Memories of an Old Girl

August 1943 – my entry into LIc Girls, which was Miss Inez McNaughton’s class – begins my story of many memories of my early school days.

After a few days of my father delivering me to school, I was then taken to school by a girl not much older than myself who lived nearby. We duly got on the tram at the Co-op in Downfield and paid our 1 pence fare. We had been well warned to give up our seat to an elderly person if the tram were to get busy. Not being able to reach the straps, we balanced as best we could as the tram rattled its way down through the Hilltown or Moncur Crescent. Then, after alighting, we walked along Bell Street to the Girls’ School.

How many of you from my era remember Cathy’s domain? Cathy was a maid of all work from what I can remember – she made coffee, sold us jam sandwiches at ½ p (a quarter of a square of bread) then was on hand to attend to the sick and needy, to plaster a cut knee. Indeed, I remember a classmate sitting by the radiator head in hands being carried away by Ike McLaren, the sports master. It transpired that she had a serious illness, meningitis!

And what about “up the backstairs” and “down the frontstairs”? The only time we went upstairs was to the gym class in the hall where, in later years, the senior morning assemblies were held between Monday and Thursday. A hymn would be sung, a reading by the Prefects and notifications by the Headmaster. Then, on Friday first thing, we had religious instruction for half an hour by a class teacher.

I wonder how many of you could sing Schola Clara and also translate it! From memory it was quite long, and we only sang the first and last verses. I also recall the stained-glass windows in the Girls’ School representing Literature, Arts and Music. The busts of Mr. and Mrs. Harris – the benefactors of the Girls’ School – still sit proudly at the top of the stairs.

One June, around 1955 or 1956, my classmate, Julia and I were asked to white wash the life-size statues from the art room in the Boys’ School in readiness for the yearly art exhibition. Oh my, we knocked the fig leaf off one of them but fortunately it didn’t break as it crashed to the floor. We were well reminded by our art master, Mr. Halliday, that one of those statues was indeed a first casting of an original!

Another memory from later in my school career, as a Prefect, and one that comes back quite vividly was of standing at the door of the Girls’ School, black book in hand, jotting down the names of the naughty girls who weren’t wearing their berets!

There was also the early lunchroom upstairs in the Boys’ School, opposite Mr. Jack – the janitor’s house – there were long wooden benches and no speaking was allowed, otherwise you were punished. I remember Monday was always pea soup and mince, and Friday we had fish. Whatever pudding there was we also had a choice of dumpling and custard every day, alongside tapioca, semolina, custard and stewed apples or rice pudding and jam etc. – War time fare.

Then there were the National Savings Collections on Mondays. I had a small red bag into which my mother put a shilling. When you saved up so many, you got a certificate. I remember saying to my mother “A… always has paper money” (i.e. a 10 shilling note). Ah well, said mother, her Daddy has a shop.

I have many more memories of happy times at DHS. However, there was one incident when there was a fracas in the senior school. We had Maths class in adjoining rooms with the boys and on this day, it being a wet rainy interval, we were allowed to stay inside. Suddenly, the window in the door between the two rooms was shattered. As it happens, it was a sibling quarrel. Anyway, there was an inquest as nobody owned up. Mr. More – the boys’ Maths teacher – came through and made us ladies line up. He stood close to us, staring into our eyes each in turn and asked whether we had caused the damage. I was a very quiet, goody goody and looked down at the floor. This was a big mistake! Mr. More took this to be my admission of guilt and I was pulled out of the line and made to stand apart to await my punishment. Fortunately my friend, who is still a friend to this day, came to my rescue and spoke to our teacher – the dear Mrs. McKenzie – stating “Alison was with me and we were sitting quietly in the corner”. Jean was thanked for her honesty and all was well after that.

Alison Barnett (née Young), Class of 1956