Ah ! Archives and the memories they engender. Up in the Attics of Marryott House there used to be three rooms packed full of school archives. We have photographs - 1000s of them: documents; diaries; old timetables; mark-books; old caps and uniforms. It is a treasure-house of goodies, telling the story of Woodbridge School and its former pupils and teachers.
This has all now been moved, box by box, to No 1 Seckford Street, Woodbridge to a wonderful building which many years ago was the Town library. The room was already full of bookshelves and so it makes an ideal place for the Woodbridge School and OW Archives as well as other Seckford Foundation documents. As we write this is all being sorted and displayed, by our archivist Michael Weaver, to create a wonderful Reading Room and Archive which the School, OWs and others can use to look into the fascinating history of our School as well as refreshing your memory of your Woodbridge School experience.
You are all always welcome to make a visit. Contact
School.
Below we are compiling a collection of 'memories' for your enjoyment. Please come
back to this page as we are updating regularly. Why
not send us your memories? We are producing a book entitled 'When Duty Calls...' during 2008, celebrating 100 years of the OTC, JTC or CCF
and Woodbridge School pupils at War. Please contribute. Old photos welcome too.
Now, click on an item below and read all about it!
The Woodbridgian Magazine 1882-1998. Click here for a complete and detailed History of this vital publication.
The Magazine was founded in 1882 by the Headmaster's son, Orby Wood. It is a most valuable and fascinating source of the school's history since that time and a marvellous reflection of the changing attitudes within the school and society generally. 1882 - Britain had just invaded Egypt! There was a jingoistic ditty in the Mag. 'Woodbridge to the Front. Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!' There's always some troublesome History teacher at large in Woodbridge School. Vincent Redstone used the Mag for years as a vehicle for his painstaking reseach on subjects of local history. Very interesting they were too but what the pupils thought we will never know!
The longest obituary in the Mag's History was that of May 1887, a 12 page tribute to Orby Wood's brother, a brilliant sportsman and scholar who sailed to Africa as a missionary after leaving Cambridge and died just four weeks later. In the late 19thc there were masses of articles from the Empire as OWs sent back letters, relating to their adventures all over the world.
The Great War, 1914-1918 occasioned some wonderful letters describing conditions. It was all a great game, it seemed. The language of sport seems to disguise the horrors of war. The cheerfulness of the writers is remarkable.
In the 1930s the format of the 'Woodbridgian' changed and more photographs were introduced. Hitler turns up a few times. When war breaks out our lads flock to the colours. P.R.Walker shot down the first Messerschmidt and won the DFC.
After a steady run of incredibly boring magazines in the 1950s things went haywire in the sixties when formats changed with ever-increasing rapidity. This rather reflects the huge changes in Society too. Now we are in colour. But the same old sports results and music reports remain. The Woodbridgian will continue to be a valuable source of School History.
Want a back number of the Magazine? We do have some. Contact the Alumni Office at Woodbridge School.
Here's a simple Quiz! How good are you? How much do you know about the School's History? Now, the answers are all in our book of Memories of the Twentieth Century.
Q1. Who was the Headmaster in 1910?
Q2. Why did Hewitt lose his head?
Q3. What was thrown at snorers?
Q4. What could you buy from Davy Crowe?
Q5. Who was known as 'Hoy'?
Q6. Who had a lie-in on Sunday mornings and objected to the band playing?
Q7. What cars did masters drive in the 1960s?
Q8. Who announced 'Bad Day at Black Rock'?
Q9.Who announced he would dive into a glass of beer?
Every week we receive requests from family researchers. Did my father go to the School? What can you tell me about him? Or sometimes a veteran OW turns up and asks about his own school days. No problem. We start with the Liber Admissionum, the Book of Admissions. There we will find their name, dates of arrival and departure, family details etc. The Blue Books, (remember them?) give details of all their classmates and staff members at the time. Then we move to the 'Woodbridgian' Magazine. These magazines are a remarkable record of a person's school career - the teams played in, the plays acted in, the music performed etc. We can soon put together an interesting profile of a pupil! Many a visitor walks away with a handful of photocopied documents relating to his or her own career at Woodbridge School.
Reminder: We do have a large stock of old 'Woodbridgian' magazines. If you wanted a back number a small charge and postage could secure it. See Item 1.
Q1. Walter Madeley Q2. He told a teacher he was often late for class! Ooops! Q3. Boots. Q4. Groceries Q5. Hoy was the famous Mr. Riddell. Q6. Headmaster, Eric Ayres. Q7. Morris Minors, Ford Prefects and Austin A35s, according to Patrick Wales. (But one of our anoraks remembers 'Windy' Ayres had a Bentley Mk VI, an absolute classic, which he drove like a maniac even after his heart attack, PR had a MG Magnette Mk IV, 'Basher' Lewis had a Wolseley 16/60, 'Bleary' Goodden had a Rover 90, Buisseret had a Standard 8, David 'Sloth' Curtis had a Simca Aronde P60, Albert Holmes had a Morris Oxford, 'Snevets' Stevens had a Triumph Herald in addition, of course, to his trusty BSA Bantam 175cc which was his usual mode of transport to and from School.) Q8. J.K.Abrahams announcing a film to the keen members of Film Society. Q9. Bill Thomas, at a Governors' Sherry Party. Q10. Picture 1 - School House common room serving as an infirmary during WW1. Picture 2 - Queen's House common room: 1920s. How did you do? Anything over 3 is good! Unless you already have the Memories booklet in which case you should have answered them all!
After meeting annually in a quiet way for the last four or five years at Woodbridge, the Old Boys
have at last taken the plunge, and held their first annual dinner in London. It was - IN EVERY WAY A SUCCESS.
Thus The Woodbridgian Magazine announced the news of the
first London Dinner, held on Saturday November 9th, 1901 at
the Holborn Restaurant. A committee of five in Woodbridge
and a sub-committee of three in London organised this inaugural
event and Mr. G. Booth Jun. was given the unenviable task
of 'hunting up Old Boys from all over the country.' Thirty
OWs attended and there were ten guests. Among the former pupils
was A.P.Spencer-Smith who featured so tragically in Ernest
Shackleton's Antarctic Expedition in 1916. Several clergymen
apologised for not being able to attend, one writing that
Saturdays were 'impossible for parsons.' The dinner was held
against the backdrop of fighting in South Africa - the Boer
War - in a spirit of considerable imperial fervour.
There are no details regarding the quality of the food but
at the conclusion of the meal there was no shortage of speakers!
Stephen Jackson, son of a former HM, proposed the toast to
The Governors, describing them as 'men of sentiment and determination,
without hich a school was invariably a failure.' OW John
Andrews, who had entered the school in 1856 recalled the time
when the school did not have 'the benefit of classrooms' and
praised the governors for leaving no stone unturned 'to bring
the present school to the front.'
Mr. Alfred Gall commented that the school was in a prosperous
condition and believed the governors would not regret the
appointment of the present headmaster, Mr. Madeley. Mr. W.
