PRANKS, PASTTIMES & CRAZES

 

Inkwells, Streaking, Phone-tapping, Smoke Bombs, Bible throwing, Piss in the Bucket, Mass Truancy and diverse other incidents

GENERAL PRANKS

FIRST EVER PRANKS POSTING I wonder if there is still a large bell housed under a small square tiled roof atop the western side of the original small Palladian mansion? From your Hall Lane vantage point it should have been apparent. This was the bell which, at 8.50 am and 1.50 pm, was tolled by the caretaker to warn pupils that it was time to abandon their leisure pursuits and stream eagerly into the buildings to broaden their minds and widen their outlooks! When I first went there in 1955 the bell rope merely hung from the ceiling of the lower storey corridor just inside the "side door" which was for pupils use. (Only staff and prefects were allowed to use the hallowed front entrance!). Above this ceiling the rope was "piped" up through the top storey to the little bell tower. It soon became apparent to me that The Bell was a traditional target, on the last day of a school year for some variation or other of schoolboy mischief. In my first year the clapper was muffled, the second year the rope was disconnected and attached to a small hand bell hung there for the purpose! Instead of Bong Bong Bong we got jangle jangle jangle! The third year was much more simple - the wags disconnected the rope and re-tied it with cotton. On the first tug of the rope the cotton broke and the rope tumbled down the tube on top of the long-suffering caretaker. At this stage the "powers that be" boxed in the rope with a lockable cupboard! Waste of time and energy - all the antics took place at roof level - it was the amusement that occurred at the working end. Poor old Bert Pede always KNEW that something was going to happen - why else would there be a half-circle of grinning oiks loitering in the bottom corridor? (David Maltby)

The Debating Society Speech which went with a Bang.You may remember that the Debating Society enabled embryo orators with inflated egos to bore the pants of their fellows after school on Fridays (or was it Mondays?) in the Library.
You may also remember that, behind the bookshelves on the north wall there were permanently closed pairs of double doors which would have given access onto the corridor if they could have been opened.Perhaps you even remember that these doors had a pattern of holes drilled
through them - extra ventilation?
The perpetrator of this particular prank arrived a just a little bit late for the debate in question, apologised politely to the chairman and took his seat among the enraptured company to appreciate the wise words of four Upper Sixth formers expounding passionately on the premise that "Conscience makes cowards of us all"
During the eloquence of one Brayshaw, who also fulfilled the role of CSM in the army cadet force, a deafening explosion filled the room. After a shocked silence pandemonium broke out, someone rushed out into the corridor - to find it empty - and eventually the debate resumed with everyone mystified...well, not QUITE everyone of course!
A few minutes later, towards the climax of said Brayshaw's speech exactly the same thing happened again. More pandemonium, more searching of corridors, more negative results and, the most mystifying aspect of all? The likeliest boy in the school to have attempted such a stupid and childish trick was sitting among the assembled company looking as stunned and bewildered as all the rest!
The secret? Ordinary fireworks which had had the blue touch paper unwound to insert a length of ordinary string. Rewind blue touch paper, light string and you have a perfect "fused" firework - length of string variable for long or short fuses! Resting neatly on the holes in the wooden door panels...Hey Presto! And no-one could EVER pin down responsibility! (DGM)

Were any of you members of the backstage crew? If you were, you might remember that you could, (if you were that way inclined), climb the scaffolding on the stage behind the curtains, and make your way across the hall, above the ceiling. Then, (once again, if you were that way inclined,) you could use the vents in the ceiling to drop beetles and spiders into unsuspecting peoples dinners. Because of the height involved, it sometimes took three or four goes before you made a direct hit (if you were that way inclined).
After the boy in question had complained, (By the way, if you ever get to read this,sorry all you first-formers) you could then watch the master on duty and the dinner ladies inspect the rest of the food and then go off to inspect the kitchens. (If you were that way inclined) (Tony Harrison)
It was early in the Autumn term of 1957 (the year the mighty TEO arrived?) and a successor to Oh 'Ell Thomas had not been found, so Latin lessons for 3L had seen a succession of cover teachers and very little amo, amas, amat had been done, though we did amuse ourselves with "Caesar adsum iam forte" and "What is this that roareth thus, Can it be an omnibus? - etc." Finally word got to us that our very next Latin lesson would be staffed by our new Latin teacher, and as a particularly young and apprehensive newcomer had been spotted in assembly 3L girded their collective loins. Even today I shudder to remember that lesson! Our preparations had been a little bit extra special - a hefty majority of the class were armed with elastic bands and paper pellets, inkwells had been stuffed with old blotting paper, the board had been liberally covered with writing, ostensibly from the lesson of the previous class and the board rubber had been primed with most of the contents of a box of red-head matches.
The poor, unsuspecting Classics scholar, entered the room and tried to introduce himself above the rising hub-bub of noise. I'm not sure that we EVER knew his name but when he failed to make himself heard, one of our number suggested he write it on the board for us. He turned eagerly to the board, saw there was no space so reached for the rubber and we howled our delight as THAT trick worked a treat yet again.
By now the air was thick with flying paper pellets originally being propelled at the few goody-goody creeps who were not taking part in the baiting (3L wasn't ALL bad!) but gradually the aim got cheekier and one or two pellets pinged against the blackboard fairly close to our victim.
By now the class "belchers" had struck up a conversation and the star farters joined in, loudly and malodorously. We heard a faint plea to get out our Latin books which was the cue for the noisier sections of the 1812 Overture to be played on desk lids and then pyromania took over in a fairly big way.
It began with the sly use of the spare red-headed matches to light the blotting paper in the ink wells - no real flames to speak of but some interesting little spirals of smoke with which you could experiment in the sending of smoke signals. Four or five of these sprouted and the room began to reek with the smell of igniting matches. Eventually some wag (I honestly don't know who!) dropped his match into the assorted waste paper inside an unused desk. This created huge hilarity as, by the expedient of raising and lowering the lid, he could regulate the amount of air and thus keep the fire reasonably under control - loads of smoke but not too much flame. Not to be outdone another eejit dropped a match into the three-quarters full, WICKER waste paper basket and no-one was really prepared for the flames which shot up.
I believe one or two hearts might have been beating quite fast, wondering if we MIGHT have overstepped the mark...until another class wag (I DO remember who, but I'm not telling - except to say, no - not me this time!) shot out of the door and came back with the fire extinguisher which hung on the wall outside.
At this point my memory fails me! I can't remember if he DID set it off or whether he just threatened to. I can't remember how the fire was put out...I do remember, however, that the teacher grabbed his briefcase, beat a hasty retreat and was never seen again while we sat in stunned silence quite sure, now, that we HAD overstepped the mark.
I seem to remember that some-one came along later, to find us all hard at work with no sign of our fire-raising, and ripped us off a strip but I don't remember any collective or individual punishment. (David Maltby)
I think it was Colin Sinclair and Chris Boivin. These two partners in crime feature in several incidents I remember. I still don't know why (or how) they came to be unsupervised in the large chemistry lab with a jar of sodium metal, while the rest of us were busy with more conventional tasks in the in the small lab next door.
For those who weren't on the science side at school, the element sodium is a shiny white metal that is kept in jars of oil. The reason: if you drop a *small* piece onto water, it reacts sufficiently vigorously to melt the sodium into a little blob, which usually catches fire as it hurtles round on the water's surface, burning with a yellow flame, eventually giving up the ghost with a small pop.
I guess boys are just competitive. That's the only explanation I can see. It turned out that the two miscreants had started to amuse themselves by seeing whose piece of sodium ran a better race around a lab sink filled with water. Don't ask me how you tell whose sodium horse is winning the 2:30 chemistry lab stakes at Gidea Park. However, I guess it might have been frustration that led to the trainer in second place heaving in such a large lump that it not only burned, but exploded rather violently, alerting the rest of the class next door, and Jet Morgan as well, to the absentees and their illicit gaming.
Of course, we all rushed into the big lab to see, much to general amusement, a pair of sheepish grins and the evidence of their activity. Jet Morgan was not as entertained as the rest of us.
I guess you can say this incident definitely ended with a bang, not a whimper. There might, of course, have been the odd whimper after what I assume to have been the inevitable visit to the headmaster's study. (John Phillips)
The crime of jumping out of a ground floor window so alien to Bert's creed, occurred in my second year, but in true Scorpio style - (don't get mad, get even - however long it takes!) - it only took me four years to wreak my revenge in two ways.
The first was in the nature of a 3rd year physics experiment. Oh boy! Did John Groom and I keep Bert busy, for the best part of a fortnight, with our little "invention" of a bayonet plug which had its terminals connected by a hefty piece if wire! Do you know, there were eight different lighting circuits in the main building? But a circuit of both floors and a quick visit to the sixth form rooms at the top of the main building, swapping our invention for any lit bulb could black out the school in no time! And we kept it blacked out for a couple of weeks!
The second was our years contribution to the bell saga. Bert looked at the semi-circle of grinning pupils, checked that the rope was still there, gave it a slight tug to ensure that it was connected, swung the bell once and was reassured by a proper bell tone and began the serious business of calling the faithful to their labours...only to be half-drowned by the couple of gallons of water which were poured down the bell-rope pipe from up on the roof! That one got a mention in the school magazine which was issued to coincide with the retirements of both George and Bert in the same year! '63? 64? (DGM)

