I love that image above. So nostalgic, so warm.....
KEEP US ALL WARM FOR EVER .....
.....by giving your memories of the 60s, or any other era, to this page. They don't have to be school related but as Sloane's the one thing we all have in common, you're bound to have some that are. Use CONTACT US to share them and, if they connect with something that's already been written, I'll make sure they're positioned underneath. Memories relating to subjects which already have their own page will be placed on that page.
* * * * * * * *
Shared Memories Slideshow
This slideshow should bring the whiff of nostalgia to your nostrils and remind you of some of the things you thought you'd forgotten. The initial contributions have come from Brian Haynes, but if you have any photos or pictures you'd like me to add just e-mail them to me on tinyf@blueyonder.co.uk
Hover your cursor over a picture to stop the flow and view the caption, and right click to zoom in or out.
* * * * * * * *
Le mauvais garçon de Sloane by Mark Foulsham.
The French don't really have an apt translation for the term 'Wide-boy'. It's an English term that suited Harry Little to a 't'. Little by name, wide by nature. To think of Harry Little as just a French master at Sloane was not to do him justice. He was a character extaordinaire.
In Don Wheal's words (see the book White City ) he was a man who was
"overweight, bowlegged but fast moving and full of energy."
He was also Sloane's answer to Flash Harry, the character in the St Trinians films. A cockney involved in all sorts of shady dealings. George Cole, who played the part, went on to play Arthur Daley in Minder and there was a lot of him in Harry Little too. Add Arthur English, Max Miller and David Jason's Del Boy Trotter and you have the essence of the man. When he took Sloane boys on their trips abroad he also took on the persona of Fagin.
Had it not been for the inconvenience of his day job at Sloane Harry would have been earning a good living ducking and diving. Post-war Europe was ripe for Harry and he didn't intend letting the opportunity pass him by.
I wasn't even born when Harry was in his prime but when I read about him or when people relate something about him to me I think he was a man I would liked to have known. Intermingled with the spiv there was surely a touch of the Walter Mitty too. No one knew for sure but mystery was a part of his make-up. He riddled his lessons with tales of intrigue and daring, or were they just tall stories coming from a man caught up in but unable to play an active part in, the danger and excitement that was post-war Britain. Perhaps he just liked to keep his boys happy and amused by giving them what he knew they wanted to hear. If he was making it all up, he was a master story-teller.
He claimed to have been wounded as an infantry officer in World War I and had been sent to recuperate in a Paris hospital where, according to Harry, he had been by British Intelligence with his main purpose being to pass on false information to the street girls who approached him in cafes and nightclubs. If it were an exceptionally important piece of misinformation, he confessed,
"....it would behove me to accompany the young lady to her lodgings to press the point home."
He'd shake his head and add soulfully in his barely amended cockney accent,
"You boys can imagine how painful a patriotic duty that was to me. How potentially threatening to my cherished moral standards."
The boys he was teaching understood the humour but must also have wondered if at least part, if not all, of what he was telling them was true.
Don Wheal remembers his approach to teaching and the boys as being informal -
"Call me Harry," he'd say. "But not when old Bo's (Guy Boas) around. I'll have to watch myself or this new headmaster'll run me off the premises."
Harry always gave the impression of being 'up to something' - up to 'no good' more like.
Harry's planned 1946 trip to Paris, (the year he was seconded to the school's permanent staff, having joined the Emergency School in 1941) and subsequent trips, saw him in his element. It may have been promoted as doing the boys some good but you could stake your life on it doing more for Harry. He told the boys it would cost them "a fiver each" and would be "the experience of a lifetime." When Don Wheal arrived to put his name down for the trip he, and a couple of other boys, were given a list of necessary items to be taken with them to France ....
"Write it down my boys. One pound of sugar ....on ration but I'm sure your mothers'll manage somehow. Four pounds of coffee beans. Four bars of soap. Two bars of chocolate, One packet of tea ....the nobs like tea in France ....six tins of Nescafé ....and fifty Players cigarettes. The system is we sell the goods, details arranged by Harry Little, and divide the spoils between you. As I promised you, my boys, it'll be the nearest thing to a free trip to Paris."
This was the Fagin coming out in Harry. He knew he had the boys on his side and his secret was safe from Guy.
In the event, Don Wheal never made it to Paris with Harry but his father did arrange for him to go two weeks before Harry's party were due to leave on July 30th, which he did with orders from Harry to bring back all the details of Parisian life.
The Sloane party consisted of fourteen boys, Mr. and Mrs Murphy and, of course, Harry. This was to be the first of a number of trips to Paris, after which Harry continued to maintain a thriving, possibly profitable, part-time tourist business taking groups of Sloane boys to see all the city had to offer. They also gave Harry the chance to get to his beloved Paris on the cheap.
One of the trips was taken with the primary intention of allowing Sloane (whose footballing reputation was growing at home) to play a couple of matches, arranged by Harry against, or so everyone thought, the Paris equivalent of Grammar schools. Harry had even lectured them -
"Remember, best behaviour, boys. No chopping down the referee. You'll be playing against the cream of the French education system. The Eton and Winchester of Paris."
As with all the trips to Paris, Harry told the boys what to bring along with them. There was the usual sugar, Nescafé and soap and on their first evening in Paris, Harry made the boys repack it all into the two largest suitcases. They were then instructed to carry them (though it was something of a struggle) and follow Harry as he headed for a basement brothel in the Place Pigalle. There, after much bargaining, Harry agreed a price for the items and after advancing the boys a couple of thousand francs, he sent them off with advice to "spend it wisely somewhere else." Harry stayed a while. He did the same on all his trips. He'd disappear on the first night and seemed to spend most subsequent nights away from the hotel, returning only spasmodically. They certainly weren't closely supervised trips when you went with Harry.
On the day of the first of Harry's football matches the Sloane side stood on the pitch awaiting the arrival of the French team. The team that finally trotted out were all grown men, all North Africans and bare-footed to boot. The result was a 1-1 draw, Harry made a note to bring football boots with him on the next trip to Paris and the boys never did find out who they had played against.
The opponents for the second game had also been kept under wraps by Harry. They turned out to be the Renault Works Team, professionals in all but name. At half-time Sloane were 0-1 down but spurred on by Harry's pep talk they ended the game 4-1 winners.
Harry Little's time at Sloane ended in 1961 but it seems likely his profitable trips abroad ended before then. Mr. and Mrs Boas and, often, one or two other masters, joined him on future trips. Do you think they knew something? If they did, the knowledge doesn't appear to have been widely shared as The Cheynean tells us
"anyone who experienced his guidance in Paris, Belgium or Brittany, could not fail to imbibe a living affection for Fench life, French food, and the French language".
Yet, for all his apparent faults, The Cheynean also tells us his character was an undeniable asset when it recalls that
"his vivid personality spread zest and cheerfulness in the darkest and most difficult war-time days".
Classmate Stefan Bremner-Morris' memories of Harry Little -
Stefan Bremner-Morris remembered Harry Little a little differently when he wrote in to say -
" He seemed rather ancient in my day, and I never had him as full-time teacher. To be honest, nobody could take him seriously. One day he took our form for a sort of free period, and commenced with the words, in broad Cockney:
"Some of you boys may wonder 'ow I came to be a teacher in a place like this!"
We fell apart, and the next 45 minutes resembled a male St Trinians class - he remained oblivious to the chaos and anarchy! "
ClassmateBrian Haynes' memories of Harry Little -
Brian Haynes believes Stefan 'lost out big-time' by not getting to know this 'wonderful old fella' better. He goes on to say -
" I am proud to say I was under 'Arry's motherly (?) wing for four years. I only wish I was aware of some of his 'misdemeanours' as outlined in your article (above), particularly on the two trips to Ostend I made with him.
At school he would bowl into the classroom, often late, gown billowing behind him, battered suitcase under his arm, spiky hair above his ears making him look something like a wise old owl (which I think he was), and in his quite deep, booming voice uttering offers to 'my boys' of his famous 'draws', providing we had got to grips with his 'French Notabilia' (a daily exercise quite apart from homework), which was of course an essential part of his 'system'. 'Arry's Notabilia was a notebook in which we would have to list, and learn on a daily basis, about 20 French words. These would be tested on very first thing every French lesson, regardless of any other French homework. All part of the 'system', see?
That was 'Arry, no airs, no graces, he just got on with his job of teaching us a foreign language, which he did very well.....and he got very good results. The fact that he spoke slightly 'cockney' was not a problem, most of us spoke that way too. I certainly did, still do, and I'm proud of it....and we understood each other in more ways than just language. Occasional pandemonium there certainly was, but he knew, that we knew, how far to go. We respected him and, I think, loved him. In his own special way, he was a leader. I'm not suggesting that he was the best, but Harry was probably the most well-intended Master at Sloane during my 'residence' there. He was by nature a fun-guy (although knocking-on a bit) and he may have given the impression of being a bit of an old duffer, but he was an endearing old duffer.
The bulk-supply of boiled sweets that comprised his 'draws', Harry kept in the large cupboard in his form room; this cupboard was always securely locked. Some bright spark (well on the way to becoming a 'peterman', alright, an academic 'peterman') worked out that access might be possible via the back. The heavy-mob set to work and we managed to juggle this huge edifice forward enough to get an arm painfully through some broken plywood. A few measly sweeties were retrieved (we proved that a baboon trap does work!), leaving behind blood and some shredded skin on the jagged edge of the ply. It was immediately obvious that the cost in human suffering for a few sweeties was too high, particularly as getting the wooden edifice back 'home' required extra muscle, not to mention a possible rupture or two.
Henry Rogers - Fulham Footballer
Many of us will know Henry Rogers from school but even he didn't remember this piece he wrote for the More House magazine of Summer 1968, until I sent him a copy. I'm not sure if it qualifies Henry for the Famous and Infamous page of this site but here it is. It was entitled 'Playing for Fulham' -
"To play for Fulham is for some boys the zenith in their wishes; to actually play upon the turf at Craven Cottage seems no more than a distant dream in their minds. But recently I have achieved both of these things. Back in March I was offered the chance to train with Fulham. I thought it over and finally decided to accept the offer. Fortunately, I had only been training for one week when an opportunity for me to play arose; we had several injuries in our S.E.Counties side and we were due to play West Ham under flood-lights on Tuesday 26th March. Our trainer, Mr A.Humphries, asked me to report to the ground at Craven Cottage that evening, but I was not sure whether I would play or not.
When I arrived at the ground at six o'clock, I walked through the players' entrance and suddenly felt very excited. On entering the dressing-room my mind strayed onto the thought of the professional Fulham players who had occupied the exact place that I was in.
When Mr Humphries arrived, he informed me that I was playing at right-back. Suddenly I had instant butterflies; I began to think of playing on the large pitch outside, all the people watching me, and whether I would play well or not. I prayed that I would play well and not appear out-classed. Then I was introduced to the other players in the side, and they made me feel more confident by assuring me that everything would be alright.
When the football kit was handed out, I was surprised to learn that we were going to wear the first team's shirts.; these were shirts of 'Bri-Nylon' and to think that I was going to wear the same shirt that World Cup star George Cohen had been wearing. At this stage I just could not believe that I was actually living these experiences, I thought it was all just one big dream. But it was not dream, it was reality.
When we had all got changed, with only twenty minutes to kick-off, Mr Humphries gave us our last minute instructions on how he wanted us to play. He told me I had to play it hard, and if necessary, dirty. Then suddenly there was a shrill ringing, it was the bell signifying we were to go out onto the pitch. My heart began to race. Was this really I who was minutes away from playing for Fulham?
"Right, out you go lads. Good luck," came the cry from Mr Humphries. All the team wished each other good luck, and as it was my first game they all wished me the best of luck.
As we emerged from the cottage, I was to see quite a good crowd for a junior match, and I noticed that a number of the spectators were my own school friends. When I ran onto the pitch I was filled with a sudden burst of excitement; I could feel Fulham's turf beneath my feet, I was actually here, about to play. During the pre-match 'kick-about' my nervousness seemed to disappear.
Within minutes the whistle was blown and the match was under way. I, pessimistically, imagined the left-winger I was to mark would be the next Georgie Best. Therefore I was determined to really make him know I was not going to stand for anybody showing me up. So in the first tackle between the winger and myself, I really hit him hard. This tackle put great confidence into me, and I suddenly knew I had the beating of this winger. Now full of confidence, I played the rest of the game quite well, but unfortunately, and somewhat against the run of play, we lost 2-0.
I continued to play for Fulham on Saturdays, and one day I was asked by Mr Robson, the manager, to attend a Monday training session. After getting permission from Mr Bailey, I ran to Craven Cottage and to my surprise I was to be playing for Fulham against an Army representative side. Also in the team were Allan Clarke, George Cohen, Johnny Byrne, and Ian Seymour. I was told I would be playing n the second half. But George Cohen, who was using this match as a test for his injured leg, came off after fifteen minutes and I was sent out in his place.
Of all the games I played for Fulham this one meant the most to me; to actually be playing with players like Allan Clarke who is priced at £150,000 on the transfer market. In this match we won 7-0, Clarke scoring four, Byrne two.
After this match, I was surprised to find the professionals so friendly and happy to give hints of advice. Though Fulham has been relegated, the spirit at Fulham has in no way been demoralised, and I am looking forward to the next football season playing for FULHAM."
By H. Rogers. 6A
* * * * *
May 1970: Chelsea parade the FA Cup past the school
Henry Rogers may have been a Fulham player, but given that the school was close to Stamford Bridge, most of its pupils who had an interest in football would have supported Chelsea. Being a lifelong Fulham supporter myself, I probably made myself absent from school on the day this photo was taken as Chelsea paraded the FA Cup down Hortensia Road -
* * * * *
Julie Andrews Celebrates Her 69th Birthday
With a little luck, old age will come to all at some time (well, it's just about preferable to the alternative), and hopefully we'll be able to look back in the same way that Julie Andrews did at her 69th birthday celebrations in 2009.She looked back and remembered some of her 'favourite things'. Sung to the tune of her own song from The Sound of Music, this is how it went -
Botox and nose drops and needles for knitting,
Walkers and handrails and new dental fittings,
Bundles of magazines tied up in string,
These are a few of my favourite things.
Cadillacs and cataracts, hearing aids and glasses,
Polident and Fixodent and false teeth in glasses,
Pacemakers, golf carts and porches with swings,
These are a few of my favourite things.
When the pipes leak, when the bones creak,
When the knees go bad,
I simply remember my favourite things,
And then I don't fel so bad.
Hot tea and crumpets and corn pads for bunions,
No spicy hot food or food cooked with onions,
Bathrobes and heating pads and hot meals they bring,
These are a few of my favourite things.
Back pain, confused brain and no need for sinning,
Thin bones and fractures and hair that is thinning,
And we won't mention our short, shrunken frames,
When we remember our favourite things....
When the joints ache, when the hips break,
When the eyes grow dim,
Then I remember the great life I've had,
And then I don't feel so bad.
* * * * *
The Good Wife's Guide
We sometimes have a rosy view of what life was like when we were young yet, looking back, it's sometimes hard to believe that some things were actually the way they were. Here's an article from Housekeeping Monthly, dated 13th May, 1955, that shows just how much a woman's role has changed since it was published. If we flicked through Housekeeping Monthly on the shelves of W H Smith today, we'd be convinced we were reading a comic or satirical magazine. Patronising or what?! -
The Good Wife's Guide
Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready, on tiime for his return. This is a way of letting him kow that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favourite dish) is part of the warm welcome needed.
Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your make-up, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh-looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.
Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.
Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the last part of the house just before your husband arrives.
Gather up schoolbooks, toys, paper etc and then run a dishcloth over the tables.
Over the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift too. After all, catering for his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.
Prepare the children. Take a few minutes to wash the children's hands and faces (if they are small), comb their hair and, if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part. Minimise all noise. At the time of his arival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet.
Be happy to see him.
Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.
Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first - remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.
Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner, or other places of entertainment without you. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his very real need to be at home and relax.
Your goal: Try to make sure your home is a place of peace, order and tranquility where your husband can renew himself in body and spirit.
Don't greet him with complaints and problems.
Don't complain if he's late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared with what he might have gone through that day.
Make him comfortable. Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or have him lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him.
Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.
Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.
A good wife always knows her place.