Brooke and Mr. Alfred Hayward, both local notables, spoke
a few words in agreement. Mr John Arnott proposed a toast
to 'The learned professions and commerce.' He quoted the example
of Professor Morley, the mathematics professor at John Hopkins
in USA, as evidence of OWs 'doing extremely well.' There was
generous applause at this point. Local solicitor Mr. Ernest
Wood gave the thanks of the legal profession. Dr. Sidney Gramshaw
stated that the legal profession was sometimes accused of
turning men into devils and his profession, the medical profession,
of occasionally turning them into angels. (Editor's note.
The Registrar tried this joke again in the London Dinner of
2002 and it did not raise a laugh.) He regretted that few
of the evening's diners had obtained positions of eminence
in their respective walks of life, a sentiment that must have
been received rather coldly! 'If we can't all be engine drivers,
we can, at any rate, be wheels in the mechanism, and help
towards the general improvement of the human race.' Hopefully
his glorious concluding sentiments cheered up the less 'eminent'.
H. J. Edwards of Cambridge University proposed a toast to
'The Imperial Forces' - many of whom, of course, were busily
engaged in the Boer War. Captain Pretyman, MP and Civil Lord
of the Admiralty, replied in some detail. Warfare was not
a matter of brute force, he informed the assembled OWs. 'The
physically weak man who could sit behind a stone and knock
a man over at 2,000 yards was just as much a soldier as anybody
else, for the weapon in his hand, was not a weapon of brute
force but of scientific accuracy.' He declared that experts
were deciding at that very moment, whether it was advisable
for boys at school to handle rifles. He talked of all officers
being required to attend University and argued the case for
conscription. If we show a lack of interest in military matters,
the future of the Empire as a naval and military power was
in danger.
To enthusiastic cheers from his audience he declared that he knew by the tone and spirit of Woodbridge School that they took a lively interest in naval and military matters.
Country schools bred nerve, said the Captain; town schools bred nerves. Warm cheers from the Suffolk contingent! He trusted that all Old Boys would speak well of the
school, which would not only benefit the school, but the loyal old town, which always placed national interests first and Woodbridge second. He concluded by expressing the
hope that next year, when they met, Britain would be enjoying the benefits of peace.
Mr. A. E. Hart, recently returned from South Africa then spoke and Mr. C. Spencer-Smith toasted The Old Woodbridgians. Messrs Chappell, Archer and Read responded to this toast! The Chairman outlined the academic successes of recent pupils and the headmaster at last had the opportunity to speak. He expressed his concerns over Mr. Balfour's impending Education Bill - to warm applause. There were further toasts to the chairman, vice-chairman and visitors.
Then it was time for the piano to be wheeled out. Mr. F.W.
Hopson played and there were songs from The Chairman, Mr.
Gall, Mr. Wear, George Booth Jun., Mr.Notcutt and the headmaster.
'Some excellent songs'. If or how they got home and when and
in what state, and how they were greeted by their spouses,
History, thankfully, does not record. However, it was 'in
every way a success.'
C.E. 'Ted' Fouracres M.B.E. recorded his school memories
in an autobiography he modestly called, Memoirs of an Also
Ran. He attended the school from 1907 to 1915.
In 1907 I was rising ten years of age and had to go to a
boys' school. My father chose Woodbridge, Suffolk, for various
reasons, chiefly because he knew the Headmaster, the Rev.
Walter Madeley, a Rugbeian. The school was admirably situated
in 36 acres of playing fields, surrounded by farm lands. There
were only 150 boys, half of whom were day boys. The latter
were mostly the sons of local tradesmen who were entitled
to reduced fees and special scholarships. The boarders were
mostly from the professional classes and they seemed to be
there, like myself, for special reasons; often I suspect,
because their parents could not afford better-known public
schools. Most of the boarders stayed on until they went to
University, the Army or into business.
In later years I decided that this mixture of classes, accents and mannerisms, scrupulously
defended by the masters, was a good experience for all and helped during the war
years when everyone had to rub shoulders. Nonetheless, some of the boarders were inclined
to despise the day boys whom they called day bugs and made fun of their sing-song Suffolk
accents. As I was happy at Woodbridge and not doing badly, I was left there for the next seven years when World War I was declared and all our lives disrupted.
Ted Fouracres was a boarder at School House in 1912. Here are his boarding memories.
It is 7.30 am and 'Parridge' the head waiter from Aberrrrrrrrrrrrdeen
is going round the corridors of School House, rousing the
40 sleepy boys with a hand-bell. We are divided according
to age into four dormitories - ten in each. There is no lighting
other than the remains of two small half-hour candles we burned
the previous night ..... and no running water. At the end
of each dormitory are five china wash basins and jugs. It
is February and snow is on the window sills. The first to
reach the jug shouts ice! We strip to the waist, pour out
some icy water and pretend to wash. Dressing takes time as
our starched ETON collars require studs, back and front and
the chances are that you have mislaid one or that your neighbour
has, perhaps by mistake, taken yours.
We hurry to the iron grille at the top of the stairs where
the matron, Miss Hornblower, will be standing with a large
bunch of keys and orders to stop boys not properly dressed.
We rush down the corridor and stairs, pulling on jackets,
ties etc. Smith III arrives CARRYING his trousers and saying
that he cannot find his braces which matron notes are hanging
ON his trousers and, when the other boys have passed through
the grille, helps him dress. She waits a minute to let the
last rush through and then locks the grille. Any late boys
have their names taken by the house master and are fined 3d
when they receive their pocket money on Saturday. The fines
go towards an end-of-term 'spot-supper'., together with any
other fines - e.g.. for making large stains on the table cloth.
Lunch in School House was arranged like breakfast except
that it was attended by the Headmaster and his wife, the Matron
and any visitors, who all sat at a separate table at the end
of the dining hall. We all stood while the prefect on duty
said a long Latin grace. At lunch we were waited on by Parridge
who supervised his two assistant waiters, teenage boys whom
we called 'swoopers' because they swooped at great speed carrying
their plates on high. School boys in those days did not help
with the domestic work and we seldom talked to the servants.
After supper there was an hour's prep taken by a master in
the Common-room and lit by two gas brackets, each with four
arms with an open gas burner at their ends. I remember someone
kicking a football which dislodged one of the arms and gas
poured out. By luck it was before lighting up time and someone
rushed to the Housemaster, Freddy Dale, who bunged up the
hole with a cake of soap and the gas had to be turned off
at the main.
After evening prep there was about an hour
without anything special to do. As a fag for
D.A.Geard and C.H.Law, I went to their study
and made porridge for them and they always
gave me a plate. When I was prefect, fags had
disappeared and I made my own porridge!
We were usually tired and ready for bed about
9.00pm and as there were only two tiny candles
for the dormitory we undressed in almost total
darkness. Any boy wishing to say prayers
shouted Dibs and there was immediate silence.
Freddy Dale, who was very popular, made his
rounds to see all the lights were out and
conversation had ceased.
'Everything alright, boys? 'Yes Sir.'
'Goodnight.' 'Goodnight, Sir.'
And we were all asleep in a few minutes unless
someone snored and then we all threw our boots
in the direction of his bed.
Ros Kamaryc remembered her years of glory at Woodbridge School in a humorous after-dinner speech which she gave to the OW Society in 1999.
