First Days

The local authority decreed that, having failed my eleven plus, I would attend Pettits Lane School. My parents were not happy and fought tooth and nail to send me to St Edwards where Mum had been educated just before the war. They enlisted the help of the Vicar of my local church (St John’s, Mawney Road) where I was in the church choir. The fact that I was baptised at St Edward’s helped, and, had it been known it at the time that one of my great great grandmothers plus her father and grandfather were also baptised there in 1811, 1781 and 1751 respectively, my entry into the school must surely have been a certainty. It was not until a week before term began that their hopes were fulfilled and a quick trip to Ilford to buy the uniform was necessary. So at the beginning of September of 1963 with my new blazer, the sleeves turned up four inches, immaculately pleated skirt, short white socks and sensible shoes, I was ready for St Ed’s.

The School

The Quadrangle was mentioned in another newsletter. Mrs Sinclair, my form teacher, had a room directly to the right of one of the main entrances. As traffic was only allowed to travel clockwise around the Quad this presented us with one of our first problems. The top half of the door was glass and it was necessary to crawl under the bottom half of the door in order to save the walk round almost four sides to reach the other side of the door where we lined up. Mrs Sinclair was obviously wise to this as invariably she would open the door whilst someone was attempting the short cut.

The sixth form shared a very small double air raid shelter by the main gate with the staff, and I remember that they used an old vicarage behind the school. The library was a wooden building on stilts, and some way from the Quad were the domestic science room, science “lab” and music room. We did of course often get wet running between one part of the school and another. The toilets were outside as well. Attached to the school hall was the typing room, where I spent a lot of time doing detention whilst listening to the school orchestra practicing without me. Why on earth detention night was arranged to clash with orchestra practice defeats me. How could they expect me to be in two places at once?

Imagine then our delight when we moved to the new school. For a start it had stairs, inside toilets, and it was warm. My first classroom was on the first floor from where I could see the white tip of Havering Water Tower, a familiar sight as my grandparents lived in Havering village. Our form master was Mr Lane, an English teacher who kept an old iron on top of a cupboard. He never threw it although he often threatened to. When Princess Margaret came to open the school I was standing just behind her on the stage as part of the choir. My most distinct memory of that day was the nudge that Mr Thomas gave her when it was time to pull the cord to open the little blue curtain.

When I reached the fifth year the sixth form suite had just been built and we moved into the hut that they had vacated. A wooden building with a raised floor, and entirely our own. Nicholas Quirk rigged up a very old radio and we were set. Every Friday lunchtime was spent huddled round the radio listening to “I’m Sorry I’ll Read That Again”. Then it was our turn to move into the Sixth Form Suite with its snooker table, carrels, the radiogram and the clock that always went very fast between 3.30 and 4.00. There, on our last day at school, was “The Carnival is Over” played incessantly on the radiogram and I cannot now hear that record without thinking of St Ed’s.

The Uniform

If you remember the bad winter of 1963 you will pity us in our short white socks. Only the fifth year girls, or fourth year leavers, were allowed to wear stockings (no tights then). Boys had to wear short trousers until they reached the fourth year. Summer uniform consisted, for the girls, of blue and white striped dresses, stripes going up and down for first years, and going round for second year and above, not very flattering for the fuller figure. I think it was Miss Pattison who allowed girls to wear long white socks, and Mrs White who introduced the new summer uniform of a dress in a blue pattern in whatever style we liked, within reason. This was the sixties and once a week we had to kneel in the hall to have our skirts measured – four inches above the knee was the limit. Bands of elastic were our mainstay, they went on round the waist after the measuring session and the skirts were hitched up. Berets and caps were to be worn at all times except in school. Our house colour (mine was yellow for Mildmay) was sewn on our blazer pockets, and we had an appropriately coloured tassel on our berets.

The Staff

Several members of staff stand out in my mind. Mr Wingham, our music teacher and a very good cellist. Mr Hussey, thanks to whom I have never forgotten the meaning of “penultimate”. It was one of his “weekly words” which he would shout out at the beginning of every English lesson. Mr Alam my favourite history teacher. Dear Miss Craig who took off her watch, which was broken, so that the second year pupils would not be able to take the mickey out of her for wearing it while it was broken, and who enabled me to get through my only A level pass. Mr “Polly Parrot” Barret, who really tried to teach me maths, but failed (not his fault). Sue Arnold, who likewise tried to make me into a sportswoman. Miss Pattison who taught me the only bit of French I ever remembered “Ce ne pas just” because Shirley’s birthday was on the 1^st April. Mr Davis who would often give me a lift to school, and young Mr (Gerry) Thomas at whose funeral I sang. Canon Wright who gave a bar of chocolate to the best pupil each week (never me) and taught us to say “You are dismissed” in Latin. Last, but not least, Harry Thomas, an extraordinary man to whom I owe much.

Lessons

Domestic Science was dull to say the least. We spent our first term learning how to scrub wooden tables, wash up etc. etc. but eventully at Christmas we got to cook – mincemeat. Not a saucepan or oven in sight. Our first needlework assignment was to make our white domestic science aprons with our initials embroidered in our house colour on the pocket. We had a French French teacher who had a habit of hitting talkers on the head with a book from behind, and a French student who caused all the boys to rush for the front desks. Housepoints could be earned for good work and lost for bad behaviour. Perhaps the highlight of the week in the early days was Scottish Dancing with Mrs Sinclair, and Mrs Kimber at the piano. P E meant a five minute walk to Wykeham Hall, and swimming a coach trip to Mawney Road Baths, and we were not allowed to talk on the coach. Having our own sports field on the move to the new school was heaven, and being able to watch Bobby Moore etc. training was even better.

School Camp

It was a privilege to spend six of my seven summers at school camp. We had a wonderful time. Digging trenches in our bathing costumes in the middle of the night during torrential rain, emptying the lats, washing in a river called “The Piddle”, and that wasn’t all. Sitting by the boiler all day feeding it with pinecones was the best job. We had water sports, wide games, night and day hikes, singing round the campfire, and Mr Thomas’s plum duff. Canon Wright would arrive on Saturday on his scooter complete with communion equipment, Mr Wingham would wake us every morning firstly with his red flashing alarm, then with the camp horn (we were often waiting with a sock). During my first camp our tent outing was to Winchester where I went after leaving school and there also met my husband of twenty eight years.

This story cannot end without a mention of music as I was involved in some way with music throughout my school career. It was my second term at the school, first thing in the morning and the headmaster wanted to see me. Horrer! Would I play the piano for assembly? Yes, Sir, and that was that. From then on I played piano, sang in most of the choirs (junior, senior and assembly at one carol concert), played flute in the orchestra and performed on stage. Even my last assembly was spent playing “Lord Dismiss Us With Thy Blessing” instead of crying at the back with my contemporaries. My most fond memories are of the Sixth Form Review that we produced in 1970 just before we left. Simon Tyler and Alan Monk sat on stage, on a very hot night, and slowly drank a pint of beer each during a skit on “Treasure Island”. John Macdonald ran about shouting “the black spot” in his wonderful Scottish accent, Mr Thomas conducted twelve sixth form boys, who were wearing caps and shorts, in “The Twelve Days of Christmas” just as he did with the first year boys every Christmas at the Carol Service, and Mr Davis conducted “Up With the Jolly Roger Boys” with a hook attached to his hand. That is a night I shall never forget.

There don’t seem to be any bad times in my memory of my time at St Edward’s. It was a wonderful school with wonderful caring teachers, and how glad I am that I didn’t go to Pettits Lane!