First Days

The recent articles recalling some of the stories of events that happened at Cheltenham Grammar School (CGS) started my thought processes – such as they are. I too, can remember the first nerve-wracking day when as new scholars we went through the small passageway at the extreme left at the High Street entrance to the playground, more or less opposite, the shop that was, to all intents and purposes, the school tuck shop (my imperfect memory recalls it as 'Fourboys', but I expect to be corrected on that score). Yes, I too was armed with a mortarboard and my brand new school uniform bought from 'The Famous' (close by Woolworths). My CGS school days started in 1959 and lasted until 1966.

As an aside, I came to Cheltenham Grammar School from Rowanfield Primary School which was about a ten or fifteen minutes walk away from where I lived in Kingsmead Avenue, Cheltenham. It is remarkable to me that the old Grammar School in the High Street, founded in 1574, should have been demolished in the 1960s and moved to Hesters Way, close to what I remember was either Monkscroft School (or playing fields). The 'new' school buildings looked really good with a Library in the round, domed building at one of the ends, surrounded by a moat. It was a shock to hear that the new school had to be demolished after just a few years. The odd distinction that I have is that both of the actual Grammar School buildings that I was educated in were demolished whereas my old primary school (Rowanfield) is still going strong today!

I can recall that we were ushered into the Hall close to the Headmaster’s Office to find out what class we were in. The Victorian Hall was equipped with gym equipment around the white-washed walls and had a high vaulted roof supported by corbels shaped to look like angels, holding what I can only suppose were meant to be books. The angels were carved from the waist up. The gym equipment included wall bars which pulled out from their position flat against the wall and climbing ropes.

In later years, when we were using the gym, I can remember Iltyd Pearce telling us not to climb above the angels, otherwise retribution awaited the miscreant. A friend, that I haven’t met since school days, who I think was also at Rowanfield – Jeff Whitney (Jessop House) - dared to climb above the angels and had to face the ire of the dreaded Mr Pearce waiting for him to climb down. Punishment was delivered with some degree of humour and involved a few swats with the rope end. I don’t think that anyone else climbed above the angels – well, certainly not that I know of.

Allocation of Forms

First years were not allocated to classes beginning with Year 1 and divided into 4 classes, say Forms 1A, 1B, 1C and 1D which seemed to me to be a more logical way of breaking the year’s new intake into manageable classes. (It may be a throw-back to different starting ages for secondary school - 10 instead of 11; and Cheltenham being a traditional school kept the old numbering system). Instead we were divided into 4 classes, 2A, 2 Alpha, 2B and 2 Beta). As it happened, I went into 2A, dropped to the Alpha stream in my second year and stayed in that stream until my A level year when the class numbering system took on an altogether different approach that involved the specialism of study (Science or Arts), the year of the study (First or Second), and the group designator for the particular 'A' Levels being studied.

The first years classrooms were along the main corridor and then down a small corridor on the right. You would reach them by going down the corridor from the Headmaster’s Office and School Hall, past the corridor leading to the Staff Room (on the left) and the flight of stairs leading to the first floor (on the right) where we went for our History lessons (I can recall that it also doubled up as Biffen's House room). The first years classrooms were, I believe, meant to be temporary classrooms and, as such, were built out of wood rather than red brick.

Outside the windows were one of the main areas for leaving bicycles. There was another area at the left hand side of the playground just in front of the school canteen.

Gulliver’s Travels

The 'A' stream students would take some of their 'O' and 'A' levels a year earlier than the main body of pupils. In my case I sat 'O' levels at 16 and 'A' levels at 18.

One of the quirks in the English Literature lessons was that the 'A' stream students, who were generally a year younger, got the unexpurgated edition of “Gulliver’s Travels” which was quite a racy read. This was much to the annoyance of the Alpha, B and Beta sets who, in the main, were a year or two older, and obviously better equipped or placed to consider more “racy” literature.

School Houses

The opening verse of the school song starts:

“Where are the men, who have gone before us,

Onward from Elizabeth’s day,

Vanished their names from our lips,

But needing monument neither in brass nor clay".

It referred in the later verses to the School Houses, which in order were Baker, Biffen, Corfield, Hawker, Jayne and Jessop and the house colours were Green, Red, Yellow, Maroon, Pale Blue and Red and White, respectively.  And it finished rousingly with the line:

“And here’s to the name of Richard Pate”.