It was in 1992 that the then headmaster, Dr. Younger, decided that he needed a woman in his management team and I was appointed Deputy Head, on equal status with the Deputy Headmaster, Dr. James Harper. For the first time Woodbridge School would have two deputy heads, but the rumour had it that Dr Harper was not happy with someone being appointed on equal status as himself - and especially not a woman! Coincidentally, an opportunity arose for James to take up an appointment in Papua New Guinea.
We worked together for two terms and I think we got on remarkably well. James taught me much; our weekly meetings - one week in his office, the next in mine - were scenes of great hilarity and he put the school and world to rights in his own inimitable style and regaled me with tales of days gone by. On the occasions when we did some work, I was struck by his efficiency and organisation and was most flattered on one occasion when he informed me that my attention to detail was rare in one so young - did he mean in a woman?
My duties as deputy head were many and varied - staff cover, staff training. personal and social education, appraisal, discipline, including those delicate issues of the length of boys’ hair and girls’ skirts. The latter, however, I delegated to John Vick on his arrival as I thought he would find it more interesting.
In 1993 Dr. Younger decided to move back to Tyneside. I was invited to be Acting Head. That term was one that I enjoyed immensely as I embraced the challenges and attempted the unknown. It was a term of fun and adventure and a term that passed all too quickly.
I knew that things would never be the same - no longer could I sit in the head’s study sipping my cup of tea and leisurely reading the post. No longer could I occupy the head’s throne at lunch and survey my kingdom. No, I had to go back to work, back to doing staff cover, back to teaching. New heads have new ideas and rightly so. Stephen Cole was no exception. Saturday school was ended. I now had no excuse for not doing housework on a Saturday morning. Gowns were no longer obligatory in Sunday Chapel. Stephen just did not realise that we girls needed our gowns to keep our legs warm on a cold winter morning! Worst of all Stephen decided that a staff team should be entered in the CCF Assault Course Competition - and I was to be in it.
In the late 1980s, School debating teams made their name in the East after a series of victories in The Observer Mace Debating Competition. One of those experiences is recalled by B J Weaver.
My partner-in-crime, Paul Tzimas, and I, had won the East Anglian round, effusing about the state of the English language in a lively debate at Fram College, defeating 5 other teams. Now, with our faithful gang of supporters we were bussed off to the well-heeled St. Paul’s School, London for the national semi-finals. It was there that we met them; we had never seen real ‘toffs’ before. They may have been Oakham or Harrow lads, I don’t know, but as they sprung, waist-coated and floppy-haired from their chairs, disdaining the use of notes, waffling wildly in plummy comedy posh accents, I looked across to see my classmates’ reaction.
Tears of laughter were running down the faces of Turbervill, Pagan, Davies and Anstes. Goodness knows what the toffs ultimately made of our deliberately provocative left-wing stirring polemic, but the memory of them still raises a laugh in pub-reunions across South London. Incidentally we beat them hands down!!
I remember boys moving from Queens House to Tallents (1983ish) as we were outnumbered by the girls....well the water pressure was higher in Tallents and, one fine night when the bath rota indicated, I strolled in and opened both taps and disappeared for several minutes expecting to come back to a shallow (cold) bath. I came back to a flooded floor. As I cleared it up the fire alarm sounded; no bath tonight. All were evacuated to find out that it was not a drill. The Fire Brigade was called. It was later found that water had seeped through the floor into the boiler room and short-circuited the alarm. A foot of water!!
Next day it was discovered that the soggy insulation on the pipes in the boiler room was asbestos. Housemaster Mr Saunders was not happy. Four weeks later after plastic tents and tunnels were erected with decontamination units the problem was solved. The bursar didn't speak to me once after that. Many years (and one suspension) later I made it to Head Boy so perhaps there is a happy ending.
This was an event greater than any other since the school moved from Seckford Street to its present site in 1864. Not only did the school welcome sixteen girls from the eleven year old entrants but it admitted twenty-six female sixth formers. A new Sixth Form Centre and the present Sports Dome were completed and Marryott House, which had until then been a boarding house, became an administration building.
Unfortunately the building was not completed ready for the beginning of the new Autumn Term in 1974 and, as one of the new sixth formers, I remember picking my way through the sludge between Sixth Form Centre and Marryott House to the hole in the wall that served as the main entrance to the new centre, as the doors had not yet arrived. I got used to working against the background noise of electric drills until the job was finally completed just before Christmas. The Sports Dome was finished during the summer term and its extensive facilities were soon in constant use.
The introduction of girls into the previously male orientated environment of the school must have been quite traumatic for some, but staff and pupils all acclimatised quickly. The girls rapidly assembled hockey and tennis teams which was no mean feat when virtually half of the female membership of the Sixth Form was required to create the first hockey XI. We struggled to avoid repeated defeats and considered anything better than a five-nil defeat as something fit to boast about. I have many happy memories of my two years in the Sixth Form but the most embarrassing recollection is the Christmas Dance in the Sixth Form Centre at the end of the first term. Because of the imbalance in numbers between the sexes, girls had been invited from other schools in the neighbourhood and we were all cordially invited to exchange our admittance ticket for one glass of the headmaster’s punch. This was followed by dancing during which the headmaster and senior mistress banned anyone who encroached a six-inch limit placed around members of the opposite sex.
Ian Black remembers his school chum, Guy Bancroft-Wilson.
After leaving school they both joined the RAF, Guy eventually flying with The Red Arrows.
I was privileged to have known Guy from the tender age of seven. At school he was always an individual, never following trends or fashions but simply getting on with his own way of life. My lasting memory of our school days epitomises Guy’s offbeat sense of humour. Travelling the 12 miles or so from Felixstowe, Guy commuted by motorbike. In order to add colour to a mundane journey he decided to personalise his machine. At the local joke shop he bought a pair of stick-on eyes and a pair of enormous plastic ears which he added to the back and side of his helmet. I wonder how many old ladies he scared as they witnessed the sight of a boy with dreadful sticky-out-ears driving backwards down the A12 at 70 mph.
In December 1945 Russell Ling shook the dust of School House off his shoes and vowed never to return. He remained faithful to that vow until 2003 when a copy of The Bridge fell through his door and he learned that a fellow Otley resident, Ken Bailey, was now the President of the OWs. Ken persuaded Russell to revisit the old school, together with a chum, Geoffrey Mason, and to write up the experience for our website
.................. SIXTY YEARS ON
Turning into the top gate I thought of the number of times that I had walked up the drive, out of the gate, and crossed the road to Freeman’s shop, situated at the end of the row of terraced houses on Burkitt Road. The shop was run by Mr. & Mrs Freeman, a couple of indeterminate age, from whom we boarders would purchase our stamps, chocolate and sweets. Mrs. Freeman, Ma Fritz we called her, was a benign person who would always welcome us back at the start of term - well, she would, wouldn’t she? In the autumn of 1940, when I became a boarder at the School, sweets were becoming in short supply and we boarders were all allocated one bar of chocolate per week. This we called The Fritz bar.
We parked by Queens House which, when I was there, was empty and unused but previously it had been called Junior House. (Editor. I believe the youngsters had been evacuated to Dorset. ) I observed that the cricket pavilion was just as I remembered. Just before a match a heavy roller would be dragged back and forth on the pitch but four of us boarder volunteers. The greatest achievement of a batsman would have been to hit the ball into the pavilion but I don’t recall anyone succeeding.