You may remember the little Romford market place prank I referred to in an earlier post, which took place in 1960 or 61 and was fairly widely publicised at the time? By that time the market had closed to livestock and the B of R had instituted the weirdest of parking restrictions for the traders and their customers by having signs on both sides of the market. One prohibited parking on even dates, the other for odd dates. I suppose that, weekly, it gave prime site stalls a fair crack of the whip and, strangely (because I'm sure there were no traffic wardens then) people largely obeyed the signs. Now outside the Liberty main gates was a little lane where a local B of R employee habitually kept his barrow, with Borough of Romford and the town crest painted on it. One Wednesday a group of Liberty first-year sixth-formers, resplendent in donkey jackets with B of R stencilled in yellow paint on the backs, borrowed the barrow and armed with ladders, screw-drivers and spanners constantly held up the Market Place traffic while they swopped every sign to the other side of the road. No-one objected - or in fact took any notice of them - until later when a solitary police constable couldn't believe his luck at booking so many motorists caught contravening the parking laws! I seem to remember reading about this in the local paper!! - How else would I know? (David Maltby)

Do you remember Speech Days? If they still had the same format when you reached the third year, all boys from third year upwards HAD to attend, prizewinners or not, in blazer and tie (caps no doubt stuffed in pockets, but not worn in the hall), simply so that the singing of The School Song was of sufficient volume and enthusiasm(?) Having failed to achieve any kind of prize in years 3,4 & 5, and with little hope of ever doing so, I had joined the ranks of those who detested attending but could find no plausible way of escaping. We contented ourselves with singing the "alternative" version of the words... ...until the lower sixth year 1960-61!!!! My partner in crime, John Groom, and I had been involved in rehearsals for the interhouse dramatic competition quite late on the night of Speech Day and were probably the last pupils on the site. Even old Bert Peade was nowhere around, having probably gone off for his tea. Anyway, came the time for the school song, with the hall full of proud parents and longsuffering schoolboys and the stage full of governors, local dignitaries and all the staff in their batman cloaks. Mr David Wells (Music teacher) swept into the balcony, pressed the green button on the organ fuse box and seated himself with his usual ceremony at the console. He pulled out the appropriate stops, flipped the tails of his gown over the back of the organ stool and played the intro to The School Song... ...or tried to - no sound actually materialised! Back to the fuse box and frantic pokes at the green button, more ceremony with the tails and the organ seat, out with two or three more stops and... still no noise! (No surprise to me, in view of the two fuses nestling in my pocket!) He turned and shrugged helplessly in the direction of the stage. G.H.R., in that "corner of the mouth" way of speaking he had said, "The piano, Mr.Wells, the piano". Poor old Wellsy then had to break all records along the top corridor, down the spiral staircase and into the special cupboard in the staff-room where the key of the sacrosanct Grand Piano was kept. Then along the bottom corridor, past the chemistry labs, round the corner, into the side door of the hall and up onto the piano dais. More ceremony while the cover was taken off, the lid unlocked and lifted and he wassatisfactorily arranged on the stool with his gown tails safely hanging behind. A glance at the stage, an impatient nod from George and he crashed into the intro... ...and everyone in the hall, with the exception of George, Wellsy and some of the more traditional (stuffy) parents and governors was helpless with laughter because some wag had inserted a drawing pin into every single hammer and The Grand Piano sounded like a honky-tonk! The Mayor of Romford had tears streaming down his cheeks, the Head Boy daren't even attempt to sing for fear of losing control and Normans, Romans,Saxons and Danes alike all spluttered and snorted the least convincing rendition of The School Song ever heard. After I had left, and just before George retired, I visited him and during our conversation he suddenly asked, "The speech day - WAS that you?" When I came clean he nodded and said, "I always KNEW it - but I could never damn well PROVE it!" Ah, schooldays eh! And the next Monday was one of many with a note in our register - "Maltby and Groom to the headmaster's office immediately" (David Maltby)

Gordon Walker and I stayed on after the fifth form and went into a class entitled 2nd year fifth, as we were only staying on for 2 or 3 terms to retake failed 'O' levels. There were only about fifteen or so of us in the class and the library was our "form room" and we were almost a law unto ourselves in that we marked our own register hence making it very easy to have time off and had many free periods so did lots of odd jobs and admin. around the school, like supervising the milk, of which one crate per day found its way into the library for us to make our mid morning coffee on a small meths stove kept behind the book cabinets. No one ever found it! (Peter Fell)
.. the only thing that made sitting in that bloody awful lab bearable, well apart from shoving compass point up through the hole in the stools into another boys arse Anyone else recall the ritual compass-up-arse routine ? (Steve Byrne)

Oh yes, I have many painful memories of that little fashion while it lasted. I seem to recall that Stan Smith's lessons were a particular favourite, due to the inadvisability of letting out a sudden yell of pain (especially with Jake Coles' office next door !) and the ready-made excuse for having compasses on the desk.  I will confess I once "got" Ced Hemmings just as he chose to move sharply backwards in his seat, meaning the compass point disappeared up to the hilt.  I still don't know how he managed to keep so silent - not that it prevented me getting an earful after the lesson! What with that and the "knackering" craze we were a right bunch of perves, really.  So what else is new? (John Bailey)

In the latest edition of RLS homelink (Jan 2002) - and thank you Adrian - I note that a certain member of this group regaled his story of the Jobling Bell Challenge.  Could we put together the whole sequencing of this event?  For those who did not get a copy, the bell was always sabotaged on the last day of the year by 6B and each act of sabotage had to differ from any previous.  (David Silverside)

An outrageous offence perpetrated on the school during my time started in a small way. The hall piano was left in the corridor for a period with the lid open. This happened occasionally when the hall was cleared for functions. Someone must have noticed the mechanisms inside, and discovered that the hammer action was easily removed to make a catapult. Their fellow playmates were not to be outdone, and very soon equipped themselves with their own catapults. Within a few days the piano had lost about half its hammers! Coles had an outburst in morning assembly, but there was little that could be done. The missing hammers were widespread throughout the school. A case of shutting the stable door after the horse had bolted. (John Hawkins)

Does any one remember the great sick note scam? At the start of games boys with sick notes would stand on the pavilion terrace, whilst the rest of us would line up out front. For some reason the staff became rather lax about checking up on notes, and forgeries began to abound. As the number of boys standing on the terrace grew week by week it became more of a game to forge a note and get off games. The climax came one week when there were more boys on the terrace (in fact, hanging off the sides as there was no room) than lined up out front. Jake was called and marched across the playing fields, cape flying out behind him, getting redder by the step. On arrival the usual explosion and fireworks ensued to the amusement of all, and all the notes were collected and, later, verified. All boys were made to do games - including the ones that were genuinely ill! I think a number got done for forging notes, but I can't remember what the punishment was (I was too keen on games so didn't get involved - what a creep, eh?) (Colin Newlyn)

Reporting on the school anno 2000, David wrote: "All the old circular depressions in the brick work near the playground door, caused by twisting old pennies into the bricks, are still very much in evidence! (Why would we have wanted to do that?)" Standing out there waiting endlessly to be let in after the long lunch break, what else were we to do? Besides, another boy started it. It was not me, sir. It was Harold Prott. (Robert P.)

