No. 201


OSB Logo The Old St Beghian
  July 2022

 

Some random reminiscences from John West (SH 61-64).


“PL called me ‘Wooly’ after ‘The wild and wooly West’. I remember the expression but would have to google the exact meaning. Maybe a song? ‘C'mon Wooly’ was to get me to the dormitory, with a push in the back and a smack of the lips, which was his trademark.

My hair was, and is, like our Prime Minster Boris's, totally untrainable! (I feel lucky to still have some!) The School House photo of about '61, where it is everywhere, demonstrates this (I had probably combed it two minutes before!).

OSB Notes - John West 1961 SH No72
School House 1961 - John West No.72

I had a crew cut before the 1963 school photo. About ten years ago I visited the ‘Master Hairdresser’, M. Fischer, then in his 80s. He remembered me asking for that crew cut! ‘I told you that it might not stand on end’. It did. When I got back to school a few days later I was christened ‘Fritz’ because it looked so German. It lasted until it grew out. Luckily by then, the Beatles were defining hair styles, so my unruly, unpartable hair didn't stand out so much!


OSB Notes - John West School 1963 No268
Whole School 1963 - John West No.268

When, as we filed to lunch, we passed before the prefects, sitting smug on the corridor windowsill, they would stop you and tell you to go and comb your hair, wash your hands etc. I was the perfect sitting duck. I had no parting. My hair might have been immaculate three seconds before, but suddenly not! So, as you can imagine, I have sympathy for Boris!

I'm ancient enough to remember sweet-rationing and finding farthings and going to the sweet shop and being able to buy something. You could buy a quarter of Pineapple Chunks, or Pear Drops for 6d. Pear Drops tasted of acetone. Basically, both confections had a hard sugar coating which ripped the roof off your mouth and your tongue apart by the time you had scoffed them! Still, for those who are old enough to remember 2 ½ d, then you'll know that you could get four Black Jacks or Fruit Salads for 1d! (The Society Secretary remembers Sherbert Pips, Toffee Bonbons, Rhubarb and Custards from her school days. Anyone else?  Editor).

Brother Andy and I spent our summers at our Aunt Nell's (My mother died when I was six - on reflection, this may have been why I went to boarding school at age six! - and Aunt Nell was her sister.) This was at Haverthwaite, near Ulverston. We lived in a large posh house in Barrow. Aunt Nell lived in a council house, 8 Levens Garth, Haverthwaite. There was no incongruity, you just accept differences in your childhood, don't you? In fact, I remember that when Uncle Jack bought a ‘new’ car, a Vauxhall, probably eight or ten years’ old, I remarked that I loved the cloth seats, Aunt Nell said somewhat wistfully, ‘I would have thought you would prefer leather!’ (Dad had some nice cars, usually a new one every year.) I didn't even notice!

The river Leven ran close by. We went swimming there, in fact the area was very heaven for any boy. We took our bikes, had loads to do and friends to play with. Somehow summers seemed forever sunny in the fifties (I'm sure I just remember the good bits!). We went out of the house in the morning and returned for meals and dark! We built camp fires, looked around the local dump for pram wheels to build a ‘Bogey’, had ‘The Haverthwaite Boys’ Club’ (a candle-lit shed behind the local post office) – I have included a photo of two of my childhood friends - Rod Heywood (cricketer extraordinaire) and John Lancaster outside ‘The Haverthwaite Boys’ Club’, around the 1950s.


