A Privileged Life Recollections of Foundation House, St Bees School, in the 1960s Peter Royds (2025) A Privileged Life (Part 2) Some recollections of Foundation House, St Bees School, in the 1960s Gliding There was a privilege called ‘Gliding’ which has to be given a special mention. It involved the three buttons of the school blazer. The highest expression of gliding was ‘full’ gliding, both on and off house, meaning all three buttons could be left undone anywhere around the school or village. This privilege was reserved for school prefects, as distinct from house prefects. There were only four school prefects, one of whom was also Head Boy. The more numerous house prefects could fully glide on, but not off, their own house. The next manifestation was ‘semi’ gliding, meaning two out of three buttons undone. This was for the house prefects off house; maybe other people on house but not off house, although maybe off house if you had sports colours or were in the upper sixth. And then there was ‘no gliding’, meaning all buttons fastened. Precisely the point of this set of rituals was beyond any normal understanding. But it was important; any illegal gliding was punishable. Studies and Dayrooms Foundation had only four studies, all quite small, plus a very small one, remote from the others, which was shared by Foundation’s two school prefects. Of the four main studies, the house prefects occupied the two which overlooked the Terrace and down the valley along the railway line. That left the two other studies, and no outside view, for senior boys who were not prefects. These were the ‘Senior Studies’ and housed a further eight or so boys. Considerable effort was usually made by the residents to make these rooms as pleasantly habitable as possible since they were living quarters as well as places to study. Less than twenty boys, therefore, had studies on Foundation and the rest were in dayrooms, of which there were about five. School House and Grindal not only had prefects’ and senior studies, but also junior studies. In the Foundation dayrooms, each boy had his own small wooden cubicle. Seniority determined who got the best locations away from draughty doors or nearest to radiators etc. There was a ‘House Order’ of the seniority of every boy on Foundation pinned up on a notice board. You could rise or fall in the House Order according to your fitness for promotion or demotion, judged termly. The cubicles were screwed to the floor, and all were joined together round the sides of the dayroom. This was our bit of personal space. It was where we kept our school books and limited personal belongings. Photos etc were put up with drawing pins. The cubicle was also where evening prep. was done, in silence, under the supervision of a senior boy sitting in the centre of the dayroom at a large wooden table. On it, during the day, were communal newspapers and magazines. A housemaster could be expected to appear round every dayroom at some point during prep. Each cubicle had a fixed desk and fixed bench seat under which tuck boxes were kept – locked. Every tuck box had the owner’s initials printed on it. A curtain, from home, could be drawn to achieve a degree of privacy, but had to be open during ‘prep’. After ‘prep’, it was the evening house assembly, maybe some free time, then bed. We were allowed radios in the dayroom. Along with the newspapers, radio kept us in touch with life beyond the village. Radio Caroline North, the ‘pirate’ station, was broadcast from out at sea somewhere between St Bees and the Isle of Man. The still familiar ‘Sounds of the Sixties’ were a welcome intrusion into our sheltered lives. Swees The senior dayroom on Foundation was known as ‘Swees’ and comprised mainly lower sixth-formers. The name was said to derive from a by-gone Master who was Swiss, which he apparently pronounced ‘Swees’. Swees was the poor equivalent of the junior studies on the other main houses. What I remember about Swees is that the Swees boys had the privilege of using a set of swing doors, across the corridor from their dayroom, which led out to the quad via a sort of vestibule where a few bikes were kept. Moreover, Swees were not required to line up in the main corridor like the other dayrooms before the morning run. They could join the run through their swing doors and straight out into the quad. General Fags The most junior dayroom was called ‘Baby Dayroom’. This was where the fags were. The ‘general’ fags were basically unpaid servants, under the direction of the prefects who would wander in and shout ‘fag’ when they wanted something done. One particularly tedious general fagging duty was cooking teas for the prefects. This was organised on a rota and took place following games on Wednesdays and Saturdays. These were ‘match days’ when there were no afternoon classes. The cooking was done on a small stove in the lower portion of Big School, next door to the studies. Eggs (all modes of preparation), bacon, sausages, fried bread, beans etc., with a constant supply of toast, were ordered throughout the afternoon. The food was delivered to the prefects in their studies. You had to knock every time for admission and be sure to wait for audible permission to enter. Knocking and simultaneously entering was presumptuous and guaranteed being bawled back out. Prefects from other houses would be invited for tea. Maybe four or five fags would be involved in the shift, including the clearing up afterwards. Punishments Throughout the tea-making performance, which was a free time of day for everyone except the scullions, Foundation boys of all ages were also reporting to the prefects’ studies to do punishment runs. Runs were the commonest form of house punishment. Regular transgressions included socks round ankles; poorly made bed; kit not put away in dormitories or changing rooms; brawling; sitting on radiators; breach of privileges; talking before Grace; talking after lights-out; disobedience; eating in Chapel. It was punishable to visit certain shops in the village which were ‘out of bounds’. The sea was also forbidden, and we never swam in it. The school had its own swimming pool. There had been a serious radiation leak into the sea from the Windscale/Sellafield nuclear power station just down the coast several years previously. It had caused great alarm locally, not least at Calder Girls School in Seascale, which was not far from the plant. My sister and cousins went to Calder Girls which is perhaps why I was sent to St Bees. I remember a sixth form dance with the girls from Seascale in the St Bees School library. Returning to the punishment runs, the seriousness of the offence was reflected in the length of the run. The runs were named after their destination – Seamills, Shore, Sandwith and others. The worst run was a Lighthouse, though it may have been banned for being too long. The standard punishment run was called a Triangle (or more than just one) along three stretches of road in the village. The prefects set you off on a run from their study, with a given return time. Boys might do more than one punishment run in the same afternoon to clear their arrears. We were all familiar with the routes of these runs because on the days when we were not involved in team sports, or the pitches were water-logged, a run was set for the afternoon’s exercise slot. After sports, we had communal showers in the junior or senior changing rooms in the basement where the drying room and the C.C.F. (Combined Cadet Force) store and rifle room (called ‘The Armoury’), were also located. Prefects had separate changing and washing facilities. Beatings on Foundation were given by masters and prefects, though it might have been only by the two school prefects. Serious misconduct warranting a beating could take the form of insulting staff, unauthorised absence from school, stealing from the kitchens, drinking, smoking, and so on. Beatings from the housemasters would take place in their rooms. Those from the prefects were dispensed in Big School after the evening house assembly and, appropriately, prayers. These were occasional rather than common occurrences. However, one teacher used to beat boys in front of the class, with a short wooden stick, on the hands. That happened if they just forgot to bring the right book with them. Private Fags Although exempt from the tea making and other general fagging, the labours of the private fags, as already touched on, were equally menial. Some of their work was particularly time-consuming if the prefect was involved in a lot of sports. Rugby or cricket boots, and laces, needed cleaning after every game. Then there was the weekly preparation of the prefect’s military uniform. The obligatory Tuesday afternoon C.C.F parade and training began with an inspection of uniform and kit. Boots had to be highly polished – some used the spit and polish technique – with spats and belts blancoed; cap, belt and spat brasses polished and uniforms pressed. Private fags even unpacked the prefect’s trunk at the beginning of each term and packed it again at the end. They were paid a pound or two at the end of every term. Hostel Bogs ‘Hostel’ was another name for Foundation House. A set of centrally located all-school toilets, known as the ‘Hostel Bogs’, stood in a sort of outside yard at one end of Foundation. Beyond the main yard, which was full of sturdy urinals, an open air pathway divided two rows of eight or so toilets cubicles on either side. The rows of cubicles therefore faced each other across the pathway. They were roofed but had neither heating nor individual lights. The floors were concrete, with white ceramic tiles on the walls. But the most unforgettable feature of the cubicles was that they had no doors. Privies they were, private they were not. No need for air freshener. The cubicles at the far end were favoured by the smokers. Lessons and Sport When not on House, lessons and sport accounted for the rest of our time. These activities, however, were recognisably normal, even though sport was not everyone’s afternoon recreation of choice. These aspects of school life were therefore less memorable for me than the peculiarities of the boarding house. One point that did, however, stand out was that, whereas privileges and all manner of team and house awards were handed out for sporting success, academic achievement was not incentivised or rewarded to anything like the same extent. No privileges flowed directly from being good in class. The highest scholastic accolade was merely a book presentation at the annual prize-giving ceremony on Speech Day. The school choir, about which I once wrote in the OSB Bulletin, was seriously good while Donald Leggat was music master. The C.C.F. was just more discipline, deference and shouting.