Does anyone remember having to padlock your desk? As a scruffy disorganised 11 yr old, the average length of time I could retain a key was about 5 days. I think we were then forced to improvise a screwdriver from whatever was to hand to break in. I seem to recall that the School Hymn Book was a favourite target if you left your desk unlocked. (Michael Jamieson)

...school announcements made by the Head Boy, after the Masters had left morning assembly. Boys would thrust notes into his hand just before assembly commenced, and there was always the chance that a howler might get through. Once we heard that “All boys are welcome to join a mass debate in the Library after school. (John Hawkins)

Picture a summer lunch break on the field. We were near the Stevenson Screen (somehow out of bounds by school rule 13) when word reached us that a certain pupil had relieved himself by the Castellan Ave sightscreen. We immediately ran that way to witness the event (or remaining evidence), as did about half the school from what I can remember, passing the embarrassed retreating boy on the way. A crowd of us circled the offending damp patch, laughing & joking. Why did we bother? (John Hawkins)

Two or three of us set up a line writing business. For a few old pence we would write the lines, struggling to hold three or four pens at a time. It was often necessary to miss morning assembly to meet the deadline, by hiding in the form room when the pr*f*cts came by. To the pr*f*cts' room after morning assembly. A friend enjoyed a prank of clipping clothes pegs onto the back of pr*f*cts jackets until caught, when he was sentenced to draw 200 clothes pegs! Well it made a change. I recall a mass detention, perhaps of our year, perhaps of half the school, for excessive noise. We sat in several class rooms writing hundreds of lines to do with "controlling the exuberance of our own verbosity". Can anyone recall the exact wording of this line? (John Hawkins)

Alan Edmonds asked who else was in the loft when Jake and Bowling moved the tower away. Sorry not a clue. But do you also remember hacking away at the brickwork for about two weeks of lunchtimes from under the stage so that we eventually gained access through the wall to the form lockers that were opposite Sus Penders geography class. Eventually leading to some poor sole opening his locker one lunch-time to see a live hand waving at him. We then brought sand and cement in to effect a repair - it has always troubled me that there is a structural weakness in the school to this very day. (Greg Cooper) At one time Ian Pawsley (aka 'Paisley') operated a 'lines factory' - for a modest sum (6d?, 2/-?, I can't remember) he would write your punishment 'lines' for you (100 times, the first school rule: 'Boys are expected to behave themselves properly at all times').  He had a method of fixing 3 pens together with an elastic band so that he could write 3 'lines' at once.  What an entrepreneur - I hope he did well. (DGM) 

Ian told me about his lines factory when I met him - he and I were both teaching in a school in West London - and he owes me royalties!!!  He pinched the pens idea off me - and he admitted it!  I didn't sell them though - I was too busy writing out my own with a VERY regular monotony!  If it was lines for a prefect [...notice particularly DGM's early spelling of the word pr*f*ct -  Ed.] I'd use FOUR pens sellotaped together - all different colours!  Ian came across me perfecting this stunt in the gym changing rooms (he and I were in Pete Benson's gym club) and put it to his own uses.  Obviously a creep who didn't get too many lines of his own! (DGM)

Vince came up with the confession about fixing the pin ball machines and juke boxes. Great story Vince! I knew right away that your innocent looks masked a criminal mind! During my time at the school we had no one with that kind of knowledge. However, McGregor did come up with a master key which would open almost any door on the premises. At dinner time we would skulk around looking for a likely target. I recall there was a long wooden hut besides the drive between the gate at the northern end of Upper Brentwood and the school building (the geography room side). Bert stored a lot of stuff there and a visit one day yielded hurdles, old goal nets, goal posts and athletic equipment that must have been twenty years old. Not much in today’s terms of course but in the boring world of a 12 year old at RLS, an adventure indeed. (Mike Merry)

>Many of us on the list would admit to fiddling with a combination padlock on a school desk.  Had we succeeded in opening one, we would not have taken anything.  The prize was to beat the lock designer, not to steal from the desk, or even look inside it. All of the 'caff' exploits - and many others - were driven by the need to know if correct assumptions had been made about the systems' operation. (Vince Leatt)

>Ian Macauley (Mac)'s Honour's: - Locking long-burning Joss sticks in the cupboards under Jake's stairs. - Sawing through the metal pipe containing the bell-rope and ringing the bell from the 1st floor for weeks (this is the first time I own up to that) - Introducing illegal substances to a Chemistry class and pretended it was the fumes made us weird - Throwing back the board rubber at Andy Evans's head (4 of the best) - Taking 2 girls (1969!!!) into the 6th form flat (I was a 4th-former) in the middle of the day (6 of the very best for the last trick, but it was worth it) - Assisted in piling all the furniture in Dell's room upside-down in the choir gallery AND owning up (6 more) - Fighting with a sadist of a pr*f*ct on my last day and receiving the bill for his shredded jacket (shucks, 6 more) Those were the days, my friends, (Ian "Mac" Macauley)

>Can you (John Mac) remember how your crowd completely busted the clothes colour ruling on that very special summer gathering in the Hall, 68? when we all sang along to The Beatles' "All You Need Is Love", and we had hippie bells over our shirts and flowers behind our ears? Your year-group was way ahead of us younger lads there. I do also remember the hilarious openness of the use of certain substances that day (not our year, though, cough) and the fact that everyone thought they could get away with it (which they did) because the masters would never dream that the boys would dare. They just put it down to booze! The joss-sticks were such a coup, because it took weeks of following the ladies in the admin room just outside of Jake's office to see where they put the keys, and then the art of putting back the keys close enough not to be suspicious, but far enough away to take that extra ten aromatic minutes, by which time damage was done. The deputy head just knew it was me, but never caught me. I don't remember the BP's name, but his (bloody) face is engraved in my memory. If I can see it on the pickies I'll spill the beans. The b*st*rd had slapped my chops many times with his hymn-book and we had him ear-marked for last day! The letter from Jake listed 6 or 7 culprit's names (anyone still got one?), plus Bongo B as witness. Pete couldn't actually stop the fight, and it took another master and more BP's. We'd been drinking in Romford and it was the end of years of repression and bullying by the big boys. I'm not proud of fighting, nor of his blazer getting ripped, but I was proud that I'd finally grown up enough to stand up as an average 16-year old to a much bigger 18-year old and give as good as I could take. Those things meant a lot at that age. I thought the lady in question was an older Mrs. Something. I turned up very early with another lad in time to see JPC frollicking sans trunks. Shocked, and very very jealous. I liked him the more after that, since I realised that behind the facade he was a straight guy who could chase a lady just like the rest of us. I never again suspected an ulterior motive for dropping the greys for six of the best! (Ian Macauley)

> I can remember the 1968 gathering in the hall. Certain of our lot did indeed bust through the shirt colour ruling, in fact I seem to remember two or three of them wearing satin shirts that day. Bet they'd be embarrassed to remember that! Can't remember the substances though... (John Bailey)

>As for the flour incident, I arrived at the back of the gallery just before the wicked deed was done. However, I'm keeping shtum about who did it - even though the girl I later married was one of those floured by the incident. (I suppose she was a flour girl for the evening).