OSB Notes - John West - Rod Heywood and John Lancaster
Haverthwaite Boys Club - Around the 1950s - Rod Heywood and John Lancaster

We climbed over the railway line (now the Haverthwaite to Lakeside steam railway) to the woods behind, waved at the engine drivers - and they waved back. One day I was by myself by the river and started to talk to two men who were fishing from the bridge. One asked ‘Where do you go to school?’ I replied ‘Oh, Huyton Hill, I’m sure you’ve never heard of it!’ ‘I think I have; Mr Butler is the Headmaster, isn’t he!’ I was amazed. Before that, I’d been stopped in Barrow by a policeman and asked why I wasn’t at school. ‘Oh, we haven't gone back yet,’ I replied in my beautifully received English. (I promise you that the accent is long gone; let’s face it, even the Queen doesn’t speak like that now!). ‘Where do you go to school?’ asked the bemused policeman. I replied, ‘Huyton Hill.’ This obviously confused him further. ‘Where's that?’ ‘Near Ambleside.’ He obviously didn’t know it, or why I should go to school thirty miles away, and neither did he know that because we worked Saturdays, we had longer holidays than the local children. A gruff ‘On your way’ followed. The fisherman asked which public school I would be going to. My reply was ‘St Bees.’ ‘Oh, that’s a lovely coincidence, both of us are masters there.’ ‘Well, my brother starts there next term.’ (This must have been 1959.) I rushed back to Aunt Nell’s very excited and tried in vain to get brother Andy to come back with me to meet them. I am outgoing, Andy is not! I think that the last thing he wanted to do was to meet two future teachers. I think that they might have been ‘Algy’ Lyall and ANR Dearle. I didn't remember that day while I was at school, but I had a long conversation with Mr Lyall on Old Boys’ Day in about 2012. We talked about Mr and Mrs Lever among other things. It was only going home on the train when I remembered our earlier possible meeting, so I missed the opportunity to quiz him about it.

My ‘waiting house’ had been Meadow, Mr. Lyall and his wife ran Eaglesfield then. I said how much I had liked being on Meadow. Philip and Molly Lever had managed it, along with the ‘Matron’, whose name, I'm ashamed to say that I can’t remember, gave it an almost family atmosphere. ‘PL’ was definitely a father figure. If he had to ‘beat’ you, it was with a plimsoll and not hard and I think it was with reluctance not pleasure. Later I received ‘three of the best’ from ‘Lem’ Parkinson for being late to evening ‘Shed’ (Chapel), which was a completely different experience. The physical scars have long gone, but I remember that in every detail! I suspect that the look I gave him as I turned around from the third stroke dissuaded him from a fourth!

When I started on Meadow, we had at home a Mark V11 Jag. I loved it. Mr Lever had a Mark V111 two tone blue one. I loved our car, so you can imagine how much I liked PL's!

I remember JC Wykes leaving (I think to be head of educational programming at Border Television) and Mr Lees taking over as Head. That would be in 1963.

I’m not sure if his opening speech in the Mem Hall was recorded in any way. It was certainly an eye opener to the assembled. The part that shocked us was when he said something to the effect of: ‘The Olympic Games start next year. Everyone will tell you that the important thing is the taking part. I’m here to tell you that that is not true. The important thing is winning! I want you all to be winners and to strive to achieve and to win at whatever you take part in.’ I think the shock was because it was so ‘unBritish’. I have since heard stories from Old Boys saying how he helped them achieve more than they thought themselves capable of.

I think we used to play Eton fives, which Rob Astin introduced me to. I don't remember playing any other schools, but I’m sure we had house matches, which School House tended to win along with everything else in my time! I certainly remember falling over onto my back and all the other players laughing out loud - then suddenly silence. I looked back over my head to see Mr Lees, the Headmaster, towering above me, looking down. I remained, sort of frozen. Then he said, ‘Carry on.’ The game resumed with him watching. That would be summer 1964. I was slightly more supple then!

Eileen Lithgow (a childhood friend who used to run the St Bees post office on Main Street, and whose two girls went to the school) has invited me to the St Bees News & Views Facebook page, so I shall be looking forward to seeing all the local gossip. I remember that the phone box was around there somewhere and my older brother Andy (who was there for two terms when I was) and I used to go to that phone box on Sundays and contribute 6d each to phone home.”

 

 

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