* * * * *
The Coronation of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II
2nd June, 1953
By Frank Wilmot
The Queen & Prince Phillip drive past Sloane two days after the Coronation
Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II was crowned at Westminster Abbey on 2nd June, 1953. The July, 1953 copy of The Cheynean (see July, 1953 on The Cheynean page)contains a piece written by A.J. Clift, of VI Arts, describing what he saw and how it felt to be one of the party of 38 boys and 2 masters who were privileged to watch the procession from a position on the Victoria Embankment.
Classmate Frank Wilmot also had a part to play on the day, as one of the 15th Chelsea Scout Troop who, along with other Scouts, sold programmes along the processional route. These are Frank's lovely, evocative memories of the day, which came flooding back to him when he came across his copy of the programme whilst having a clear-out at home. Frank sent me a photo of this and I've included it and the end of his piece along with photos of his propelling pencil, which all the boys received from the L.C.C. as a souvenir of the day, and which Frank still possesses. This is what Frank had to say about the day -
" I came across my copy of the Queen's Coronation programme. This brought back memories of a colourful day in a country which was still struggling to recover from the war. Everything was in short supply, and rationing was still in force - it was finally lifted in the following year (for most things).
The Coronation took place on 2 June 1953 and, true to form in a British summer, turned out to be a mainly grey day - dry in the morning but with rain, sometimes heavy, in the afternoon. As with other Scout groups, 15th Chelsea were slated to sell programmes along the procession route, and we were allocated to the East Carriage Drive along Park Lane, near to the Dorchester Hotel.
A couple of memories have remained with me from that day. Firstly, I remember that we travelled up to Knightsbridge Underground Station from Fulham and, on exiting the station, we were greeted by the sight of newspaper billboards announcing that Hillary and Tensing had finally reached the summit of Mount Everest. The news was taken as a good omen for the new reign. My second memory is of the post Coronation procession in the afternoon, when it was wet with some very heavy showers. I was standing behind one of the Royal Marines, who were lininh the route at that point. He was in full dress blues with white blancoed pith helmet and webbing. His uniform must have been ruined, as there was a steady stream of white blanco running off of the rim of his helmet, down his tunic back, off his belt and then down his trousers to the ground, where it formed a white pool around his boots. Unlike us, he was unable to move, being at attention as the procession passed, which took some time.
Queen Salote of Tonga
Most of the dignitaries in the open carriages had taken some protection against the elements, but Queen Salote of Tonga refused to let the weather spoil her day. I remember her carriage passing by. She was a big woman and she insisted that her carriage remained open to allow the crowds to see her. She was smiling and waving as she went past us, thoroughly enjoying herself and seemingly oblivious to the heavy rain. I don't think that her companion in the carriage was too keen on the situation, however. I believe that he was a Sultan from one of the Far Eastern countries, and when they went past us he looked far from happy and rather like a drowned rat!
The weather seemed to have had little effect on the turnout, however, as crowds were large with people even camping out overnight to get good viewpoints. The monarchy was still generally popular in postwar Britain and, with living conditions slowly improving, this was touted by the media as the start of a second glorious Elizabethan age.
To commemorate the occasion Sloane, courtesy of the London County Council, gave each of us an inscribed propelling pencil. I still have mine, rather worn now but still in working order. I don't remember funds stretching to include a pen as well but then the outlay to provide every pupil in London with a pencil must have been high, bearing in mind the financial condition of the country at the time.
Ah well, memories of long ago and far away."
* * * * *
June 16th, 2010: Accursed World Cup seen in English hands for the first time since 1966!
It may only have been temporary, and not altogether above board, but in March, 1970 the football World Cup was cradled by a Sloane schoolboy. Classmate Dennis Carter (1958-1963) succeeded where Malcolm Macdonald failed when he got his hands on the Jules Rimet trophy, and has now, 40 years later, decided to come clean. At the time, Dennis was working for the Foreign Office at the British Embassy in Bogota, Colombia, when the Football Association took the cup, that England had won four years previously, to them for safe keeping as England prepared to play a couple of friendlies en route to taking it on to Mexico for the 1970 Finals.
After locking the trophy in the Embassy vault the FA party went on their way, only for Dennis and his colleagues to remove it immediately and make the most of their once in a lifetime opportunity by taking a number of photos. The one below shows Dennis holding the actual trophy, and others he took show his wife and 9 month old son doing the same.
Love your style, Dennis. I don't suppose its disappearance four years earlier had anything to do with you, did it? Or was it, perhaps, your Norwood front garden in which the cup was eventually sniffed out by Pickles the dog? No, couldn't have been you. You probably wouldn't have survived this long as a curse was said to be associated with the theft. FA and Chelsea FC Chairman,Joe Mears, died of a heart attack after suffering severe angina, said to have been brought on by the stress of the whole episode, within weeks of the cup being found. Pickles later choked to death when his lead became entangled in a fallen tree while chasing a cat. Perhaps it was just the original trophy that was cursed as it was lost forever, believed melted down, after going missing again in Rio de Janeiro, in 1983.
Edward Bletchley had stolen the cup, or been paid to steal it or receive it, on March 20th, 1966, and had then tried to blackmail Joe Mears, into parting with £15,000 for its return. Mears agreed but it was Pickles and his owner, David Corbett, who recovered the trophy after the dog unearthed it in their front garden.
We only have Dennis' word for it that the one that was stolen in 1983 was actually the original. Hmmmm?
Dennis Carter & the World Cup. March, 1970
Pickles the dog
Derek Fernee and Guy Boas Meet Again
Classmate Derek Fernee has sent me the photo above, which shows him alongside the portrait of Guy Boas painted by Elsa Ayres. It was taken in March 2010 by David Hooper, when they lunched at the Garrick Club with author and Old Cheynean, Harry Turner.
It's the portrait of Guy that you'll also find on the Origins and History page (minus Derek alongside) and, dare I say it, I can see a resemblance between Derek and Guy. But, then again, my eyes have never been good.
* * *
10/07/2011:- The Old Queen and I (Bob Johnson)
Classmate Bob Johnson wanted to share his recollection of a humorous encounter he had with the late Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother. These are Bob's own words -
A chance meeting with the Queen Mother
During the Summer of 1985 I received an invitation from the Commander-in-Chief of the Queen's Own Hussars to attend their Tercentenary Celebrations at Catterick.
At the time, I held the position of Life Manager in a major insurance company that had done business with members of that regiment for twelve years or so and I had unfortunately dealt recently with several death claims, which was doubtless the reason for the invitation.
One of the company's Regional Sales Directors had also been invited and we met at our Head Office in the early hours of the morning for the long drive to Yorkshire. The M1 was fog-bound and after a somewhat eventful and hair-raising drive we arrived barely minutes before the ceremony was due to begin.
After being vetted by Security we had VIP passes clipped to our lapels, were given fairly thick programmes and made our way hastily to the parade ground. I joined on to the end of a small group of men and was hurried through a further security checkpoint. There was no sign of the Sales Director so I followed the group across the parade ground to a smallish stand; it comprised mainly of glass, was open at the front and had three tiers of plush, individual carver chairs..
I entered the stand. The Queen Mother was seated in the front and next to her sat Princess Margaret. In the second row sat four high-ranking Army Officers complete with medals, sashes and gold braid. The four men that I had been following were taking their seats on the third tier. I now, belatedly, recognised them; they were Cabinet Ministers and the person I had been behind, Leon Brittan, took the last available chair. I had obviously not been expected!
There was a large crowd of some 5,000 people behind barriers about 50 yards away and I should have been with them, but it was too late. I could only go forward so I continued up the stairs and stood at the back assuming a smart 'at ease' position and just hoped that nobody could hear my heart pounding.Very shortly, three members of the clergy in purple and gold robes appeared and sat a few yards in front of the stand. I was somewhat relieved by their presence as I had spent the last few minutes having a silent word with their boss!
The ceremony commenced with a march past of horse-drawn artillery followed by tanks and other armoured vehicles. Just as my panic was beginning to subside a Military Police Sergeant appeared at the side of the pavilion, walked up the stairs and stood next to me.
"Is everything alright? he asks.
"Fine" I reply, sounding far more confident than I felt.
He pulled out a two-way radio from his tunic (no mobiles then!), whispered "Royal enclosure - condition green - over" and went back down the stairs. The march past continues but, some twenty minutes later, he's back.
"Okay?" he asks.
"No problem" I reply.
He reports back via his radio and continues standing by my side.
I has folded the programme that I was given at the Guard Room and thrust it in my inside breast pocket and I realise that I appear to be wearing a shoulder holster; the Sergeant obviously thinks so too. He stares at my bulging jacket.
"Scotland Yard?" he asks.
"No" I answer truthfully.
He tries again.
"MI5?"
"No".
"Say no more" he says, and now, apparently very impressed, he retreats once more back down the staircase.
The Queen Mother then presents the regiment with their new colours and my hopes of escaping undetected rise.
Then a bomshell. Six men, four in uniform and two wearing civilian clothing, enter the pavilion and line up beside me. The Queen Mother follows them up the staircase shortly afterwards accompanied by an Officer holding a scarlet cushion on which there are several medals. They walk along the line. The Queen Mother presents the medals and exchanges a few brief words with each man. She reaches me at the end of the line.
"There doesn't appear to be one for you" she says with a huge smile.
I try to avoid the Officer's quizzical stare,
"That's alright Mum", I say kindly, "I've got plenty". (I meant to say "Marm" but it came out 'mum').
"You must have something" says the Queen Mother and, turning round, takes an item from Leon Brittan and presses it into my hand. I discover to my amazement that my legs are rock steady although I am apparently not even breathing. I incline my head slightly towards her and with a click of the heels come smartly to attention.
The Royal Party depart contently and just miss hearing the sharp intake of breath demanded by my screaming lungs.
My friend the Sergeant appears and on learning that I am not dining with the Royal Party insists that I have lunch with him in the Sergeants' Mess, where from the nature of his questions it is clear that he believes I am the Queen Mother's personal bodyguard.
My anwers are truthful but non-commital.
"Your job must be very interesting."
"Yes, it is. Very much so."
"The Queen Mother seems a very nice lady."
"Yes. I have a very high regard for her."
And so on. It all seems very easy now, but it certainly wasn't at the time.
I finally meet up with the Sales Director who tells me that he was prevented from following me by Security and had watched me from a distance with growing amazement. He could hardly speak from laughing and in fact never stops laughing all the way back to London.
I do still have Leon Brittan's Commemorative Medal the Queen Mother gave me and the programme of the event but, sadly, I had to autograph my VIP pass for the Sergeant and leave it with him as a memento. I just hope he never reads this.
10/07/2011:- John McNamara the 'Ave-a-Go 'Ero of Ealing
Despite his reluctance, Classmate John McNamara has been 'persuaded' to allow me to publish details of an article that appeared in the Ealing and Acton Gazette of October 27th, 2000. John had been sitting in his car when he responded to a cry for help from a granny who was being mugged. He chased and caught the assailant even though he was armed with an iron bar. He kept him pinned down until the police arrived and was awarded £250 for what the trial judge called his 'great bravery'. John was 62 years old at the time.
07/06/2011:- The Culprit
Regular readers will have seen that one of our main contributors is Brian Haynes. He blames his perceived need to 'save' things on a very special (to him) money box. He writes -
" It was probably my first 'new' present, given to me one Christmas in the latter part of the Second World War. It contained sweets - barley sugar- not individually wrapped, but loose in one main outer wrap. As a result, because I 'saved' them by eating them slowly, they evolved into one large lump of said barley sugar, which I remember breaking with half a brick on the steps outside.
It was the empty tin, that I could lock, that did it. All the 'special' little bits that I acquired (beg, steal, swap or borrow) were saved in there.
Apart from the three woggles (homemade by me when in the Scouts sometime later), the contents haven't seen the light of day for about 65 years. The tank, three submarines and two battleships were the first new 'toys' that I bought myself, very cheap copies made with lead. The Cadbury's/Ovaltine advertising pencil is quite unique. It's a pity it has been cut down so much. All of these contents, and the buttons, special bolts, and other strange things, remind me of so much. I cherished them, and still do.....I wouldn't part with them for anything.
25/05/2011: - Bob the Dasher and his horseless carriage.
Re-reading the piece about Stefan Bremner-Morris' grandfather (See 05/10/2010 Your Carriage Awaits below) brought home to me the different modes of transport that have been in use, and still are in use today. it seemed strange to see Dr. James Bremner going about his work in a horse drawn carriage in 1931 when, as this photo shows, my own grandfather, Robert 'Bob the Dasher' Foulsham, was delivering good to the gentry for Harrods in an electric powered vehicle, 30 years earlier -
He worked for Harrods from 1894 - 1930 and his official title was Grocer's Carman. The family were living in Chelsea at the time but, like many families, they moved around. At the time the photo was taken they were at 160, Lots Road (very near the school), but had also lived in Flood Street and Oakley Crescent.
Harrods bought Bob the van, which was the first one ever to be used in London, in an effort to control his penchant for speed on his horse and cart; hence his nickname Bob the Dasher. The lady at the wheel was one of those women who had been brought in to do the work of men because the First World War was in progress.
I sent a copy of this photo to Mohammed Al Fyed when he still owned Harrods and in return received a pleasant letter of thanks, details of my Grandfather's employment and a bottle of Mr. Al Fayed's Balnagown Estate distilled Scotch. I still have the photo, of course, and Bob's work record. Needless to say the Scotch is no longer with me.
20/05/2011:- Fifi and Brian and the less-tinkled ivories.
It never ceases to amaze, the sort of things Brian Haynes hung on to from his days at Sloane. Reminds me of my wife really as she's another that's never thrown anything out in her life (I'd better be careful then). Brian's latest find are two letters, correspondence between his mother and Miss Viola Tucker (Fifi to the boys), the aptly named one time Sloane Music teacher. She was assistant to 'Pop' Semmons, who Brian remembers as the 'main man'. Fifi was, in Brian's words, 'a lovely lady' who taught pianoforte, violin and viola and played the occasional solo at school concerts.
FIFI
POP
Brian tells me that due to the economic situation in post-war Britain Fifi used the reverse of his mum's letter to reply. It seems Brian had a talent that was about to go to waste on account of excessive homework and a long journey home that left him little time for piano practice. Fifi had other ideas -
Letter from Brian's mum to Miss Tucker
Reply from Fifi to Mrs Haynes
20/05/2011:- To School Well Fed On Grape-Nuts
The children that we were sometimes neededa little encouragement to go to school and to help them on their way. In 1897, C. W. Post developed a breakfast cereal to rival those of John Harvey Kellog which he marketed as 'brain food'. Made from wheat and barley and shredded into pieces that resembled grape seeds (nuts), the cereal had a nutty flavour enhanced by the sweetness of the sucrose (which Post called 'grape sugar') that was formed during the baking process. After World War II Grape-Nuts arrived in Britain and were popular for some time, though now only take about 1% of the cereal market.
It's not known whether their consumption had any effect on Brian Haynes' brain power when at Sloane but I'm grateful that he had enough of it to hold on, for posterity, to one of the posters that advertised it. Whisper it quietly, but it may even be where he came across the idea for the outfits he sometimes dressed up in on holiday. Remember this? -
21/04/2011:- Overheads On The Buses
Brian Haynes' collector's items that appear on this page's Slideshow include his collection of cigarette packets. Unlike his collection of chewing gum packets, (see below) these are empty, and the reason becomes clear in this little piece he sent me -
" In the 1st year, 'Games' at Roehampton were on Tuesday am, and we travelled straight from home, but from the 2nd year on they were in the afternoon, so there was usually a crows of us at the bus stop, all scrambling to get on the top deck.
At that time ciggie packets had a slide out 'drawer', and the fags were wrapped in silver foil laminated with something like rice-paper. We would collect these 'wrappers' and carefully separate the foil from the paper. On the bus, upstairs, the thin paper would be rolled into a tube and twisted at one end to form a small pocket. The silver foil was then rolled into a small ball and moulded into the pocket. A liberal amount of saliva (I've heard told that other body fluids were sometimes used - 'goings-on' were not unknown upstairs) was applied to the weighted end, and these projectiles were then lobbed upwards at the roof. They invariably stuck, and it was not unusual to get off at Putney Bridge or Roehampton Village, leaving a dozen or more droplets hanging from the bus roof."
15/04/2011:- "I'm An Old Cowhand" -
Brian Haynes' latest recollection of his days at Sloane (his mind's just as cluttered as his loft) concerns the day his classmate BrianCockle turned up for school in the latest fashion. Here's how Brian describes the moment -
'Jeans' had become very popular on the streets, but of course were banned at Sloane. Brian Cockle must have woken up one morning thinking he was a rodeo-rider and arrived at school wearing a pair of said denims.