It was a shock to see girls trotting around the grounds. When I was there, any girls entering the grounds had to be strictly chaperoned. Talking to girls was frowned upon and if you were seen going out with one, well, that was practically a hanging offence. Sex education was no-existent and any thoughts in that direction were actively discouraged. There was one instance when one of the boys brought a book on sex into the school. It was one afternoon during the Summer Term when we were playing cricket and this book was being avidly read by those of us who were waiting to go into bat. The cover had been changed to an acceptable title in order to confuse any master who happened to spot it. However, we were so engrossed in the contents that a master managed to creep up on us without being spotted and his face was a picture. The book was, of course, confiscated and, as I had only managed to read up to Chapter Two, I left school not much the wiser.
We next visited the Chapel and I noted the outside could benefit from a coat of paint. The addition of two bench seats on either side of the door intrigued me. Were they put there for those unable to find room in the Chapel or for those who didn’t want to go it? I was quite interested to see that the seats were the very same ones as when I was there. As a boarder we were not spared any religious services. Canon Dudley Symon, the headmaster, was of the opinion that we should attend as many services as possible - Saturday evening, Sunday morning and Sunday evening were all devoted to this purpose and if we weren’t religious after that it was certainly not from want of trying. Canon Symon was also very addicted to using incense on a Sunday morning and I could never make up my mind whether it was used to disinfect the Chapel or mask the smell of the unwashed congregation.
Passing outside to the war memorial we read the names of those who had lost their lives in two World Wars. November 11th had an even greater poignancy during my time; the whole school gathered by the memorial, the School army cadet force paraded in uniform and a wreath was laid at the foot of the memorial at 11.00am by the best recruit of the year. In 1942, I had the honour of laying the wreath, after which a bugler from the band played the Last Post and Reveille.
Walking back towards the main buildings I noted that the rifle range had completely disappeared and the area had been landscaped. The range used to extend from the driveway up to the School Hall. The top end had been excavated to leave a vertical wall at the base of which targets could be placed. The trees still remain but then a First World War machine gun stood underneath them and near the School Hall there was a field gun, but both of these weapons were taken away for scrap during the war. All the army cadets practised on the range once every term, using a .22 rifle which was kept in the armoury, together with the carbines that were used for rifle drill. The armoury was situated in the room on the right hand side of the School Hall and the spare uniforms were also stored there.
At the rear of Marryott House there used to be a school library; towards the end of the war this room was also used as a canteen for dayboys and boarders. Continuing our progress round the old classrooms, now houserooms, we remarked on the bricked-up fireplaces, which were the only form of heating in the School in those days. The masters all wore gowns and when teaching would often warm themselves in front of the fire. When the inevitable happened, and smoke rose from a gown we waited until it was obvious he was going to catch fire before warning him! The result - A ruined gown!
In my previous article Geoffrey Mason and I were looking round the School during the Open Day in September 2003 and we had just left the old classrooms when we met the Headmaster, Stephen Cole. Upon hearing that I had boarded at School House during the war years and that I would like to revisit it once again but, it was not open to visitors on that day, he immediately volunteered one of his senior girl pupils to conduct us there. On the walk up the drive to School House, I discovered from our discussions that not only had she been a Navy Cadet but had also passed her Duke of Edinburgh award. This was obtained after being stranded on a mountain in Wales to survive for a few days on her own initiative. This brought home to me the changes that had taken place since I had left and the advantages and opportunities now available to the pupils of today.
As we arrived at School House we were handed over to the head prefect who conducted us round the building. At the main door I looked for and discovered my initials carved on the brickwork on the right hand side of the door. Sitting on the doorstep in the sun during our free time in the summer term we would while away the time talking and use our penknives to leave our mark for posterity. The penknife was an essential piece of equipment, apart from carving our initials on anything which took our fancy it was also used for sharpening pencils, whittling sticks and throwing the knife at a target in competition with one’s fellow boarders.
Proceeding through the main door there was a small room under the stairs. Here we kept our toboggans I had noticed that the slope on the other side of the valley, which we used for tobogganing, had now been planted with trees. During the war years there were some winters when there was quite a considerable amount of snowfall. As games couldn’t be played tobogganing became a favourite pastime with the boarders. There were two slopes, the one that was mainly used would become very icy from the frosts and very fast speeds could be obtained. The ambition for us was to turn at the bottom of the slope cross the grass tennis courts and reach the bottom gate leading onto the road, but this was never achieved in my time. The second slope had a ridge on it and this meant that there was a real danger of you parting company with your toboggan when going over it so it was not much used.
Continuing our journey into School House we passed a door on our right which was the Housemaster’s study. The junior boarders all lined up on a Saturday morning to collect their pocket money, which our parents had generously deposited with him, it was a shilling a week which is 5p in today’s money. Reaching the main corridor and turning left passed the stairs we came upon what was once the common room now a gym and divided into two rooms. This was where all the boarders apart from those who had a study spent most of their spare time. The common room had four tables with forms both sides and it was here that we did our prep, supervised by a prefect who sat at a large desk on a dais at the end of the room. Prep lasted from 6.30pm to 8.00pm and no talking was allowed. Behind the desk at the end of the room was a row of wooden lockers fixed to the floor where we kept our schoolbooks and necessary equipment for lessons. A locker inspection took place each Sunday morning by the Housemaster. At the other end of the room was a fireplace now bricked up, during the winter terms a fire was lit by one of the boys who was the orderly for the week. He had an assistant who then became head orderly for the next week. A bucket of coal had to be collected from the passage way leading to the kitchen, there were also smaller pails of coal for the studies which had to be collected by the occupants.
The job of being orderly was not one that was looked forward to by any means particularly during the winter terms when the common room fire was required to be lit immediately after school had finished for the day. The other duties for the orderly were putting up the blackouts at each window every night, sweeping the common room floor, collecting the post at breakfast time and handing out the letters and parcels to the recipients and taking the order form book to the Headmaster to sign. The order form book was left on the windowsill opposite the entrance lobby to the outside door. This book was used mainly at the beginning of each term when you were informed of the titles of the books that were required for the subject being taught. Booths the printers in Church Street supplied all the books that were needed on receipt of an order signed by the Headmaster. It was also used by the younger boarders to obtain permission for a haircut without having to pay for it themselves, the barbers were situated at the bottom of New Street and there is still a barbers shop there today. The order forms were returned to the school for payment that went onto your parent’s bill.
