Issue 3 (1998)

New Penwithian Issue 3 (1998)

Editor’s Three Penn’orth

I must congratulate all those old boys and staff who have contributed towards this edition of New Penwithian and the revision and re-printing of “Three Score Years and Ten”.
Articles are always welcome for publication, so please, hideth not your lights under bushels. It cannot be stressed too much, the importance of loaning your literary and photographic archives, as quite often, hidden therein, particularly from the more senior brethren, are found bright gems of information which are not recorded anywhere else. The intention is with permission, to copy your original manuscripts and photographs in order build a more substantial archive to compliment TSY&T, and the valuable by-product that has emerged from this is the intimate link with  local  history,  and detailed information related to it. The value of such items is not under-estimated, and are always promptly returned to their owners. Will Rogers is absolutely correct when he says that it’s no good hoping that someone out there is going to do something – it’s up to us, and we are sadly shrinking in numbers, so let’s gather the fragments before they are lost.
As far as the TSY&T project is concerned, we are approximately a quarter of the way there in financial terms, and it would be so much more of a pleasure to skip to the printer than to have to trudge through the unpleasant and totally unrewarding task of refunding monies to all the donors, simply because we have failed to come up with a relatively small sum. Not only is this a worthy venture in its own right, but it could also be looked upon as a small investment – specialist books of a short print run are always sought after items, and seem to increase in value. Perhaps an old boy in the publishing industry (or one who has contacts in the aforementioned) may be interested in making up the shortfall, thus bringing about the fruition of the project, and see a small profit into the bargain.
I would like to draw your attention to page 8 and ask that you complete and return the slip regarding the annual reunion, together with any cheque(s), to the treasurer, Philip Dennis Esq. Cheques should be made payable to H.D.G.S. Association, and please also write on the back of the cheque how the money is to be applied. This will be a great help in administration when the Royal Mail flood our treasurer’s doormat with all the contributions.
Various reasons too numerous to mention have delayed the appearance of this edition, but here it is “dreckly” so to speak, and I hope you all enjoy reading it.
On behalf of the committee, I wish you all well.


The School Song

King Arthur ruled in Lyonesse,
A mighty Christian king.
His knights the flower of chivalry,
As ancient poets sing;
And since his days all men may praise
For many a Cornish Name,
That shines securely as the lamp
Where glistens Davy’s fame:
Godolphin! St. Aubyn!
Trelawney! and Treneere!
Come sing together and a song
That all the world may hear:
The Heroes of the Cornish past
With pride we may recall;
Our School be still the First and Last,
Our motto: One and All.

As mighty waters ebb and flow
Against the granite shore,
So we, an ebbing tide, must go,
This place be ours no more:
But other waves from ocean deep
Are surging in to land,
Another race will take our place
And bear the torch in hand:
Godolphin! St. Aubyn!
Trelawney! and Treneere!
Come sing together and a song
That all the world may hear:
By memory’s chain we linked remain
Whatever may befall;
Our School be still the First and Last,
Our motto: One and All


Obituary – Denis McCarthy [‘Charlie Mac’]

