John West (SH 61-64) has sent in the following, which includes an extract from a letter from David Cade (FS 59-64):

“I loved the photo of Messrs. Farrant, Johnson and Croft in the newsletter.

I'm reminded of Mr Johnson's entry into his history lessons. He always seemed to be late - or at least the whole class was always present when he came in. He always pretended to trip and then looked behind him to see what had made him stumble. His classroom was the first one on the left as you entered 'Hostel' from the chapel direction. It was a 'privilege' to use the set of steps facing the crease. Is it still? If it was your first year, you had to go round the wall and up the other steps. I think I can just see Mr Croft’s green galoshes at the bottom of the photograph. Thinking about it, we were very lucky with the masters in the early '60s. I don't remember a 'dud' among them. I always liked Mr Farrant's lessons, he managed to make the mundane interesting. When I left in 1964, I cycled home to Barrow. Mr Farrant stopped his car (an open topped tourer I think) next to where I had stopped to have a breather about half way up Corney Fell. He told me to put my bike in the back and he'd take me to the top, but it was a beautiful day and I was enjoying the ride, so I declined. We admired the view together for a few minutes then shook hands and he drove off waving.

Robert Astin (from Mytholmroyd) took my suitcase on the train and left it on Barrow station for me to retrieve some five hours later, exactly where Robert had placed it. It is difficult to imagine being able to do that now for so many reasons. There was a video of the school knocking-about a few years ago and it includes my sixteen year old self on St. Bees’ station seeing off that southbound train. That reminds me, I lent that video to Tim Melville some time ago, I must get it back! Tim takes part in the Ulverston Dickensian festival (mentioned in Geoffrey Randall's obit.) every year with 'Uncle Tim's Famous Flea Circus'. Ever the entertainer, his lovely laugh can be heard in the next street.

One of the Randall brothers lived on the same street as me in Barrow. When I was 18, I was going from house to house begging clothes for a Conservative jumble sale (we didn't have 'car boots' then, did we?) When I knocked on Mr Randall's door he said he couldn't part with any jumble - he still wore it!

I've only been back for two Old Boys' Days in nearly 50 years. The first time was in about 1970, with my brother Andy (SH 59-62). We met Andy Green and David Hanson. For some reason we were all together in my car and we drove onto the terrace through the gates. I was a bit apprehensive. 'Are you sure we're allowed in this way?', I asked. 'Actually', said Andy Green seriously, 'it is a privilege'.

The last time was a couple of years ago, again with brother, Andy. John Train had hardly changed. I had a good conversation with Mr Lyall about Mr. Lever, my first housemaster on Meadow (later to teach us French - 'Well, you're all very good') and Molly, Mrs. Lever. I was amazed to find that Dacre Watson, head of house on School House in my first year, and much feared, is actually the nicest bloke you could meet!

David Cade obviously agrees with my point about that era having good teachers. Of course, when you think of one thing it leads to another. Anthony Nathaniel Roland Dearle was another marvellous character!

Duncan Peel said he'd seen ANRD ride his motorbike past his gate during the holidays, when he was sitting on his own bike. 'Did you chase him?' I asked. 'You don't honestly think I was going to catch him on my Bantam 125 do you?', Duncan laughed.
Mr Dearle taught us Latin (and possibly sometimes English I think) in the classroom in the Mem. Hall facing the library. I always found the translations hard work. We were slogging through the Latin version of Homer's Odyssey and got to the bit about Theseus abandoning Ariadne. 'That doesn't mean,' said ANRD ponderously, 'that she was an abandoned woman.' I was the only one that laughed. He smiled over at me and moved on, obviously pleased that at least someone had got his joke.
Mr Lever had the classroom at the other end of the corridor. As I said, he usually ended a lesson smacking his lips and saying 'well - you're all very good'. I didn't actually realise how good until my truck driving led me to France about ten years later. Outside Paris nobody spoke English. (Inside Paris they wouldn't, even if they could!) I found that my 'O' level French was more than good enough to get by, which I and my fellow truckers found useful. One of them said that the only words he understood were 'Demain Matin' accompanied by a dismissive wave!