Mr. Middleditch, who was now 2nd master, dragged Cockle onto the stage at assembly, and during the very vehement, public admonishment of Brian, very loudly shouted the immortal words,
"Good Lord alive, boy, who d'you think you are...Texas Dan?"
This generated much mirth, which rumbled on and developed into some open laughter, which was quickly terminated by a red-faced Mr. Middleditch shouting "Quiet!"
Stefan Bremner-Morris has aMiddleditch memory of his own. He says,
" I'm surprised he could get onto the stage, let alone make an exhibition of himself up there!
I remember once in Chemistry, at a particularly boring juncture, I was doing my brilliant impression of a twangy electric guitar, a la Hank Marvin, and he swung round and yelled,
"Who's making that damn silly noise? Shut up!"
I felt like saying "Who's boring the arse off us with a constant drone? Why don't YOU shut up!!!! (but didn't)."
12/04/2011: "Does your Chewing Gum Lose It's Flavour On The Bedpost Over Night?" Ask the mice -
Lonnie Donegan's song from 1959 might bring back memories of the chewing gums you used to chew on but it's unlilkely to bring back the flavour. Classmate Brian Haynes might be able to help. Not content with collecting the chewing gum packets after he'd eaten the contents, Brian also held on to some unopened ones. Unfortunately, he says, after all these years in his loft the mice seem to have developed a taste for some of the brands.
Remember any of these? -
Brian had ample opportunity to chew his gum at some of the events he attended. As a Service Manager at Burroughs Ltd - makers of electro-mechanical machines for recording lap times at motor car race meetings among other things - Brian was required to provide repair cover in case any of the equipment should should fail. One of the perks was the free passes he received for the pits where, he says, the "noise was incredible" and the sights "unforgettable". His own favourite meetings involved saloon / touring car races where you'd find Mini Coopers v. big Jags and even bigger American Chevies. As with much that came Brian's way, it never left him again, and this photo shows his Silverstone Grand Prix passes for some of the events he was privileged to work at along with some of the concert tickets, that included Ray Charles, Dave Brubeck and Gerry Mulligan at the Odeon and Gaumont in Hammersmith, he spent some of his hard-earned money on -
09/04/2011: Empty Satchels. First Day at Sloane for Brian Haynes
Brian Haynes has taken a break from clearing his attic just in case he throws out a beam or two by mistake. Instead he's sent in this lovely little reminder of what it was like as he travelled to school on his first day at Sloane -
"It is the first day, of my first week at Sloane. I am sitting on the number 52 bus, shortly to be followed by the number 31 bus, on my way to the posh, BIG school in posh Chelsea, I am proudly wearing my new, and very stiff, and very expensive school uniform, topped with a cap that refuses to stay where I put it. I am wearing my first wrist watch (it has a real Swiss movement) and in my top pocket is my new Conway Stewart fountain pen, with a 14 carat gold nib, filled with Stephens' blue-black ink,
Photograph of enamel sign from the Brian Haynes Collection
both of which were presents from my Mum and Nan for passing the 11 plus. Nestling in my lap, attached to me by a stiff leather strap, is the biggest satchel I've ever seen, also bought for me for passing said exam, by my Godparents. It is empty as I haven't any school books, and I haven't yet started to take sandwiches; I was going to have school dinners !!. The satchel is leather of course, very, very stiff, and exuding, in bucket loads, that wonderful smell of new leather. But people are looking at me, and sniffing when they pass me, and I am so self-conscious.
All this trauma, and I was still only on the bus!
I've still got the pen with the 14 carat gold nib; sadly, my lovely watch was stolen about ten years later."
09/04/2011:- "Don't argue Charlie or ve vill fill you full of lead!" -
By his third year at Sloane, Brian had settled in but perhaps things were a little tougher there than we all thought and desperate measures were needed to protect yourself. He's sent in this vignette to illustrate what was going on -
"In the 3rd year somebody brought into class an air-pistol. It wasn't German but it had a real 'Nazi' look about it, and I fell in love with it. After days of pleading ad bargaining, I succeeded in swapping three of my roller-bearings (of scooter fame) for it. It had a lovely inlaid wooden grip, and after applying some bike oil, the wood and the gun-metal really shone up. As a weapon it was clapped out, with very little power in the main spring. This turned out to be very fortunate, as there was also little resistance to the trigger. A few lads gathered round and I put a catslug into the 'breech', intending to fire it into the blackboard. As I was moving the pistol to aim it, it went off, depositing a small piece of lead into 'Charlie' McCarthy's mouth. It apparently did sting a bit! We considered that the small quantity of lead compared to McCarthy's bulk, would not lead to lead-poisoning, and it was decided to wait a day or so fo things 'to pass'.
My mother threw the pistol away without my knowledge."
23/03/2011:- Stars Fell On Brighton
Stefan Bremner-Morrishas also unearthed a gem from 1959 that reminds that overnight fame wasn't something that happened too often in the past. They worked hard to get to the top. This Brighton Tigers Ice Hockey programme advertises an All Star Weekend that includes Shirley Bassey, American comedian Alan King, The John Barry Seven, one of my old favourites, Lita Roza (remember How Much Was That Doggy In The Window?), and even Ken Macintosh, who some of you, like me, will recall with his saxophone and orchestra at the Hammersmith Palais. Some of the other names you see were never destined to last, although Felix Bowness was still going strong in the 1980s TV series Hi-De-Hi!, playing the jockey Fred Quilly.
Funny how it only takes one name or piece of paper to invoke memories of a period in time that now seems a long way off -
22/03/2011:-
Alf Tupper the 'Tough of the Track'. Also Known as Derek (or was it Brian?) Fernee
Brian Haynes,not content with a single trek to his attic, has been again, and returned with more. We have a lot to thank Brian for. If it wasn't for his interest in the lives of his Sloane contemporaries, much would have been lost to this website.
The latest offerings to emerge from Brian's seemingly never-ending store of memorabilia concern brothers Derek and Brian Fernee, both fine athletes. The younger brother, Derek, was a superb schoolboy athlete who carried on running after he left Sloane and carved a name for himself in track and road athletics. The young Mr. Haynes knew a star when he saw one, and followed Derek's career with an interest verging on idolization. Some of Mr. Haynes' cuttings from the West London Observer appear below along with an article that compared Derek Fernee to (George) Derek Ibbotson, a well-known British athlete who held the world mile record in 1957, won a Bronze medal in the 5,000 metres at the 1956 Olympics, and ran the first ever 4 minute mile when recording exactly that time when finishing fourth at White City in 1958.At the tme of the comparison, c1957, our Derek was just 17 years old and winning the English Schools Intermediate Mile title in Southampton whilst 'Ibbo' was winning a mile international race in London.
Click on The Fernee Brothers link below to view the Fernee Brothers in action. Use the PDF's enlargement feature to get a better view if the writing's not easy to read. You'll notice Derek had to fight 'Cramp' a couple of times. We're nor sure who he was or why Derek wasn't disqualified for fighting him. It must have affected the result, surely!! -
Success didn't come easy, though. This is the sort of strenuous 'training' Brian had to put himself through to achieve what he did. With thanks to Brian Haynes for the photo -
Brian Fernee, on the left, alongside another successful Sloane sportsman, footballer Mike Tomkys
15/03/2011:- The Rover Returns!
Our intrepid Classmate Brian Haynes has once again donned his bobble-hat, crampons and Sir Edmund Hilary backpack (free with every packet of 1950s Shredded Wheat) to scale his loft-ladder and return with more treasures from his (dysfunctional?) youth. Ignoring the danger to life and limb (his own as well as anyone within the 2 mile exclusion zone around his home) he delved deep into the loft's recesses to emerge clutching this little gem.
It's a copy of that old schoolboy favourite, The Rover, from October 13th, 1951. To bring back memories and read the full issue, just click on THE ROVER link below. These are Brian's own words on his trek to the attic -
" I feel like Dr. Livingston - hacking my way even further into the deepest recesses of atticus aynsibus, I perchanced upon a very 'cooked' old box, even the spiders has vacated it. Having overcome my fears about what might leap out and attack me, I gingerly opened it only to find a stack of my old Sloane exercise books - very interesting for me but not really viewing material for the website. owever, for personal interest, I pulled out a couple at random, and in one I came across the copy of The Rover comic of 13th October, 1951. This particular edition was very special to us Sloanites then, and close viewing of the front page will show why. On page 15 you will find the name of the culprit - one Master D. Marcus, of Hammersmith, W6. I bet he has forgotten about this, as I had, so he shall soon receive a pleasant surprise.
This Rover comic had been folded up some 60 years ago and totally forgotten about. I am very, very lucky to have found it again. -
You'll see that the cover includes (top right) Sloane's badge. It was something all readers were encouraged to send in and, not to be left out, Classmate, the late, David Marcus sent in ours, almost 60 years ago and received the thanks of the comic by having his name printed on page 15. David's family do not live at the address shown anymore.
06/03/2011:- A memory of Mr Marshall.
I am indebted to Classmate Miroslav Demajo for the following piece that contains information most of us were probably unaware of regarding our former Art master, Dunbar Marshall. Apart from being enlightening, it has allowed me to prepare an obituary entry for him that you'll find on the In Memory page. Miroslav had this to say -
Remembering Malagola
Who is Malagola? How many of you know? He was a teacher of Art at Sloane. If one looks at Wikipedia on the Internet, under the biography of Carla Thorneycroft, Baroness Thorneycroft, under the heading 'Early Life' one finds the name of our Art teacher, Francis Dunbar Marshall Malagola. He is evidently a well recognised artist.
Why do I write about Dunbar Marshall?
When in my sixth form at Sloane, 1964-66, the Headmaster, Henry, decided it would be very useful if sixth form boys, especially those reading natural science subjects, were to have additional informal courses outside the 'A' level curriculum. They were 'Music Appreciation, lecturer Doctor Henry himself, - very interesting with much ethno music from the record player - 'History of Technology', an extremely interesting course taught by a teacher who always wore the black master's robe, liked to sit on the bench and was informal but gave very captivating lectures. It was in a classroom on the floor below the Biology lab if I remember well. The 'Art Appreciation course was given by Dunbar Marshall. I remember him as rather tall, had spectacles and a rather serious look, but not frightening. He was a good lecturer, with a clear voice as he explained his slide pictures. What I remembered was that it was, in his opinion, easier to be a good sculptor than a good painter, as painting seems more difficult. I hope I remebered this correctly, with no intention to evaluate various arts.
As he knew that I was from the former Yugoslavia, he, through me, contacted the Yugoslav Embassy in London, including my father. The fact was that he was in the British Army in World War II and found himself in the British Army Hospital, in the Italian town of Bari, after Italy surrendered. He was there after an unfortunate accident, when he somehow broke his arm, not in battle, but could still paint. He was, however, surrounded by badly wounded soldiers. At that time at this hospital, Tito's wounded partisans were also accepted from Yugoslavia, flown by British planes from the Bosnian mountains across the Adriatic. Both of my parents were also there for a time, recovering, but did not meet Dunbar there at this time. Dunbar made a portrait of a wounded Yugoslav partisan. He had been shot through the cheek and the scar could be seen on the portrait. Much later, through a popular Yugoslav weekly magazine and various Army officials, the man was found living as a retired Yugoslav Army Colonel, living in the town of Split (now in Croatia on the Adriatic coast). The protrait painting was sent to him and it was a big event for the family. Dunbar also tried to find a woman partisan he had met in Bari. Her family was found but she had died. This event is described by my father in a book written in Serbian in 1991.
Dunbar was later affiliated with UNESCO. Somewhere around 1970 he visited my parents in Belgrade. I think he was on a business trip for UNESCO and this was the last time I saw him.
I hope you find this little history of Dunbar Marshall interesting.
Miroslav Demajo
Belgrade
Serbia
March 6th, 2011
20/02/2011:- Gunpowder, treason and plot.
Classmate Bryan Chandler wonders what happened to Derek Hayward with whom he experimented with gunpowder and blew up a few trees on Putney Heath! Bryan says -
"We also contemplated the dam at the end of the Queensmere, a la Dambusters. Too thick! Wednesday P.M. was dynamic if not mite".
He also remembers Derek constructing his own 'aqualung' saying he
"tried it out in the Serpentine and demonstrated it at the School Gala at Chiswick. Compressed-air cylinder, hand valve (not demand valve), football bladder and a snorkel mouthpiece.
Health and Safety!!!!!!!!"
09/02/2011:- Tony Britton lights up the stage!
With thanks to Classmate Stefan Bremner-Morris who sent in this story of a 1950s school trip to the theatre.
Back in the 1950s, when men were men, and nearly everything was still in black and white, various members of the Sloane teaching fraternity took it upon themselves to take pupils on a variety of what one might call 'cultural jaunts', in school time. I suppose some of this was a device to inspire interest in the reading syllabus, or at least broaden the boys' horizons beyond the latest football results. No doubt Guy Boas had a guiding hand in the practice.Sometimes a film was involved, or a play, and occasionally a visit to a scientific establishment, like the Wellcome Institute.
One visit to the theatre springs to mind. We went to the Old, or was it the Young Vic. There we saw, with our English master Mac/Jock, a series of short, one act performances by the same cast of members in a variety of guises. These had a decidedly down-market, sub-Pinteresque quality about them and were pretty forgettable. The only one that still remains vaguely in my memory involved a number of characters who meet quite by chance at an airport lounge. After a series of psycho-babble conversations, they eventually paired up and spent a good deal of time necking and groping on the cheap plastic sofas provided, until the curtain went down. Naturally, this had a stimulating effect amongst some adolescent members of the audience, and was duly voted the best of all the plays on show that particular afternoon, by the Sloane brigade. Mac later asked why it had been so preferred but never really got a coherent answer, for some reason!
However, the performance that does still stand out for me, after all these years, was at the Old Vic.
On this occasion we were given seats right at the front of the stalls. So close was this to the stage, we could literally see the whites of the actors' eyes, and the rather dodgy make-up employed by them, together with evidence of perspiration trickling down their animated visages.. All rather unnerving, and a distraction from the plot and dialogue! The dilapidated state of the wooden stage itself didn't help, either. The play was the Bard's Macbeth (although I suppose I shouldn't mention that!). I can't remember the cast of players except for one, and that was a youngish, up-and-coming matinee idol called Tony Britton starring as Macbeth. Subsequently, he became a proficient TV performer, and begetter of 'Fern of the Couch!"
Things plodded along in a routine sort of way, until the scene changed to a campfire in the woods. There always is one such location in Shakespeare, isn't there - or a blasted heath?! Anyhow, several thespians were seated around this fire, including Tony, with some pretty pathetic looking fake shrubbery, supposedly there to give 'atmosphere'. After some verbal ping-pong between each of them, Tony looked moodily into the fire and proceeded with a soliloquy of considerable weight and importance to the plot.
Suddenly, after a few lines, the fire, maintained by an electrical device of some kind, exploded with considerable noise and ferocity, and spat out red-hot embers onto various parts of the stage, actors and audience!
Everybody was dumstruck, including poor old Tony! There was a deathly silence in the auditorium. Tony stared and stared and stared at the smouldering wreck of a fire, which by now was smoking pretty heavily. What seemed like an eternity passed by, as we all wondered what would happen next. Eventually, he could control himself no longer, and a slow smile spread across his features, and stuck there, although he never allowed himself to look up, for fear of corpsing completely in front of his frozen-faced colleagues. We all relaxed into muffled chortles at the front, but after a while he managed, with some difficulty, to continue his oration. What a pro!
I fear I could never take him seriously on the box after that, and the image remains every time I see him, despite his (and my) advancing years!
21/12/2010:- Great footballer. Not so good with predictions!
Brian Haynes has been rummaging once again, and long may it continue. The first item he unearthed was this clipping from The Sun newspaper of December 30th, 1988. Malcolm Macdonald was writing a column for them at the time and decided to make predictions for the year ahead. As you'll read, one of them was for the demise of Alex Ferguson as Manchester United manager. For the uninitiated, he's still there 22 years later! Stick to what you know Mac, or was it something personal?
21/12/2010:- Old team mates in contact again.
Brian Haynes' second recovery from the archaeological site that is his loft, was a photo of the Cranfield Villa football team of the early 60s. Made up of players mainly from the Wandsworth area of London, the team included Brian (standing second from left)and John McNamara (kneeling second from right), This site brought them back together again after all those years.