> (Bob Tucker) What happened to the splendid traditional oak desks with their superb carvings? It appears that some terrible act of sacrilege must have been carried out at some time in the recent past. I'm sure that the old desks cannot have worn out? A number of rooms were "re-fitted" during 1955-62. I remember particularly Room 3 having quite smart, up-to-date, but wooden, replacement desks. The splendid traditional oak desks did not go to waste. They went across to the woodwork shop and kept Tiddles supplied with good quality oak for some time to come! Talented people (like Mick Pidgeon - mentioned in the archives for this very thing - turned them into excellent pieces of furniture and/or passed exams with them! (DGM)

> 

IN THE BOGS

 

>In the "old bogs" (so fondly and often recalled by Mike Merry - he obviously spent many a happy hour in there!) there was a chalk-line near the ceiling with the legend (I probably paraphrase) "If you can piss over this line the Essex Fire Brigade needs you". (David Maltby)

>Either there were no bolts on the bog doors, or many of them had been sabotaged, so security-minded crappers had to be ready to brace themselves with feet against the door when footsteps approached. This, however, was no defence against another possibility - of which a message on the bottom of the door above the gap warned - "Watch out for the demon limbo dancer". (Robert Priddy)

>My memory of the bolts is that they were in full working order because on more than one occasion I discovered all the cubicles locked. Not as a result of school dinners but because they had been locked by some prankster (in the RLS?!). Go into cubicle #2, climb onto the pedestal, lean over and lock cubicle #1. Go into cubicle #3, etc. The problem then is to lock the last cubicle. This was done I believe by jumping up, holding on to the top of the door with one hand and locking it with the other. Two or three attempts might be necessary. So I was told. (Peter Monk)

>Far too energetic, and almost impossible for anyone not much over five feet tall. The toilet doors were hung on pin hinges and opened inwards. They were prevented from opening outwards by the frame. It was very easy to lift the door off its hinges and re-hang it so that it it was outside of the frame. This prevented the door from opening inwards, and the unobservant would be fooled into thinking that the cubicle was occupied. This could be applied to all of the doors without climbing. I would propose the following mathematical formula could be applied to this prank C = 1/(N^3) Where C is the chance of discovering that the door could be opened, and N is the need to go NOW. (Vince Leatt)

STREAKING

  The after school streak through Romford Shopping centre (73-74) by two desparadoes who hid their faces with school scarves but not their tackle. (Andy Ellis)

The Great Streak by Paul Stone and Steve Hunt. (Steve Snelgrove)

The piss in the bucket outrage in about 1968 (made the national press). It is 1968 (I think) (Andy Ellis)

PISS IN THE BUCKET


The piss in the bucket outrage in about 1968 (made the national press). It is 1968 (I think) (Andy Ellis)


Ah, the bucket incident - fondly remembered both for the hilarity of the moment and for its subsequent appearance in the Romford Recorder ! (John Bailey 1963-70;DNG)

Definitely the school year of 67 / 68 as I was one of the lucky band required to inhale the heady aroma. (Peter Crabb RNG 62-69)

At some time – suggested by HM Pete Crabb to be around 1968 although I really can’t recall now – a school cleaner discovered that, up in the 6B flat, someone had seen fit to urinate into one of her buckets. This quickly reached Coles’s ears and he “determined to take the matter further” to coin a phase. Unfortunately his chosen method of taking it further was to march into assembly the following morning brandishing the offending bucket, where he proceeded to deliver one of his famous apoplectic sermons. Memory is hazy, although I believe that a variety of retribution was promised upon the entire school if the culprit did not come forward pdq. What then transpired in the way of mass punishment is lost in the mists of time although I’m sure others with a better memory will soon fill you in. Meanwhile the occurrence was duly leaked to the Romford Recorder who published a story along the lines of “Headmaster brings bucket of urine to assembly”, thus further embarrassing the school. Someone who was at RLS at the time had some sort of hotline to the local press and a number of the crazier incidents were publicised in said manner.
The story quickly entered RLS folklore and was henceforth always known as “the bucket of piss incident” , oftern shortened in later times to simply “The bucket incident.” (John Bailey 1963-70; DNG)

I believe the punishment was limited to 6B as no lower year would dare venture there. I understand they were made to parade in front of the bucket and inhale the aroma. I also believe that the cleaner's daughter owned up to being the culprit later on.
Of course, Mike Merry may yet put his own slant on the matter.
I particularly like your choice of phrase that the story was 'leaked' to the press. ( Vince Leatt RNG '65-'73)

This seems to have been a particular bugbear of Jasper, the first evidence of such having been the 'This piss is fit for drinking!' morning assembly outburst (arising from an amended 'This water is not fit for drinking' notice in the toilets), an early lapse of sanity that was, regrettably, never reported in the Press. (Bill Burgess, 59-66, DNG)

I do recall the bucket and its arrival in a whole school assembly. Everyone was treated to the tirade though as mentioned by others, it was only 6B that were given the opportunity of close inspection of its contents, when nobody owned up, and that was elsewhere not in front of the rest of us. I think the alternative explanation putting the blame on a cleaner's child circulated as a rumour soon afterwards, though I wonder if it was ever officially recognised as the true record? And in hindsight, I wonder why JPC appeared to have jumped straight to the conclusion that a pupil was to blame, without investigating and considering alternatives? Perhaps he did, and the "confession" (or well-founded accusation) came too late to save 6B from their collective ordeal.
HM Bailey mentions: "the other regrettable occurrence where a person (or persons!) unknown entered a cubicle in "new bogs" and - accidentally or deliberately - managed to miss the pan [...] The results were of course soon discovered, leaving poor old Doug Palfrey to get busy with shovel and disinfectant." (Tim Knights 65-73 NNG)

I remember the 6th form flat and bucket of pee story really well, with various accounts of how far Coles went in trying to nail the perpetrator, who according to urban myth turned out to be the caretakers daughter. Whether that is true I have no idea, but it was also supposed to have earned a feature in the local paper too. Can anyone verify that?
Coles and the story of the 6th form singing German beer hall songs is just priceless. I have checked the date and it isn't April 1st either. Were Liederhosen the next step? I always thought he looked like Hitler and often acted and ran his regime in the same way, is this another facet of his Germanic leanings? ( SteveS SNG 66er)

Piss in bucket scandal: I didn't respond to Andy's first E-Mail, because I thought he had the date wrong and I wanted to see the story first. But now I have a sense ofdeja-vu, because a similar thing happened during Coles first year (1963?) -only this time it happened in the sixth form hut. The said bucket was foundnear the toilet and was similarly offered to the pupils to test their sense of smell and identify the contents. Is time playing games here? - Could there have actually been two occurrences? (Peter Cowling)

I was twelve. I am to be seen partially obscuring John Dabbs' right arm on the 68 photo (Dabbs is the first teacher from the left of the photo with the big beard). Jake was normally in assembly. On more scary occasions he would arrive at the end just to make announcements (usually bad news of some description). So it was that one morning assembly finished without any sight of Jake. Rather than being dismissed we were told to stand there in silence. From my vantage point in the gallery I saw him marching down the corridor, gown billowing behind him. He was carrying something. As he entered the hall the object came into view and was unmistakably a bucket. He bashed it down on the top of the piano with such force that a splash was heard, a few drops of the contents may even have spilled over. He gathered himself as best he could but was apoplectic. Red faced and spluttering with anger he went on to explain that said bucket had been found in the 6B flat containing URINE ("And if I knew who performed this disgusting act, I can tell you I would like to pour it over their head"). The reaction was stunned disbelief. I mean who would bother? Mass detention and the like was threatened (and took place I vaguely recall) pending someone owning up - not that there was a great incentive for an admission given the threatened sanction.

