School Daze

Grammar school came as a bit of a shock, what with "masters" in black school gowns and with even blacker, stern expressions. I actually enjoyed school after the initial shock, we were even allowed to write with fountain pens and biros, a bit different from the old nib and ink pens that we were forced to use at junior school, although those pens did double as darts when the teachers heads were turned.

Latin. Messrs Brown Jnr.. & Snr... I tried desperately hard with Latin, but by the end of the second year it was decided by the Masters Brown, that I and the other linguistically challenged of our year would study Roman History instead. Much more fun! Louis Brown comes into my local pub for a drink now and again.

French. George Medlin & Miss Wyatt. Much more interesting with Miss Wyatt, after all we were almost grown up at eleven years old. George Medlin was and still is a great chap that I always had a lot of respect for. George once had half of the school staring up at an attic window convincing us that he had seen a face at the window. We were told to report back to him after lunch if we saw "the face". Needless to say no one did, I suspect he was on playground duty that day and wanted a quiet hour. George also comes into my local pub for a drink now and again.

Maths. Mr. Hance & Mr. Kay. Maths I found to be very difficult, was it invented by the Romans I often wonder? Anyway it was all Greek to me. Mr. Kay with his memory help, a whack across the head with a suitably thick text book if you didn't raise your hand in answer to a question and another if you got it wrong. Did that account for this inane drivel that I feel compelled to write?

P E and Games. Fernley Furze and Neil Haley. Neil thumped me in the solar plexus for swearing on the field one lunch time, b*****d. Fernley was OK, fair and supportive and although I was always enthusiastic I still got the slipper once for forgetting my kit. It was the only subject that I really enjoyed and excelled at. I did end up in hospital after vaulting the box and hitting one of the balance beams that had not been stowed properly by the previous class, more head injury, (see Maths). I still see Fernley out and about.

English. Alfie Davey & Taffy Jones. Alfie bless him, was good, he was always very kind and fair. Alfie was in his late fifties I suppose and called all his pupils "Babes" as in "shush babes" if the class was noisy. This term of endearment was applied to all students from first to sixth year. I once saw Taffy Jones kick Hugh Rowe up the backside so hard it sent him three quarters the way back to his seat. This was after he had dragged the boy back through the window through which he was trying escape after committing some heinous classroom crime.

Chemistry. Mr. Kay. Who was it that poured Sulphuric acid into an aquarium full of tadpoles in the Biology Lab to see if they swam faster? They did, for a while. Some other "wag" (thanks to Tom Pulling for owning up after30 years or so and for naming names) lit the Bunsen burner tap and tried to set fire to a chap's blazer (no pun intended). The flame from the tap was about 18 inches long and the lad who owned the jacket was sitting on the worktop in front of it.

Biology. Mr. Keith Bowie, he had a nasty habit of trying to lift pupils off the ground by grabbing hold of the hair at their temples and twisting so that it was necessary to attempt self levitation to avoid the excruciating pain; lovely chap, perhaps I'll try that with him the next time I see him out walking, although I think that he is quite bald now. Apart from all that I thought that he was a good teacher and I enjoyed Biology. Perhaps it was because I was interested. I remember one day when we had to dissect something and some of the guys had to go out for a breath of fresh air. Neil Dunstan, I think it was, came back in covered in mud and blood and missing several teeth. He had apparently slipped and fallen onto a curb stone.

Physics. Mr. Greenslade who was also my form master in the second year & Mr. "Dracula" Charlton.  Physics comes in with Latin and Maths, although I do remember that "the angle of incidence is equal to the angle of reflection". That was while doing something with lights and mirrors. Bearing in mind that I did not excel in this subject, I did well in my later employment as an photo copier engineer, lights and mirrors again I suppose.

Geography. Ivan Peters, my first year form master and also the late great Jack Ryder. Marvelous field trips, one of which was a visit to Portreath beach at a very low tide to see the petrified stumps of an ancient forest which was uncovered. Why do countries change their names and borders so often? It costs a fortune upgrading maps.

History. Mr. (Tex) Tromans, OK I guess. I don't remember much about him but I think one or two of his sons went to RCGS around the same time.

Art. Norman Hall, a gentle man but gave me hell for squeezing a tube of paint from the middle. Later another teacher called De Corsey joined just before Norman's retirement. What was that guy on? He would hand out lines by the thousand and later deduct them for improved behaviour. He even put one of my "masterpieces" on the wall, I still cringe at the thought of that fruit sliding off a Willow Pattern platter.

Music. Mr. Skinner. I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket let alone write one, something to do with Latin me thinks.

Woodwork. Mr. Oliver. He missed the first three weeks because of a septic finger due to an imbedded splinter. Lets not go down that path. I once made a stool with a woven top, I cut so much off the legs trying to stop it from wobbling that it resembled a tray more so than a foot stool.

Technical Drawing. Mr. Smith. Was he an overgrown Boy Scout or just the outdoor type? I liked TD, angles, straight lines and geometric shapes are so much easier to control than freehand art.

Religious Instruction. K. R. (Diddy Man) Mullis. What an ego "If you must give me a nickname, call me MIGHTY ONE or OMNIPOTENT ONE" I think he left us to teach at Camborne Grammar School, with all the lovely ladies. Can't say I blame him.

Tuck Shop. Good old Buck, a pity he didn't smile.

Please read entries in the guest book for other fond memories from other inmates.