A Man for all Seasons

One day in 1935 G. L. Bradley, headmaster of Penzance County School for Boys (later the Humphry Davy Grammar School) interviewed a tall, slim, fair young man who had come down from Cardiff hoping to be taken on as art master. At the end of the interview Mr. Bradley asked the applicant if he played a musical instrument. “I play the bagpipes,” the young man replied. “Excellent!” said Mr. Bradley. “If you play the bagpipes, you can easily learn the clarinet. We need one for the school orchestra.” Thus began a career of 34 years at the same school, interrupted only by the Second World War. The young man was Denis McCarthy, known to all his friends as Mac, and in the course of time to hundreds of Old Penwithians as ‘Charlie Mac’.
Mac liked the boys and the boys liked him. He deemed it a privilege, he told me, to live in Cornwall, to teach “thoroughly decent, intelligent young people,” and to work with colleagues who were also his friends. After lodging in Wellington Place, Penzance, he moved to Hilston at Mousehole, and then, with Alan Wood, the English master, to the Red House on Clodgy Moor. The place was well kept.
On Saturday nights Mac would pick me up from the Cornishman office and drive me to the Red House for the weekend. Trevor Waters of ‘The Cornishman’ often came over on the Sunday from Paul Churchtown. We would stroll down to Lamorna, or to Mousehole where in 1936 and 1937 we saw much of Dylan Thomas.
Other visitors to Red House included the poet and novelist Rayner Heppenstall, the poet and journalist John Lepper who fought in the terrible battle of Jarama during the Spanish Civil War – he stayed six months – and Rona Nance, an old friend. Alan Wood played the violin and viola and might be joined at the weekend by fellow members of Penzance Symphony Orchestra, notably Graham White of Croft Hooper, and Mrs. Crosbie Garstin, widow of the novelist.
With the coming of war, Mac and Alan both married and left Red House, Mac and his wife Beryl for Newlyn, and Alan and Eileen for Stratford-upon-Avon, Alan having been head of the English department at the famous grammar school. (He was to teach in ‘Shakespeare’s room’ until he retired and returned with the family to West Cornwall).
During the war he served in the navy and continued to love the sea. As a keen yachtsman, he sailed adventurously in European and Pacific waters. It was his wish that his ashes be scattered in Mount’s Bay.
On retiring from school, he liked to winter in France or Spain, talking with the local people in their own language and going with them to Mass. He also travelled extensively in other countries including Australia, New Zealand, and the U.S.A.
Mac had many local friends. He declared a high regard for the author and journalist Douglas Williams, whom he had taught, and Ronnie Lanyon of ‘The Western Morning News’ and his sister Lollie, both now departed. Another old friend mourned in recent years was Lamorna Birch’s elder daughter Mornie, who had been painted by Laura Knight, Harold Knight, Augustus John and her father.
Mac’s erect bearing and his neat beard gave him a somewhat Shavian air, enhanced by his entertaining talk and his vigorous opinions, wittily expressed. Underneath lay a shyness of which only his closest friends were aware. Had he been less shy, we might have heard more of his own fine paintings and drawings, many of which have a distictive Cornish flavour.
Marrying twice, he remained friendly with both former partners – Beryl, who lives at Ivybridge in Devon, and Gwen, Peter Shore’s sister, his next-door neighbour at Trewarven Studio.
With his unexpected death, we have lost one who in our memories will never be lost.
(Written in ‘The Cornishman’ by Joe Martin, who sadly passed away in October 1998)

Obituary – Jim Batten

Paraphrased from the eulogy written and delivered by Donald Trewern.

Photograph of Jim Batten

Ever since the day almost 70 years ago when we became fellow pupils in the 3rd Form of what was then the Penzance Boys’ County School, Jim and I have been friends. That friendship has greatly enriched my life, and I am honoured to have the privilege to pay tribute to his memory.
On March 14th, 1855 a 36 foot Mount’s Bay Lugger, “The Mystery,” arrived off Melbourne after a hazardous 116 – day voyage all the way, via the Cape of Good Hope, from Newlyn. The seven-man crew had been prompted to undertake the journey by difficult times in the Cornish fishing industry and the promise of prosperity in Australia. One of the seven intrepid sailors was Charles Boase, Jim’s grandfather.
In 1937, Jim’s father, Ben (Senior), was one of the crew of the Newlyn fishing-smack “The Rosebud” in which they sailed up the Thames to Westminster, in a bid to gain a reprieve for the harbourside fishermen’s cottages at Newlyn. Jim was a student in Westminster College at the time, and was there to meet them on their arrival.
With such a family history, it is not surprising that Jim was to become such a redoubtable advocate for the causes in which he so passionately believed.
His many years of service in local government, on Borough, District, and County councils sprung from his love for Cornwall, and his deep concern for the countryside, and championed many major local issues, not least of which was to influence the rerouting of electricity pylons in order to minimise their visual impact on the countryside surrounding Ludgvan, and raise awareness and opposition to the proposed long sea outfall into Mount’s Bay for sewage. Had this gone ahead, the bay would never have been so beautifully clean as it now is, though the expedient of pumping the waste across to Godrevy is not the alternative we had in mind !
However, I think that Jim’s greatest service to the community was through his work in the teaching profession. In 1948 both Ben and Jim were appointed to posts at their old school, which was by then Penzance Grammar School, later to become Humphry Davy Grammar School. Jim had read Physics at Westminster College, and initially taught Science, but before long, the Headmaster, Mr.Craske Rising, a wise and perceptive man, realised where Jim’s greatest gifts lay, and called him into his study. Without beating about the bush, he enquired ‘would you like to take over as head of Geography when Mr. Wightman retires ?’ A little surprised, Jim said ‘are you asking me to apply for the job ?,’ ‘No,’ said Mr. Rising, ‘I’m offering you the job !’ And so there began a labour of love that brought Jim great fulfilment, and for which countless pupils have cause to be thankful. On meeting a former pupil (now fifty-something ) recently, I asked how he would rate Jim as a teacher, ‘one of the very best,’ was his instant response. ‘He approached his subject with an enthusiasm which was infectious, and he was always fair. We could have a laugh, but we knew that he set standards that had to be respected.’
Aside from teaching, Jim was deeply involved in local government, was twice mayor of Penzance, and served on the committees of many organisations. He was also a bard of the Cornish Gorsedd, and known by the name ‘Map Newlyn’ Son of Newlyn; also a member of Newlyn Male Voice Choir, etcetera … all these things and more, he found time for.