01/12/2010: - The Mobile Mr. Marshall
Classmate John Muncey remembers Art master Mr. Marshall with mixed feelings and has this to say -
"Just before Dr Henry's unfortunate arrival, Mr. Marshall hung a great big contraption, a mobile made of upturned umbrellas, cardboard etc. It took up most of the ceiling space of the assembly hall. I thought it was there for years but perhaps it was dismantled at the start of the new realpolitics of the Doktor. I knew he (Marshall) was a great artist but I immediately marked him down as a genius but stark raving bonkers and volatile with a tendency to violence, and I kept out of sight thereafter. Marshall was very serious about 'ART'; I think it is about having fun."
Anyone else remember Marshall's mobile?
01/12/2010: - A plug for Mr. Basin.
I asked a while ago whether anybody recalled a young teacher called Mr. Basin, at Sloane. Classmate John Coles did. John tells me he was a History teacher, very young and a student of that other History master, Mr. Eversfield, who John remembers as a "tough man".
John recalls -
"On his first day, first year, he came in to us to shut us up, as he was next door and our teacher was late arriving. Mr. Basin said that he had a nickname for Mr. Eversfield, but would not tell us. Mr. Eversfield drove a Mini and parked it in the Carlyle side playground."
Anyone care to guess (or maybe you know) what Eversfield's nickname was?
21/10/2010: - You wait half-hour for one then they all turn up......
That avid collector of all things, Brian Haynes, was, once upon a time, what today would be labelled an 'anorak'. One of Brian's hobbies involved bus and train 'spotting'. Personally, I never got beyond the car number collecting phase. Pointless as I later found out it was, it was fun at the time. It wasn't until I allocated vehicle licence numbers when I worked for the GLC in the 70s that I realised what it was all about. Brian joined the Ian Allan Locospotters and Bus-spotters clubs in pursuit of his hobby, and still has his membership cards, issued in 1950 when he was just starting his teenage life. Also included below is a snippet from the Evening News, referring to the 31 bus route that Brian used to get to and from school - when he wasn't cycling that is. The number 31 used to run from the Stanley Arms, on Chelsea's King's Road, to South Hampstead. Nowadays, it runs from White City to Camden Town -
08/10/2010:- Is this real or just a wind-up?:-
Picture, if you will, a living room in Derbyshire and an old Sloane boy dancing to the Pasadena Roof Orchestra but having to stop every so often as the music changes pace. With an arm used to cranking the starting handle on various old motors, he deftly brings the music back up to speed and continues his gyrations oblivious to the loss of beer from the glass in his left hand.
My apologies to Classmate Brian Haynes if the scene I've painted is far from reality but, after sending me this photo of another piece from his collection, it was what came into my head. Brian says, and he's been proved right, that it was built to last, having been built by HMV in Hayes, Middlesex about 100 years ago.
Brian sent this piece along with the photo -
"It is very 'green', not requiring electricity or battery to operate it, and as it requires a certain amount of physical effort (not a lot) to wind it up, is very healthy.....it can easily be integrated into a daily fitness routine....you could say 'music while you train'. It is therefore also very economical.
A novel feature of the design are the doors, they are, in fact, the volume control and, providing the hinges are oiled regularly, offer very smooth and trouble-free operation. This early model only comes with mono reproduction. HMV are (still) working on a stereo model.
A major benefit to mankind is the weight and size of its design....no more will we be beset by some moronic prat sitting next to us on the 'bus or train, blasting out noise from his/her dingleberry."
05/10/2010:- Your Carriage Awaits:-
Classmate Stefan Bremner-Morris decided to paint a desk he uses and, in one of the drawers, unearthed a newspaper cutting from a 1931 issue of the Daily Sketch, that shows his grandfather, Dr. James Bremner, going about his work, probably in Drury Lane. Stefan takes up the story -
"The 'carriage boys' were usually obtained from a place called the Strand Workhouse - a sort of Dotheboys Hall, where he was in charge of medical matters, as MOH for the area. Cheap labour? You bet - he was Scottish!
On the back (of the cutting) is an advert for a 'meal ticket for the deprived',to be obtained from the Sketch newspaper by 2nd of Feb, 1931. - I must rush!" The cutting appears below -
05/10/2010:- Je n'ai pas assez de réviser!:-
Classmate Andy Roberston sent me the following results list from an end-of-term French exam from, he thinks, our 4th year, 1967. We were in the same year so my name appears here along with many who, perhaps, didn't do so well on this particular occasion. It must have been one of my better years in French. All those whose names appear and who are site members, have already been sent a copy so I think it's safe to reveal the truth to the rest of the world. Incidentally, Daniel Froget, who came top, was a Mauritian and the two languages they use more than any are English and French - case explained. The marks awarded out of 100 were as follows -
Froget 88
Heard 75
D Ward 75
Robertson 70
Prior 68
Horsman 68
Foulsham 66
Robinson 66
S Roberts 64
Davis 64
Hancock 64
Titton 64
S Ward 63
Popham 63
Corbett 60
Liddle 57
Schmidt 57
O'Shea 56
Ballard 56
N Stacey 54
Puffett 54
Wedderburn 53
Alagoa 51
Thorn 51
Shannon 51
Hayward 51
Nicklin 50
Franklin 49
Laverick 49
Sargeant 49
Dholakia 49
Gilley 47
Wells 47
Gowers 47
Meads 46
Wilson 46
Butler 46
Glatt 44
Zabavnik 44
Fullbrook 40
Alvarez 40
Blunt 38
Lefley 37
Tayler 36
Stanley 30
T Smith 30
C Stacey 23
Ford 23
Spiegel 23
Kapadia 21
Curtin 20
Langridge 29
A Roberts 19
Hall 19
Leaver 17
Hill 16
Greagsby 6
03/10/2010:- Men of Letters:-
It wasn't really until the late 1960s that communication by anything other than letter writing became the norm for the majority. In fact, I don't think we had a phone at home until the very late 1960s. With the advent of the phone the art of letter writing diminished. A person's letter writing style and the information their letters contained to ld us more about them than a phone call or a text message ever could. With this in mind, I am pleased to be able to reproduce here copies of letters sent to me by Classmates John Forbat and Brian Haynes.
The first is a letter received by John Forbat in reply to one he had written in 1948 to Mr. Leslie C Ockenden, who had been a Science master at Sloane from 1932 until moving to Wimpole Training College in 1947. The Cheynean of March 1947 recalls that Mr Ockenden had become Head of Science at Sloane and had inaugurated the School Scientific Society. It speaks of him as having a 'highly trained and acute mind' and a 'friendly and sympathetic personality'. Here is the letter John received from him, and which he hopes will be of interest to everyone, not least those who remember Leslie -
Brian Haynes' letters are of a different sort altogether. They give us an indication of the camaraderie and 'Goonish' influence for humour that existed between friends at the time. The first letters were written to Brian, by Old Cheynean Malcolm O'Keefe in 1961, in an effort to persuade him to sell cricket cards to help raise funds for the Old Boys' cricket teams. Brian didn't play cricket himself, as his email to me tells -
" The O.C.s certainly fielded a cricket XI or two, but cricket and I didn't get on* and I didn't play for them - leaving me free to expose my body (I had something worth exposing then, everything was 'up' where it should be) and chase crumpet at the Serpentine Lido during the Summer months.
* The reason for this was that during my minimal involvement with this highly dangerous game, whilst playing for Turner in a House match, I was hit by a fizzer from Ron Clipson - a VERY fast bowler - in my rib-cage. I hadn't seen the ball since he had given it a final polish on his flashy whites prior to starting his run - somewhere near Doverhouse Road!!
At first I thought this little red Sputnik had gone right through me. I determined there and then, once my ribs and innards had been re-set, that trying to knock a bit of red leather around with a bit of willow looking for 'runs', and chasing the same red Sputnik through the long grass trying now to stop 'runs', just wasn't as rewarding as chasing crumpet....through the long grass....for whatever! "
The letters in question -
This sort of banter was prevalent in the 60s and continued when Brian found himself in hospital after a bad tackle playing football for the Old Boys, and was presented with this letter by the nurses on Harold Gillies Ward. Brian's email to me sets the scene -
" Shortly after demob from the RAF, and playing regularly once again for the Old Boys, a bad tackle tore the medial cartilage in my right knee. Keyhole surgery was yet to be invented, and a damaged meniscus usually meant the end of anything athletic for most amateurs as it entailed relatively major knee surgery foolwed by a stiff joint ad infinitum.
The normal sprains and gashes one collects in sport meant that I was known at my local A&E Department and I was referred to Mr. Robinson, a well-known orthopaedic surgeon who, I was told, did private work for Arsenal. He assured me he and his Registrar, Mr. Ash, would get me playing again, but this was providing I was prepared to work very hard at physio and in the gym. I believe I was something of an experiment; I was very privileged. The surgery took place at St. Charles' Hospital, North Kensington, followed by two weeks as an 'inmate', then many weeks of 'iron boot' physio. Mr. Robinson arranged for me to take a full set of weights home so that I could work out daily, much better than a one-hour-a-week outpatients session.
This was about 50 years ago when hospital wards were very Victorian, very orderly, very clean, very efficient, and the nurses were superb! Mixed wards were unheard of, and mens surgical wards were favourite with most nurses....no geriatric oldies to look after, just testosterone-fuelled fellas with various bits in plaster-casts always looking for a laugh and a joke....the nurses loved it.
Inevitably, a fair amount of 'bonding' took place, the letter shown here was given to me among my discharge documents on leaving St. Charles " -
26/09/2010:- Brian Haynes' Letter from King George VI, 1946:-
The letter reproduced below has been safely looked after by Classmate Brian Haynes since 1946. All British schoolchildren received one after World War II as a thank you from the King in recognition of what they had endured -
Brian's father returned from World War II with a couple of models of the German Stuka aircraft, made by Italian prisoners of war out of aluminium from crashed planes. Brian has treasured them and now shares them with us -
Brian's connection with planes continued when he joined the RAF for his National Service. Here are his papers that proved he 'done his bit' for Queen and coountry when called to the RAF Station at Odiham in 1958 -
19/09/2010:- Mark Foulsham and the Lipton Trophy:-
Some of my fondest memories of Sloane are the times I played for the Under 16s football team in matches at both Stamford Bridge and Craven Cottage. The match at Fulham's ground was the Final of the Lipton Trophy and the one at the Bridge was a Semi-Final of the same competition, in 1967.
We drew the Final at the Cottage 1-1 but lost the replay at Victoria Park heavily (see my Profile Memory for a fuller story).
We were also soundly beaten by Christopher Wren in the Stamford Bridge game on April 15th, 1967, and it's this game that the Fulham Chronicle and other papers, published a report on. I never kept a copy of the match report but Classmate Andy Robertson did and has just emailed me a copy. I'll be forever grateful to him as I get a mention in the report - but only because the reporter made a mistake. Well, he actually made two mistakes. Firstly, he gave me an incorrect first name and spelled my last name completely wrong and, secondly, for which I'll also always be grateful to him, he credited me with scoring a goal, and I never did. For the record, it was Classmate Steve Thacker.
Here's the match report. I wonder whatever became of Mike Follsham!? -
15/09/2010:- Tricks of the Memory
Strange thing, the memory. We somehow manage to convince ourselves that certain things are truth when often, in reality, they are what we want to believe is the truth. When the real truth is discovered, long-held beliefs often bear little relation to the way things actually were, and make us think again.
Classmate Roger Read sent me this lovely email on a similar theme. He wrote -
" Did you ever have one of those days when you find out something that kicks into touch a memory (or attitude) that you've had (or held), for most of your life? So today, just browsing 'The Website' in between work projects, for bits I might have missed, was this one.
One long-held memory for me was of '48-'49 ish and Wednesday afternoons and 'Maths-Scripture-Maths' and Form 2b. Maths was never my best subject and Mr. Purdy, our one-armed, stooped, arthritic Maths teacher would creep around class, behind you, looking over your shoulder at your calculations, and would quietly let fly at the back of your head with his remaining, arthritically twisted, iron-hard, knuckled fist (it was allowed in those far off days), if he saw obvious mistakes, delivering angry flicks. In my case frequently. By 4 pm and two periods of Maths, my head would be ringing as I headed for the number 11 bus.
For the whole of my life, Mr. Purdy conjured up my own personal hate figure. None of Dickens' characters or Stephen King's villains could hold a candle to Purdy in my childhood memories. I had Purdy!
At Sloane I remained totally Maths-proof.
Fast forward to January, 1972. I'm in the right-hand seat of an old four-engined de Havilland Heron aircraft, half-way between Greenland and Nova Scotia, which two of us are ferrying out to Florida. The North Atlantic, in Winter, at night is no fun. The DH 114 cockpit was minimal, cold and cramped. The pilot in the left-hand seat (Frank) had been borrowed from another company - he had the DH 114 on his licence but had never flown out of UK before - and I'd only met him a week earlier.
About four hours out from Narssassouaq I'd set the heading and given him an ETA (there was no autopilot) and we were chatting (as you do) about school and stuff. Frank was chuntering on about his Cheltenham grammar school and flying training in the RAF. We compared subjects. I waxed eloquently on about Geography and English (and I think I mentioned Robert Pitman, who at that time was required watching on Saturday night TV with David Frost and Co, as being a favourite teacher). Frank professed a love of Maths.
It was then I made the sort of remark that I would remember as 'somewhat indiscreet' (given that I was co-pilot/navigator). I mentioned that I hated Maths (the Purdy syndrome) and that in the 1953 'mock GCE's' I'd got a mere 7/100! (This was twenty or more years before GPS and navigation was purely protractor and pencil).
So there was Frank, at 3 am, far out over the Atlantic, in an ancient aircraft, with a guy he hardly knew who had the armful of maps, and the flight plan, in cloud, snow showers, on a part of the globe with a very large magnetic variation - and who was a mathematical imbecile! As you can imagine, it suddenly went very quiet.
Actually, we hit Goose Bay later only about four or five minutes adrift and went on down to Florida happily, without having to bale out or anything desperate, and we each went our separate ways for several thousand more flying hours (me using the Maths I'd learned in a less aggressive way than Purdy's - by myself).
I seem to have digressed somewhat from the first line of this email (to your obvious confusion). Bear with me.
So, I've spent sixty odd years hating Mr. Purdy with a vengeance and this morning I find out (from an overlooked entry in The Website) that he was a Royal Flying Corps aviator, a fellow airman whom I should have admired and revered! (He never regaled my 2b with any tales of the skies of France and WW1 unfortunately, so I obviously misjudged him). So Mr. P - my most sincere apologies. I salute you. I wish I could have kown you better.
His colleague, Mr. Berkeley (history) had more success with me and I have probed early pre-WW1 aviation as a hobby for many years, and John R Gilliland put me on the road as a successful geographer/mapmaker - albeit with aeroplanes though- so Sloane did actually do me proud.
Thought I'd share my belated apology to Mr. Purdy with you in this 'confession'."
08/09/2010:-Kids on coke in the 50s!!
Stefan Bremner-Morris wrote to tell me of his first ever experience of 'coke' at the age of 5. Before you start criticising his parents for the way they brought him up, here's what he had to say -
' I recall my first ever coke - cola, that is! It was by the round pond in Kensington Gardens, when I was about five. One of those ice cream vans was stationed there on a hot day, and my parents bought me a bottle of the dark liquid. I downed it in a few gulps - and immediately threw up!!! Never tried it again.
I was told, years later, that the Yanks used to lace the early bottles with real Coke to get clients hooked, but that may be apocryphal???
Looks like Stefan may have lost the advertising contact. He could have been Coca-Cola's answer to the Milky Bar kid.
03/09/2010:- The Teddy Boy at Sloane:-
Seeing the name J. Hollingshead as the author of The Ghost of Sloane poem on the Home Page, Classmate Stefan Bremner-Morris' brain rolled into action and he sent me this very descriptive memory of the self-same young man from 3C. -
"This hadn't registered with me before, as I think he was slightly older than me at Sloane. In fact he was the school Teddy Boy! He had this huge mop of brownish hair with a DA, and an enormous quiff that signalled his presence several minutes before his arrival! Of course, the tight, tapered trousers and winkle-pickers/suede shoes, were also features of his image. How he got away with it, I don't know!
One day, I was on the bus going home and, just before Putney Bridge, Hollingshead strutted onto the top deck, put his feet up on the chair in front, and lit up a fag, just avoiding setting the mighty quiff on fire! After a few minutes, the conductor came up, and asked the, by now animated, cloud of smoke for the fare. Hollingshead looked at the chap as if he was insane, and continued puffing. The ignored conductor became more irate and began shouting for the money. 'H' realised the game was up and, I suppose, not having a pass for some reason (or any money), decided to vacate the vehicle. He made it as far as the top of the swaying stairs, at which point his tormentor caught up with him, and gave him a running kick up the posterior. 'H' tumbled to the deck at the bottom, with an audible crash. I wondered what was going to follow next.....
