Bursary Campaign

Interesting and Challenging Old Novos of a Special Kind

“Bursaries at RGS rely entirely on donations, as no bursaries are funded from school fees. It is due to the generosity of our donors that we are able to “give the gift of education” to 100 young people in this academic year.”

Crispian Strachan, Chairman of the RGS Bursary Campaign, on the success of the campaign’s latest appeal.

Well, yes, I know; all Old Novos are interesting and challenging people. It’s in their Geordie (or other local) genes, never mind the extra helping of skills, challenges and sheer “Novoness” that the RGS has given them over the years. But I have in mind a particular group, who have collated short stories from their lives for a good purpose – the RGS Bursary Campaign. Not all of these people received bursary support; not all of them are financial supporters of the Campaign. The one thing they have in common is the vision of providing opportunities, especially in hard times, for young people to turn their abilities and aspirations into real, life-changing attainments. You can read their stories on our webpage. More stories are in the pipeline and will continue to be added to the site. If you know of someone who fits, please tell us! The means to carry on supporting students at the RGS in this way are coming from many forms of generous donations. Legacies have been pledged to us, and, in due course, some have come through, providing a vivid and lasting memory of a generous testator. Single donations, often in response to appeals, and continuing pledges are received; regular monthly or quarterly payments can add up to a large gift quite painlessly. Some parents have donated their children’s school deposits, in addition to other gifts. An educational trust in America has assisted us to open a route for taxfree donations from the USA. Our representative there is Old Novo Tren Meyer (49-52), contact him at a_tmeyer@one.net if you would like to know more.

Charitable trusts, although hard pressed by the effect of the recession on their income, have continued to make some grants to the Campaign, and there are socially minded companies who match the charitable giving of their employees, so please do check with your employer if you wish to make a donation; they may be able to double it for you.

By all these methods, the income of the Bursary Campaign is holding up well in the recession, and we are always pleased to hear from any Old Novo who wishes to help, or simply to know more. Feel free to contact us on campaign@rgs.newcastle.sch.uk.

Bursaries at RGS rely entirely on donations, as no bursaries are funded from school fees. It is due to the generosity of our donors that we are able to “give the gift of education” to 100 young people in this academic year alone, to their individual benefit, the benefit of the social mix and outreach of the school, and to the long term benefit of the North East as a whole.

There can be few better ways to invest in the future than to invest in the development and skills of our bright young people. Your assistance and support will always be most welcome.

Crispian Strachan

Chairman of the Bursary Campaign

For more information about the Bursary Campaign, go to www.rgs.newcastle.sch.uk/bursary-campaign or contact Campaign Manager Jane Medcalf on 0191 212 8909

A Point for the House

William Lowther (42-50) recalls his nightmare at the House Music Competition

I confess that the threat began without me even noticing. At the time, it just seemed like another one of those carefree days in Lower Sixth. My elder brother Derek and I were casually drifting back from either IIV or IIV training. I can’t recall the time of the year. Our Prefect gowns flowed gently in the breeze and, like most Prefects, we tried to appear cool and couth. What could possibly pose a threat?

It was then that Derek, who was Head of Horsley House, exercised his voice of authority, albeit in a disarmingly relaxed manner. He casually remarked that I would soon have the opportunity of winning a point for the House in something called the House Music Competition. Wow! A point for the House! Apparently, competitors would only be required to sing a brief solo in the school theatre.

My first mistake was not to give this announcement a second thought. After all, I came from a musical family. Regrettably, I failed to recall that the musical prowess rested with other members of the family. Nevertheless, as a young boy I had spent years of singing in a very disciplined church choir. But it slipped my mind that boys’ voices eventually break, and when that had happened in my case, my flexible boy’s voice had not only shattered but dislocated.

True, since then, I could claim on very rare occasions to have attempted to make some kind of singing noise. But never willingly and only when my own attempts were drowned in union with others, such as during the collective roaring of morning prayers in School Hall. Thus I remained innocently unaware, unprepared and unrehearsed.

Inevitably, the day dawned, just like A levels. But at least I could rely on the support of my colleagues in Horsley House, as we sat expectantly in the front row of the impressively spacious school theatre. An elegant grand piano beckoned threateningly from the centre of the stage. Reality had arrived. I was told afterwards that my name had been called several times without any sign of intelligence from my inert figure. My friends had to physically push me forward to begin my slow, stumbling shuffle towards the piano and its small, bespectacled pianist from Horsley House. With no hope of escape and nowhere to go, I took up my appointed position beside the beautiful instrument, which had been created to impart only pleasure.

The crisis began. As the introductory notes sounded from the piano, my earlier choirboy training kicked in. With deep shock, I realised immediately that for some dreadful reason, the accompanist had hit on a key which was a full octave too high for my already severely limited vocal range. Even as those fearful thoughts were striking home, the introduction was already ending. So what else could I do but take a deep breath? It was then that in addition to the silken notes of Linden-Lea from the grand piano, there came another sound. This new noise was unfamiliar and more animal than musical. It was also apparent that its owner was suffering.

Oh my goodness. It was me! My comfortable shirt collar now felt unbearably tight. I felt the whites of my eyes bulging sufficiently to see around corners. This strange sound varied from thinning to the point of snapping, then sometimes vibrating towards disintegration. Worst of all for me was the chaotic need to juggle my voice, for the simple reason that as the melody flowed upwards, the wavering voice could only be compelled to follow it for a short distance before it began to wobble alarmingly.

Then the reverse had to be applied as the melody changed its mind and led the struggling voice downwards. It must have been this process of tonsil leapfrogging that finally caused me to lose my self-control.

I then committed the ultimate mistake by just glancing momentarily towards my Horsley friends in the front row; I suppose in the forlorn hope that I might receive some kind of succour. Instead, all I saw was the collective red glow from their overheated faces, and one of my best friends pushing the last corners of his enormous handkerchief into his mouth, as the only way he could suppress his overwhelming urge to scream with laughter. A true act of friendship!

Mercifully, at that point the piano fell silent and I collapsed into mindless giggles as they led me away. And as they led me away, I am to told that I could be heard mumbling repeatedly: “a point for the House, a point for the House”.