>That was not the end of it. The newspapers got hold of a story that the entire lower sixth had been required to line up in the 6B flat, with the windows shut, in oppressive heat, and forced one by one by Coles to bend over and smell the bucket of piss (by now presumably quite stale).Well, the story faded and the culprit was never apprehended - no announcement was made. The rumour factory produced the explanation that it was the cleaner's daughter! As ever, truth is stranger than fiction. More details would doubtless be revealed by someone who was in 6B at the time, but I'm not sure if there is anyone from that vintage on the list. (Andy Ellis)

>Jake must have always got out of bed on the wrong side. He used to swoosh in Dracula like with gown flowing, flying onto the dais after the head boys intellectual chant of 'shut up' 'shut up' 'shut up'... usually so red and furious that blood vessels were bursting all over the first years. This particular day he swooshed in with a bucket which he plonked on the piano slopping none other than neat piss everywhere. The contents of this bucket having been passed in the 6B flat the day before.
From memory 6B were asked to stay behind and my understanding was that they were then made to walk round and put their head over the bucket to savour its delightful odour. When this didn't work they were all trooped up to the Geology room and locked in with the windows shut until somebody spilled the beans. Could I possibly have got this right?
Rumour always had it that it was the caretaker’s daughter anyway. Think I was in the first year so it the 6b’ers would have been 61’ers? (Greg Cooper)

> Further to my earlier comment, I can vividly remember him bringing the bucket into the assembly hall, plonking it on the rostrum and launching into a tirade.  It was a case of Jake taking the p*ss. (Richard Hall)

>I don't remember the bucket making it to assembly. My recollection is the lower sixth being locked in a room with no ventilation until somebody owned up, but they didn't. (Chris Fribbins)

>The bucket definitely made it to assembly. As he plonked it down some of the contents splashed out. He then made the lower sixth file past and look in to see if they recognised the contents. The contents belonged to the cleaner's young son as it happened. She just forgot to empty it or tell anyone. As ever, JPC never apologised for the accusation. Hello to all the new 65 - 72 members. Good to know you're still out there. (Barry Key)

While we are discussing matters lavatorial, let us also not forget the other regrettable occurrence where a person (or persons!) unknown entered a cubicle in "new bogs" and - accidentally or deliberately - managed to miss the pan, leaving their offering on the floor of the cubicle. The culprit then, rather than quietly reporting the mess to the caretaker and hoping for minimal publicity as an adult might have done, took what probably seemed the safer option i.e. "let's bugger off rapidly." The results were of course soon discovered, leaving poor old Doug Palfrey to get busy with shovel and disinfectant.
Inevitably this was reported to Jake, who duly came into assembly in one of his red-faced and steaming moods and exclaimed "Excrement - or what you probably call SHIT !" His voice went up an octave to emphasis the final word of this pronouncement, before he set off on a typical rant - with some justification, it must be said.
As I was a callow second-former when this occurred I imagine a number of our regular contributors were still at RLS for this one. I do recall the stunned silence at the front of the hall at hearing Jake come out with such a word - I can only imagine the quickly-suppressed sniggers further back !! (John Bailey 1963-70; DNG)

MASS TRUANCY

The mass truancy when West Ham played Hereford in a mid week FA Cup replay (played during the day because of some power crisis) in the early 70's. (Andy Ellis)

>The mass truancy for the West Ham -Hereford game - many were caught taking the day off to go to the match (Monday 3.00 pm kick-off) and several 10s (possibly 100+) had to go to a mass detention. I seem to recall assembly being moved back to just before lunch time when a roll-call was done and the miscreants identified. Of course, those of us who had a 'dental appointment' in the afternoon and an elder brother with a car saw the match without getting done! West Ham won 3-0 for the record, and Hurst was one of the scorers, I think. (Colin Newlyn)

>(West Ham truants): I remember being part of it. There was an impromptu half-day that was announced during the morning - in honour of someone (Steven King?) winning some sort of scholarship. So the boys who had bunked off before the announcement were in trouble, whilst the lucky ones got the afternoon off any way!! Match kicked off at 2.15pm due to the oil/power crisis - no power for the floodlights. [btw Steven King is Organist at Brentwood Cathedral. (Ian Puxley)

 

INKWELLS


The stuff put into ink wells was manufactured for the purpose of illuminating gas lamps. I have a policeman’s lamp made for the purpose being useless at chemistry I cannot think of the name. Calcium Carbide? (Vince Leatt)

>Or how about acetylene? (John C. Jennings: non-chemist) - perhaps we can obtain further enlightenment!

>The inkwells were of white porcelain and I suppose would be considered of value in an antique show these days. I recall having to get a jug filled with ink from Bert Peade’s lair. The ink had a very strange smell and I always suspected that Old Bob had something to do with the stuff! It also stained very badly but did serve to cover up nicotine stains on the fingers in an emergency. (Mike Merry )

>I think you will find that acetylene is the gas that is given off when calcium carbide reacts with water. This is the gas that was used to light many portable lamps. I believe water used to drip through a small orifice onto the calcium carbide. To turn off the lamp, the water tap was turned off. (Vince Leatt)

>The stuff put into inkwells was probably Calcium Carbide which generates Acetylene when water is added. Acetylene is a flammable gas with a foul distinctive odour! I'm surprised you didn't all blow yourselves up or expire from asphyxiation!! (Fortunately, biros and fountain pens had been invented by the time I got to the school). (Clive Wakefield)

>Is not there confusion due to words here? The main constituent of ink used to be lampblack... which is not a fuel for lamps, but simply soot (carbon- not carbide) such as that which collects on the shades of lamps. The ink's colour was blackish-blue in my day. So it may have had something added to lampblack besides water... such as a portion of potassium permanganate (blue) or of Quink. (RP)

>Sorry Robert, no confusion of words. Carbon (lamp-black) certainly would have been used to make black ink, but what they are talking about IS Calcium Carbide, a compound which when mixed with water generates acetylene, which in turn was used as a fuel for old carriage and car lamps, and also on the railways I believe. My Grandad Told Me About It!! (Clive)

Point well taken! A less explosive inkwell diversion I recall well began with the practice of chewing paper into soft, gobby balls, then twanging them up onto the ceiling with a ruler gripped beteween the desk lid and the desk. Some daring bloke improved this by dropping the pellets into the inkwell, fishing them out and with a powerful "zip-doiiooing" splattering them onto the ceiling. Some classroom ceilings were covered in blots. (Robert P)
>The stuff put into inkwells was calcium carbide – thank you. It was readily available and used also to create explosions in a glass bottle with the stopper screwed tight. As for the danger from acetylene gas that’s nothing. I well remember unexploded incendiary bombs being taken to school along with all kinds of unexploded ammunition. (Eddie Pond)

>Calcium Carbide ('Carbide') was used in some miner's and speleological adventurer's helmet-lamps. The substance could get damp with no bother. A valve allowed water to drip from a chamber onto the chalky substance held in a second, gas-tight chamber and the reaction gave off an inflammable gas. The gas escape was controlled through an aperture at the front of the lamp by an adjustable valve and lit with a flint and wheel, rather like a cigarette lighter. It gives off a yellow light from a cool flame. Well, cool enough to burn the hairs off the back of the hand when climbing an etrier (personal experience) (David Silverside)

