Seasonal scenes

SEASONAL SCENES & SCHOOL ROUTINE etc.

An ordinary "day in the life"... at RLS school around 1950. My uncle would wake me at about 7.45, I think, with the words 'Show a leg' or 'Up and at 'em'. From about April to September, I slept on the veranda in the fresh air with the night sounds of nature at dusk and dawn. My aunt always served my breakfast, it always included delicious home-made Seville-orange marmalade. I had to polish my shoes (only black were allowed). Then I'd collect my homework books, which were not many as most of our books were kept in our desks in our classroom. I had a standard leather satchel capable of taking an atlas in the big part and pencil box and geometry sets as I think everyone had. They were mostly carried slung on the shoulder, but across the neck or on the back by bicyclists.

Blazers were oblig. and I held firmly onto my cap with deep reflexes at all times, like an amulet, a lucky charm against prefects!

No other RLS boys lived near me, or came along our long, out of the way Haynes Road. Eventually I'd meet other blue-coated cyclists converging on the main gate. No cycling in the school grounds, but scooting was rather common. My bike was not padlocked, and few were. A stolen bike would have been like a small earthquake at RLS in those days.

Assembly soon became a long drag, the hymn singing to David Pettit's organ-playing was perhaps the lightest part of a dark wait because at least one was doing something oneself. Very seldom did anything happen to keep up one's interest. GHRN was not an entertainer, that was for sure!

Then class loomed ahead. They could seem like a series stretching out of sight into near-infinity. Which subjects one had double-periods in made a lot of difference to the feel of the day. My favourites were usually english, geography and gym (if not cold swimming or boxing). Volleyball was the best but seldom gym event in those days (basketball was just a distant dream) and the indoor obstacle course was fun too. Rope climbing was o.k. if you could do it. Few could! Schofield was keen on the military-type march and P.T. exercises. I and various friends were anti-military (don't know why) and would keep clear of anyone who was fool enough to join the Cadets. But the 12th Romford also taught the old 'left-right, left-right', I found.

The milk break between classes, when one go 1/3 pint in a glass bottle with tinsel top and one might also buy a sticky brown bun (with currants sometimes) was only 15 mins, so the torture soon continued. Eventually the electric bell would go and it was dinner hour, what a relief!

I recall that during my first year or so (in 2L, 3L), were kept within the fences of the Stalag for the whole 1 1/2 hr lunch hour. That meant lots of playground games, for there were usually more than enough ready to join in. Later, when one could leave school grounds, the games thinned out badly. For from about the 4th form(?) we were allowed to roam... so it'd be down to the nearest shops by the Balgores Lane crossroads at Gidea Park to spend some of the misappropriated dinner money. A fat day was when I'd afford the then-ubiquitous coconut ice (only made in some place in Cornwall & another in Wales these days, a confectionary expert told me!). Feeling hungry I'd bike home and share in my aunt's regular lunch (dissembling, fibbing, lying and then, if need be, swearing until blue in the face that the school dinner was inedible etc.). If it was raining heavily enough, we were allowed in to various rooms. I recall lunch-break table tennis in the physics labs. with too long and too narrow tables and books as the net. The best player was a chap called Hinchcliffe (never could get through Wuthering Heights, always saw the table tennis in my mind's eye!).

The average afternoon was not as bad as the morning, normally, because the end was that much closer! I you didn't own a watch, you could tell when 4.05 was approaching by the way those boys with watches began surreptitiously began to tidy the desks, pack pens and pencils, books etc. Masters had given up trying to prolong the day, for when the bell went, there was often a mad rush for the door. (Robert Priddy)

Does anyone recall whether any effort was ever made to create a festive atmosphere within the school at Christmas? Personally, I do not remember a tree, tinsel, paper chains or any other glitzy ornamentation - nor do I remember singing carols. Mind you, I was off sick most of the time - particularly in winter (It was bloody cold!). Seriously, I do not even remember sending cards to my friends after Primary school. Did it all just stop at the age of 11? Someone remind me please. (Ray Liddard)