The orderly had to make sure that all the blackouts were securely fastened to prevent any chink of light coming through. Occasionally an air raid warden would come round and inspect the outside of School House to make sure that the regulations hadn’t been broken. If there was a light showing anywhere a stentorian voice would shout put that so and so light out, there was a rush to switch off the light and make sure that the offending blackout was made light proof. It wasn’t easy carrying out all the duties of an orderly without either missing something or being slow in fulfilling them. The prefect on duty would check that all your obligations had been completed to his satisfaction. Often he would find fault and you would be accused of being a slack orderly in which case he would say see me in my study at six o clock and this could only mean one thing. At the appointed hour you mounted the stairs to the prefects study with a sinking feeling in your stomach, you knock on the door and a voice bids you to come in. If upon entering the other occupants walk out you know that it will be the cane, a brief explanation as to why you are being caned then you are told to touch your toes. At the first blow you involuntary jerk upwards the rest follow in quick succession, with eye’s smarting you return to the common room. Six of the best was the usual number, that night in the dormitory you were asked to exhibit the result to the rest of your fellows, for the next few days you sat down very slowly. I always resented the fact that prefects were given the power to cane as it was certainly used unnecessarily in some cases. I don’t consider that the cane did any lasting damage apart from your feelings, but I thought it was a rather brutal form of punishment. It may be that it was deserved in some cases but a master should have been the only one to administer it.
Russell Ling looks back Sixty Years (Part 3) - The War Years at School House
Writing this on the anniversary of V J day it seemed an appropriate time to record the events and the effect they had on the boarders at School House during the war. Nothing very dramatic happened to start with, there was a gradual reduction in the number articles that could be bought in the shops as factories were changed to making equipment for the war effort. More and more frequently when asking if something was available one was greeted with the words “don’t you know that there’s a war on”. Posters appeared with the caption “careless talk cost lives” and others showing pictures of anti personal mines that were dropped from German planes. Windows had to blacked out at night otherwise one might get bombed, the blackout was strictly monitored by air raid wardens who patrolled the streets at night. Rationing of clothing and food apart from bread was introduced and all vehicles apart from those who were granted permits for essential work had to be stored with the rotor arm removed to prevent them being used by the Germans in the event of an invasion.
Barrage balloons were visible on a clear day over Harwich, these were to prevent low flying aircraft from bombing the port, sometimes the balloons would break loose and come over the school with their retaining wire/rope trailing underneath them. At the beginning of the war German bombers would come over at night, on these occasions the searchlights would be switched on and the anti aircraft guns would shoot at the invading aircraft. When this happened we would lean out of the windows to see the action. The German bombers had a distinctive uneven beat to their engine’s that made them easy to recognise, I believe that their engines were not synchronised like the British planes. The air raid siren for Woodbridge was mounted on a pole in Burkitt Road next to the where steps lead down to the bottom gates to the School. As there was a clear passage of sound across the valley we received the full benefit of this wailing noise, it was a bit of a joke amongst the boarders as the siren invariable went off after the bombers had passed over, or it went off and nothing happened at all. By this time we were wide-awake and we would be summons to go downstairs’ and sit on bench seats in the passage outside the dining room. We had donned our dressing gowns and slippers and while waiting for the all clear to sound gradually got colder by the minute. After a time Mrs Symon, the headmaster’s wife, appeared with a large tin of biscuits which were passed round, the biscuits had a musty taste to them as if they had been around for some considerable time but anything edible was always welcome. Eventually the all clear went and we made our way back to our beds, which were now cold and uninviting, after what seemed an eternity we managed to get to sleep only to be woken up by the breakfast bell. During the latter part of the War I witnessed two V1 flying bombs or doodlebugs as they were commonly called passing over School House, they had short stubby wings and a jet engine mounted over the rear of the bomb with a flame coming out of it. The jet engine made a put putting noise, if it stopped it would not be long before it fell to earth with a huge explosion, they were not very accurate in their delivery.
The course of the war was eagerly followed from the daily newspapers, which were available in the common room no one had a radio and even if they had the Germans were very good at jamming the broadcasts. The newspapers were heavily censored and although we were given both good and bad news the war seemed to me to be rather remote. Two newspaper photographs I clearly remember, one was a number of British soldiers bound hand and foot being used for bayonet practice by the Japanese soldiers. The other was showing a soldier about to be beheaded with a sword by a Japanese officer.
The airfield at Martlesham was used by the British in the first part of the war and was later taken over by the Americans. In my first term Douglas Bader, the famous pilot who had lost his legs in a flying accident before the war, visited School House. The Americans during the latter part of the war invited the boarders to the base and we were allowed to sit in a Mustang fighter plane.
All the boarders belonged to the Junior Training Corps which was previously called the Officers Training Corps. Captain G B R Riddell and Captain Curtois were the commanding Officers and took us for drill and military training, which culminated in us taking the Certificate A exam. The exam consisted firstly of being fit, a route march had to be taken to Grundisburgh and back in an hour, plus other physical exercises. A Captain from the Army watched us taking a squad for drilling practice and I was asked to eliminate a sniper in a house in Burkitt road. Most terms there was a field day when the JTC went on a military exercise sometimes in conjunction with the army. Once we were taken to an anti aircraft battery on the coast which was deployed to shoot down the V 1 as they came over. One of the early computers was housed in a building on the site to give gunners the range and speed of the missile. Every summer holiday we had the opportunity to go on a military camp which I missed, as I was required to help with the harvest.
When I first joined the Corps we were issued with First World War uniform, which consisted of breeches, puttees and a tunic, fortunately it wasn’t too long before battle dress became available. We had carbines from the Boer War to drill with and .22 rifles for target practice on the firing range. There was also a bugle band, which for some reason only played one tune. There were two occasions when there was a mass parade through Woodbridge involving contingents of the army, navy and airforce. The School band, which was very smartly turned out for the occasion headed the parade, a great deal of time was spent on white blancoing gaiters, belts and polishing the bugles before the event. We assembled at Woodbridge railway station and the School contingent brought up the rear of the parade that marched through the Town and finished up on the School playing field next to the cricket pavilion. Here we were addressed by one of the top brass, what about I can’t remember - all I know was that it was very hot and quite a number of us felt quite faint and decided to fall out and sit under the trees in the shade.
There was a fire escape chute in the dormitory on the top floor to the left of the main door, a fire drill was arranged to take place and all the boys had to slide down this chute. The chute consisted of a tube made of fire resistant material and was folded up in a frame hinged to the window, the frame was then pivoted out of the window and the chute fell to the ground. The first two boys had to drop to the ground vertically down the chute controlling their decent by pushing their arms and legs against the walls. They then held the flap at the base away from the building while the rest of us slid down making sure that we kept our arms tight into our sides as the friction would burn any bare skin.
I hope perhaps that this will give some indication of what life was like during the war years.
The Woodbridge Reporter article on the 1952 OW Dinner
Former Society President, Raymond Binsted, a stalwart supporter of our school for many years, has sent a copy of The Woodbridge Reporter, June 1952, with an account of ‘The Summer Gathering of Old Woodbridgians’.
Old Woodbridgians held their summer gathering over the week-end when a cricket match, dinner, annual meeting and a presentation took place.
There was a representative gathering for the 1900’s and upwards present when the President, Mr. R.H.Binsted presided over the dinner at The Crown Hotel.
One old boy, Mr. J.Mayo came under sail for he had set out from Leigh-on-Sea the previous Saturday alone and moored his 4-tonner, Susan, off the jetty on the afternoon tide. The Hon. John Hare, Member of Parliament for the Woodbridge Division, was the Guest of Honour and other OWs present were Messrs. S.W.Hood, H.C.Goldsmith, F.I.Smith, A.R.Fairweather, Lt. Comm. A.M.Tuke, shortly returned from Rhodesia and Captain G.Howgego from Malaya.