>a jelly-cubes craze that swept the school for a few weeks. Someone found that by sucking a cube (of the sort melted to make jellies), it would adhere to the ceiling for a while when thrown up. One stayed over the stairs near the main hall for weeks. However, most would drop after a few minutes to cause a disruption to a class, with no known culprit.(John Hawkins)

>Your technique for paper pellets may well be right as they had little elasticity, Robert, but not jelly. In the HQ chemical lab. on the third floor at Sainsbury's in Blackfriars we would test one cube from a packet of six conjoined jelly cubes and throw up the remaining five as the conventional disposal method. If we welted it up, it simply bounced back off the ceiling and caused damage to the other apparatus which was dangerous especially with ether and sulphuric acid around. The secret was in the degree of humidification of the jelly and the velocity of contact with the ceiling. We used to aim for a terminal velocity of nil about 50mm beyond the actual ceiling height. I am not sure if it was the nature of the ceiling or Sainsbury's superior jelly but they bonded themselves onto the ceiling for ever. A mechanical tool was employed to remove them when the room was repainted, such was the power of adhesion. I thought you would want to know this. (David Silverside)

>In my day we would make a silver goblet from the fine silver paper in a packet of cigarettes. The stand would be shaped to hold some well chewed paper, preferably tissue. The cup was held between the index and middle finger and thrown at a high velocity at the ceiling. You got long lasting, cement strong decorations that required jack hammers to remove. (Brian Coan)

>Jake Melnick's room - 11? - was liberally festooned with these works of art - mostly above the rearmost two rows of desks! (DGM)

>...to consider if Nick was a "natural" for this kind of prank: A similar one that, I'm sure, was "invented" in Nick's lessons (though it was imported into other classrooms with varying successes) was where, at a given signal, all members of the rear two rows would move to the next clockwise desk. If written notes were being taken and Nick looked round then each boy would continue writing in whosever book in front of him. We could usually effect several rotations during a lesson and I don't recall us ever being caught - even when two boys finished up at the same desk. (MJM)

FLOUR BOMBS AND MUCH ELSE

>As for Brian's flour bombs I have to plead not guilty to that as I did leave UK on July 19th, 1958 and did not return until 1962 on vacation. (That’s one put away) (Mike Merry)

>It was 60/61 depending on whether the dance was held before or after Christmas. It was definitely a Friday during the football season and the First XI had a match away vs. one of the Oxbridge colleges the next day. I can positively guarantee that the Teds had all left by then and, therefore I concur with Mike, they were not guilty! (DGM)

>Yes, I did lights and knew where the house switches were, of course. But there is a difference between knowing what to do and doing it, especially when there were flour bombers around. I shall write a few stage stories when the weather weakens and I have time. I think we had more fun before the performance and for that reason I continued with amateur dramatics, off and on until 1982. I was with friends in Weymouth, in glorious sunshine at 23 degrees, Mike, over the weekend. (David The Silver Fox?)

>I clearly recall a physics lab incident, when a friend Dave Hopkins was left holding the long spout of a water tap, whilst the water flowed fountain-fashion into the air. He received a clip around the ear from I don't remember whom. His response in defence was: "It came off in my hand, sir! I wasn't even touching it!" I don't think I will ever forget that classic. (John Hawkins)

>Two or three of us set up a line writing business. For a few old pence we would write the lines, struggling to hold three or four pens at a time. It was often necessary to miss morning assembly to meet the deadline, by hiding in the form room when the pr*f*cts came by. To the pr*f*cts' room after morning assembly. A friend enjoyed a prank of clipping clothes pegs onto the back of pr*f*cts jackets until caught, when he was sentenced to draw 200 clothes pegs! Well it made a change. I recall a mass detention, perhaps of our year, perhaps of half the school, for excessive noise. We sat in several class rooms writing hundreds of lines to do with "controlling the exuberance of our own verbosity". Can anyone recall the exact wording of this line? (John Hawkins)

BIBLE THROWING

>
I would like to share a memory of an RE lesson that sticks clearly in the mind and enlist members help in solving a mystery that has existed for me for almost 30 years. I guess John Harvey, who was in my class, may remember the lesson. We were all waiting in Room 6 for DFR to appear to start the lesson. It was a steaming hot day and all the windows in the class were open. DFR duly appeared and sat down and started with the lesson. About five minutes into the lesson, everybody was awoken from their trance like state by a huge thud at the front of the class. Through the window had flown in a school bible. DFR went ballistic and rushed to the windows to look out - as did half the class. The playground was clear, with not a sole in sight. You may recall the entrance door to the school sat below Room 6. DFR stormed out of the room to do a search for the bible throwers, leaving us all to enjoy RE for once! This was, of course, after he had threatened everybody who looked out of the window with a detention if they did not name the people they saw. Nobody was ever caught, although Kersley and Williams from the year above us were suspected. Can anyone throw light on the actual culprits. I am sure their secret will be safe! (John Gearing)

>Yes, the bibles through the windows in RE lessons was guaranteed - not unexpectedly - to throw DFR into a rare temper. I remember one Dave Manningas being prepared to cooperate on this, though he got the evangelical bug later, and that was an end to his inventive teacher-baiting. It was a tempter, the church bug. there were lots of GIRLS who went to the Evangelical Free Church along Brentwood Road, the one that we seemed to end up at if we got religion as teenagers. I went out with one called Debbie for a while - a Heath Park girl, not one of the RCH girls who have been the subject of copious correspondence on these pages. My, what a looker though. But sooooo religious. So no progress. (Steve Snelgrove)

>An RE lesson in the Seventies As I remember it, it occurred in the room on the other side of the stairs to room 6 - that faced onto the road. Can't add anything to the identity of the culprits, but I clearly remember the immortal line after the book had landed: "It's a miracle, sir!". DFR didn't see it in that light, but I don't think anyone was caught. (Ian Puxley)

>Andy mentioned that confession is good for the soul. Perhaps so. However, one bloke, Graham Haverson (or was it Haversham?) who detonated the smoke cannister in High Trees on the last day of school 1956 confessed to the deed and was expelled an hour or so before he would have left the school forever. He confesses to Nicholson that he was the fellow that removed it from the Cadet stores and actually let the thing off. Involved in that deed were several others, myself among them. We however did not have access to the storage area and Graham himself did actually take it out. I was all for putting it on the roof of the school but cooler heads prevailed and it was put in High Trees (and stopped traffic for about 30mins on Upper Brentwood). Indeed, Graham did detonate it alone but he involved no one else when he confessed. Alas confession didn't really help him. I saw him about six months later and although he joked about it his whole ambition was to go into the Army, the expulsion probably screwed this up for him and I don't know what he did eventually. Personally I believe it's better to deny everything. (Mike Merry)

THE 'PHONE TAPPING' LARK

>
Near the newsagent previously mentioned there was a public telephone box -the old-fashioned red type of course, in which the black handset rested on pins in a horizontal cradle on top of the metal cash box with a slot for your penny coins and buttons 'A' and 'B'.

