairies. Each page had a perfect image of a particular flower; on the facing page, was a little verse. Back, L-R: Sybil Fletcher, Mary Young, When I walked with my mother to visit her sister, we ?, ?, Pat Topping went down a lane, and across a field and a wood. I Front, L-R: Glynis Johns, Jean Pring, Margaret Walsh (Head Girl), Joan Whittle (Mary’s cousin), ? found many flowers on these walks; bluebells in spring, dandelions in summer, buttercups, daisies, heather and Greenwood, Marjorie May cowslips. There was sadness as well. When I first arrived at Bolton School, I had been delighted to find that another member of my family was already there. Marcia was the daughter of my grandfather’s second wife. I loved playing with her whenever I got the chance. When she was 13, a doctor removed her tonsils; she did not survive. Even today when I see a game of hopscotch scrawled in chalk on a sidewalk, I remember Marcia. In September of 1939, Britain declared war on Germany. The quadrangle in front of the School was dug up, and underground air raid shelters were put in. We had to practise going into them occasionally. It was cold down there, which was why we had to carry our coats as well as gas masks everywhere we went in the School. It was upsetting at first, but in the end we took it for granted. As it turned out, German bombers did not bother with Bolton. They concentrated on London and Coventry and other bigger cities. Glasgow, with its ship-

building and docks on the Clyde, was badly bombed. Manchester, only ten miles away from us, was bombed, although not heavily. One evening, my father took me outside to see the red lights in the sky from burning buildings to the south of us. Only a few pupils lived close enough to the School to be able to go home for the mid-day meal. Most of us lined up to go into the dining room, where we sat ten girls at a table, with a teacher at the head of each table. It was war-time, remember, and food was rationed. Dinner was usually some kind of meat stew, with a lot of fat on the meat. It wasn’t all that good, although I think the cooks did try their best with the rations that they had available. When I was in the Fifth Form, a walking tour in the Lake District was organised to take place during the Easter holidays. Two of our teachers planned it and came along to supervise. We enjoyed walking over the mountains, staying in youth hostels along the way. It was something I had never done before, and I still remember getting to the rounded top of Helvellyn, the third highest peak in England, and looking down at the countryside stretching out below us, where there were little farms, hills, valleys and lakes. In the Sixth Form, we were told we would not be attending School for the last two weeks of that term. Instead, we were to help farmers who were growing market gardens out in the country, to harvest their crops of green peas. Their usual pickers were in the forces. Some of our teachers had experienced Girl Guide camps, so we were well organised. We had to take sleeping bags with us, and we camped out in bell tents in the farmers’ fields. We had campfire sing-songs in the evenings. It was fun and we earned money too. Bolton School was a very good school. It was wellorganised with highly qualified teachers. In the Sixth Form, we prepared for whatever further education we expected to undertake. In my case, it was to study for a science degree at the University of St Andrews. Note: Elizabeth completed a degree in chemistry at the University of St Andrews. She moved to Canada with her husband in 1953, raised four children, and then completed a Master’s degree in Library Science at McGill University in Montreal. She worked as a research librarian until she retired.

The photo of a Chemistry lesson in 1957 on the back cover of the Spring edition prompted Kathleen Ricketts (née Waddicar, 1951-1958) to get in touch. Kathleen writes:

“When I opened the recent Old Girls’ Association Newsletter and looked at the back page, I was immediately transported back to working in the lab in 1957 because I instantly recognised Margaret Yates and Lorna Gerrard working at the second bench. They were in fact the year above me, but I knew them well because we had all played together in the School netball and lacrosse teams. The highlight of the year for us was the trip to London to take part in the All England Schools Lacrosse Tournament.

“At that time, a trip to London was an adventure that most girls from the north of England had not experienced: I certainly hadn't. I remember well the excitement of the 40-minute underground train journey from Russell Square to Colliers Wood (near the end of the Northern Line) where the tournament took place. It seemed like the end of the earth! We were all rather nervous, but managed to win two of our three matches; not enough to qualify for the finals, but nevertheless a lot of fun.

“The lasting memory, however, has to be the Saturday evening out and about in Leicester Square. The lights; the bright red London buses; the taxi cabs; the theatres; the people – all buzzing! “Lyons Corner House (superb eateries as they were then) beckoned everyone by the sound of their lovely orchestral music which floated out onto the streets. Talented musicians indeed; trios or maybe quartets playing the most magical relaxing music to entertain the diners. The Commissionaire, in full uniform (including the hat), paraded outside, welcomed us at the door and led us to our table. I haven't any idea of the menu offered, but it was a magical evening with an unforgettable atmosphere. After the meal, theatre land was our next treat and, in particular, the Vaudeville theatre where the well-known musical The Boyfriend was being performed. I don't remember the stars, but I do remember the music which has stood the test of time and I still play it occasionally on the piano. “Of course, on returning to Russell Square we were far too excited just to settle down and go to sleep! At those times we called it ‘the midnight feast’, which found us altogether in one bedroom: not much of a feast, really; probably a biscuit or two and orange juice and certainly no alcohol! Just lots of fun, chat and laughter. How innocent we were! “Looking back, I feel privileged to have had the opportunity of visiting London in the fifties when it was a very different place.”

This photograph was taken on the field after the tournament in London in 1957. Lorna is on the right kneeling down; Margaret and Kathleen are immediately behind her in the middle row. If any other Old Girls recognise themselves, please get in touch with the Development Office.