It was, of course adapted by naughty schoolboys with another word substituted for “here’s”

Recalling the Houses, I can remember my father saying "What kind of house name is Biffen?"  and he ridiculed it and when he found that their house colours were red, he exclaimed "You’ll be in Biffen!" Well, he was right, I was put into Biffen House. The year I arrived at the school, Biffen’s Rugby team narrowly lost the final of the Rugby competition (to Baker, I think). Biffen were then a force to be reckoned with. During my time in Biffen, all I can say is that we never achieved anything approaching such a level. I can’t say that I was a good sportsman. I played a couple of House Rugby matches and the best that we did was lose 14-0 to Jayne. The other match was something like 39-3, made remarkable for the fact that we scored a try which was the first try Biffen had scored in years. The player who scored in was (somebody) Aldridge (Ed - we think that this was David Aldred).

I did score a minor success during one of the House competitions for cross-country running on the “mud course”. The whole of that particular year (some 100-120 students) on their particular sports day ran in the race. I was well down the field until we reached the actual “mud course”. There were many places where it was ankle deep in oozing mud, and so many boys were going slow trying to skirt the mud. I went for broke and splashed my way right through the middle and overtook an incredible number of boys, so much so that I was catching up with the leaders. I was running on the shoulder of Jeff Ames, who chanced to look round and said, “I’m not letting you beat me” and both of us then sprinted for the line. He finished 6th and I finished 7th.

I can remember a good friend, George Möller who reckoned that I could get my House Colours (and the privilege of wearing the House tie instead of the School tie –  a red and black tie, as opposed to the standard black and white) if I took up hockey. So I played my only game of hockey on an afternoon up on the games field on Princess Elizabeth Way. I had my first hit of the ball on a free hit. It went about a foot, so I hit it again to send it down the field. Foul shot, said the referee, so I surrendered the ball to the opposition. I wasn’t getting into the action, so I decided to get more involved. I ran after the ball, as did another opposition player. We collided at full tilt and I staggered on and remained standing while the other player crashed to the ground moaning and groaning. Virtually everybody gathered around the stricken player, then  George came over to me and with me expecting some sympathy, George just said “Do you know what you’ve done”. After a pause he said, “You’ve knocked out the school hockey captain”.

So that ended my pursuit of House Colours for hockey. The teacher, I think was Mr Boardman, came over to me and suggested that after half time, I should rejoin the rugby players rather than stay with the hockey players. So my hockey “career” ended after two strikes of the ball and a knock out – not bad, eh.

It rather confirmed the opinion of one of the other teachers, “Old Joe” Curtis that we were a bunch of “Hoo-loos” – Hooligans.

A Favourite Society

CGS had, amongst other societies, a Railway Society and (as I recall) fellow pupil David Aldred took many black and white photos of mainly steam trains. Teachers would go on the coach with the boys to the engine sheds to collect the train numbers.We went to the sheds at such places as Old Oak Common (GWR) and Nine Elms (Southern Region). The coach parked on a bridge overlooking Kings Cross and the teachers would not let us go down to get the numbers. We pleaded with the teachers to send just one boy down to get the numbers - to no avail!

CGS did have one claim to fame. When a "Castle Class" (Caerphilly Castle) loco was originally transferred to the Science Museum in London, it coincided with one of our railway trips and there is an aerial shot showing the congestion in London with the engine on one transporter and the tender on another. There is a coach in between the two. WE ARE ON THE COACH and the photo was published in a popular railway magazine of the times!

Some Memories of Teachers

As I’ve mentioned Joe Curtis, I’ll start with him. My first sight of him was when he came into the first year’s classroom wearing “plus fours”. Most of us, including me, started sniggering at the sight. He said something like, "Go on have a good laugh hoo-loos”. When we had finished laughing, he said "When you’re freezing cold in the winter, I shall be as warm as toast in my plus fours. Who will be laughing then?".

My original attitude towards teachers like Joe Curtis changed when in later years, when we were looking forward to further education, we realised that a 'J H Curtis' was listed on the School Honours Board listing our outstanding students who had gone to Oxford or Cambridge university. We were assured that J H Curtis referred to 'Joe' - they were same person. (This cocky little person (i.e. me) didn’t get to university until much later when I completed a Masters degree at the University of Bristol.

