I read Ed Bandy's response (The Watford Observer, August 14,1998) with a schoolboy smile gently playing around my finely chiselled lips. He listed 30 of the first year intake in September 1949 and thought he may have missed out two or three; he'd missed out one - Johnny Hawkes.
Three others joined our class as second years when we moved to Bushey Grammar in 1950. They were Chris Shores (what Shores? Half a bitter please), Neville Castle and Pete "Loadsa Brylcream" Watson.
I know, not because my memory is better than Ed's, but because I cheated - I've got one of these three-foot wide school photos, circa 1951, which I keep locked away with the Viagra tablets and some paperbacks of Hank Janson novels, which were popular with us frustrated schoolboys at the time.
Looking again at the photo brought back memories mostly of the juvenile, behind the bike sheds genre (I'm glad to say), which can be found in any issue of "Viz" comics.
As I recall, the lavatories at the Central School were just off the playground area between the coke shed and the woodwork rooms.
I should explain that coke refers to solid fuel heating for the school boilers, not the other sort (or should it be snort?) which is allegedly sniffed by today's total air-head pop groups, and the even bigger air-heads who actually buy their CDs.
Anyway, apart from the stand-up urinals, the "number two's" cubicles consisted of a wooden plank/seat with a hole over which one sat to "do the business".
Underneath was a bowl half full of "Elsan" chemicals to process dozens of daily deposits. One day, two delightful older boys grabbed me and, in the time honoured manner, shoved my head into the bowl.
You don't forget events like that. Or the names of the perpetrators; which in this case were unusual - Abritt and Saetta. No doubt they have since prospered as estate agents.
Then there was the time a little later, when we became Bushey Grammar, when the then headmaster, FJ.P. O'Connor, asked Ted B, if there was any good reason why he shouldn't give him "six of the best".
Ted, desperate to find an instant excuse replied: "Er ... I haven't been circumcised". You couldn't make that up.
We can't forget poor old Mr U, either. He was the Latin teacher who couldn't control a light switch, let alone us. He completely lost it the day we locked Arthur Marchant in the stationery cupboard and doggedly denied any knowledge of the whereabouts of the key.
Just as the trapped Arthur was at the height of his banging, kicking and yelling, the headmaster entered the room with a party of the School Governors. Mr U resigned from teaching soon after.
Enter the unforgettable Miss R, one of the more elderly women teachers. (Readers of a nervous or delicate disposition might wish to skip the next paragraph).
While sitting at her table in front of the class, she would surreptitiously (she thought) pick her nose, both ears and her scalp. She would then proceed to slide the entire mixture sideways on the end of her finger into her mouth and commence nibbling.
We, of course, were all supposed to be heads down and working, totally unaware of her snack-taking.
Until the day after yet another "pick-n-mix session" somebody shouted (probably from behind their desk lid) "pass the salt and pepper, Miss!" She was never seen to do it again.
Like most schools, talking in morning assembly was "verboten".
One day, I was standing next to Alan "Pop" Taylor and he whispered a few words in my ear. In fear of the wrath of "obergruppernfuhrer" Smith, the Senior Master, I said nothing.
When assembly finished Smith called out: Anderson, Taylor, come and see me!.
We trudged to the stage where he was standing and looked up at him as he spoke. His first words were to "Pop" Taylor - the dialogue went like this (I remember the words exactly).
"Taylor, you were talking".
"No, Sir."
"Taylor, you were talking".
"No, Sir."
"Taylor, you were talking!"
"Er ... yes, Sir."
He then turned to me:
"Anderson, you were talking."
"No, Sir."
"Anderson, you were talking."
"No, Sir."
"Anderson, you were talking!"
"No, Sir."
This threw him for a few seconds, but he recovered brilliantly and said: "Anderson, you were listening! You'll both do an......
.....My apologies for loosing the last few lines of this ripping yarn. M.R.
Click on this picture to enlarge it.
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