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Wigton Old Scholars’ Association |
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The Weekend This, I am lead to believe not being present on the Saturday, followed the time honoured format. July 2003 Reunion - Outgoing President’s Address by Evelyn Tickle: “Over the last few years I have listened to Presidents reminiscing about their days at Brookfield. The thing that impressed me most was what the school, and different teachers and pupils had meant to many of you, giving you lasting happy memories. Obviously I have nothing of that to share with you and I feel that all I could do was give you some idea of my very different school background and also why it made me eager to secure something different for our family. I went away to school when I was just nine, to a convent called Layten Hill, which was then set in fields between Layten and Poulton-le-Fylde. My father had always intended I should go there, as the daughters of his great friends were there and were very happy. But my mother was ill so I went earlier in the middle of the spring term. I spent a week with my father’s friends and Auntie Annie fitted me out, sewed on the name tapes and got me ready. I really did not take much of it in. On the Sunday we went off to Layten, picked up Eileen and Winifred, and went out to tea. We obviously were back rather late and I was fitted out in a veil and pushed into a line of girls filing into chapel. Then it was supper - bread and jam and bed at 6.45pm. The first weeks were a blur. We each had a cell, a small curtained cubicle with a bed, chair and small cabinet. Curtains were pulled back after bedmaking but you never, under any circumstances, changed without pulling the curtains. And, of course, there was silence. Never, ever, any talking in the dormitories, in the classrooms, in the corridors or Assembly. Never any talking at meals until the nun in charge said ‘Deo Gratias’. And if anyone was caught whispering she didn’t say it so the meal was taken in silence. I remember many long walks round Stanley Park or to Poulton, in long crocodiles of threes, in silence because someone had talked in the classroom. At a much later date, when I was older, we once worked out that our legitimate speaking time in a day was 1 hour 20 minutes. Food was very poor, in spite of the fact that this was pre-war, food was cheap and the convent had its own farm. We had the same breakfasts, week in week out, for the seven years I was there. Monday was a roll and marmalade, Tuesday a small portion of bacon and bread, Wednesday we had something called ‘marley’, a round of deep fried bread. Thursday was two sausages and Friday a bread roll again, but also a dish of porridge. Saturday was marley again and on a Sunday we had bread and a small portion of cold ham. In wartime this was changed to a disgusting piece of brawn. It was only as I grew older that I realized how bad the system had been. At the start of every term a nun came round the Refectory with the ‘extra list’. These were extras on the diet and were eggs, milk and fruit. My mother said I had to have milk twice a day, a piece of fruit a day and an egg 3-4 times a week, so my breakfasts were supplemented, as were many others. However, ‘general fruit’, as it was called, was given twice a week and ‘general milk’ was a cup of skimmed milk at supper. Eggs were usually given twice a term, apart from Lent when Wednesday dinner was a poached egg and mashed potato. Dinners were the usual fare, mince, stew, etc., but fairly sparse and poorly cooked. Tea was a round of bread and margarine, with a bun on Wednesday and Saturday and jam on Sunday. Suppers were again bread and sometimes soup and cheese. I remember vividly, when I was about ten, getting in for junior supper a bit early and eating a piece of bread. Of course I was inevitably found out as there was a piece of bread short and the nun told me I had committed the sin of gluttony and must go to confession. It bothered me dreadfully until the following Friday, but the kindly Priest, on hearing my confession, said he did not think anyone could commit gluttony in a convent! We took all our bed linen and towels but washing was very limited. Beds were changed once a month though we got a clean pillowcase once a fortnight and a hand towel once a week. Bath towels were removed at half-term and I am sure you can imagine the atmosphere where the bath towels hung, after 6-7 weeks. It seems peculiar to recall now, in spite of changed standards, that cleanliness was not next to Godliness! I wouldn’t really say I was a rebel - though I certainly became more awkward as I grew older. But perhaps I had a rather different religious background from many of my contemporaries. My paternal grandparents, Grandpa a Catholic and Granny C of E, were married in the days before there was any law about children being brought up as Catholics. Consequently, the eldest three were C of E and my father and his sister Catholics. This worked well, both churches and social events supported by everyone. When my father married, my mother became a Catholic, but all her large family were C of E so I was used to a very liberal religious background and found the rigidity of convent life difficult. Of course we did have fun and the annual picnics - your Big Excursions - were much looked forward to. Trips to Arnside and Silverdale and the Trough of Bowland, but these used to finish with a religious service and I remember once having to file past the mummified head of one of the English Martyrs. Not a happy experience for a travel sick child! Our recreation period, as seniors, was from 8.00 - 8.45pm. It depended on the nun