A Rare and Rewarding Profession

by Stuart Guppy

I started my education at St. Christophers School, St. Ives under the eagle eyes of Miss Dearman and Miss Steer, two formidable ladies who ran a highly disciplined establishment very successfully. I was to realise later how remarkable they were. Then to the Junior School in The Stennack where Miss Drew was headmistress. On her retirement, Mr. F. O. Adams was appointed. Both of these heads left a marked impression for the way they set standards that would have a lasting effect. I started at Penzance Grammar School in September 1952. The Headmaster, Mr. Craske Rising was another first class setter of standards. The staff numbered about 40, most of them absolute characters and popular with the boys generally. It was a very good school. Discipline was strict but fair. This new start at Penzance was not without some fear and trepidation. It was rumoured that you could get the cane there, something unheard of in St. Ives. Such rumours proved not to be unfounded!
I still look back over my schooling with a good deal of gratitude – memories of friendships formed and associations continued. The amount of learning that the extraordinary staff managed to install in us was staggering. I still find myself doing a fair bit of reflection these days, probably due to long hours on the motorways, sitting in the M25 queues, wearing out the clutch and watching the fuel guage go from right to left faster than the credit card can keep up with. So why is it that I traverse the country from north to south and east to west?
I found myself in a rare but rewarding profession quite by chance.
Back in the ’60’s, I went to Canterbury to visit Chris Symons, a contemporary of mine at Penzance, who first took up teaching in the Kings School there. After a splendid week-end of fine music, walking the city walls, (plus quite a lot of beer) and sitting up in the organ loft during evensong with breath-taking views of that amazing building, it was eventually time to drive back to London where I was then living. About 5 miles out of Canterbury, in a blinding and furious thunderstorm and torrential rain, I took pity on a lone bedraggled hitch-hiker on the A20. Its a two hour run into London and during the trip, I related my week-end. On learning of my interests in music and in particular the church organ, he told me that he was good friends with an organ builder who had completed an apprenticeship with Henry Willis.
The firm of Henry Willis & Sons was then the finest British Organ Builder this country has known. It was responsible for the Canterbury organ as well as a host of others, such as the Royal Albert Hall and the cathedrals of St. Pauls, Liverpool, Hereford, Salisbury and of course, our own at Truro, to say nothing of numerous churches, schools, town halls etcetera. “Any chance of an introduction in return for the lift ?” I casually and jokingly asked, “Of course” came the reply, and so it happened from that chance meeting that I ultimately joined forces with Matthew Copley the organ builder. Our small organ building firm was created.
We are still a small craft industry, now numbering five people, although I must admit to some very difficult times. All businesses, large and small, are burdened with these. Progress was punctuated by Ted Heath’s ‘three-day-week’ with electricity on and off in three hour cycles, a nasty recession, and two fierce hurricanes, the second one in October 1988 not only removing the roof of our workshops but also the one over my house. More recently, over the Easter week-end this year, floods rose to 6 feet in our store at Northampton, dispatching for ever and ever four rather fine dismantled organs, each with an interesting history. Instead of restoring these as intended, my time is now spent chasing Loss Adjusters who, it seems, are seldom at their desks to answer the ‘phone. But we survive with many successes to our credit. All is not doom and gloom. Life never is! We now have a business which has the responsibility of tuning and maintaining over seventy organs.