For The Record I have had very little contact with the school or any contemporaries since leaving in 1967, but I did look in over ten years ago to donate some photos to the Archivist (no such person back in time). He hasn’t put them on the website as I had hoped. This is disappointing because those in the photos will not be above ground all that much longer to see them. I hope they still exist. I thought I would record my schoolboy memories for the historical interest of my children, and their children. But now, having re-lived it all in the writing down of these recollections, I am more inclined to think they will consider that none of it can possibly be true. Nevertheless, I am very grateful to my daughter Elizabeth for typing this up. Reflections – the Elite, The Survivors and Les Miserables It has been said that public schools were not unlike young offenders’ institutions. They have also been described as the last bastion of an outdated recruiting system for governing the Empire etc. etc. On the other hand, some who actually went through it all would say that they were good years and ‘never did me any harm’. That is usually heard from those who aspired to belong to the school elite – the privileged winners. Others did not belong to the elite. They got through it and survived a very strange environment in which to grow up. And then there were boys who should never have been sent away to a boarding school in the first place. By the late 60s, though, big societal changes were happening. Changes no doubt happened even at St Bees. I remember seeing a film called ‘If’ (1968) not long after leaving school. The film posed the question – why do public school boys put up with these places and not start a revolution? Sixty years on, and I now read about a real-life revolution in the form of a Chinese link-up which has saved the school from extinction. A far quieter revolution than that envisaged in ‘If’ but no less drastic in its own way. Be careful what you wish for.

 

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