who supervised us what we could do. Some would allow us to read, but some insisted we all join a game. Can you imagine a group of girls, 16 - 19, playing ‘puss in the corner’? Our behaviour was governed by ‘Cachets’. Every week, on Sunday evening, after a meeting of all the nuns we were given our Cachets - Excellent, Good, Fair or Unsatisfactory. Once a month was Public Cachets, attended by the whole community and Reverend Mother. Class by class, in white gloves, we curtsied - we always had to curtsy when passing a nun or a large statue, of which there were many - and were awarded a card with our Cachet. If it was Unsatisfactory you stood in shame and were not awarded a card. I was in this position on two or three occasions. Once, I remember, for composing other, and I thought appropriate, words to ‘Three Little Maids From School’. The nuns were not amused. On another occasion two friends and I conceived a plan to tip-toe down in the middle of the night and tickle the toes of the girls in the dormitory below. Inevitably we were found out and I still remember the tremendous fuss which resulted. We were sent to Coventry, our meals given at separate tables where we sat alone and this went on for days. This was towards the end of the Christmas term when we had a Carol Service, the whole community wending their way all round the corridors, with a Nativity Scene to finish. Reverend Mother decreed we couldn’t possibly attend but, as the day drew nearer, she relented and said we could walk at the back. As we trailed round my friend Betty said, “Well, we really are the black sheep of this flock and there are shepherds in the front so I think we should live up to our parts”. And so we did, baaing loud and long, secure in the knowledge it was too late for recriminations as we broke up next day. So perhaps you can imagine what an impression it made on me visiting Brookfield for the first time. The relaxed, happy atmosphere, seeing toys on beds in junior dormitories, pupils running around calling and laughing. A world away from my own experience, which I must say wasn’t all bad. Some girls were very happy there - the daughters of my father’s friends certainly were. And I know the regime of the Order I was with was more relaxed than many other Orders at that time. I received an excellent education in musical appreciation, domestic science and needlework and a lasting love of English, but there was still an attitude in the 1930’s that, as a boarder, you would become a little lady and lots of subjects could be dropped. So I finished with all maths at 14 - I didn’t like them and couldn’t do them. My father’s fury at the end of the year when he asked why I had no mark for maths was impressive and he certainly took the school to task for it. You may wonder why I was kept at Layten so long when I was obviously unsettled and not very happy. My parents hoped I would settle but when they realized a move might be sensible the war had started, schools were evacuating and it was difficult to find alternatives. I made my father promise that if I got my School Certificate I could leave and I started working, really, for the first time. I left without a backward glance, not even waiting for Reverend Mother’s farewell, in case I missed my train. I have never been back. So I hope you can see what a pleasure it gives me to see you all coming together, renewing old friendships and recalling happy times. Long may it last.” The next day, Sunday, after a splendid lunch at Millhouse Village Hall, our now retired President, Evelyn Tickle, conducted some of us around Hutton in the Forest the home of Lord and Lady Inglewood where Evelyn is a guide. This proved to be a fascinating and delightful excursion, almost a private viewing, for those who wisely elected to take up Evelyn’s offer. It made a pleasantly relaxed and culturally suitable climax to the weekend. And, for this Old Scholar who has driven past the Hall on more occasions than you could count feathers on a Rhode Island Red, it was a wonderful opportunity to step inside a piece of local history.
Trans-Pennine Reunion Saturday 12th April proved another glorious spring day for this year’s W.O.S.A. Regional reunion, hosted in grand style by the Tickle family, Adam and Alison and this year’s President, Eve. On arrival we were provided with an excellent buffet lunch followed by photographs in their spacious and attractive gardens. We were then off to the St Helens Glass Museum which provided a fascinating insight into the history and subsequent development of this often taken for granted but very sophisticated product. After a live glass-blowing demonstration and a most interesting film show we returned to base to be greeted with a sumptuous afternoon tea. Thank you Adam and Alison for a thoroughly enjoyable event - David Yates.
Those present (18) ~ Charmion & David & Cordelia Brock, Tricia & Don Dobson, Avril & Tony Solari, David & Jean Yates, Jo & Colin Lawton, Sheila Baylis, Hans Kurer, Paul Graham, Jill & Tony Kemp, June Walker and Evelyn Tickle.
Southern Reunion There were twelve of us gathered in Somerton in May, on a lovely day. Barbara made us most welcome and her home (new to us from previous visits) seemed prepared for our comfort and ease,
as indeed was her delightful garden. We were delighted to renew some old acquaintances with people who we had not seen for some time but who chose this reunion to make contact again. Anyone reading of our local gatherings please feel welcome to join us. If you are far away, consider making it part of a holiday break. Our thanks were expressed to Barbara for her hospitality. We are well served by those who are willing to host these events. June Walker.
