Some Things That Just Don't Add Up....

Mr. Griffin with a healthy teacher-pupil relationship

This blog was inspired by Stuart Webb's recent post on Facebook.

Before I even set a foot in Samuel Southall Secondary School, I had friends and family who told me all sorts of tales about the various teaching staff at Sammies. These stories descended in incrementing levels of ridiculousness, from the half-baked to bordering on the absurd.....

Some selected stories and nicknames I was told about Sammies teachers included:

• How strict Mr. Ryder was 
• The multitude of school stories that Larry Farmer would tell in class 
• How big the nose on 'Beaky' Jones really was 
• How Mr. Davies used to mumble and how everyone called him 'Hitler'
• How big Mr. Pester's hands were
• Miss Lynch apparently had breast cancer
• How the headmaster Mr. Cooper apparently had a bent neck, walked funny because he was missing a lung?
• How Mrs. Chalmers wore pregnancy dresses
• 'Piggy' Poyner
• 'Geraldo' Hill
• How soft and effeminate Mr. Jelfs was.

I took on board all these stories, anecdotes, assorted character assassinations and headed into my first years with many preconceived stereotypes of all the teachers. Throughout my years at Elbury Mount Infant and Junior School I never really played up any teachers, gave them back chat, or ridiculed them. I've never really been what you might call a 'model pupil', but there again I haven't been disruptive or unruly. For some bizarre inexplicable reason all of this changed at Sammies.

Jo Tryner and Shelley Smith outside S-Block

Maths has always been my weakest subject, from my earliest school days I've struggled with numbers. My arithmetical problems began at Elbury Mount Infants. We used to do the very basic of sums in class, and once we completed these sums we were allowed to go outside and play. In my particular case, when I went outside it didn't take too long for someone to call me back in because I got the sums wrong! When I was in the 4th years at Elbury Mount Juniors our headmaster, Mr. Brooks tried to teach a group of us long division. It wasn't until 2008 (when I did a numeracy course) that I finally learned how to do long division properly! I knew that maths was my weakest subject, so bearing that in mind, you might have thought that I would have tried a bit harder at maths? But my ideas of hard work changed once I walked into Mr. Jelfs maths class..........

I wasn't entirely sure what I was going to expect when I first stepped into Mr. Jelfs's classroom, particularly after hearing all kinds of wild stories about him. His classroom was in the old school building, opposite the science block, down the steps and was the classroom immediately before Mr. Wallace's room, 1-1 got to do maths with Mr. Wallace.

Two figures of authority

My first impressions of Mr. Jelfs wasn't exactly what you might call flattering. He wore an old faded fawn coloured suit, complete with elbow patches. This threadbare suit had all the tell tale signs of where certain portions had been stitched up to make do, he appeared like he hadn't shaved, and when he handed out papers and books you could see that he had dirty nails.  Mr. Jelfs seemed badly put together, but two things were very prominent. Firstly, there was this mop of hair which had a comedic kink running through it, and then there was this nervous heightened state of awareness that reflected in the expression on his face. He'd be seemingly confident and in control, then the next minute he'd be on edge and a complete nervous wreck.

The first thing Mr. Jelfs did when he got us all in his class was try to flog us his diaries. I, of course bought a yellow diary, which was the colour of my house, Wulstan. I sat next to Stuart Webb, who was a calming influence on me. Stuart was always good for maths information, he would let me copy his work, his handwriting was elaborate, very neat and almost pristine compared to my scribble! We were bunched in a group of tables by the window, which looked out across the corridor, where you could see the lucky few walking around the school who didn't have to suffer this calculus related lassitude. Sat behind me, and in front of me were fellow inmates Neil Jones, Steven Johnston, Beaver, (Simon Smith) Kevin Stride, Andrew Orr and David Burley.