In 1995, we celebrated 25 years of organ building with the construction of a new three manual organ for Rosslyn Hill Chapel in Hampstead. This instrument is now in regular demand by recording companies. Following a disastrous fire caused by “a disturbed youth” in the City Centre Methodist Church, Derby, we were commissioned to find a suitable replacement instrument for them. We did not have to look too far as there was a fine historical organ of the right size standing unused in a Brixton (South London) church. The organist and minister from Derby came to see it, negotiations for purchase were completed, and we brought it into our workshops for restoration. Then up the Ml it went, to be taken into use in 1996 with an opening concert by the cathedral organist. Then followed the re-building of a Willis organ in a new Concert Hall in Suffolk. After the buzz of a large Midland city, to be in this beautiful coastal part of East Anglia was quite wonderful. Close to the North Sea, it was literally a breath of fresh air.
Earlier, in 1984, we had built a new organ for Westfield College London University. Due to financial cuts (now the curse of our age) the campus was amalgamated with Queen Mary’s College in East London. So the organ became redundant but all was not lost. In 1996 it was purchased by Prior Park College, Bath, and we were able to rebuild it in their magnificent chapel. If you find yourself in that lovely city, the chapel’s architecture is well worth a visit. Then, in 1998, another arsonist struck, this time at Norbury Methodist Church near Croydon. The organ had to be taken out and completely restored at our Kingston-on-Thames workshops. It is a sad fact of our times that there are those who resort to these criminal acts, but it does give my colleagues and myself a great sense of pride to be able to go a long way towards repairing the damage to historical buildings and our heritage. Local people will remember that St. Mary’s Church was not spared this. The sight inside that burned church was so dis-spiriting. To my great relief, a local organ-builder was able to build into the restored church a fine replacement organ, redundant from an Oxford church.
I remember well the many years that “Doffy” Behenna was organist there, and the carol services and other occasions that I, as a member of the school choir, took part in. I learned a great deal about music from Mr. Behenna, and it has served me well over the years. He was truly a great and profound musician. The example and standards that he set are still so ably carried on by his successor, Russel Jory, teacher of music at the school and organist at the church.
Our next commission was in the fine city of Edinburgh. We spent last summer building an organ in St. Columba’s Church. My only regret was having to forego my annual sojourn on Porthminster Beach, St. Ives. The first time in my life that I have not been on those hallowed sands where I spent my youth. But with such an important contract, there was no choice.
We also have the opportunity to teach the younger generation through the Work Experience Scheme. Each summer, we take students from local schools. They come around with us and learn about the practicalities of our work. It is important to establish in their minds that there is life outside the flickering computer screen and that fingers are not on the ends of their hands solely for tapping on a plastic keyboard. It is a considerable worry that in a fast moving electronic age, the craft industries of musical instruments, and the arts and crafts such as fine furniture making, etcetera, may be left to slip aside. It is surely up to us to do what we can to further the qualities and set the standards so generously taught at St. Ives and Penzance over the generations. Somewhere, somehow, we all have a part to play.
So, just because my little Austin mini made that unscheduled stop in the teeming rain on the A20 all those years ago, all this has evolved. I wonder what I would have done otherwise? Who knows !
One thing is certain, when retirement comes, there are no prizes for guessing where I will hang up my hat. I hope to tread the sands of Porthminster for a few summers to come yet. Meanwhile, I wonder what part of the country I and my colleagues will find ourselves in.
Thank you for reading this article, I hope you think it worthwhile. If you find yourself in the Kingston-on-Thames area, give me a ring.
It’s always good to see anyone from the homeland (assuming that I am not roaring up the Al to Scotland at the time).

