My school memories: âMost special of all to my twin brother and me was that, Miss Hanson used to invite us to afternoon tea, with fine china and silver pot with silver strainer; she had a plate of long and thin-leafed lettuce upon which she sprinkled sugar! This was truly eccentric. Perhaps because she had known our family and particularly my uncle she referred to us as âmy twinsâ and made a fuss that must surely have irritated our school friends though they were good enough not to show it. âMy brother and I were weekly boarders together with a lovely rascal called Chalkley. The three of us created mayhem. His high spirits were infectious with teachers and senior boys his target. âThe senior weekly boarders, only a few, slept at the other end of the gabled roof of Number 1. Between was the Matronâs room. She was a very large and comfortable figure who, at the end of our day, sat in an equally large and comfortable armchair with my brother and me on the floor at her feet. Thus we said our evening prayer. We, of course, knew these prayers by heart but to spice things up a bit we had discovered in a country âjunk shopâ a miniature Prayer Book, smaller than a match box, whose tiny writing we insisted that Matron should read. Poor dear! âOn the teaching staff I recollect Mr James because he taught us more or less everything from âAmo, Amas, Amatâ to âUn Deux Troisâ to âThe Pied Piper of Hamelinâ to Addition and Subtraction to a modicum of History. Mr James was a serious young man with horn-rimmed spectacles and the look of an Arthur Miller. He commanded respect and never had to raise his voice. There was also a Miss Mussen who presided over PT at about 11 oâclock every day in the playground. âI want you to be agileâ, she would say to us and weâd reply âand not fragileâ which seemed funny at the time. âSinging lessons came once a week under Dr Aitken, an elderly man with something of a foreign accent, who prepared us for the annual concert at the Rudolph Steiner Hall in Finchley. âYou two Whiteheads are not to open your mouths â you sound like foghorns and will spoil everythingâ he rasped at my brother and me. âFinally every term we had âFire Drillâ. This was especially for we boarders lodged at the top of the house who, in the event of a fire, would have no other way down except through the windows of the upstairs bathroom. An ingenious canvas tube was lowered from this window to the ground and each of us had to jump down it and slide down. At the top it was vertical and terrifying. âHold your elbows out to slow you down,â cried Mr James. At the bottom the canvas was held out so that the final six feet were more of less flat. I have to say that it was an event that we dreaded each term. âWell that wasnât so bad was it?â said the teachers but it was âŠ
âLessons were conducted in the dining room after breakfast and the smell of hot rolls lingered. The napkins and tablecloths were starched. Billy Wallenfelsâ Eau de Cologne soap perfumed our bedroom. âOn Sundays we went to the little stone church opposite the hotel. One day my mother came up to see us and sat at the back of the church. Aware that she was a selfconfessed âheathenâ and also a very heavy smoker I dreaded the possibility that she might light up during the service. Mercifully she didnât. âWhen the crisis was over we returned to London. By then it was clear to my parents that a school in London was unlikely to be a very good thing if we lived in the country and we were told that the Easter Term of 1940 would bring us to Durlston Court Preparatory School in Swanage. So it was goodbye to Green and Red, welcome to Grey and White, goodbye to Loudoun Road and welcome to a pretty seaside town soon to be in the line of enemy bombers ravaging Portsmouth and thus necessitating a further move to safer Somerset. Memories are precious. âWhat do I think people will remember me by? I will read The Times Obituary (Heavenly Edition) when I make the ascent or the Sun (Hellish Special) if I descend ⊠till then best not to speculate.â
âUnknown to us the Munich Crisis occurred. The School was moving to Scotland! There was huge excitement and much speculation when we learned that we were to live in a hotel at a place called Edzell. Our parents drove us to the railway station at Bletchley late one Sunday evening, though where that place was we had no idea. Bletchley Park, which was immortalised just a year later by the arrival of Alan Turing, almost still a schoolboy, on a bicycle from Shenley Brook End to start work on the Enigma Machine and help win the war. So Bletchley seems a suitable starting point for the adventure and adventure it was both for boys and staff. Next morning we opened the blinds and saw the gentle Scottish countryside slipping past and soon we were at Forfar Station and boarding a bus to Edzell. The Panmure Hotel was rather grand, set at the end of the village whence an open road led to who knows where. Pine trees gave off a delicious scent. The air was crisp and clean. The Finchley Road seemed aeons away.
1969
Mr John Pepys was appointed as Headmaster (1969â77).
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