The cricket match on Saturday afternoon, was won by the Old Boys who declared at 130 for 6, P.Hood scoring 51 and R.Stiff 47, whilst the present were dismissed for 61.
GIFT TO A RETIRING MASTER
The president had the privilege of wearing the Badge of Office, of which he had been the donor some four years back and in handing over a cheque to Captain Riddell MA, referred to the loyal and devoted service he had given to the school as a member of the staff for over 30 years. He had left an impression on many, in more ways than one (laughter).
In replying, Mr. Riddell said he would feel his retirement at the end of the term very keenly. Over 2000 boys had gone through the school and he remembered many of them by name, and he thought all by their face. He would let them know what he bought with the cheque after he had given consideration, so the gift would be a reminder of their memory.
The toast of the School was given by the president and replied to by the Headmaster (Mr. Eric Ayres, MA) who mentioned that the school had been formed 400 years back, but they were not making a fuss about that fact this year because there was a break of about 18 years and then it was reformed. School numbers next term would be 250, and there was a waiting list which extended beyond 1960.
The Cricket XI was proposed by Lt. Comm. Tuke who spoke of the changes and healthy criticism and of sporting games. Responding, the Captain of the team, R.J.Wix, mentioned that so far the School had won 4, drawn 3 and lost 3 matches, but concluding by quoting, ‘When the one Great Scorer comes to write your name, it matters not whether you have won or lost, but how you have played the game.’
WOODBRIDGE MEMBER SURE THE SCHOOL WILL FLOURISH
Mr. L.F.Waller proposed the Guests, and in light vein The Hon. John Hare said he had been the member for 7 years and it was the first time he had had the privilege of attending. He was sure the school would flourish under the leadership of the Headmaster, and , on behalf of the other guests, replied in the name of the Governing Body, The Church, Music etc.
‘The Society lives for ever. It can always rejuvenate itself.’ said Captain Riddell in proposing The Old Woodbridgians Society, to which The Rev. R.T.Warburton, MA, the Hon. Secretary, and who had been mainly responsible for all the arrangements, replied that many owed an immense debt of gratitude to the Proposer, and to Canon Dudley Symon, the former Headmaster and members of the old staff.
It was September 1930 when I became Smith VII in LS2., later upgraded to Smith III in Remove and eventually Smith I in the Fifth Form, 1936. As will all new boys of that era - especially Seckford House new boys - I was duly ‘bushed’ in the expanse of gorse which covered most of the valley in those days. The incident could be dubbed one’s entrance fee or initiation into the beginner’s unknown.
The School’s complement over that period hovered around the 148 mark, the major portion comprising boarders at both houses plus Junior House ( now Queen’s). The headmaster was the Rev. Canon Dudley Symon, ably supported by Messrs. Houghton; Elliot; Curtois; James; Johnson; Stevens; Haines, Captain Riddell and Miss Haslam. The dear Miss Haslam - spinster to the highest degree - was elevated to the parental designation of ‘Ma Haslam’ whilst our music master from his initial was sometimes ‘Philip’ but more often ‘Percy’.
GBR officiated as Master i/c games and to be excused them was a rare achievement and as an example you just had to show those blisters on your feet! Other brief memories are: a physical smack from Mr. Johnson if you cut yourself at carpentry, which I did on my first lesson; and you simply dare not take more than one attempt to light your Bunsen for Mr. Elliott. and Heaven help you if in Mr. Houghton’s class you dropped your metal geometry box.
It was Booths for school books, Normans for sports equipment and Alexanders for school dress. Except for summer term, dress was black jacket and pin-striped trousers plus wide stiff Eton collars. Caps had to be worn at all times outside except in Summer the seniors wore boaters. To be improperly dressed or capless, especially in town, was a punishable offence.
Amongst my counterparts of that age were Lloyd George - a descendant of the famous, two Indian princes, Italians Peccori and Sachiari and also the well-known Edward Du Cann.
In the Summer Term the valley was the scene of a pageant and I can recall one occasion when just as the Roman legionnaires careered down the southern slopes to the battle scene, smoke began to rise from the gorse between School House and the swimming pool. Yes, a few non-performers had decided to hide and smoke cigarettes but were careless with their matches and they had to be rescued.
Mrs. Symon, the Headmaster’s wife, was a mother to us in School House, especially when we were ill. Sometimes Reverend Symon would preach in St. Mary’s Church and we all went there instead of the school chapel. His sermons were marvellous.
War broke out shortly before our return to school in 1939. Mrs. Symon used to come round the dorms checking that the black-out shutters were all in place. Later we were ‘detailed’ to go round School House every evening putting them up. We were also detailed for fire-watching for which we were given a tin hat. We liked this job because we had an excuse to go outside and watch the ‘fun’ - AA shells in the sky and so on. However, it could be dangerous because shrapnel used to fall from the sky.
One Sunday, during the Battle of Britain, there was a terrific attack on Martlesham airfield in the afternoon. We all stood outside School House and had a grandstand view. One German plane was hit and went straight down in a vertical dive.
Sometimes OWs used to fly over the School and ‘beat it up,’ causing much excitement amongst us. One Sunday, a ‘Lysander’ aircraft kept swooping low over School House; we all went outside to have a look. After several passes the pilot dropped a message on a streamer for the Headmaster’s daughter. On another occasion we heard lots of banging and a roar. We went to the window to have a look - some went outside - to see a German Dornier on fire, very low. It came down a few miles away and we all got 100 lines for not paying attention.
The ringing of bells was prohibited during the war; church bells were to be used to warn people of invasion. In School we had to use a bugle. After the battle of El Alamein, our first great victory at last, the king declared a day of National Thanksgiving and said bells may be rung. I obtained permission from the Head to ring the school bell which I did with great abandon and joy. I imagine it could be heard all over Woodbridge. As far as I know it was the only time the bell was rung during the war.
For some reason we're not sure who wrote this one. Do you know?
I suppose it is natural that we should remember our teachers first and foremost when we think back to our school days. I can recall many of my teachers but I don’t imagine for one moment that they will remember me. Some of the members of the teaching staff at that time were Desmond Proctor-Robinson, Tom Dewar, Riddell, known as ‘Hoy’, ‘Bill’ Curtois, Haines, commonly known as Flash, Hugh Lewis, Burraston, Appleyards, Buisserret and Johnson.
Bill Curtois was OC the ACF. He arranged for to go on a flight in an RAF Viking from RAF Martlesham. I think that this’d was the first time that any of us had flown; it was certainly my first time. The flight consisted of what is known in the trade as circuits and bumps - taking off, doing a circuit, touching down on the runway and immediately taking off again without stopping. This operation was repeated many times which had the effect of passing out the sick-bags to many of us, including me.
In 1946 the ‘fagging’ custom existed in School House , whereby Sixth Formers would get juniors to carry out certain domestic chores, such as cleaning shoes, tidying rooms, lighting fires etc. Prefects were also able to administer the cane for some minor misdemeanours. It was also common practice for ‘new bugs’ to be ‘gorsed’; this involved being thrown into one of the gorse bushes growing in the valley. This all sounds rather barbaric but even as new bugs most of us took it in our stride and never held any grudges.