>Someone had discovered that you could make a connection without inserting money by tapping out the required 'phone number on the pins in the cradle. To connect to, say, Romford 41234, you would tap-tap-tap-tap (pause) tap (pause) tap-tap (pause) tap-tap-tap (pause) tap-tap-tap-tap. The frequency of tap and the length of pause were critical to the success of the operation. (This is true - can anyone corroborate?) Having connected to the random number the lark would begin in earnest:
14-year-old schoolboy effecting a deep voice: "Good afternoon Madam. This is the Post Office telephone engineer. We're testing your line. Would you hold the telephone at arms' length please and shout 'Aaaagh' as loud as you can. "Unsuspecting-but-usually-cooperative telephone subscriber: "Aaaagh!"14-year-old: "Thank you. Now would you put the telephone down, go to the opposite side of the room, and shout again. "Subscriber: "Aaaagh!" 14-year-old: "Good. Now please go upstairs and shout again." etc. .... until the giggling from the half-dozen accomplices crammed into the 'phone box threatened to give the game away. Usually the prank was reasonably harmless, in the style of 'Candid Camera' as above. Occasionally it would be less so, involving buckets of water or even sexual references. The practice came to an abrupt halt although I can't recall the exact circumstances. Someone - post office?, police?, nearby residents? – rumbled it and there were threats (from the Head Master I think) of serious consequences. (Andy)

>The Phone Tapping Trick was indeed great fun. A couple of pals and I found immature pleasure at the age of thirteen or fourteen in phoning funny named people listed in the Phone Book. For example, we might 'Tap' a Mr Woodencock and ask him if it was true that he had one, before guiltily slamming down the receiver and running away. However, we found that a much more profitable exercise was to insert a piece of paper well up into the B Button refund tube of several phone boxes. Removal of the obstructions on the following day provided a little windfall of much needed cash. This helped to fund the little luxuries in life such as cream buns on Wednesdays and the odd packet of fags. (Richard Stokes)

>Oh yes! This was a favourite trick among Holy Cross Church choirboys!!!I recall a black bakelite bar which was the handset rest and the tapping trick always worked a treat. I didn't believe it when it was first proposed to me but we tried it out anyway and were gobsmacked when we were connected, first time to one of the lady sopranos - so gobsmacked that I couldn't think of anything "clever" to say! (David Maltby)

THE SMOKE BOMB INCIDENT(S?)

>For what its worth, my only memory of MJM from school days was that he was the person who spread the news of what had happened when the smoke bomb went off in High Trees. MJM was two classes below me at the time, but he was somewhat known to all of us already, but I don't recall exactly why, though the surname itself is distinctive. It was unusual to know anyone much below one's own peers. So MJM must have been a right lad and wave-maker even then. The smoke bomb incident was seen by some friends in my class from the physics lab window on the second floor. Everyone kept asking what had happened, but beyond the fact that someone had been sent up to Newth, there was no news to be had. A kind of blanket of censorship descended... until someone in our class got the gen. from Mike Merry. We heard that a boy had set off a smoke bomb and had been expelled... and that was it. Everything relating to this was, however, 'wiped' for me since school days and until I read MJM's account of the incident. (Robert Priddy)

>Graham Haverson's story has been told here before. He was the actual "remover" of the smoke canister,, he had a key to one of the huts there where they stored CCF stuff, between the entrance to High Trees and the NE corner of the school. McGregor, Delmonte and myself thought up the scheme (it was originally proposed to put it on the roof of the school but logistics prevailed) and we carried or rather rolled the drum into High Trees and Haverson let it off about half way between the northern gate to the school and the northern boundary of the woods. We had no idea of the potency of this "bomb", it spewed smoke and huge flames! We all ran for our lives and went back into class as the lunch hour ended. The results were incredible! Traffic stopped on Upper Brentwood and the Police and Fire Brigade with their bells ringing, boys hanging out of the windows and who knows what. Haverson was routed out an hour later because he was known to have the key to the store. When confronted (and don't forget, this was the last day of the summer term, our LAST day of school, forever!) Graham took the blame and did not mention any other names, although I am sure that the authorities had an idea he was not alone in the act, that 55g barrel weighing quite a bit! Before any detailed investigation could invoke others, the bell rang and many of us were out of RLS for ever. (MJM)

>I must admit I'm now rather confused to hear that the smoke bomb incident took place on the last day of school I don't remember it that way. Which year did it take place, Michael? But perhaps that is why I felt there a 'long period of censorship' had intervened between the incident and the news reaching me about it. But then, I only remembered anything at all about it after reading your earlier reports. Incidentally, of all the names you mention, I still only knew who you were. (Robert Priddy)

>It was the last day of term of '56 which would have been in July. Graham Haverson, who had planned on an Army career, had his plans wrecked that day. He was expelled, only about three hours before he would have been out of the school for good. (Mike Merry)

>Michael's dating of the smoke bomb incident to 1956 has got me totally flummoxed! Talk about time capsules! I left RLS after the GCSs in 1953!! But my re-awakened memory (by MJM's original accounts) is undeniable to me. How to explain this? There surely was another similar incident some time before summer 1953... though I did not see the smoke myself (I was in a classroom facing Brentwood Road at the time, I recall, and regretted not having been able to see the furore, but there were no fire engines or any such big thing) The incident caused much excitement AND it was observed by some boys in my year who were on the second floor facing High Trees (in the physics lab. I think it was). A figure was identified (I think) emerging from High Trees and someone was expelled. I also recall remembering the name Mike Merry in some connection - but I obviously must be wrong about him having reported on that particular incident to one of my class later, after the official wall of silence had been in effect for some days. But I am rather certain of the re-enlivened 'reality' memory, even though it may seem stranger than fiction. Perhaps, Michael, you lot may have been inspired by some notorious forerunner(s)? I am thinking that, since boys will be boys and play the same sort of pranks year after year, they always find the same 'weak spots' in their boringly encapsulated worlds. But is there anyone out there who can confirm or fill out these strange twists of history? (Robert Priddy)

>Robert refers to an incident similar to the July '56 smoke bomb event. I don't remember anything quite like that, although someone did light some paper in the outdoor bogs one year and there were many other pranks pulled on the last day of term by pupils leaving. I recall a small car being put on the roof of one of the huts between the 4th XI pitch and the Church School one year. I think Ashpole and Dawson had something to do with it. There was a fire alarm one year and on another occasion, someone did something with the organ. In Jake Melnicks’ class one year, Mick Coles put a plastic dog turd on Jakes chair, thinking he would see it when he pulled out the chair to sit down. He didn't, and sat right on it! However, instead of leaping up he just settled down and started the lesson while everyone was p....ing their pants. (Mike Merry)

THE SWIMMING POOL FIRE

see also under 'Swimming and Physical Training'

> 

>Reading the posts about the Smoke Bomb incident brought to mind another classic incident, which unfortunately took place after our most regular contributors had left RLS. So, does anyone remember the time the school swimming pool (or rather the cubicles) was mysteriously torched one summer's weekend? Along with Doug Palfrey's car? It made the front page of the Romford Recorder if I remember correctly. I can't recall the exact year, it was either 1967 or 1968. (John Bailey)

GENERAL PASTTIMES & CRAZES

 

>Re conkers, I used to soak mine in linseed oil, which explains why I walk funny. (Phil Kingham)

>The joys of snow and riding wooden desks, such as those I recollect in Room 5, down the slopes in High Trees has always struck me as the ultimate in either neglect by the teaching staff, or more positively allowing boys to do what comes naturally. Can anyone in education imagine allowing their charges to undertake such activity today? (Peter Robinson)

>Andy Ellis said that "Pea shooters were a short lived craze". In my time too, although we used the conventional shooter and split peas. I remember one time, but not the details, when someone got a pea lodged in their ear and had to be escorted to the Hospital. Rumour had it that upon arrival the pea had miraculously disappeared. A ruse? Maybe. (Peter Cowling)

>Back in the dark ages of '51/56 there wasn't a lot of money about in the UK. There were no hand-held computer games or disco's and boys were obliged to find their own amusement. At RLS there were various fads over the years.

>First of all as a very young pupil I remember water pistols. Not just any water pistol but the model which looked like a .45 automatic. These were made out of colored plastic and were transparent so one could always see how much liquid remained in the handle. Hidden during classes they made their appearance during the morning milk break and again at dinner time (lunch). They were mostly of poor quality (or was it that we gave them a good bashing?) and cost about half a crown if I recall. The first thing to go was the reservoir cap, a small mushroom shaped item, which usually got lost after a few days. Then the trigger seals started to leak and finally the brass nozzle would come lose.