Stuart Guppy, St. Ives


Memories of PCS.

by Dr. C. D. R. Pengelly

The publication of Arnold Derrington’s memoirs has stimulated me to make a contribution. I hope it will be neither too repetetive nor too discrepant.
It was my ambition to study medicine from a very early age but nobody at PCS knew this until 1938/39. Thus a grammar school education was mandatory. My parents were looking at various options, but fate intervened, as the owner of the small preparatory school I was attending developed cancer and it was unexpectedly destined for closure at the end of 1933. Therefore I took the entrance exam immediately after Christmas 1933 and was admitted to Form 2 Lower in January 1934. Because we lived in Lescudjack Road I was able to walk to school.
My partial first year was not a success as I had appendicitis at the beginning of the summer term and did not return until school began in September (nowadays I would get two days in hospital and two weeks off school, out times have changed).
On my return I was put in Form 2 Upper. I was bewildered about this at the time, but clearly the school did not quite know what to do with me and this was undoubtedly the best compromise. As Arnold Derrington says, we took Latin (but I cannot remember feeling superior about this!). We gave it up before taking School Certificate, a fact which was of great concern to the Headmaster when he learnt that I wanted to read medicine (but it was and still is a popular myth that Latin is necessary before starting a university MB course. The very little required is learnt as one goes along).
All our days began with Assembly in the school hall, presided over by the Headmaster Mr. G. L. (Boss) Bradley. These consisted of a hymn and prayers including one for the Ruling Monarch and the General Thanksgiving followed by notices, especially regarding boys who had come into detention on Wednesday afternoon (later Saturday mornings) and report to the Headmaster’s study for caning etc. It was obvious that the Head thought that the minimum possible time should be spent in Assembly and he used to gallop through the Prayers at breakneck speed, hardly pausing to go on to the notices.
There was a near disaster in 1936 the morning after the death of King George V, when GLB was racing away on “automatic pilot” and did not remember in time to correct “our Sovereign Lord King George” to Edward until after he had reached the former! I can specifically remember two boys who played the piano at Assembly, they were Dudley Savage, later to become the famous cinema organist and the late Stephen Hitchens, whose musical aspirations were more classical and religious; he was organist at the Baptist Church in Penzance.
The school masters I remember were Williams (Deputy Head: Latin), Davies (Science), Wightman (Geography), Hodson (English), Wood (English), Tregenza (French), Litt (Woodwork), Otto (Maths), Norris and later Bateman (Physical training), McCarthy (Art) and also Jones, Russon, Rutherford, and Wigley.
The Head taught Algebra. Most of the boys (including myself) were rather afraid of him, consequently we learnt less of the subject than we should have. In modern parlance he had “a very short fuse”, very well demonstrated one day when a boy (J. E. Pascoe, now Reader Emeritus in Physiology at University College, London) transferred from another grammar school, said he solved his quadratic equations by formula (we were expected to go step by step from first principles). The resulting explosion, metaphorically, nearly took the classroom roof off! In retrospect I believe he was a good administrator, but limited by the lack of ancillary services available at the time and he was probably overworked. His own knowledge of maths was undoubtedly excellent, but a little more patience dispensed with his teaching might have been amply rewarded.
Williams (Billy) taught Latin. He was asthmatic and I think was rather fed up with teaching, which is probably the main reason he stopped doing it. Davies was known as ‘Uncle’ because of his avuncular manner. He only had one arm, the other being lost in a childhood accident. He was remarkably dextrous (if this is the right word) with the remaining arm (which was his left) and could do more with it than most people could do with two. He made much of his own apparatus and was an expert glassblower. He taught me much physics and chemistry but I realised afterwards that his physiological knowledge was sometimes inaccurate (but ne was not meant to be teaching us that). Wightman taught geography and did it well. He was also very interested in music and used to organise annual performances of extravagant shows such as Chu Chin Chow and The Desert Song. They were remarkably good considering the limited resources available. He always conducted the orchestra on these occasions. He was nicknamed Top’. I have always been uncertain about the origin of this. It is true he had a son at the school but so also did Davies, Hodson and Litt and I think more likely it was after Paul (“Pops”) WHITEMAN the American Jazz orchestra leader.
Wood was a vigorous teacher of English and kept us on our toes. Hodson (Freddy) was also interested in describing his experiences in the Royal Artillery in the 1st World War and in the school orchestra. Otto obviously had a brilliant mathematical mind and it was difficult to keep up with him.
The school orchestra, of which I was not a member, being more interested in musical theory than practice, was conducted by Hodson (who was also a flautist) and consisted of Bradley (oboe), Williams (double bass), Wood (viola), and any boys who were learning other instruments. Listening to practices was rather painful as many of the instruments were not played in tune ! (I think some professionals were drafted in for the annual musical plays).
School Certificate arrived in June 1939 and fortunately my spectrum of credits was good enough to be accepted for the first MB course in Bristol the following year. It would have been possible to enter the medical course in the second year by having sufficiently good passes in the then Higher School Certificate, but Biology was essential and it could not be taught to that level in PCS. Therefore I spent the 1939-1940 year in the 6th Form going part way to HSC in General Science and having some private tuition in Biology. At Bristol I found the organic chemistry difficult and had to work hard at the Biology, but had already adequately covered the ground in inorganic chemistry, physics and maths.
Although it was not sufficiently appreciated at the time, I believe the boys were lucky at PCS in the 1930s in having masters with a galaxy of knowledge and teaching talent, supported by a fundamentally sound organisation.