As luck would have it, the bus stopped in the traffic at that point and, looking down from above, I saw the lad himself swaggering off along the pavement, giving the conductor a two-fingered salute. Within seconds his comb had also materialised, and the quiff was duly adjusted to its former luxuriant glory!
If this is the same Hollingshead, I really find it difficult to relate to his poetry mode, but then, of course, Byron.......!"
03/09/2010:-Jiving at the BBC
Stefan's memory was also stirred by the sight of the boy, name unknown, to the left of one R.Clements in the back row of a photo taken in the 6th year Common Room in 1962 that appears on the Other Classmates slideshow on the School Photos page. Stefan has seen him a number of times in Top of the Pops 2 repeats shown on the TV. In them a young John Lee-Hooker is playing guitar and singing 'Boom Boom', as an even younger unknown Sloane raver repeatedly looks into the camera and 'jives'.
Stefan wonders if his Dad worked for the BBC, as it would certainly account for his arriving at Sloane in a Jag on the odd occasion!
11/08/2010:-The Barrow Poets
The Barrow Poets
Pete Bamford recalls that during one art lesson in the mid-60s, Art Master Dunbar Marshall brought the Barrow Poets into the room to entertain the class. The Barrow Poets started out selling poems from barrows in the 1950s; hence the name. They then moved onto entertaining in pubs and the like, playing music and reciting their poetry. Mr. Marshall was something of a Bohemian character and may well have known those involved. No one else seems to remember their visit to Sloane so Pete wonders whether it really happened or whether it was "just a drug-fuelled memory" of his (Don't give too much away, Pete).
If anyone else has any recollection of this, perhaps, one-off visit. Please share it with me.
02/08/2010:-The 1970 School Fair, the group and the Priestley connection
1970 being the last year of Sloane as a school in its own right, the annual School Fair seemed to me to be even bigger than we were used to, as if everyone wanted to make it special. I (Mark Foulsham) had a very minor role when I set myself up as 'manager' of a group that had formed in my year. I couldn't play an instrument and they wouldn't let me sing with them, so I 'encouraged' people to watch their performance in Room Z, at the very top of the school, and took money on the door. I didn't take a lot, due, I'm hoping, to the fact that it was a long trek upstairs to watch them play. The group consisted of Neil Stacey (lead guitar), Dave Liddle (drums) and PeterPriestley (rhythm guitar and vocals, and, although I have no recollection of what they called themselves, Neil believes it may have been Kangaroo Valley at the time, though Pete Bamford has it down as Meadow Ridgeway! Neil says he doesn't recall that name but they changed the name a few times, so it's anybody's guess which one they were using!
Neil Stacey centre stage on guitar in Room Z with Tony Wilson in the foreground. Dave Liddle (obscured) on drums and Andy Robertson's hand on bass guitar. Possibly taken at the 1969 School Fair
It's funny the way the memory plays tricks on you, but I can't recall Peter Priestley being involved; My memory has always led me to believe that they also had Andy Robertson on bass guitar, but not so, according to Neil. He also says that Peter's twin brother, John Priestley, played with the group occasionally.
Mrs Priestley taught music, so it would have been no surprise to find Peter and John involved and, if the name Priestley sounds familiar, there's another connection. Neil remembers visiting the Priestleys at their basement flat off the Earl's Court Road one lunchtime and being introduced to a portly gentleman in a pinstripe suit who was seated at their kitchen table, puffing a cigar. They introduced him as 'Grandfather' and then left him alone whilst they went off to play their guitars. If you haven't already guessed, the main they'd virtually ignored was novellist and playwright, J B Priestley.
J B Priestley
27/07/2010:- Present the Prizes and Skip the Speech!
Stefan Bremner-Morris recalls the time the Scottish author, journalist and academic, Peter (later Baron) Ritchie-Calder arrived at Sloane one day in the late 1950s or very early 1960s. Stefan thinks it may have been for a prizegiving, but isn't sure. Stefan writes -
"Having been introduced by Guy Boas, he stood at the lectern, and announced to anybody who was listening, that he too had been subjected to lengthy speeches at his school by learned and tedious personages, but assured us that this was very far from his intention on this occasion, and that we had no cause for alarm.
He then proceeded to subject his captured audience to just such a turgid harangue, for nearly an hour!
I couldn't believe it, but was fortunate that, being a senior by then and a 'promenader', I was able to secrete myself behind one of the pillars at the rear of the hall. Even so, it still hurt my brain to the extent that the tortuous experience has remained with me ever since - although not the content of his oration!
It taught me a lesson, though. When you hear the words 'speech' or 'talk' - - run for the hills!!!!!!!!!"
12/07/10:- Anyone Sitting on the Trophies?
Brian Haynes sent me a recollection he has of The Old Cheyneans. For a number of years, the Old Boys' First and Second Eleven football teams played against each other in an annual challenge match. The trophy, which the winner held for a year, was a toliet seat (minus the pan) painted in the Old Boys' colours. The Third and Fourth Elevens played a similar game for which the winner received an enamel 'potty', also painted in the OB's colours.
Brian is sure photos must exist of this 'trophy'. Anyone got any?
28/06/10:- Pull a Few Strings to 'Get a Head'.
Ian Kelly sent me in his memory of the 'goody-goody' letting his hair down for once. The 'goody-goody' in question being him -
" I was a good boy at school. I was never caned, and hardly ever in detention - I think only twice in all my years at Sloane. In fact, I was not just good, I was a goody-goody (everyone is permitted to go "yuk!" at this point).
One day, however, before morning assembly, three of us found a small piece of metal on the floor of the hall, not far from the piano. I was in the choir, so I knew in advance what the hymns would be at assembly. The two other lads I was with were also very musical (I shall preserve their identities - no names, no pack drill, as they say), and we thought it would be fun to place the piece of metal in the piano, on the strings, over the note which was the key-note of the hymn. The hymn that morning was in G-major. So we put the piece of metal (I think it was a bit of a bolt fitting from a door but I'm not sure now) on the F-sharp/G/G-sharp above Middle-C.
Before the hymn, and before Mr Boas, the headmaster, entered there was a piano solo every morning - played by Mr Harris. We never knew beforehand what this solo would be. That morning, Mr Harris sat down and started playing the first movement of the Moonlight Sonata. Us three saboteurs looked at each other in huge anticipation - because we knew what was about to happen . . . . that music could not have been a better (or do I mean worse?) choice.
You know the Moonlight Sonata - it flows quietly Dum-di-di, dum-di-di,dum-di-di,dum-di-di,Dim-di-di etc. before the entry of the tune - Laaaa-li-Laaaaaaaa, Laaaa-li-Laaaaaa etc. But not that morning. It went Dum-di-di, dum-di-di, dum-di-di etc., as expected .... but the tune (which starts on the G-sharp above Middle-C ....ah!) went TWANG-twang-TWAAAAAANGGGGGG!, TWANG-twang-TWWAAAANNNNGGGGGG!!!!
The whole school burst into laughter.... and we were never caught!
04/05/10:- The 'Moggie' and Me
Once upon a time Brian Haynes owned a Morgan 3-wheeler, registration number XJ 4888. It was his first car and he named it 'Moggie'. Recently, purely by chance, Brian was introduced to the Registration Officer of the Morgan 3-Wheelers Club and they got talking about 'Moggie'. After receiving some photos of the car, e-mailed by Brian, our Registration Officer did some research and, lo and behold, has traced 'Moggie' to Germany where, after what Brian calls 'OTT restoration', the car is still in use today. For comparison, Brian has sent me these two photos -
Brian in his 'Moggie' c1959
The same car in Germany in 2010
06/12/09:- Ink and Excuses
Roger Read remembers GeoffHooper as being something of a 'star' in their class, saying that "in those pre-Biro days" Geoff always had "a collection of different colour ink bottles while we mostly stuck with the standard blue/black". He goes on to say,
"I managed to upset my inkwell down AlanParsons' jacket once and he reminded me of it several times when we served together in Germany, in the RAF, as photographers. I sat next to Don Samyint in that peculiar A-Z order from the class door they had in those days.
I always remember Andrew Waluszewski, who would wander into class late every Thursday with the excuse that 'I had to wait for my 'Flight' magazine!'. And he seemed to get away with it!"
12/11/09:- Bishop's Park's Beach
Stefan Bremner-Morris tells me that there are plans afoot in Fulham to create a beach in Bishop's Park, which sits beside the Thames near Putney Bridge. We both agree it probably has something to do with the local council compensating the (not so) well-off Fulham residents for not being able to take their holidays abroad in the recession. If, like me, you were born and bred in Fulham, you might recall that it's not a new idea. The photo below shows the paddling pool in the park c1905, complete with beach.
02/11/09:- Poems at Sloane
Les Grimes has come up with a name for the author of the Teddy Boys poem on the A Way With Words page. He believes it was written by a boy named Davies. Looking at copies of The Cheynean for that period I found the name E J Davies, so it could be him, although other issues show the name E J Davis (without the 'e'). Les recalls the boy had a 'big pal', name of Connolly, nicknamed Nolly.
Les' memory has recalled that Davies' pal, P. Connolly, wrote a short poem about The Brains Trust, which was a popular BBC radio programme of the time. It had a panel which was made up of, as Les puts it, 'cerebal types who were all professors'. Their names were Campbell, Huxley and Joad. Guy Boas had strong connections with Punch magazine so passed it onto them for publication. I've since found it in the December 1946 copy of The Cheynean. It went like this -
Campbell, Huxley and Joad,
All live in one house in one road.
At the same table
They eat the same bread.
Then all in one nighty,
And all in one bed,
Go Campbell, Huxley and Joad.
P. Connolly (III.B.)
30/09/09:- The Fullertons
Martin Ferber sent me these two photos from his collection. They show Terry Fullerton (see Famous and Infamous page) leading a race at Hayes, Middlesex, with with his brother Mick Fullerton, and giving Martin some tips on handling the kart he's sitting in. Both were taken c1966. Martin says take note of the cost of TV rental!
22/09/09:- Sloane Boys' and Masters' Autographs:
Autograph hunting has been a craze for an age but in the 50s it seems to have become extremely popular with schoolboys. Perhaps they were convinced all their pals were going to become famous. Published below are some sent in by Frank Wilmot and Brian Haynes, which they collected on the back page of their copies of TheCheynean from 1951. See if any of the names bring back memories for you -
All the above from Frank Wilmot's 1951 copy of The Cheynean
All the above from Brian Haynes' 1951 copy of TheCheynean
15/09/09:- Guy and His Habit
Frank Wilmot sent in this evocative memory about the daily journey to school -
I think Guy and 'Puss' (his wife) must have been living out Putney way at the time in question, as he travelled into school on a number 14 bus, which ran through Fulham and on to Chelsea, dropping us off across the road from the school.
Guy's favourite seat was top deck, front seat, right of the gangway, whwer he could view all before him, rather like a ship's captain on his bridge. He chain smoked Abdullah cigarettes on the way in, smoking being allowed on the top decks of buses in those days. I can't remember whether he smoked in his study at school, but masters certainly used to in their Common Room (Editor Foulsham's Note: I have also seen reference to the 'Smoke Room' but don't know whether this was the same place). Anyway, if yopu didn't spot him on the bus from the stop, you certainly had a good idea that he was present as, when you mounted the platform, you could immediately smell the turkish tobacco smoke drifting down from the upper deck. It was then a case of trying to find room on the lower deck (not likely at that time of the morning) or hoping that you didn't end up anywhere near him on the upper deck. Happy days.
Geoff Hooper also remembers Guy's smoking habits -
"Yes, he (Guy) smoked Abdulla No.7 cigarettes. He also smoked Wills' Passing Cloud cigarettes, which were oval shaped, and his study was almost a permanent fog. I was his runner whilst in 2A for a while so I remember the smell well".
14/09/09:- Brian Haynes and Don Wheal
Brian Haynes corresponded with the late Don Wheal (see Famous and Infamous page) and below is a copy of one of the letters he received from Don, which gives an insight into the man he was and his feelings for the school -
14/09/09:- More of Brian Haynes' Memories
Yet more memories from the ever-active Brian Haynes memory. Something else that was made active once more, according to Brian, were the bowels, when you drank Senna Pod Tea. (Very upmarket, Brian; we used liquid paraffin where I came from).
He also reminds us of all these things, pictures of most of which you'll find on the Slideshow above -
- Speedway, which was very popular all over. London had a number of teams including Harringay, Wimbledon 'Dons', and Wembley Lions, (based at the 'real' Wembley Stadium), who I supported and in whose colours I painted the 'gas rattle' (see Slideshow).
- Marbles, ok if you could get 'em, but they just weren't around in the War, so we played 'chippers'. Chippers were known in some parts of London but not others, and could be used/played with in diferent ways. Chippers were/are what are now called crown caps, on beer bottles (see picture on Slideshow). The seal inside the chipper was made of cork, and could be prised out. The empty chippers could be placed over your shirt or jacket and the cork re-inserted behind the material, hey presto! - instant badges. As a substitute for marbles, the sharp edges could be hammered over, or left alone, and the chippers flicked along the pavement trying to hit you opponent's chipper, which you then won and kept, or flicked up against a wall - the winner being the one nearest the wall when all chippers were used. Knocking your opponent's chippers out of position was the skillful bit. We used them also to decorate our home-made carts and our home-made scooters. Two small planks of wood, some off-cuts, two screw eyes and hooks, and a steel bolt, were relatively easy to obtain. Ball, or Roller-bearings were required for the wheels, and these were goldmines. Our scooters were fast, very dangerous, and great fun, much better than what is sold now. If anyone is interested in making one for their kids, or grandkids, see the plans below.
- Real bus tickets.
- Real money, like tanners, 'threpny' bits, bobs
- Proper cigarette packets.
- Dinky toys and lead figures.
- 'Juneero'; a sort of DIY Meccano
- when a Driving Licence was more than just a bit of paper.
- when we used a wind-up gramophone to play our music, and had
to use a needle.
- when we could collect knives to admire, not to use.
The 'jack- knife'on the Slideshow above is my Dad's Army issue.
My beautiful Scout's knife isn't shown; it was stolen
- the cinder track around Stamford Bridge Stadium, where they held
Speedway and Dog Racing.
- the Actonia and other Cycling clubs.
- Hank Janson paperbacks.
- Brylcreem (I used blobs of it after swimming).
- Brilliantine (like green axle grease).
-When Fulham Broadway used to be called Walham Green (EditorFoulsham's Note: Fulham Broadway came into use in 1952 when the station's name was changed after local businessmen wanted to 'go upmarket', feeling Walham Green was too 'villagey').
- the Granville Theatre (Editor Foulsham's Note: The Granville had been started by music-hall man Dan Leno in the late 19th century and was demolished in 1971).
- the Fulham Baths in North End Road (Editor Foulsham's Note: Used for swimming by the school, they were closed around 1980 when new ones, minus the laundry facilities, were opened on the site of Normand Park, Lillie Road, and renamed Fulham Pools. Last time I looked, in 2009, the old baths housed an Italian restaurant and a dance studio).
- Ball point pens (described as 'entrenching tools' by Mr Gorman (Latin), I think, maybe Middleditch, Chem.) were banned at Sloane. Therefore 'ink-pens' had to be used, which entailed the use of blotting paper (see Slideshow - still usable!)
Hank Janson Paperbacks
06/09/09:- Brian Haynes' Memories
Brian Haynes has delved into his memory bank again to bring us this -
I feel a remember coming on:
- like when you could buy a pennyworth (1d) of batter crackling with your fish and chip order.
- like when we played French Cricket (sometimes called 'sticks') in the street; all that was required was four pieces of firewood and a tennis ball.... and two teams, of course.
- and 'lamp-ropes'.... lengths of washing line tied into large loops and hooked over the two arms on the street gas lamps. We could all swing round the lamp,....boy-girl-boy-girl....and as the ropes got shorter we all got scrunched up in the middle .... most enjoyable!
- get some chalk (broken plaster from a bombed house) and play 'London to Paris' on the pavement,
- and ordinary hopscotch
- and 'buck and four stones', though we, in our ignorance, called it 'buckle five stones', again, with stones from a bombed house.