Even in the best-ordered schools there are a few troublesome youngsters and Woodbridge is no exception. Here’s boy’s poem from 1890 and extracts from the detention book of the 1970s.
Oh horror! There’s the book again. The names they read. Adsum we cry.
My name within they’re sure to write. The book is closed; our pens we ply
It gives me creeps and mental pain. In writing lines with all our might.
My Greek or Euclid to recite. Til daylight dwindles into night
Extracts from the 1970's Detention Book:
Horseplay at lunch.
Falling off a chair.
Burning paper in a Bunsen burner - during the fireman’s strike.
Conducting an experiment in ballistics - with a ruler.
Singing - We are the Diddy men - to the irritation of a member of staff.
Misuse of water-bottle.
Getting off class early by means of a deception.
Poor imitation of a Welsh accent, including use of the word boyo.
For galloping down a corridor and nearly knocking me over.
Using syringe as a water pistol in class.
Kicking a boy (twice) during prayers.
Illegal piano playing.
Skulking in toilets at Chapel time.
Snowballing in school clothes.
Taking part in acorn battle.
Throwing exercise books around.
No cap.
Discovering yet another use for a fountain pen.
Squirting water pistols.
Flicking ink in class.
Indulging in a punch-up.
Playing piano - with feet.
Playing football - on Market Hill at 4.30 PM.
Playing hockey - in Houseroom.
Placing board rubber on top of door.
Wolf-whistling at a member of staff.
Throwing clods of earth at other pupils.
Trying to blind me TWICE with a mirror.
Chaining a boy to the railings.
Sandwiching other boys behind doors in corridor of Rooms 11 and 12.
Malcolm Bowie (1954-1961), now Master of Christ’s College, Cambridge, writes:
Malcolm attended the Sixties lunch in September 2004 which enabled him to have a good look round the old School and, of course, this excited a few of those memories we all have in the back of our heads!
When my wife and I visited the School last summer for the reunion of the 1960s leavers, I was delighted to find the place flourishing in so many new ways, but also to discover that many familiar landmarks were still there exactly as I had remembered them over many decades. The Chapel, the war memorial, the School Hall, even the assault course and the swimming pool had an air of timelessness about them, and a flood of happy memories began to come back.
The happiest of these had to do with people rather than places, however, and in particular with the quality of the teaching that members of the 1950s generation enjoyed. Proctor Robinson, ‘Basher’ Lewis and Norman Stevens were all ‘characters’, famous for their idiosyncrasies and sudden temperamental outbursts, but they had something in common that has begun to strike me only recently, with the benefit of many years of hindsight: they were all enthusiasts, passionate in their opinions, and eager to pass on their latest ideas to their pupils. Moreover they treated each of those pupils as an individual, looking him in the eye and addressing him as an equal, despite all the obvious differences of age and social standing.
I remember one class with P-R during which he broke off from analysing a passage in King Lear, and said, casting a pitying eye over my attire, ‘Of course, Malcolm, I cannot afford to buy cheap clothes’, and another class when the subject of the hour was suddenly jettisoned in favour of a comparison between the singing styles of Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra. The lesson in the background on occasions like these (and there were many!) was that literature was not a self-sealed world of its own but connected up in countless ways to the ordinary human business of living. And this lesson has stayed with me throughout my own career as a teacher of literature. P-R was a natural, and had an unforgettable combination of wit, malice and curiosity.
Basher’s classes had their own inimitable human dimension. He was a sharp-eyed exponent of the French literary tradition, but he was also, in the summer months, a martyr to hay fever. His discussion of the intricacies of Molière or Racine was punctuated by explosive sneezes and mysterious nasal trumpetings, to say nothing of his caustic asides on the earthly comedy of school life. Teaching, for Basher, was one of the performing arts, and his huge trousers, worn armpit-high, seemed to suggest an abandoned stage career.
Derek Hyde, who was responsible for music during most of my school career at Woodbridge, was charismatic in a more straightforward way than either of his older contemporaries: he was dark, handsome, encyclopaedic in his knowledge, and an enviably married man into the bargain. It was thanks to Derek’s classes, recitals, quizzes and essay-writing projects that I became a lifelong devotee of classical music. On one occasion, he played the class an excerpt from Grieg’s music for Peer Gynt and challenged us to identify the composer. We were stumped. When Derek eventually gave us the answer, the boy in the desk behind mine was heard to mutter ‘It’s all Grieg to me!’ On another occasion, when we had all been especially dull and unresponsive, he decided to keep the whole class in detention in Chapel. ‘You can leave’, he announced to his captives, ‘as soon as you get one of the following questions right’. The first question involved naming any one English composer. ‘William Byrd’, I piped up primly. Derek was delighted, and a few seconds later I was heading home to Hasketon Road across the playing fields, convinced that a little knowledge was no bad thing. Again, academic study and ordinary life had been brought together in a most rewarding way.
I have no space to talk about the CCF, the hockey pitch, the woodwork shop, or the many friendships that enlivened the daily routine of the school. But looking back over the past 45 years, I am immensely grateful to those splendid teachers who opened my eyes to literature and the arts and who, by sheer force of personality, gave me an appetite for new experience that has never left me.
Deben Memories – School Sea Scouts and Sailing Club Recalled by Mark Wakelin (1965 -72)
I was one of the first intake of 11 year-old boarders when Tallents House opened in September 1965 and I remained at the school until 1972. Coming, as I did from a small riverside village in Essex I quickly became aware of the Deben and I spent many hours wandering its banks between Melton and Martlesham Creek particularly on cold and grey winter Sunday afternoons when we were expected to go out of the grounds for a walk. I hung my nose over models of wooden yachts in the window of the East Coast Yacht Agency in Quay Street, watched shipwrights crafting fine vessels in the sheds at Whisstocks yard, the restoration of the Tidemill and later the conversion of the mill pool into the marina in which I sometimes moor my boat today.
However it seemed to me that there was little connection between the school and the river. The school Sea Scout troop had two ‘Torch’ training dinghies and a venerable if unreliable old wooden motor cruiser called ‘Aqualpha’, along with some wooden canoes, but at that time first and second year boys were not allowed on the river.
All this was about to change and one evening, walking down from Tallents to the dining hall for tea, I noticed something which, with hindsight was to have a major and enduring effect on my life. On the Chapel Lawn there appeared six brand new and very shiny sailing dinghies for the use of the school sailing club and the sea scouts. Radically, to the serious consternation of some members of staff who viewed it as decadence not seen since the fall of Rome, third year and above were to be allowed to sail on games afternoons in Summer term as alternative to the ’Summer Game’. Now I am all for tradition and no-one is more enthused by our recent trouncing of the Aussies but for me the crack of canvas and the swish of water beats the sound of leather on willow hands down – even supposing I could hit the ball with the bat, which was not usual.
The six dinghies, all named after winds such as the Mistral or Khamsin, were Flying Juniors – fast and lively planing dinghies based loosely on the design of the Flying Dutchman which was then the Olympic two-man dinghy class. I had some time to wait until my third year came round – spent plodding round rugby pitches without much enthusiasm despite the energetic and committed encouragement of Michael Lubbock, John Leslie and the estimable ‘Basher’ Beales, but I made sure I registered my interest with Chris Tyndale-Biscoe and Bill Thomas who were the masters in charge of the Sea Scouts and Sailing Club.