What Difference a Grammar School Education?

by William Rogers

As someone born, bred, and educated in Cornwall, I have never felt the need or desire to bang the drum about our county to others within its own geographical limits. After all, those of us who live here know what a great place it is, and need no persuasion that being Cornish (native or adopted) is something to be proud of. It is, however, a sad and irritating fact of life, that being “all the way down there,” as we are perceived by many “up country” to be, seems to limit the extent to which the decision makers, be they commercial, political, or social, view the natural talents, ambitions, and drive of the people who live here.
Making a living in Cornwall is so often much harder than elsewhere in the United Kingdom. I may well be attacked by those who run a business in the south east, but in my humble opinion, it’s a darn sight easier “up there.” The level of affluence is significantly greater, money is easier to come by, and with the levels of population being so much higher, distances shorter, and the proximity to commercial markets so much more convenient, it ought to be so. So what point am I making, and what is the connection with Humphry Davy?
I now spend a considerable amount of my working time each week, away from Cornwall, in the south east. The need to be competitive is obvious. What is not so obvious is the fact that in educational terms, having had a grammar school education makes a big difference. To compete, to be stretched, to learn to lose as well as to win, to be resilient, to show respect and to knuckle down and get on with the job. These are all attributes acquired, learned and encouraged at grammar schools. Of course, they are not unique to grammar schools, but I do nave to say that they certainly seem less obvious than they used to!
To take the economic battle from Cornwall to the rest of the country, to attack markets and to prove by sheer hard work and competence what others are assumed to possess simply because they have a London address, is as much an attitude of mind and a matter of self confidence as it is about anything else. Feeling down, unable to get out there and tackle issues and problems is a self fulfilling prophecy and one which it is so important to avoid.
It is my view that Cornwall is now the poorer without its grammar schools, and that those of us who had the benefit of an education at Humphry Davy are the better for it. I may be considered somewhat old fashioned, and even a touch reactionary, but if I had the chance to wave a magic educational wand over the education system in Cornwall, I would not hesitate in re-introducing a grammar school to every main town. The world becomes ever more competitive. Cornwall needs to become more competitive and so does our educational system. Confidence and the ability and motivation to compete are simply crucial in today’s workplace. It’s no good hoping someone out there is going to do something; we could all be waiting for a long time.


With My Gas Mask and Fivepence Ha’penny

by Mike Hunter (1944 – 1950)

I remeber reporting to Penzance County School in September 1944 armed with the above items, and desperately looking for any of the other new pupils who’d attended Lescudjack School. My possession of the gas mask is self explanatory and was compulsory – we were never to know whether Hitler ever intended to target the school !, 5d was my dinner money, and the halfpenny was for the purpose-made third of a pint bottle of milk which Miss Sibson used to hand out during the morning break, and then ensure we all consumed it to the last drop. You’ll have gathered that it wasn’t very popular; especially in the winter when the milk was sometimes frozen and therefore very watery.
My academic and sporting records warrant only scant reference. Suffice it to say that for the former I did manage an Oxford School Certificate. I was the first to attend on the day the results were received, and, as Mr. Rising opened the envelope, Mr. Waller (“Bung,” Chem + Bio) asked me for my examination number, glanced at the list and told me I’d passed. ‘The Boss’ nearly went through the ceiling – not because I’d passed, but because he didn’t want any errors to be made! As for sport; I did gain one house point for St. Aubyn on a Sports Day, when I completed the mile within the qualifying time, and I was ‘selected’ to play in goal for the house 2nd XFs final inter-house league game: as soon as it was known that we’d finish bottom, regardless !
My main interest lay with drama, in which I was greatly encouraged by Mr. A. A. Wood (“Archie”). I was Little Tuesday in ‘Emil and the Detectives,’ Young Gobbo in ‘The Merchant of Venice,’ and David Gun in Auden and Isherwood’s ‘The Ascent of F6.’ The school also entered the winning form play in the St. Ives Drama Festival in, I think, 1947. Our entry was about The Seasons, and I played Merryweather. We got a commendation, which pleased all concerned.
For those of you lucky enough to have a copy of “Three Score Years and Ten”(I was loaned a copy in 1984), I can reveal exclusively that the unnamed teacher in the 1940s staff photograph is Miss Williams (History).
One last point, a plea to all of you who can possibly attend the Annual Reunion to do so and thus make the long journeys that quite a few of us make for the occasion even more worthwhile. I look forward to seeing you in December.