Present ~ Jill Kemp, Barbara Dodd, Evelyn Tickle, Ann Fort, Greta Saul, Heinz Herschmann, Photo by Tony Kemp.
Rescue Correction Extracts from a letter in the Glasgow Herald dated 6th October 2003. Sent in by J.M.Anderson. I was more than a little surprised to read your report on 2nd October of the events surrounding my rescue when my yacht Shian was destroyed by fire following what was almost certainly a gas leak at the cooker. I accept that the report emanated from a news agency and was published in good faith but the initial source of the information seems to have been provided by someone who was more interested in promoting public awareness of the use of a seaplane on Loch Lomond. I was not rescued by the seaplane, although it did land nearby and the pilot asked if I was uninjured and confirmed my own sighting of a rescue craft very close at hand. The plane was present for only a few moments and took no part in the proceedings. It is only right that recognition be given to the splendid seamanship of Hector Cameron, a well known Glasgow solicitor, who heard my distress calls and arrived from Tarbet in less than 10 minutes so that he was on station even before any of the rescue services had the opportunity to become involved. Single handed, he brought his powerful motor cruiser alongside me and brought me to safety with ease. It is to him that appreciation is due. The efforts of the rescue services were greatly appreciated but Mr. Cameron was closer at hand and had the speed to arrive promptly.
Millican Dalton Scholar at Friends’ School Wigton from January 1878 to December 1880 must be one of our most eccentric Old Scholars. Anyone remember him? Matthew Entwistle has recently written a book about this amazing character, “Millican Dalton A Search For Romance and Freedom” ISBN 0-9547213-0-6. It is available in paperback price £8.99 + £1.60 p&p if ordered from 69 Harwood Road, Rishton, Blackburn, Lancashire BB1 4DH. Cheques for £10.59 made payable to H. Entwistle.
350th Anniversary The 350th anniversary of Wigton Meeting was celebrated on 29th November when Wigton Friends held an Open Day and Exhibition. When George Fox preached at the Cross in Wigton in 1653 he probably did not envisage that 350 years later Wigton Quakers (supported by members of other churches) would hold a Peace Vigil on the same spot. In 1653 William Pearson gave land for a burial ground and a Meeting House on his farm at Tiffenthwaite and this was used until 1720. Fifty years later two cottages were bought on the road leading west out of the town and converted into a Meeting House. The Exhibition showed a short history of the Greenrow Academy and of Brookfield with their famous Headmasters. The building of the present Meeting House in 1830 was displayed as was an account of the Allonby Almshouses (a Wigton Quaker is usually a trustee). Well known Cumbrian Quakers who were scientists, botanists and clockmakers were also featured and there were books of pictures of the Quaker Tapestry. One of our young Friends was dressed as a late 19th century Quaker. Everyone enjoyed a tasty homemade lunch and a good chat. The scheduled repairs to the Meeting House and Annex have now been completed.
Peter D. W. Iliffe Peter Iliffe taught music at Brookfield from 1948 - 1979. He died on 27th June 2003 and his funeral was held at St John’s in Keswick where, for some years, he had been Organist and Choirmaster. We are here to pay tribute to Peter Douglas Walter Iliffe, to acknowledge his place in our lives and to say a respectful goodbye as we recall his 85 years among us. Born in 1917 at Sheringham in Norfolk, Peter was the middle child of a family of three children. Joyce was the eldest and Bridget, who sadly died 10 years ago, was the youngest. Their father, a clergyman, was a curate at the time of Peter’s birth and then became the Vicar of St Martin at the Palace, Norwich, before returning to this diocese to St George’s Kendal. Seven years later he was appointed to Bassenthwaite. Peter attended Keswick School and, on leaving, went to Ely Cathedral as an articled pupil to the then organist of Ely, Dr Conway. There he learnt to train the choir and play the organ and he also joined the Territorial Army. At the outbreak of World War II Peter was in Cumberland and had to return to his Territorial Unit. He joined the Royal Engineers and spent three days on the Dunkirk Beaches building platforms into the sea to allow the little ships to get near enough to rescue the men. It was not a time he liked to speak about. Later in the war he served in Africa, Italy, France and Belgium. After the war Peter wanted to return to the world of music, so took a teaching course and became a music teacher, first at Ackworth Friends’ School and then at Brookfield, where he became Head of Music. He ran a successful models group and the school’s Duke of Edinburgh Award Scheme. Three of his pupils achieved Gold and Peter accompanied them to Buckingham Palace to receive these awards. Peter’s life-long hobbies included photography, a fascination for steam trains and his collection of books and records. He also wrote erudite and very amusing poetry which sadly was lost in a small fire in his rooms at Brookfield.
Deaths Peter Iliffe (teacher) 1948-79, 27 June 2003.
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