Coles introduced a tradition of a School carol service held at the Romford Methodist Chapel at the top of the Market Place. This was arranged at 2pm on a school day with all boys required to attend (I'm not sure about the heretics).
As an Anglican, this was probably the first non-conformist church I had entered, and I was surprised by its plainness. I wonder if the tradition continued throughout Coles' reign. (John Hawkins)

Christmas was looked forward to very largely as a time of freedom from timetables, freedom from constant sitting, having the mind trapped all days within four walls, and almost nothing but the same old things do at dinner break, same menus for school dinners. The first day after last day was an anticlimax because the familiar crowd was gone... but there were some compensations. A trip to see Sonja Henie as 'Puss in Boots' or 'Cinderella' at Olympia (with those non-existent skirts and sexy-looking legs, moving bottom etc.) Another to Bertram Mills Circus - perhaps at Earls Court - and one year (1952?), Barnum, Bailey and Ringling Brothers Three-Ring Circus (also Olympia, I think). These trips were by 'charabanc' (i.e. coach) with the Gidea Park Horticultural Association (thermoses of hot milk with rum added during the trip). (Robert Priddy)

I can't recall whether it was just at Christmas or if it was each end of term but the Kiwi Geography teacher who I think was called McWilliams encouraged us to play Battleships so he didn't have to bother to teach us. (Richard Hall)