The school kept its boats in a small compound on the saltings at Kyson Point beside the mouth of Martlesham Creek, by kind permission of the owners of the lovely Kyson House. Access was either by the Scouts’ decrepit green Thames Trader minibus, which often made the journey in a load condition which would never be tolerated today, or on one’s bicycle there being keen competition to beat the van and thereby secure the best boats – fine dinghies that they were the Flying Juniors were not entirely robust and there were always breakages awaiting rectification. This led to some very audacious cycling through Woodbridge and through the rather exclusive Sandy Lane/Broomhills area which leads down to Kyson. No shortcuts, including regrettably private gardens, were overlooked. I remember those trips in the Thames Van, usually with Chris Biscoe at the wheel as riotous and joyful events which quite visibly offended some of the more conservative members of staff – and from my current stodgy and middle-aged perspective I can perhaps appreciate why. I think we were appearing to have too much fun. D.P-R became used to me gawping out of the Room Seven windows at the trees during the last period of Wednesday mornings, judging how challenging the afternoon’s sailing was likely to be.
We sailed in the reaches between Kyson and Methersgate which in those days were much less obstructed by yacht moorings. No less a person than Maurice Griffiths, doyen of East Coast yachting kept his boat Kylix on a mooring under the Sutton shore, a fact I knew from my exhaustive reading of the Yachting Monthly in Woodbridge’s recently opened public library. We could launch and sail at almost all states of tide although on spring low waters we were very muddy indeed on return , in my case to School House. The mainly uphill cycle ride back to school often cold, wet and gritty was in general not so much fun as the helter-skelter outward run. A further attraction was the newly acquired inflatable rescue boat which had quite a powerful Evinrude outboard and some of us were trusted to operate it. Bill Thomas used to get understandably exasperated at the amount of petrol used in fast pursuit of dinghies which were not obviously in need of aid.
Occasionally we ventured further afield: for several years the Sea Scouts held their summer camp in the grounds of RAF Bawdsey, very close to the Deben Bar and we had to sail the boats down river and back. On one occasion, on the last day of camp there was a cold northwesterly wind, too much for some of us to manage with the Flying Juniors, which could not be reefed. The fleet became very spread out, with repeated capsizes. Several of us arrived in bedraggled and cold condition at Ramsholt Quay and had to take makeshift shelter beneath upturned inflatable yacht tenders until rescue arrived quite some time later. On another excursion downriver of Waldringfield we came upon the C Class catamaran Emma Peel, a recent unsuccessful contender in the ‘Little America’s Cup’ competition. She had parted her mooring and blown up onto the seawall just upriver of Ramsholt Rocks, sustaining quite serious damage. Using the rescue boat we salvaged her, the upshot of which was that the owner made her over to the school. She was a big and quite extreme racing catamaran and she needed new hulls which under the supervision of Chris Biscoe and Bill Thomas we tried to construct in the then brand new technology block. The method used was based on enlarged Tornado catamaran hulls using ‘tortured ply’ construction. The method was indeed well named and although Emma Peel did eventually return to the water I think she was a limited success. I learned a valuable lesson not to take on boatbuilding projects I could not manage. I have observed many boat owners over the years who would have benefitted from a similar experience.
We also on one occasion camped at Decoy Broad, Woodbastwick, Norfolk beside the River Bure and this together with a School sailing match against, I think, Langley School at Horning provided early experience of Broads Sailing, which no doubt stood me in good stead when I became the Broads Authority’s Chief Navigation Officer in later years. A memorable and bitterly cold weekend in hammocks aboard Capt. Scott’s ship Discovery, then moored on the Victoria Embankment, included an epic row in Naval Whalers all the way down river to Greenwich and back, with Bill Thomas in the role of Shackleton, if that isn’t to confuse different acts of marine and antarctic heroism. I was fascinated by the huge ‘flatiron’ colliers which scraped (sometimes literally) under the Thames bridges to Battersea Power Station and by the tugs and lighters on what was still in those days a busy working river. Useful experience for when in later years I skippered a motor barge carrying sand from River Colne to wharves in Wandsworth and Fulham.
Chris Tyndale-Biscoe was a keen racing sailor in his own time, not that he seemed to get much of that. He had treated himself to a beautiful 505 dinghy at Felixstowe Ferry SC, then a well known and very competitive racing club. He sometimes took school sailors down to crew for some of the hot-shots in 505s and Fireballs at FFSC, sailing in the open sea outside the Deben Bar, which for me was a thrilling experience.
The school Scout Troops were regarded as an alternative to the CCF and some people thought we scouts were draft-dodgers on a soft-option. The Sea Scouts in particular were sometimes criticised for being too much focussed on boating and insufficiently ‘Scouty’, so during winter months attempts were made to redress the balance. One such was a weekend hike – we were dropped in pairs late on a November evening at secret locations (even from us) with the instruction to hike back to school by Sunday lunchtime. We were not to take lifts. Graham Howard and I were dropped in a lane off the A12 near Carlton Colville, only just short of Lowestoft. We pitched the first night in a field near Wrentham but it became clear that we were overloaded and we were never going to yomp it back to Woodbridge in the time available. Actually that is an anachronism: this being well before the Falklands War the term did not exist! We met up with some others and the consensus was that we would have to hitch-hike. Our lifts took us via a tortuous route to Snape where a kind farmer allowed us to pitch inside his partially full hay barn. This was probably unwise as we were cooking on a portable Gaz stove. To get warm (honestly) we were allowed in to the Crown Inn where the many Irish farm workers in the area were having a fantastic music session. We were allowed to stand behind the massive wooden settles round the fire (still there despite the Crown now being an excellent restaurant) while fiddlers, guitarists, melodeon players, flautists and singers made wonderful, original acoustic music. That evening was the beginning of my enduring interest in folk and traditional music and my tendency to sing in pubs. These days I doubt it would be allowed to let kids loose in unsupervised pairs for the weekend.
I recall also glorious sunny days of ‘Wide Games’ in the lovely country now known as the Sandlings, and a notable night game around Tunstall Forest which came to an unscheduled conclusion when we managed to inadvertently penetrate the security of USAF Bentwaters, provoking our arrest and (brief) detention by the USAF. A case of Extraordinary Rendlesham rather than Extraordinary Rendition.
I have a great deal for which to thank Chris Tyndale- Biscoe and Bill Thomas, and the school for allowing me to develop my interest in things marine. I left with a reasonable clutch of O and A Levels, allowing me to go to university (courtesy in no small measure of the editor of this archive), where I read Law. That choice of career was based on Capt. Gregson (then the Careers Master and my Maths teacher) asserting ‘you can’t do maths Wakelin and you’re so bloody argumentative you’d better be a solicitor’. After several intervening years at sea and yachting I found the law (even marine collisions and salvage) unutterably prosaic. When the opportunity came to segue into Harbour Mastering in Cornwall I seized it and a Harbour Master is what I have been ever since, which doesn’t make me the most prosperous O.W. but I am a round peg and I am grateful that what I started to learn on the Deben has shaped my course in the way that it undoubtedly has.
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