- most families had a walking stick or two, so, two teams with inverted walking sticks and a tennis ball, and, hey presto!, street hockey....marvellous. - even better, the above played on roller skates, terrific, though the windows of the families who lived down 'the area' suffered rather.
- 'the area' (see above), now that's interesting. Do you know what the area is/was in this context? Nearly all the houses in North Ken. had the bottom floor built below ground-level. The area in front of the house, where the steps led down to the bottom floor's doorway, was called, strangely enough, the 'area'.
- and what about scrapping in the Children's Library to get to the new Biggles books when they were put up on the shelves
- and Worrals books
- and Gimlet books.
- and what about buying 'loose' sweets from those large jars, when you could see what you were getting, and not getting conned with a packet that is only half full.
- and carbolic soap
- and cars had funny bent pieces of metal at the front called 'starting handles' - and waving your right arm about when you wanted to slow down, or stop, or turn right. I've heard of drivers who would never, ever turn left 'cos they just couldn't get the hang of the wiggly, flippy-flappy turn left signal.
22/08/09:- If the Cap Fits
The photographs below were sent to me by Brian Haynes. He's obviously treasured his Sloane mementoes. -
Brian Haynes models his cap & tie
Brian Haynes models his scarf
Brian Haynes' GCE Certificate
Brian Haynes' CV from Guy Boas
14/08/09:- I Was Never Monty's Double!
Classmate Stefan Bremner-Morris has sent me this lovely vignette he has written, relating to one of his violin teachers at the School, MontaguCleeve:-
' Monty, a tall, silver-haired, military type, was one of my violin teachers at school, although I originally had lessons privately with the leader of my mother's amateur orchestra. Monty got me out of Latin, though, as the two subjects clashed! Tres bon!!!
One day we were invited to attend a musical soiree at his massive flat just off Kensington High Street. My mum and I turned up with our fiddles, and found a full orchestra had assembled - mostly M's friends and pupils. My father ferried us their in his taxi on a Saturday, poor devil.
Anyhow, we had been practicing a Bach Brandenberg Concerto at home for the occasion - I think No. 5. What we didn't know was that Monty had hired a 'guest conductor'. This turned out to be a certain Basil Cameron, who by then had become a freelance - 'have baton, will travel'.
He was, by all accounts, the most hated man at the Royal College of Music, where he taught. We didn't know that, of course!
Within a short while he had reduced a poor young female cellist to tears, by humiliating her in fron of the whole room, as to her non-existent (according to him) abilities. Others were to follow.....
The piece was then taken at an incredible lick by Basil, who seemed in a hurry to get away! None of us had performed it at that tempo before, and a shambles ensued, during which he yelled at everybody about their pitch, timing, and general incompetence. It didn't help me that my mother decided to support him, and delivered kicks to my ankles at the slightest error on my part!
After all this, there was a period of respite, when cakes and tea were taken. Then it was back to the final performance. When it was all over, Cameron turned on his heels, and without a word, vanished forever, presumably taking his fee at the door, courtesy of G Boas or the Department of Education!
The following week at Sloane, Monty apologised in his bumbling military sort of way for this psychotic fellow's behaviour. (Cleeve always reminded me of Sgt. Wilson in Dad's Army!).
Much later, on radio, I heard Basil booed to the rafters at a Promenade Concert, as he made his way to the rostrum - probably by his students!! He left in the same way.
Whilst at his flat, Monty had shown us his collection of Viola D-amores, and also pictures of the 'Big Bertha' guns he had served with in the war. I heard him on the BBC, giving talks on both of these loves. I believe you can download recordings from the Internet, but they are of the fee-related variety. I understand he lived into his 90s."
Monty's teaching certainly benefited Stefan, as the following examination appointment time and resulting certificate testify. He was also ably assisted by his own violin which stayed with him until 2011, when he let go of the past and sold it on Ebay -
For the uninitiated, Stewart Montagu Cleeve, lived and died at 1, Parkside Avenue, Wimbledon Common, in 1993, 9 months short of his 100th birthday. He had also taught at Cheltenham College, Emmanuel School, Wandsworth, Battersea Grammar and Downside 'prep' school in Croydon. He had been a Lieutenant, and later Lieutenant-Colonel, in the First World War and the book, Forgotten Voices of the Great War, quotes him, when with the Royal Garrison Artillery, as saying,
"We found we literally couldn't walk along the trenches without treading on dead bodies, German and British. Eventually one just got over it and thought nothing of it. We couldn't help it, we were alive and that's what mattered. And being alive, we jolly well had to get on with it."
He was involved in the design of the 14in ex-naval gun known as the 'Boche- Buster' and in the Second World War, Churchill recalled him from Hong Kong to organise the resuscitation of the heavy artillery guns which had been hidden all over England since the signing of the Armistice at the end of WWI. Among these guns was the original 'Boche-Buster', which was re-assembled at Dover and, on King George VI's personal order, was fired again. His obituary in The Independent said,
'Monty Cleeve was a gentle man with a delightful sense of humour. But when fighting for a cause, he could be fiery and obstinate, and thereby added considerable colour to the musical world'.
He continued to teach privately into his mid-nineties, having said,
"I don't believe in age, only in being fit and doing what you enjoy most. In my case it's music."
Basil Cameron was born Basil George Cameron Hindenberg, in Reading, to German immigrants.
06/08/09:- Brian Haynes' regular Appointment With Fear
Brian Haynes sent this in after I sent him a copy of a piece he wrote that was published in The Cheynean -
"Yes, I remember it well, but thanks for reminding me., 'cos there is a story here.
During the latter part of the war, or maybe just after, there used to be a regular horror story broadcast on the 'wireless' (no TV back then) and read by a certain Mr Valentine Dyall. He had a very deep, scary voice and the series was called, I believe, The Man In Black. I had lived in London all through the 'blitz' and I supose was pretty shell-shocked, I certainly shouldn't have been listening to scary stories at such a tender age! Anyway, two of the stories I found particularly frightening, they both caused me to have nightmares for a long time. We didn't have elctricity, just a flickering gas mantle, and of course there were often bombs exploding nearby - a very apt setting for some blood and guts.
One story related to a chap, terrified of the dentist, who had to have some dental work done. As the gas (this was 60 years ago) took effect he felt he wasn't fully unconscious, because he was aware of tremendous pains in his face. He was in terrible pain when he finally did come to, covered in blood, and when he looked in a mirror he saw that all of his teeth had been removed and hammered into his face. The second story was one that got into my head. Dark, gaunt buildings, creaking doors, flickering candle light, the sound of rats scurrying and scratching, tortured faces peering out of dusty old paintings, a body in a noose at the end of a long rope which disappeared up into the bell-tower, swinging slowly like a long pendulum, in time with the slow, resonant booming of the death bell.
Yes, I remember it well.
Sleep well, and pleasant dreams."
Thanks, Brian - or is it Valentine? I don't think you've lost the knack.
16/07/09: Posted by Steve Norris as his application for joining the site-
"I was given this link by another old classmate and it's great to see a properly dedicated website for us old Cheyneans! I was 'taken in' (in fact done up like a kipper) in 1961 and lasted until 1967 when my father exclaimed " it's time you started paying me some rent my boy" - so off to work I had to go. Great memories of old friends - in the holidays cycling to see my Gran in Norfolk (all in one hit from Sloane to Fakenham overnight!) with 'Chop' (Andrew) Whittle who was the schoolkeeper's son and with whom I am happily back in touch. Sharing a quiet music room to learn to play the guitar with one Steve Hackett ( ex lead guitarist of Genesis) who obviously got his small hands around a B-minor better than I did.
Brilliant days leering at the Carlyle girls, occasionally getting the cane (for being late 3 days in a row), occasionally getting bullied (but learned how to run), occasionally appearing in school plays but always a happy time.
Once again, well done on a great site."
07/07/2009: Edward (Ted) Simon makes contact with the site:-
Ted Simon, at Sloane between 1943-49 and now a renowned author, contacted me to ask whether anyone could give him more information on a time, towards the end of the Second World War, when some Sloane boys went to the West Country to help with the potato harvest.* He needs this for a new book he is researching so, if anyone has any memory of this time, please contact him through the site.
Classmate John Forbat, was unable to help but did say that he was evacuated to Melksham in Wiltshire from 1939-42, when he was a pupil at West Kensington Central School. He worked on the school allotment and produced a host of vegetables-including, of course, potatoes. After being given his own allotment to cultivate, he sold whatever he grew on the 'open market'. To him it was 'great fun' and helped to eke out his very meagre pocket money. His most vivid memory of the time is of walking a mile with a huge marrow, which he sold to a lady for 2p!
Jim Goodacre also responded to say that, although he didn't join Sloane until January 1945, he had been evacuated to St Just in Cornwall where he attended Penzance Grammar School.
*Editor Foulsham's Note 26/08/09:- After checking the back copies of The Cheynean, I found mention of the Farming and Harvest Camps. During the years of the Second World War, two dozen or so Sloane boys, accompanied by Mr and Mrs Boas, spent around four weeks on the Bridehead Estate of Sir Philip and Lady Williams, at Littlebredy in Dorset. From here they harvested potatoes and other vegetables to help with the war effort. It was also profitable for them and/or the school. The harvest of 1945,from August 17th - September 15th, when the boys were also accompanied by Mr Harry Little, Mrs Green and Mr and Mrs Gurton, they earned £118-6s-6d for a total between them of 2,366 and a half hours! It wasn't all hard work though as the boys seemed to enjoy the entertainment they were afforded on the Estate.
06/07/2009 - William John Llewellyn Jones
Sent in by Elizabeth Arkell, daughter of William John Llewellyn Jones, who started at Sloane just after the First World War. Elizabeth said that reading the history of the school contained on this website "quite excited" her as it answered a number of questions:
"My father, William John Llewellyn Jones, was born on 13/07/1906 and attended Sloane before going up to Selwyn College, Cambridge, in 1925 or '26. I still have his school cap which is black velvet with the letters SS entwined and 1923-1925 underneath. I wondered if this could have been a special cap for scholars or prefects*. He clearly treasured it!
My father was a very good diver and a group of swimmers were in the habit of spending summer holidays at the Helford river (Cornwall) with R.P. Jones, who, I can now make the connection, was a Governor at his old school. I have a number of photographs from that period, 1929. There was a high-diving scaffold erected on a lugger on the Helford river near Port Navas (near Falmouth) and RPJ and several other young men spent their time diving, fishing and generally partying! At this time my father was at Selwyn** as he is photographed wearing his Tadpoles Club blazer. At this time there wasn't a 'Blue' for diving at the University, but the membership of Tadpoles, I gathered, was the next best thing!
R.P. Jones had a Wolsey Hornet car which he gave to my father in the early 50ies.
* Editor Foulsham's Note 10/09/09:- Confirmation that the cap would have been a Prefect's cap comes from John Forbat, who also had one.
** Editor Foulsham's Note 10/10/09:- Selwyn College, Cambridge, was where the Rev. W.J. Llewellyn Jones went to, from Sloane, in 1925. Whilst there he had a distinguished rowing career. As a Master at Radley College, near Oxford, he coached the College crew, and was one of five coaches who trained the Oxford crew of 1954.
30/06/2009:- Compliments of the Deputy Head
Classmate Stefan Bremner-Morriswas rummaging through some papers at home when he found the following compliments slip from Mr Bailey, sent to him when he lived in Maida Vale, after he had purchased a school tie as a memento, knowing the School was about to close for good-
02/06/2009:- The Last Reunion - or so they thought
Classmate Stefan Bremner-Morris tells me that when Sloane closed its doors for the last time in 1970, what was called "The Last Reunion" was held on Friday, June 26th. Shown below are the programme from that day and also the name badge that Stefan still has in his possession:-
20/03/2009:- Ferber Rubs Shoulders With the Famous
Classmate Martin Ferber writes to say -
"Just read the interesting profiles on "famous boys". John Creasey must have visited the school in about 1967, as I had the honour of showing him around the Library. Also, Keith Strachan was Form Master for 4Y, he successfully kept his musical interests a secret, clearly teaching paid better than a street musician at that time, may not today! I was a good mate of Terry Fullerton and went racing with him and his family quite often, I have pictures of him at an event or two somewhere will take a look. He did an apprenticeship at Rolls Royce before becoming the first Professional Karter in this country, his elder brother, less successful in the Kart, also at Sloane, MickFullerton."
15/03/2009:- Reg Steele's Memories of Sloane From Its Early Years
Classmate Pete Bamford wrote in to say -
"The following was written down for my benefit by my uncle, ReginaldSteele, who was at Sloane from 1928 - 1934. He is now 92 years old and lives in Coventry":-
Sloane School, Fulham Road
Memories from 80 years ago – Reg Steele
1928
Don’t remember Headmaster’s name, but he died.
The Deputy Head, Mr Bride took over awaiting a new Headmaster.
Other names are Mr Grimes and Mr Bride, both Housemasters.
I was in Mr Bride’s house.
Mr Grimes sang in the school choir.
Cannot recall the names of the masters who taught many other subjects except the later arrival of Mr Ockenden.
The new Headmaster was Guy Boas. He was a keen Shakespearian and produced the Bard’s plays, only one of which I saw. This had a fellow member of my form named Bernard Archard who, as in Shakespeare’s days, played female role. Can remember seeing him in a dress.
You may have seen Bernard Archard on TV. He played various characters, notably the Major General, whose cheque Captain Mainwaring wouldn’t cash in the full film version of Dad’s Army and also was sent floating down the river on his horse by the platoon.
One afternoon a week we went to our well-equipped playing fields accompanied by the Sports Master. House teams played each other at soccer or cricket according to the season.
Sloane was modelled upon a public school. It had fee-paying pupils as well as scholarship boys. It had a form called Remove and lower and upper versions of the other forms.
Guy Boas wrote a book about his time at Sloane. I believe I read it and wonder if it’s still available now.
1934
Left school
17/03/2009:- Memories of Sloane Through a Glass Darkly
From Classmate Vernon Burgess -
"Thanks for all your work on the web-site. I can see a lot of time and effort has been put into it.
Did you remember that there was a long mirror engraved with the school crest, in the library? I believe John Creasey bought this. Who knows where it is now. I believe he bid for it at the last reunion of the Old Cheyneans.
I have also attached a photo of my house tie with Badge in Yellow as Turner; My Prefect tie, full colours, my Senior Prefects badge (only 6 or 8 of these were issued per year) 4 for the House Captains; the Head Boy, and Deputy I think, and 2 were without portfolio. I was one of these but think that was mainly because I remained overall in charge of the library, working there for some 4 years."
02/03/2009:- Mr. Stockwell
Classmate John Stockwell mentioned that his father, who taught Maths and Physics at the school, had been instrumental in setting up, among other things, the table tennis club. What made it a test of skill was the table they used. It was made by Gad, the chemistry lab technician, and was a foot narrower than the real thing! Mr Stockwell is still fondly remembered as a well respected teacher who had also inaugurated the school dances in 1959 as well as the photography club, and had improved school dinners beyond belief. He was also a prodigious singer, singing at the Friday solos and in The Mikado around 1960 and lead some of the school Journeys (including those to St Malo and Montreaux between 1958 and 1961) along with Mr (Freddie) Ager, who will be remembered by many for teaching Art. Mr Stockwell had started at Sloane in 1956 and left in 1961.
His teaching career included time at Munster Road and Henry Compton schools in Fulham and ended with a spell at Cricklewood Comprehensive, about 1969.
If, like me, you have connections with the borough of Fulham, you'll be interested in a lovely site that welcomes contributions from people who want to share their memories of the area and its people. To read what they've got to say and maybe contribute yourself, log onto the site using the link above. You'll find a number of Sloane old boys, me included, already contributing.
25/02/2009:- Mark Foulsham's Family Parties
I used to love family parties when they all used to come back after the pub closed, drink some more, tell stories and sing the old songs. Have you considered, that in 40 years time, our kids will probably do the same except they'll be singing rap and other unintelligible songs and some of the old 'uns of both sexes will be dancing around sporting tatoos and body piercings? Not quite the same, is it?
22/02/2009:- H P Nightingale
Edward Nightingale is interested in finding out more about his father, Herbert Paul Nightingale's time as a teacher at Sloane -
"I have been trying to dig up information about my father, who taught for many years at the Sloane, retiring, I believe, in 1948 or 1949.* I realise it is a rather long shot, but if you are in touch with anyone who has memories, I should be most grateful. He taught Maths, and also swimming, and I suspect that anyone who did come into contact with him would not be likely to forget, as his methods seem to have been rather unconventional. On one occasion, for example, he returned in the evening with a gigantic bubble,as it seemed to me, on his hand. It turned out that a boy had been reluctant to be caned (far-off days!), and so my father had lit a match under his hand, and proclaimed several times, 'A hand is being burnt'. Hence the awful blister!