Funnily enough, I also remembered three other History teachers:

Mr Eric Yates, commonly known as 'Bummer' Yates. His school nickname says it all. 'Bummer' Yates was to my eyes truly terrifying. His preferred method of discipline was the dap on the behind – that is either a plimsoll or pump delivered when the unfortunate was touching his toes. It was a hefty wallop and I am reliably informed that it hurt. I was caught drawing a picture of a Roman settlement in one of Mr Yates’ classes – which I shouldn’t have been and I was called to his desk after the class. I was mightily relieved when he actually complimented me on the drawing. It was as well that the lesson had been about the Roman conquest!

Mr Yates was to my eyes, quite a tall man inclining to stoutness. He, like another History teacher, George Campbell, always wore a black academic robe.  I think that many students were pleased when Mr Yates left CGS and went to Wakefield Grammar School!

Mr George Campbell, was in appearance a tall, thin man who sported a rather full, grey moustache. If Eric Yates had the “slipper”,  George had his 'tickling stick' (not like your Ken Dodd 'tickling stick'!). To be fair to George, I never ever saw him wield it - he seemed to use it for leaning on and having it as a threat in being.

I met him some time later, after I had left school, when he owned and ran an independent bookshop in either Chipping or Old Sodbury. We talked about genealogy and I can remember him saying that he’d got as far back as having a Campbell ancestor in Portsmouth in the 1800s and he’d reached a dead end. Not dis-similar to my efforts with my own ancestors, except mine ended in London in 1806, with the possibility of him having spent 14 days in Newgate Prison for Grand Larceny (nicking a three shilling handkerchief in Brick Lane). That put my ancestor in the same league as the Great Train Robbers!  Together with Mr Prior, nicknamed “Pinky” the History department was certainly the most memorable.

I took my dad’s advice about 'A' Levels and did Science, when I should really should have followed my mother’s advice and done History, Geography and English. A friend, Vincent Price – no not that one – tried for a year to persuade me to change from Science to Arts 'A' Levels. Incidently, we nicknamed Vincent Price as “Cynthia” and if I met him now, I would probably still call him “Cynthia”.

This leads nicely onto the destruction that I was single-handedly responsible for in the Geography department’s rooms which were in the Bursar’s office in an old house close to the school. The Bursar’s office was at the back of the school, separate from it so it was always fun going to the Geography Room.

During the regular milk break during the day, all the junior students were entitled to 1/3rd of a pint of milk and a number of opened bottles were placed on the flat top of the map cabinet (where Ordnance Survey maps were stored in flat form). There was a projection screen attached to a cross beam secured by two nails. It had been pulled down for use in a lesson. One of the students, whose name was Jones, H R H (we were always referred to by surname) had guzzled a bottle of milk and had another bottle ready for drinking and was standing by the map cabinet oblivious to the projection screen and, more importantly, his proximity to it.

The teacher casually asked someone to release the screen and let it roll up into its case.

I released it, but unfortunately didn’t realise that it had to be held and let up slowly so that the last part of the screen could slot into the case. I pulled the handle at the bottom of the screen and let go. It shot up with a mighty bang and the shock made the screen jump off one of the nails.

It swung down on the other nail and bashed into the map cabinet.

The resulting carnage was impressive. Jonesy missed his mouth and the milk poured over his black school blazer, several bottles of milk were knocked over and milk poured through the map cabinet. Some empty bottles fell over and rolled about. And last but not least, milk ran through a knot hole in the floor and, allegedly dropped onto a secretary and her typewriter in the office below.  I was opened mouthed, transfixed and in the same pose as when I released the screen, Jonesy’s black blazer was now white with the milk, the screen was still swinging and there was a stunned silence in the room.

The teacher said that I should get out of the room before I did any more damage.

One of the other Geography teachers was Mr (David) Dyne, who wore a back brace for a period of time because of an injury that he had suffered. I can remember two of his 'put downs' with the first referring to surnames and nicknames. Jeff Ames, who I have already mentioned, was nicknamed 'Amos'. When Mr Dyne found out Ames’ nickname he suggested that if they used a similar substitution, involving the 'o' and the 'e', with my name (Moss) you would get 'Mess'. Fortunately that nickname didn’t last that long.

I can recall Mr Dyne berating students over miserable results in one of the yearly Geography exams, when he said that only the top three had done creditable work. I had finished fourth, just a couple of marks after the third placed candidate and well ahead of the fifth placed student. I dared to bring this up in class, only to be met with the riposte that the first three students answered the questions properly, you (Moss) just re-wrote the entire Geography text-book in the exam time. (Personally, I thought that was no mean achievement!).