>Catapults came into style in '52. They started as quite large "Y" shaped tree branches with quarter-inch model aeroplane elastic as the propulsion unit. The tongue of a leather shoe made a fine holder for the missile. Later came manufactured catapults of metal but these were frowned upon as being too commercial. The best ones were the small thin "Y" shaped frames with eighth of an inch elastic (and lots of it) which could be stretched to the whole arm-span of the holder before release.

>Then came the picking-the-padlock-with-a-compass-point phase. Many pupils would attached padlocks to their desk. Probably to stop their sandwiches being stolen (everyone was very hungry in those days). In boring classes one would remove the compass from one's metal box of geometry instruments and attempt to pick the padlock on the desk one was sitting at. It wasn't really to get at the sandwiches but to make time pass faster.

>Conkers of course were a yearly event. The best ones (according to Bill Warr) came from the bird sanctuary. Huge ones grew on the two trees along the drive north of the 4th XI football pitch but size was their only boast. They were easily broken unfortunately. However, looking back, there was nothing like hurling a stick up and knocking down a huge green spiny seed which when opened revealed a gleaming dark brown conker!

>In the winter after snow, there was usually a slide from the old bogs which went right across the playground down to the bicycle sheds alongside the pool. After a dinner break the snow beside the glistening slide was usually tinged with scarlet by the blood from the scraped knees and knuckles of younger boys who had fallen over.

>Fifth formers would sit for hours watching the accidents occur and cheer when a particularly nasty one drew blood. A ball made its owner very popular. Various games could be played utilizing for instance, the north wall of the woodwork shop as a rebound point.

>There were a few pea-shooters but these were not seen often, ammunition being hard to come by. Literary works by Hank Janson were very popular but few and far between. One of these classics with the lurid cover still on made the owner a much sought after lad.

>Smoking was always popular vice and there was always a blue cloud over High Trees around noon as the hardened smokers crept away for their nicotine fix.

>Tuppeny-halfpenny football was another well liked game. Ernie Pilling's desk in room seven was the "Wembley" of the playing surfaces. Very difficult to get to use it as the 4th and 5th formers were apt to treat it as their own personal territory and lash out at any junior who presumed to displace them.

>Playing the `op required a great deal of brass. It was dangerous and would definitely result in a painful visit to Scruff if caught. Where to go? It was fine during the spring and summer when the sun was about but playing the `op in winter meant going to the cinema and that cost money. Down Squirrels Heath lane there were many fields hidden from the road where one could lounge about and smoke for a few hours before catching the bus or train back home. The park by RCH was another favorite destination for the `oppers as there was always the chance of seeing some of the gorgeous greens about.

>As one grew older far more naughty schemes evolved. I recall visiting Dave Courtney's house quite near the school and getting very tipsy drinking ginger wine one lunchtime. Dave would also bring his fathers car on occasions, strictly forbidden of course, him being about 15 and not having a license. We would go out for a ride in that to pass the time.

>Seeking out hiding places was another pastime that many of us enjoyed. The absolute best one I ever saw was above Old Bob's stable during the mock "O" level exams. It was a beauty and entry came from Bob's stall by breaking through the roof, climbing up and then replacing the splintered boards which knitted together almost invisibly. Alas! This hideout only lasted a few days, too many people knew about it and in the end the noise attracted Bert Peade. I don't think anyone was caught but that was the last of that place. Cliff Pugh did get into the lofts above the art-room and physics lab down to the sixth form study room on the corner but nothing ever came of that. It was to easy to be seen getting in and besides the rooms were often locked. There were various huts on the school grounds which housed football and cricket hardware, timber etc. and many of these were entered at one time or another while looking for something to do.

>Catching newts in the pond which appeared in High Trees in winter and spring. Huge orange and black blighters which looked fearsome!  Picking the walnuts from the trees at the western end of the 1st XI pitch and getting fingers stained with the juice. So many simple things, so many years ago. However, I trust that just for a moment some of you went back with me to those dark ages but with the advantage of seeing them nowadays in a warm light where there are no wet socks or smells of cooking greens etc. and only happy memories remain. (Mike Merry)

>Hon Member Merry wrote: Many pupils would attach padlocks to their desk. MIKE ... I'm not sure, but I have a feeling by the time we 66ers marched upon the Liberty, padlocks were compulsory equipment with which to begin Day One.

>I actually discovered mine - and its keys - recently while sifting through assorted boxes prior to my house move. It's difficult to do full justice to the extent to which turning the key in the lock transported me back in time.

>There I sat in Vic Slade's classroom on that first day, wondering how I would survive in what seemed a massive new world, brooding with hidden menace. At the risk of opening myself to outright ridicule, I can recall taking out my handkerchief, not to wipe away any tears but just to smell its ironed freshness which so much reminded me of home.

>I think I've documented before (so all but the new 'boys', please forgive me) but I suffered a fair degree of bullying in my first year. I was something of a wimp, undoubtedly in height (not sure exactly how tiny, but very) and probably in character too and thus offered myself as a natural target. Having big thick National Health glasses was an added burden I really could have done without.

>I was so loathe to return after the summer of '67 that I was physically sick the night before school was due to restart and it was only then that I confessed to my parents the nature of my anxiety.

>Had this happened now I'm sure I would have become the subject of a legal claim against school/pupils/masters/local council. Happily my parents offered the sage advice that I should go back, face down my adversaries (who they assured me would respect me for standing up to them - it's bl**dy easy advice to give, albeit sound, but bl**dy difficult to carry through), and see what happened. If I remained unhappy they assured me they would do everything to halt the problem and/or move me to another school.

>Happily for me, although no doubt not some other poor blighter as I'm sure the bullies simply moved on to another easy target, I began to grow a little, gaining in self-confidence and the bullying waned and then ceased.

>I can't claim that I'm glad I went through the process ("it'll make a man of you" - crap), but I am glad I stayed at the Liberty as I made many good friends there, many of whom I've become reacquainted thanks to this site. (Chris Stratford)

>Other pastimes and items from long ago: Buying shirts with cutaway collars at Brent and Collins in the Marketplace. Cutaways were considered somewhat Teddish in those days. If you couldn't afford a proper cutaway shirt you tucked the collar points under and so created a cutaway look-alike.

>Swim suits with lace up sides instead of the old woollen trunks came into style in the early 50's. They were available at stores but if your mother was handy with a Singer machine she could run you up a pair and thus save a pound or so. 

>Going to the bus station and searching for change under the cushions of the rear upper deck seats.

>Collecting cigarette cards and playing various games during dinner break. The heavier the card the more chance you had with dropsy and knocksy-downsy.

>Tucking grey flannels into socks and rolling them over for a plus-four look for cycling. Using a Lyons Ice Cream plastic banner, nicked from outside a confectioners shop, to wrap your bike pump and spare tubs in, holding it under the rear of the saddle with a small strap. Pullover with coloured stripes on them for riding.

>Blotting paper pellets, soaked in foul smelling ink, flicked with a ruler across the classroom.

>Wearing plimsolls for school during the summer months instead of shoes.

>The tea's after the school football and cricket matches at home and away. (Mike Merry)

>Re cutaway collars: Mike, I managed to get one in York last time I was in the UK but, try as I might, I have not found them in the US.  Do you know any stores that sell them now that they are popular again?

>And here's another memory - flicking your fountain pen so that the ink left a trail down the receding back of the master as he strode up and down between the desks.  Much better if the teacher was a bright young thing who wore tweeds and eschewed the gown.  Also better if you had green, red or some other particularly virulent color.

>Also, buying those red and black or blue and black striped socks in B & C's and, for a short time, red and black striped cheese-cutters from the same establishment. (Russ Martin)