Chris Lord (G 53-57) follows up Peter Thomas' article on  Grindal in the last Bulletin:
        
          "Peter Thomas's notes about life in the 1940s hold good for the 1950s,  even down to the sheet-changing procedure. Here follows some elaboration.
        Most new boys would lodge at either Eaglesfield or Meadow  House but attend their main house - Grindal, Hostel/Foundation or School House  for lunch, morning break and the house run, if not playing rugby/cricket. My  first taste of the tough hierarchical discipline of that era came when going  into Grindal for lunch after the first morning's lessons. We entered at the  bottom rear and climbed steps to the dayroom and dining room floor. At the top  of the steps was senior dayroom; standing at the open doorway was an older boy  with upper sixth stripes on his lapels whose role was to shout at full volume  at any new boy who indulged his curiosity and dared to look inside: 'DON'T LOOK  IN HERE BOY!'
        We made our way to baby dayroom where we would dump our  rucksacks before going in for lunch. This was our first sight of the cubicles,  a very practical way to provide individual spaces in a room for common use. You  sat at a desk facing sideways; bookshelves were to your side and partitions  front and behind separated you from your neighbours.
        Grindal's layout at that time was, from the front door,  junior and baby day rooms to the left and right respectively, front stairs on  the right with a corridor alongside leading to the kitchen and dining room,  from the outside of which stairs led up to the dormitories and down to the  changing rooms. Senior dayroom was behind junior, at the back corner. Lunch was  eaten at one of half a dozen long tables: juniors at the far end, seniors near  the door; benches for the former, chairs for the latter. Should I return to  that dining room now, sixty plus years later, I would surely hear the ghost of  Sam Parkinson reciting, 'Benedictus, benedicat per Jesum Christum Dominum  nostrum', so smoothly and rapidly that separating the words was impossible for  any but Latin scholars.
        The dormitories occupied two floors above the  dayroom/dining room level.
        The only change to the building in my time was the  construction in 1956 of the block which housed the prefects' and seniors'  studies. The three dayrooms remained, so everyone had more space.
        The toilets were by the back door on the changing room  floor. The stalls had no doors. There was conjecture as to the reason for this  feature, which was a cause of consternation to some new boys; more toughening  up? The showers were all cold. Hot baths were taken one night per week with a  limit on depth of six inches.
        Following five terms at Meadow House, I moved down to  Grindal in the summer of 1955. All members of baby dayroom were fags, meaning  you were at the beck and call of the prefects, whose study was at the top of  the main staircase. One would open the door and shout, 'FAG', whereupon at  least two of us would dash up the back stairs to receive instructions.
        I was bell fag, meaning I rang the wake up and get up  bells mentioned by Peter Thomas. Additionally I ran round the dorms at 7:30  shouting, 'Ten minutes to go'. This was to rouse those senior boys whose  getting up at second bell was not mandatory.
        Prefects had personal fags, whose duties were much like  those of a batman in HM Forces. These were envied positions as they did not  have to respond to the general 'FAG' summons and you could expect a generous  tip at the end of term. Making toast for the prefects was a common chore. This  was done at the open door of the boiler and each piece had to be neither burnt  nor too light; and you'd be in trouble if you wasted more than one or two  slices of bread.
        Junior boys, especially those on their first term at  Grindal, were summoned to senior dayroom for 'Testing'. Following a strict  ritual for entering and standing to attention, eyes focused on a specified spot  above the window and being bellowed at, you were quizzed about key players in  the school teams, what privileges were awarded to various levels of seniority,  and so on. I suffered a temporary inability to learn things by heart and I  failed, not once but four times. After punishment runs of increasing length, I  was beaten.
        Beatings were carried out with a ritual appropriate to an  execution: at the end of evening prayers the instruction 'Early bedders  straight to their dorm; late bedders to their dayroom' would be issued. The  whole house then knew what was afoot and could speculate as to the victim, who  would be escorted down to the changing rooms, where the housemaster and  prefects would be assembled to witness punishment. I had to lean over the end  of a bath whilst a prefect administered four strokes of the cane. Back in my  dorm afterwards my mates examined the wounds and expressed their opinions on  the grouping; the closer the grouping, the greater the discomfort whenever you  sat down for the next few days! Shortly after this, as the junior fag, I was  told to accompany a shooting party marching up the hill to the .303 range.
        Having sustained punishment runs and a beating, this must  have seemed to be the logical conclusion, but all I had to do in fact was sit  at the entrance to the quarry and warn passers by that rifle practice was in  progress!
        Life, of course, got more comfortable after moving on  from baby dayroom. National Service was still in force and I think the junior  years at St Bees were probably the equivalent of initial training in the  forces."