The Winter Term at RLS was always a long one. Not a dreary one, there was too much happening, just a long one. Inevitably it did not end until around December 20th, having started in early September with the arrival of the newest input of victims into the first form.
The swimming pool was closed. The water, was left in it and gradually turned black over the next few months. Parts of the 1st XI green were re-sewn, and left bare, especially around the wickets and the bowler's run-ups. The nets at the back of the playing field were taken down and stored. The goal posts were all up on the four football pitches and the dramatics season roared into full swing. Aspiring musicians could be observed arriving at the school with their instruments. It seemed almost mandatory that the smallest boys had the biggest cases to carry.
Winter clothes came back as the weather grew colder in November and by December, gloves and Wellingtons could be seen. Colds seemed to thrive and runny noses were a bane. Bert Peade and Bill were hard pushed to keep the boiler supplied with coke and they could be seen shoveling away and looking uncomfortable after a summer of relative ease.
The radiators gradually came to life as luke warm water circulated. It grew hotter as Bert and Bill got back into the shovelling routine and by October, the classrooms were hot and stuffy, the perfect breeding grounds for all kind of germs. Sickness increased as the flu' and whooping cough prevailed. The queue outside the small dining room moved far more quickly than during the summer term as boys hurried to buy their buns and rush to the large Hall to thaw out their small bottles of milk.
The masters provoked great amusement as they began to arrive in their "fashionable" warm clothing. Ron Smith would wear his pants tucked into his Welly's as he wobbled down the drive on his old Raleigh, his scarf threatening to tangle itself in the back wheel as he puffed along, being overtaken all the time by hurrying pupils. Jake Melnick wore a trilby that had seen better years and Daddy Scho' put a camel hair overcoat over his inevitable grey sweat suit. Scruff would get out his blue overcoat from mothballs and looking colder than winter itself, make his daily journey from his house to Hare Hall, looking just like the Lord of the Manor as he passed by his serfs (us) without seeming to notice we were there.
The horse-chestnut trees gave forth their fruit and every dinnertime would find hoards of boys flinging up anything they could lift at the green-spiked conkers. Ah! The sighs of admiration when a particularly large one fell to a well flung stone or half-brick! These big ones though were very vulnerable and not appreciated by the real conkers experts. The best ones came from the tree in the Bird Sanctuary but this was out of bounds and inside a wire fence. Bill Ware gave up the secret of this tree to me one day when he had no matches and I gave him a light for his Woodbine. It was in full view of the Upper Brentwood side of the school and any entry was best made from behind the gym where the pool machinery resided. When one obtained one of these conkers it was best marinated in vinegar and then slowly baked for a couple of hours. Of course, one would have to deny that any of these enhancements had actually taken place. After all, sportsmanship demanded that conkers be played from their natural state. Once picked and baked it was time to make the hole in the conker. The most important event in the whole ritual. The best way was with a red hot nail, prepared on the gas stove and then held with a pair of pliers and bashed with a hammer until it passed right through the center of the conker. This method ensured a smooth, round hole and didn't crack the rest of the nut. Waxed string was the best support method and this was strung through the hold and then a series of knots were tied to ensure it would hold up under prolonged bashings.
Football would start and the School would sometimes field three teams on a Saturday. Come rain or shine the matches would be played. If it rained you got very dirty and had to wash off in the gymnasium showers, if Bert had them warm that day. If not, the cloakroom and washbasins had to do. There were always a few spectators at the games. Some of the masters who lived near the school would attend and occasionally some parents. Mostly though it was boys who came to support the team and they would shout and cheer through the wind and rain of those cold months.
Sliding season came into fashion and various slides were `manufactured' by enterprising RLS students. When I think back it's surprising that more limbs were not broken on these dangerous rides. Some of them would run the length of the playground from the old bogs down past the cycle sheds. They were solid ice and fast as a locomotive. Only the brave would dare to ride them, and there were plenty of these! "Encouraging" the first formers was a great way of passing time and their crash landings provoked cries of pain, which were greatly appreciated by the older boys.
If it snowed the Pr*f*cts might come out for a snowball fight. They gave no notice of when this would be but suddenly the whole lot of them would burst from their coop, down the spiral staircase and out through the Hare Hall door. Woe betides any poor sinner who was in their way. They were without mercy and singled out their special enemies for punishment on the run. Even the dozy ones would come out. Some couldn't even make a snowball, let alone throw one! These were the ones to target with the 'ice balls', snowballs wrapped around a lump of frozen water! I don't think anyone was seriously injured in these `sweeps' but they would last for ten minutes and be talked about for months afterwards.
Daddy Schofield’s gym was freezing. Not that this made any difference to him whatsoever! It was business as usual with Daddy and out came the obstacle course items. The beams were set up and the horse put in place. The climbing ropes prepared and finally gym class became interesting after all of the "bend over touch toes straighten up" routines we all hated.
The Shakespeare play was performed, the Dress Rehearsal often being attended by RCH girls, much to the enjoyment of anyone in the classrooms closest to Upper Brentwood Road, who could see them march in from the windows, and, if a master was late for class, encourage them by hanging out of the windows and cheering.
As December progressed the Christmas season was grudgingly allowed to enter the school. There was no Christmas tree but carols were sung and of course, the House parties got underway. These were the best fun of all, or at least, for me they were. Once you got to the higher forms, 4th and 5th, it was easy to wangle a job helping to lay out the food or pleading the necessity of rehearsing ones skit. Laying out the food was best because you got to "taste" some of the offerings. There was nothing like pinching a salmon paste sandwich and a piece of fruit cake at 4pm as one distributed the food `evenly' to the dozen or so tables in the small dining room. One would of course, make sure that the finest offerings were placed on the table where one would be sitting. All of this then was just a prelude to the excitement of watching the show in the Hall afterwards.
The house tutors were there and each group would perform on the stage to the jeers and applause of the audience. It usually finished up around 630pm or so and as we made our weary way home. I can recall sitting in the train from Gidea Park to Chadwell Heath, full of food and pop and very happy, even although I had to look forward to a mile walk when I finally arrived.
The cold, the rain, the snow, they were all difficult to contend with I suppose. However, when one is in one's early teens they don't really mean that much. Their oppression was easily circumvented by the enjoyment we gleaned from some of the simpler things in life, like nicking a salmon paste sandwich for example, or the screams of fear from a fat first former as he went headlong down the ice slide and into the cycle sheds!
At the July reunion they had the food in the small dining hall. It was quite a spread but I caught myself looking round to see if there were any of those current buns, the plain ones, not the expensive ones with cream on the top, knocking about. There weren't of course but the memory was there. (Mike Merry)