One of the 'fagging' duties was to fill the baths for the prefects after games. On School House, the prefects' bathroom was right at the top of the house. They were huge old fashioned baths. I set the taps going, but they were taking ages to fill. The barbers were operating in the basement and I needed a haircut. Yes, I know, how could I have been so stupid? By the time I got back up, the water was starting to flow out of the door. I had managed to clear quite a lot of it up and burned my arm removing the plug from the boiling baths by the time the first 'pre' arrived. It was 'Nellie' Acons, who burst out laughing as I spluttered my apologies. He still gave me a 'JS' as punishment though!

As well as 'Stanky' Middleton, we also had Mrs Brown for chemistry. (Her husband T.A. was around retirement age, but still took some classes I think.) We did the age old trick of connecting the bunsen burners to the taps and firing them when her back was turned.

Mr Cotes was our form master in 3b, when we arrived. He was later to become Grindal housemaster. He and I exchanged letters some years ago and I mentioned that Andrew Watson had said that Mrs Cotes, who was expecting a baby, was 'as big as a bus'. Tony replied that the 'bump' in question had been a girl and was now nearly thirty.

With Mr Gilpin, who taught us English, we had some excellent debates in lessons; one was on the morality of the great train robbers. He wanted us to know that language wasn't just for communication, but should also be an art in itself. Tim DeGruyther once showed me a comment Mr Gilpin had put on his work. 'DeGruyther, you must learn to eschew the glib'. Fabulous!
I forget who took us for maths, but I know I wasn't clever enough to be in Mr Lyall's class. I and a few others were lagging behind in maths in my 'O' level year, so we had extra lessons with Mr Francis in the old lecture theatre. The first thing he said to us was 'you will pass your maths 'O' level.' I did too.

I'm ashamed to say that I can't remember the names of two masters. One taught us physics. He'd lost his leg in a motorcycling accident, but said that he'd been lucky. A passing motorist had applied a tourniquet so tight that the bloodflow had been cut off, which meant his leg couldn't be saved - but they told him that he would otherwise have bled to death! Hence 'lucky'. He used to hop down the aforementioned Hostel steps on his good leg.

The other was the vicar, the reverend Batey, who took us for divinity. I believe he was a talented mathematician, who had worked on bombs in the war, but turned to the church after a visit by Arthur Harris, who encouraged them with the words 'Carry on with the good work gentlemen and we'll really keep the German home fires burning this winter.' Julian Russell was just in front of me once as we went into his empty classroom. Waving his arms in the air he cried 'Halleluiah, we are about to be saved!' The Vicar's voice came from behind me 'Oh do shut up Russell and hurry on in.'

The groundsman, Jack Oldroyd, lived in one of the houses on Lonsdale Terrace, so was in the perfect position to see me on the day before a match with Sedbergh, when, as part of a 'rolling gang', I climbed on the big heavy roller and then jumped down onto the crease. He duly reported this to Crowther, Acons et al. Another JS for me. Still, it kept us fit. Later the same term, I was part of a gymnastics’ team which did a display for Old Boys' Day. Planks were placed on the backs of some team members and I rode a bike over them. We were practising near the chapel. 'Curly' Farrell, who was in the first team as a fast bowler, climbed on my bike and rode down the crease, pretending to bowl at the same time. I was again called to the prefects' study to explain myself. I had no hesitation in dropping Curly in it. Being on the team, he got away with a tongue lashing.”

David Cade writes:

 “I see Fred Lord occasionally and was at the world cup rugby in Paris with Fred and Nick Curry four years ago. Nick ran Holme Park Prep. School (now closed) just outside Kendal and guess who worked there? Bill Newby, who was very much the same man with the same manner that is so well recorded in the recollections.

The films of St Bees were taken by R.H. (Tod) Taylor's father. Tod ended up as a professor of English and I get a Christmas card from him every year. It is a real highlight as he always comes up with a funny story (recounted in wonderful English reminiscent of Wodehouse) of the old days and characters. I have never met him since we left, yet he only lives in Malvern. I have not been back to an OSB reunion for about 35 years but must remedy that. I had wonderful teachers in Stanky Middleton for Chemistry and Moeb Jones for Biology. Having an elder brother probably eased my way through school and they were very happy times for me.
 
I stayed at the Bower House in the 1980s and it was then owned by Stuart Harrison, although he was not there at the time. I understand he had been very successful in his bakery business, which did not surprise me as he was very good at negotiating a price for tins of mandarins from his tuckbox store towards the end of term on Meadow!”

 

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