So should anyone still be in touch, you will understand that if they have a tale that is not flattering or smacks of the eccentric or the bizarre, I shall not be offended.
Hopefully,
Edward Nightingale"
If anyone has further information, or insight into Herbert's character, please let Edward know by sending him a message through this website. Let me know too so that I can add the details to this piece.
When told that John Forbat (Classmate on this site) had included a piece about Mr Nightingale on his Profile, to the effect that he was mad because he could draw perfect circles freehand on the blackboard and chose to wipe them off again using his gown, Edward replied,
" It is actually the kind of amusing tit-bit which adds a lot of colour, esp when put to-gether with other such from all kinds of sources. It may amuse Mr Forbat in turn to know that when my father returned home from school, his children would run to the door yelling 'Got any comics'? He would then hand over the highly unsuitable American comics which he had confiscated during the course of the day! "
*The 1965 copy of The Cheynean tells us that Herbert Paul Nightingale died on June 25th of that year, having been born 22nd June, 1888, and that he had actually taught at Sloane from 1913-1948. The only times he wasn't at the school during that time was when he was on active service in the First World War and when he taught temporarily at another London school when Sloane evacuated during the Second World War. He had also been responsible for the instigation of the Junior Boxing Club in 1935** and for the opening of the School Library on 25th November 1931, he assembled "an outstanding collection of graphs that showed in a spectacular manner the economic problems of our times."
**According to his son, Edward, Mr Nightingale's ideas about boxing were, like a lot of his ideas, based on maths. The idea being that "you merely had to stretch out your left arm, hold the other up as guard, and then 'fall on him'. This would do most damage, since all your weight would be behind, or above the blow. He wandered off, saying as he often did, 'it's all a question of mechanics'."
Projective Geometry in the Colour Drawings of H.P. Nightingale
Edward Nightingale's brother, Charles, produced a book about one of their father's passions. Projective Geometry in the Colour Drawings of H. P. Nightingale covers a subject unknown to me until now and, unless you are mathematically inclined, may be as incomprehensible to as many of you as it is to me. Herbert Paul Nightingale was obviously a mathematician of note and expanded his knowledge into the field of Projective Geometry, whose first exponent was Girard Desargues (1591-1661). I had difficulty finding a definition of the subject that made what it was all about any clearer. Whilst examples of it abound an understanding of it has probably only been grasped by those with an understanding of the mathematical principles involved. To outline the complexity of the subject, here are some of the examples I have found that attempt to explain what it is all about -
"Do parallel lines ever meet? In Projective Geometry they do, at infinity. They lead us through simple line drawings into a realm of beauty and new possibilities for intuitive thinking where sense and spirit touch creative forces that lie within all of us".
" A branch of mathematics that investigates those properties that are invariant when projected from a point to a line or plane (A plane being any flat, two-dimensional surface)".
" Projective Geometry can be thought of as the collection of all lines through the origin in three-dimensional space. That is, each point of Projected Geometry is actually a line through the origin in three-dimensional space".
The one definition I did find that I was almost able to understand is,
" The branch of geometry dealing with those properties of a figure (projective properties) that do not vary when the figure is projected".
Edward Nightingale did a better job than I could of explaining the subject when he said to me,
"As a non-mathematician, I think the simplest way to get a grip of this stuff, is to imagine some ordinary figure,say, a cube, and then pull one corner. At first it will look like, a dodgy cube; but as you pull and pull so that the corner is off the page, what remains will bear no resemblance to the original cube. It defeats me how this would enable anyone to solve a problem, but seemingly, it does. I think for my father, the fun was to set out with an equation, with no idea, how it would actually look when it had worked it through."
Charles Nightingale's book is not easy to come by, but Edward Nightingale provided some images from the book and further information for the exhibition covering Sloane, at Kensington & Chelsea College in October 2009. Photos I was able to take of the exhibit and those that Edward sent me, are not particularly clear but I reproduce them below to give you an idea of what was involved when their father did some projected geometrical drawings and coloured them in. I also show other examples of work on the subject to help -
The exhibition display
An example of H.P.Nightingale's work
An example of Projective Geometry
Another example of Projective Geometry
Herbert Nightingale's time at Christ's College, Cambridge, where he graduated with an M.A., brought him into contact and friendship with many luminaries of the day. These included George Bernard Shaw, H.G. Wells, Rupert Brooke, John Maynard Keynes and, later on, after developing an interest in the occult, Aleister Crowley.
A worthy tribute to Herbert appears on Page 1 of the July 1948 copy of The Cheynean (See The Cheynean page), the year of his retirement, and it probably sums up his character nicely -
" Mr. Nightingale has never been the conventional schoolmaster, but has brought to everything he has handled an original touch. Whether teaching mathematics or swimming, helping to run a holiday camp, addressing the Parents Association, or instigating a Common Room discussion, he was like nobody but himself - whimsical yet earnest, intense yet witty, persistent yet charming, and capable in argument of breaking up opposition by an irresistible smile.
The School may have had more aggressive educational salesmen, but never one more sympathetic, benevolent, and high-minded. Men are acceptable who think as the majority do; but when they are sensitive and independent-minded they bring something of a peculiar value to a community - the fruit of an individual brain, the attraction of an individual personality, the strength of an individual character. Such were the attributes which Mr. Nightingale brought to Sloane, walking on higher ground than the hum-drum paths with which the more orthodox are content. The building will never be quite the same without him. Something will have gone - unpredictable, medieval, absolutely true and loyal and lovable. May his spirit haunt us to remind us of his pride in the School and of ours in him."
Donald Wheal's book White City has this to say about the man -
" The ascetic Mr. Nightingale, former Franciscan monk*, brilliant mathematician for the mathematically gifted but confounder of the rest, was a recognisable eccentric. Towards the end of the first term he entered the classroom with his long, dipping Grouch Marx strides, cleaned the board by ripping a strip from his gown, stared alarmingly along the rows of boys in front of him and began to record on the blackboard predictions of our eventual salary level. 'Chapman, ten thousand a year man, ... Thomas, eight thousand...Roberts, based on a term's unsatisfactory effort, less than a thousand...' And making allowances for inflation, I don't think he did too badly. It was, in any case, a novel way of making an end-of-term report."
I wonder if it had the desired effect?
I do hope the spirit of a man of his obviously much-loved character still walks the old School building, and continues to do so even after its use is changed.
* Editor Foulsham's Note: Edward tells me that his father was a Franciscan of the Tertiary (third) order which means that he lived under a three-fold form of the Franciscan Rule that was-
Simplicity (inclined away from the accumulation of wealth) Chastity (faithful to a partner)
Obedience (to the Order, the Church and to God)
13/02/2009 :- Cricket Teams and Stats
Classmate Stefan Bremner-Morris brought this to my attention from The Cheynean of 1962, primarily because it shows Bill Kimber as Captain of the 2nd XI and Bob Knapp as a member of the Under 13 XI, both of whom appear on the Famous and Infamous page -
11/02/2009:- Get your lovely Bread and Dripping here!
If, like me, you used to love bread and dripping, you might be able to recall the shop, near our school, that sold it. I don't remember it but school old boy Harry Turner, in his book Growing Up In Fulham reminds us that the shop was in Fulham Road and "was so small that it was almost a cupboard, just a hole in the wall really. It sold loose sweets from big glass jars, striped humbugs, toffees, hunks of fudge and counterfeit liquorice allsorts, but its major trade was in bread and dripping. Great slices of white bread smothered in beef fat and liberally salted at a penny a slice. Its customers were mostly schoolboys from nearby Sloane School in Hortensia Road. A penny a slice but you could get three slices for tuppence. A feast of cholesterol, fit for the gods."
At home, we always had a large, white pudding basin, filled with this nectar, which sat in the larder cupboard just waiting to be spread on thick slices of plain or toasted, Victory loaf. It just doesn't taste the same today.
23/08/2009: - Bread and Dripping Update
Classmate Brian Haynes has added this to memories of the Bread and Dripping shop -
"For a while they sold home-made ice lollies, which I'm sure they kept under the bed. I had a lime-flavoured one which made me violently sick and ill for a week! I still cannot stomach lime or its smell. I agree about the 'b&d'. I was a keen cyclist and went on regular Sunday trips with my club (Actonia C.C., Acton). The club knew all the best 'b&d' stops, yes, 1d. a slice, and in winter hot blackcurrant juice to warm the cockles. That was living!"
01/02/2009:- Old Friends. Bookends
Classmate Stefan Bremner-Morris is justly proud of the bookends he made under Mr. Griffin's tutelage at Sloane -
"Rifling through some boxes the other day, whilst engaged in my yearly clear-out, I came upon my old Sloane woodwork book-ends (see picture below), manufactured under the 'expert' tutelage of Mr Griffin (who doubled as sports master in my day), and who was, sadly, not a great favourite of mine!
They are a trifle battered, and chipped, as can be seen, but are here reunited, in book-form at least, with Mr Boas.
I do recall that we also made a chessboard too, but when it came to putting oil on it, all my squares remained obstinately the same colour, thus rendering it completely useless for chess, after all that back breaking work.
"Mmmm!" said Mr G, in a voice resonant with sarcasm, as he examined my efforts. "Not too good is it?" Then strolled off in his brown overalls to the next boy.
It has always been my opinion that he selected the wood deliberately to produce this end result, as I had never been one of his sycophantic acolytes in the sports department, much prefering KD (feet!) Alford--an all round good egg. Perhaps I'm being paranoid, though!
I also remember an early key ring, but perhaps a veil should be drawn over that.
Has anybody else preserved their 'craftsmanship' from that, or any other era? I hold my breath in anticipation............"
And not to be outdone......
Brian Haynes, not remembering having thrown his away, ignored his own safety and, after a visit to his attic, discovered his own Sloane bookends, à la Mr. Griffin,
"dusty and forlorn, and with baize intact. Antiques Roadshow would call them 'distressed'."
To paraphrase Simon and Garfunkel -
"Bookends.
Sat on their table like old friends".
Can you imagine us years from today
Sharing an old desk quietly?
How terribly strange to be seventy...
Long ago it must be
I have a photograph
Preserve your memories
They're all that's left you."
Here's the proof.....
27/01/2009:- The 1949 Photo and Memories from Terence Duley
"Hello (I'm too old to say Hi!) Old Cheyneans and Friends,
I came from Langford Road School, Sands End, Fulham to Sloane School in 1947 and left in 1951ish without benefit of qualifications, other than having attended a rather good school. I later became a Chemist (Analytical) after several additional years of part time study. My major interest at school had been Chemistry and I particularly remember Mr Duffy and Mr Middleditch ("Boy, you give me the pip!"). I am in the 1949 school photograph, 3 places to the right of Galloway (our PTI and Chelsea FC when they had centre-halfs!). Then up three rows behind the Prefect(?) in dark jacket/blazer to me in grey jacket with lapel pin (Brotherhood of British Scouts - BBS). I will need some help in naming all of the Masters and Mistresses and/or identifying their subject. But starting from Guy Boas and moving right (in the photo) are:-
Mssrs. Berkeley - English, Middleditch - Chemistry, ?,?,Duffy - Chemistry, Griffiths/Griffin? - Woodwork/Metalwork (1st year only), Miss ? - Music, Lumsden/Lumsdaine (Aussie) - English?, Grindal - History, Gilliland - Geography, ?, ?, Galloway PTI, ? - French
Then moving left from Guy Boas:-
Mssrs Linklater - Deputy Headmaster - French, ?, ?, Murphy (Spud, what else!), English (& Horse Club - if you did well in class you were rewarded with a sugar cube), Gorman - ?, ? - ?, Bailey - ? (& Scouts),Little, Harry - French (& legendary school trips to Paris, sometimes with Spud), Smart - Art, Miss ?, Art, ?, ?, Pledger (Percy or Plum), ?, Purdey, Maths, ?,?, ?(Nature Boy so called after confiscating a copy of Health & Efficiency from a pupil reading it at the back of the class. He then concluded the lesson with a brief lecture on how a partially clad woman can be even more attractive than a completely naked one) - Physics, ?, Music? When these two entered the play ground together and sat down together, practically the whole school spontaneously sounded a long and loud
"Oooooooooohh!"
- much to their embarrassment.
Then comes the late and much lamented Don Wheal, Prefect and later School Captain. I had just finished reading his two books about his early life and time at Sloane School and was about to contact him to say how much I had enjoyed these books when I found a message connected to his Wikipedia site saying that he had suddenly died. He was always a very popular, fair and respected person at school and this was a sad and premature loss.
Standing behind and between the Music (?) Mistress and Don is one of my best school friends and class mate Cockell (for the life of me I cannot recall his Christian name - though we more often than not did only use our surnames when talking to each other). He lived in New Kings Road in Fulham and he was the nephew of Don Cockell the former British Heavy Weight Boxing Champion who hailed from Battersea (Latchmere Boxing Club, I think)
The 1949 school photograph on the website appears to be a little blurred in some areas. I know that the original negative is no longer available as it was apparently lost in a fire.
Best Wishes and Kind Regards Terry Duley
PS Sorry to have rambled on, once the flood gates of the memory are lifted it all comes rushing out.
I now live in Cambridgeshire, close to Huntingdon. Are there any other Old Cheyneans in this area?"
16/01/2009: - Mansions, Boas and Pimlico
Classmate Stefan Bremner-Morris offered these observations on on Guy Boas' book A Teacher's Story -
"Just thought I'd mention a couple of points re Guy's book .........
I see on pages 85-86 he puts the boot in to the 'Authorities'! I think this is the tip of the 'Boas Rash' mentality. Curiously, all these years later I find I have a certain sympathy with this somewhat controversial stance. I can't say that comprehensive schools have been an unalloyed success. I think it would have been better to run the two systems together--but what do I know? Personally, I'm glad I never went to Pimlico, which always looked like a giant conservatory to me!
One thing I did find curious, was the previous Head (in his role as Mayor of Fulham), interfering with the planning process of the flats in front of Sloane, so that the classrooms would not be overlooked by them. I bet he is turning in his grave now, with what is about to happen!!"
14/01/2009:- Spam - but not as we know it
Could I, Mark Foulsham, have been the only boy, in the 50s, that spent his pocket money on a quarter of Spam from the butchers rather than sweets? I still like it today and it must have been better for me than all those sweets. Didn't help me grow though.
12/08/2008:- Boas and Bombs
The book, A Teacher's Story, written by our one-time Headmaster Guy Boas, contains some nice pieces relating some of the School's history. During the Second World War, whilst he was presiding over the 'Emergency School', which had opened in the Sloane building for boys whose parents had decided not to evacuate them to the country, a "doodle-bug" landed close enough to the building to blow out every pane of glass. Mr Boas received a phone call, at home in Wimbledon, from the master in charge of the school fire-watching saying- "The Headmaster would like to know that the school has been struck." His response was that the Headmaster did not like to know this and, as he didn't know what he could do about it at midnight he returned to bed. Next day he had three dozen of the boys cover the windows with asbestos whilst the rest were sent to the playing field at Roehampton. Needless to say they were disappointed when it only took two days for the school to be fit enough for them to return to it.
The school had its fair share of bombing incidents during that war and one involved one of the junior boys. He was in a Putney milk-bar at 11pm one night when it was hit by a bomb and a number of people were killed and many seriously injured. The boy was saved by the hollow milk-bar counter which had landed over him and protected him from the roof, which had caved in. The boy turned up for school at the usual time the next day. Another incident occured when a bomb fell about a mile away from the Roehampton playing field whilst Mr Boas was umpiring a cricket match and they all had to fall on their faces as instructed. No one was injured but one small boy seemed to the Head to be acting hysterically - 'He was abusing a fellow junior so wildly that I feared his nerve had gone, which was curious as no one else seemed to be at all affected. "What is the matter, sonny?" I asked. "You're all right. What's all the fuss about?" Came the reply, "He gave a seven-ball over!" Such were the hopes of Hitler.' (This piece is reproduced on the Sloane At War page).
06/12/2008:- The Underground Movement of the Cafe de Paix
By Stefan Bremner-Morris -
A Sloane Memory of the nuclear variety:-
"Does anybody recall the ‘Café de Paix’ in Fulham Road, which was situated just about where the Tesco Metro resides these days, next to a tobacconist/confectioner, that displayed sun-faded Hank Jansen novels (remember them!) in the windows?
