of the interesting and amusing recollections of Price's staff have been
about the post-war contingent - after my time. Here are a few
memories of war-time, mainly short term and temporary, people (men and
women), in no particular order.
'Boggy' Marsh who walked with a limp and a stick and took 2nd form maths and history; relatively normal with no special characteristics except difficulty in hearing boys' names - 'Hardy?' - no Sir 'Harding - ding'; thereafter known as 'Dinger'.
Pincher Martin from Ireland (art and woodwork) who couldn't bring himself to give less than 10 out of 10 for any piece of work, so awarded 11 and 12 out of 10 for anything remotely talented. Fairly free with detentions, which were entered in pencil and had usually disappeared by the time the detention register was taken back to its place in the corridor; slightly embarrassing when he relented and sent for the register so that he could delete an entry.
A little French lady (can't remember her name) who looked round the door and said "Are you ready for me boys?" and then went away when she got the inevitable response.
She was succeeded by a very glamourous Mrs Longworth, who left on becoming pregnant amidst much wishful thinking among the more senior boys!
'Fluff' Jewel (music) whose efforts to form a respectable choir were regularly thwarted as our voices broke.
Miss Harcourt (RI) who glared at anyone who called her 'Miss' until they added her name; this was an open invitation to 'Snaky' Bedford to bait her: 'Miss'; 'Miss Harcourt, Miss'; 'Miss Harcourt, Miss Harcourt ....Miss' etc. She usually gave up first.
Later we had Mr Howe for RI who had a ramshackle ? Austin 7 known to the boys as Senacharib's Cylinder.
Dr Braham (chemistry) best remembered for his more famous son , a Wing Commander pilot who came to the school to tell us of his exploits in battle.<
That we survived all this was probably due to the efforts of the stalwarts who were not called for military service - Bert Shaw, Thacker, Ron Garton (I'm glad someone mentioned his frequent use of "Now this is the point" as 'The Point' was one of his nicknames in our era). Royds Jones ("The Wick" to our generation which I always took to indicate a schoolboy corruption of the vicar). And not forgetting Jim Shaddock (physics), who valiantly demonstrated experiments which were usually wrecked when someone walked across the shaky floor of "laboratory" in the temporary first world war army hut; and Olly Johnson (Latin) - famous for being arrested by the Italian authorities for "spying" when climbing in the Alps with Martin Privett just before the war. Olly devoted much tlc to the cricket pitches and regularly wanted boys to stay after school to pull the mower while he steered; "c-c-c-can you mow, boy?"
(the irreverent ode to the staff at the time included for these two:
"A little low-hung white-haired job called Jim,
who - at the best of times - looked very grim;
"A relic of the Carthaginian war;
"sh - sh - shet up, you; D - D - Ditchburn, c - c- can you do some more?"
- can anyone remember any more of this?)
Finally, a tribute to George Ashton, who managed to teach me enough maths to get a respectable place in the open civil service competition. And that's enough of these ramblings which, if at all, will only mean anything to the geriatric OPs.
On your latest e-mail about the Victor Ludorum, it was as I recall it, one of the few trophies for individual performance (most were for House teams) and with the 3,2,1 scoring system went to the real all round athlete on Sports Day, not just those who were brilliant at one or two events.