Externally, it was a dark, scruffy, brooding presence; internally it was even gloomier and lit mainly, I seem to remember, by the dripping candles on the tables. It was difficult to discern the ‘clients’, but they were mostly ‘beatnik’ types, probably plotting revolution in the deep shadows. There were strong rumours that narcotic substances of the Class A variety were available there to the interested, and I believe the constabulary were visitors more than once. There was also very murky coffee on offer, if you felt like living really dangerously! Anyhow, one day, and I know not who instigated this, but I presume it had been sanctioned by our headmaster Guy (‘the Old Man’) Boas, some of our form were trundled over to this establishment on a cold winter lunch-break. I think this would have been in the fourth year in the late ‘50’s. We were marched downstairs to a cramped basement, heated only by an unguarded electric fire. Seated on whatever was available, or the floor, we were then subjected to a lengthy political diatribe from an individual representing ‘The Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament’. You could tell that he was not a man to be argued with, as he had that fundamentalist fervour about him, which brooked no dissent.
None of this appealed to me one little bit, as I have never been in the ‘unilateralist’ camp, and I certainly didn’t like the philosophy being forced down my throat in that uncomfortable environment. It also appeared that we had been locked in—certainly there was a ‘guard’ on the door! Frankly, at that point, we were more at risk from being roasted by the dodgy fire than any imminent nuclear conflagration--the Health and Safety Executive would have had a field day! There was a certain amount of indignant Sloane-type mumbling when we were eventually ‘released’ from our ‘hell-hole’, but there was little else that we could do, except return to double maths!
It seemed an extraordinary event to me (which I suppose is why it has stuck in my mind), especially as no permission had been sought from any parent. Still, if the object of the exercise had been to indoctrinate me into their particular mode of thinking, it had the exact opposite effect, and I remain firm in my nuclear position to this very day. That’s education for you I suppose?"
28/11/2008:- In At the Deep End
An article in the 1964 edition of The Cheynean talks of a Swimming Club initiated by Peter Pallai. Does anyone remember it? Did any of you belong to it? The article is not attributed to anybody but its tongue in cheek style might enable you to make a guess or two as to who wrote it. It said this:-
Some time ago a Swimming Club was initiated quietly and almost privately by Mr Pallai. A faithful band of boys, keen on improving their style and endurance met together twice a week in Fulham Baths and worked fairly hard under the expert tuition of Mr Pallai. Recently interest has quickened; those who found the going too hard (fifteen lengths, legs only, arms only, under water, toes first, head first, sideways, backwards) have dropped out, and a crowd of converts from all parts of the school has taken their place. But as Christofi and Dengel, both of them third-formers have pointed out, " The teacher in charge does not force you to swim all the time." Mr Clarke is there to provide light relief and informal competitions, which include: seeing who can walk across the water, (the record so far is four steps by Mick Ring), who can stay in the air longest after diving (four minutes, according to Mr Pallai's watch recently recovered from the 'Deep End'), and who can perform the most incompetent 'belly-flop'. On the other hand, many boys have found Mr Pallai's vivid, and at times grotesque demonstrations of the 'crawl' movement very inspiring. Few will forget the vision of him flat out on the marble surround, breathing out of the corner of his grimacing mouth like a stranded seal. Such things are necessary, however, for the whole emphasis is on style and endurance; there are several inter-school Galas coming, and as many found out in the School and Chelsea Finals, practise over a long period is essential for speed. In the latter competition, Sloane did commendably well.
The Club has further developed its own social atmosphere, especially since the boys of St Gabriel's Lycee, Putney, have been challenged to races, as they also use the Baths on Wednesdays after School. And after these inter-continental exertions there's tea and toast in the Pool Cafe, not to mention half-an-hour's gossip.......
17/11/2008:- When Chicken Was a Luxury
Classmate Jim Goodacre adds this to our memory bank -
Do you remember when we had chicken only once a year, for Christmas dinner? (In our case, my uncle who lived downstairs used to kill it and pluck it as well!). And what about black and white TVs - news readers in evening dress - the evening's programmes which ended with the National Anthem and staying to watch the little white dot disappear from the screen when the set was switched off. -What about the first time the Daleks appeared in Doctor Who!!!!!!!!!
Remember when we kept out the cold in winter not by putting on warmer clothing but by adding extra layers of ordinary clothing?
11/11/2008:- Something to Stir the Memory
The following thoughts about the past that I found on the Internet are worth repeating and I've added a few of my own. So for all you kids who survived the 30s,40s,50s,60s and 70s:-
We survived being born to mothers who smoked and/or drank while they carried us for 9 months. They also took aspirin.
They put us to sleep in cots painted in bright coloured lead-based paints.
When we were ill mum didn't struggle to take the childproof lid off the medicine bottle and she was forever putting a plaster on our head or leg after we'd fallen off our bikes, because we hadn't worn the helmet or knee pads that seem compulsory these days.
We actually rode in the front seats of cars with no seat belts or air bags.
We shared one soft drink with many of our friends, from the same bottle, and no one actually died because of it.
We ate cupcakes, white bread with real butter and drank drinks with sugar in them, but we weren't overweight because we were outside playing!
In the school holidays we would stay out playing all day and it was ok so long as we were in before the street lights came on. During all that time no one knew where we were and couldn't keep a check on us because we had a mobile phone.
We'd spend hours with dad making a go-kart out of old pram wheels and the end boards from beds only to forget we didn't have any brakes, but it was never going to be a problem.
We had no games machines, multi-channel TVs, cell phones or computers with Internet chat rooms but we did have friends and went outside to play, in all weathers, anything we could dream up. If it was raining there was always a book or comic to keep us happy and our imagination to make them seem real.
We fell out of trees and off of playground rides but lawsuits didn't follow. No matter how bad our injuries we blamed ourselves.
We ate mud and worms that didn't live inside us forever (as far as we know!)
We used catapults and spud guns and lived to tell the tale.
We picked sides for games of football and, usually, it was the same boys who were last to be picked. As far as we know they didn't need counselling to deal with it and if they never made the team at all they managed to deal with the disappointment.
If we broke some minor law or upset one of our elders, did our parents stand up for us? No! They sided with the law or the injured party and we were punished in some small way that we'd never forget and that made us think twice about doing it again.
WE HAD FREEDOM, FAILURE, SUCCESS AND RESPONSIBILITY and we learned how to deal with it all in ways that made us a generation of risk-takers, problem solvers, innovators and inventors and we made it through without our lives being regulated by governments "for our own good".
AND -
Do you remember when...?
It took five minutes for the TV to warm up? Programmes were in black and white until 1969 in the UK and they generally went 'off air' at around 10.30pm after the national anthem and the epilogue. TV 'test patterns' came on after the last programme and stayed there until TV resumed in the morning.
There were only two TV channels - if you were lucky.
Nearly every one's Mum was indoors when they got home from school.
Nobody owned a purebred dog.
When a shilling (5p) a week was decent pocket money.
All your male teachers wore ties and female teachers had their hair done most days and wore high heels.
You got your windscreen cleaned, oil checked and petrol pumped for free without having to ask.
When a Ford Capri was everyone's dream car.
No one ever asked where the car keys were because they were always in the car, in the ignition, with the doors unlocked.
Headlight dip-switches were on the floor of the car.
Your door key was always hanging on a string inside the letterbox.
It was a treat to be taken out to dinner in a 'real' restaurant by your parents?
Stuff from the shop came without safety caps and hermetic seals because no one had yet tried to poison a perfect stranger.
You could buy bags of loose, broken biscuits.
Laurel and Hardy, Roy Rogers and Trigger, Robin Hood, The Lone Ranger, Muffin the Mule, The Famous Five, The Secret Seven, the comics - Eagle, Beano, Dandy, Topper, Victor, Tiger, Roy of the Rovers, lemonade powder, sherbet dabs, the mivvi and the frozen jubbly and Saturday morning pictures as an ABC Minor.
Pathe News.
Playing Doctors and Nurses and being embarrassed if your parents ever caught you playing it.
Transforming your bike into a motorbike by putting a playing or bubblegum card in the spokes.
Important decisions were made by "eeny-meeny-miney-mo".
"Race issue" meant arguing about who ran the fastest.
Mum had a Twin-tub to do the washing if she was lucky or still used a bar of Fairy and a washboard if she wasn't.
Soldering irons you heated on the gas stove.
You made music with a comb and paper, a crate, broom handle and piece of string and a washboard and a couple of Mum's thimbles.
Meccano, Bako, Bazooka Joe, Mojos, sherbert filled flying saucers, sweet cigarettes, Spanish wood, blackjacks and fruit salads.
Reel-to-Reel tape recorders.
Izal and Bronco toilet paper. (Painful, eh?)
Taking liquid paraffin for constipation.
Trying to get ice out of metal ice-cube trays.
Milk delivered to your doorstep in glass bottles.
Coal deliveries by men whose appearance frightened the life out of you.
Marbles.
When water bombs were the weapons of mass destruction.
Four digit telephone numbers with three letters in front? 'Party lines', where two or more telephone customers shared the same line? This meant you were able to listen in to someone else's call and couldn't make a call until you'd picked up the receiver to see if anyone else was already on there.
Press button A then button B in the phone box.
Having a weapon in school meant being caught with a catapult or pea-shooter or teacher finding elastic bands stretched on your ruler.
Taking drugs meant having your Polio injection in school.
Nitty Nora.
When being sent to the Headmaster's office was nothing compared to your fate if Mum or Dad found out about it.
Snake belts.
There was no 'fast food'? It was all 'slow', Mum or Dad cooked it every day and we ate it at home, all sat down together at a table that you weren't allowed to 'get down from', or 'leave', until you'd eaten everything on your plate and asked permission to do so. If you didn't like what had been put on your plate, you were allowed to sit there until you did like it!
Most parents never owned their own house, went abroad for holidays or owned a credit card.
Kids were never driven to school? We walked or, if it was a little too far and you were very lucky, Mum walked with you while you rode on your bike.
Only boys were allowed to deliver the morning newspapers.
Film stars in films had to kiss with their mouths shut.
Films weren't 'rated' with a certificate? There wasn't any need as they were responsibly produced for viewing by all.
Car head lights could be dimmed using a switch on the floor.
Car drivers used hand signals.
Trouser leg clips for bikes without a chain guard.
Remember that the perfect age is somewhere between old enough to know better and too young to care. In spite of all that progress has given us it would still be nice to slip back in time and savour what definitely seemed like a slower pace and to be able to share that with the kids of today.
And if you do ever manage to return to that dreamtime try to remember a few more things I can add to this page.
07/11/2008:- Football Cricket and Fisher-Chown
Posted by Classmate Les Grimes -
"I remember a school mate, John Fisher Chown *, being awarded the British Empire Medal after he disarmed a Pole who was attacking a woman with a knife near Lancaster Park Station in the school holidays of 1949. John was stabbed but recovered well enough to be selected for aircrew training. I was panned on a wonky left eye (in spite of my King's Scout, Bushman's Thong and Air Training Corps Proficiency Certificate). A Bushman's Thong was an elaborately knotted and twisted leather rope worn from left shoulder to left breast pocket and was awarded for mastery of a number of Bush Skills,being considered the top scouting accolade for Senior Scouts. My life's ambition to become a pilot being dashed, I was able to qualify as a Chartered Surveyor after demob from National Service. Despite the school having a Scout Troop, I joined the 17th Fulham Twynholm troop and remember the McCoy twins defecting from there to the school troop. Tony (?) Alsop was Head Prefect and was last seen in his Sandhurst uniform wearing a ginger moustache and a Sam Browne belt. He could be a Chelsea Pensioner now! Sam Kelso was a school Cricket Captain and played Shylock in the school's production of The Merchant of Venice.
Circa 1947 Compton and Edrich of Middx were hammering centuries for England and, when they were at it, our maths master named Brierley used to disappear every now and then to open the batting for Middx in place of Edrich. I never got one second of coaching from him. In fact the first coaching I ever received was years later when I paid for myself. Now, my grandson has been getting coached by the local club pro and the Hampshire C.C. clinic since he was 7.
In 1945, The Russian team, Moscow Dynamo visited England (before the Cold War) and played Chelsea at Stamford Bridge on November 13th. Truancy was a temptation to everyone and much discussed. At lunch hour I nipped into my classroom to get something from my desk and bumped into my French teacher, the legendary Harry Little." What are you doing here Grimes?" "Getting a book sir" "Why aren't you going to the match?" "That would be truant sir" He let out a snort and turned to go, then pausing, turned and said "You'll never get the chance again". and he walked away. I put the book back into my disk and made off to the match. The ground was packed and yet more streamed in. Kids, me included, were passed hand to hand over the heads of the spectators, starting at the top of the terraces and down to the touchline. I sat on the pitch, my feet almost over the touchline and adjacent to one of the goals. I remember that the Dynamos' goal keeper was a great ox who seemed to fill the goal completely. He saved a penalty with a prodigious right hook without moving his feet that stunned the crowd into silence for a few seconds. The Russians were considered to be "Our Brave Comrades In Arms" and received a heroes welcome wherever they went. To every one's surprise, they came onto the pitch carrying posies of flowers which they handed out to their opponents. That was something new to the local followers of the game! Next day, the matter of truancy was not even mentioned in most forms, whilst any punishment meted out was very light indeed.
* Editor Foulsham's Note:- John Fisher Chown's citation read "For his courage and determination in trying to prevent an armed criminal from escaping."
07/11/2008:- Chelsea v Moscow Dynamo
Posted by Classmate Jim Goodacre
"I read Les's account of the Chelsea v Moscow Dynamos match in 1949. I also remember it well as being a very major fixture at the time. However, I wasn't among the truants because, despite us living next to QPR, my dad who was a lifelong Fulham supporter used to take me to Craven Cottage every home game and I learnt to despise Chelsea from an early age! I wouldn't have gone to see them play anybody! (Still prefer it when they lose even now - silly isn't it?). However, what Les forgot to mention was that the match was played in such thick fog that it was almost called off. Only the spectators at the half way line could make out the goals - and then only faintly through the murk.
07/11/2008:-
Some additional info to add to Les' and Jim's memories of the Chelsea v Moscow Dynamo game. The admission price for boys was 7d and the programme cost 6d. The final score was 3-3. Most of the boys used football rattles at the time and, as the war had only just ended, most of those were Air Raid Warden's gas rattles.The first rattle I took to Fulham was one of these and boy were they heavy! On the same tour the Dynamos also drew 2-2 with Glasgow Rangers, beat an Arsenal side, that included Matthews, Mortensen and Bacuzzi as guests, 3-2 and thrashed Cardiff City 10-1.
25/09/2008:- The Beatles Come To Fulham
The day The Beatles came to Fulham. It was either 1963 or 1964 and they turned up, unannounced, at the old Granville Theatre, which stood on the island in Fulham Broadway, for some filming. They were only there long enough to stop the traffic, let us all catch a glimpse and send a few hundred girls into hysteria, but long enough also for it never to be forgotten by those of us from my Council estate who found out about it and went to take a look.
Update 23/07/09 - Classmate Phil Yerby reliably informs me that their presence at The Granville was for a recording to be broadcast on the US TV show 'Shindig' and the date was October 3rd, 1964. Phil also tells me that Yvonne Tozer, wife of Old Cheynean Mick Tozer, was in the audience at the recording.
02/11/2008:- Knickers Off!
Is it my imagination or was there a time when, on games day, we were told not to wear underpants whilst playing football. I've got a memory of Mr Eversfield being the instigator and do recall occasionally having to stop in mid-run down the wing to tuck something back in. Please tell me it wasn't part of an elaborate hoax aimed only at me. It just all seems so unlikely now.
Update 15/11/08:- It wasn't my imagination! I've just been told by Steve (Sherlock) Holmes that it really was the case. Can anyone remember what reason we were given for having to do it? Probably something to do with hygiene but I think 'elf and safety would have something to say about it today, as they have about everything!
02/11/2008:- Down Among the Dead Men
Was I, Mark Foulsham, the only sad person who spent the occasional lunchtime over the road in Brompton Cemetery? It was quite peaceful wandering its 40 acres amongst the 35,000 monuments. It holds the graves of 13 holders of the Victoria Cross and many Chelsea Pensioners. I found out recently that it is the only nationalised cemetery in the country - the Government's graveyard in effect.
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
_to_Mrs_Haynes.jpg)
.jpg)
_his_brother_Mick_(10)_racing_c1966.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