At first our lessons were routine, we had plenty of coursework and there wasn't really any problems, but after a while what little détente there was had evaporated and discipline in the classroom had started to dissipate. Two major contributing factors were Carl Lloyd and Ashley Shearon. One day Ash started to answer Mr. Jelfs back, then Carl would go that degree further, and then even I started to give him grief? Our collective cheek escalated until Ash, Carl and myself really started to really give Mr. Jelfs a lot of grief until he was almost crying. At the time I thought it was the funniest thing to watch Mr. Jelfs lose control of our class, where it was the talk of a lot of us in about how things had started to deteriorate in maths. I think the whole situation reached its peak when Carl Lloyd really upset Mr. Jelfs, to the extent where he raised his hands in the air, clenched his fists and shook them at Carl's face and screamed, "Lloyd.....I'm bigger, and I'm stronger than you......" The entire classroom was in fits of laughter, even though we did try to stop ourselves from laughing out really loud and making a bad situation turn into a farce. Mr. Jelfs had completely lost it and things had really started to spiral out of control.

Beauty and the Beast: Joanne Honeywood and Mr. Tavendar

Carl and Ash eventually ended up on report but for some reason I escaped it. Mr. Jelfs had threatened the three of us with detention for ages, but we ignored it, we took no notice and treated his threats with contempt. I had a bizarre incident when I confronted Mr. Jelfs in his classroom at playtime regarding a detention and I got into a slanging match with him about a detention. Then one Tuesday afternoon we were in metalwork with Mr. Alderwick, the previous day Mr. Jelfs threatened the three of us with another detention, which we duly ignored. This time we were in our metalwork class (the last lesson of the day) we were told that Mr. Jelfs was waiting for us outside the class! The metalwork shop was by an embankment that lead to the smaller playground, so I decided to jump over the fence where I hopefully escape and go home. Poor old Carl and Ash caught caught up in the crowd outside the metalwork class and had no escape, but I managed to get far away from the madding crowd!

In our second years Mr. Jelfs started to teach us physics. This was mainly about optics (not about shorts measures on a bar!) We were in the classroom/lab (in the science block) where Mrs. Cook would later teach us chemistry. I basically started where I left off in maths. Every lesson I would do my best to mock Jelfs, give him cheek, disrupt the class, and generally make Mr. Jelfs's life a misery. Then the most obvious of things started to happen. Physics was probably one of my most favourite subjects, we had a test and I got some of the worst marks I had ever got in a test! It was then that it dawned on me that my grades was slipping and I questioned why it was that I was being so disruptive? The only person who was losing in all of this was me, I realised that it was time to get back into my studies and stop being such an idiot. Mr. Jelfs had ordered me to sit at the side desks (by the windows on the right) on my own because I was being so disruptive. I went into class one morning, sat with everyone else and I didn't say a word. At the end of the lesson Mr. Jelfs came over to me and said that I could continue sitting in the main bunch of desks, (mainly because I didn't annoy him and play him up!) which I did, and my days of playing up Mr. Jelfs had stopped as quickly as they had began.

I suppose the sad thing about all of this was that I wasn't the only person to do this to Mr. Jelfs. As a lot of you will testify to the fact that sometimes there is no rhyme or reason to what you do when you're a young kid? I'm not saying that in the sense of using it as an excuse, or defence, or some kind of moral get-out clause for doing bad things. Hindsight is 20/20, and many is the time when I've thought about the multitude of stupid things I've done, and had recriminations about. I never started up in Mr. Ryder's art class, or even in Mr. Fisher's RE class? A contributing factor may have been because of all the stories that I was told, and the reasoning that it was just the normal thing to do, and maybe seeing the chink in Mr. Jelfs's armour made me and the many others (like Darren Clay for instance!!) want to exploit it?

Wimpy!!

For a time Mr. Mills (he was our careers officer before Mr. Hill) taught us English language. He would always instruct us (as a class) to put chewing gum back in it's wrapper (where we got it from) and stick it in the bin! Mr. Mills was a good teacher but he had one trait. When he talked he would utter words from out of the side of his mouth. One Tuesday morning we were in a side classroom in S-Block, which was Mrs. Carroll's old room, (which was next to Miss Seddon's old classroom) I was sat next to Troy Jauncey, who was always fun to be around. Troy had a great sense of humour, and one of his many jokes came at Mr. Mills expense. There was a character in Popeye cartoons called Wimpy and this cartoon character would talk out of the side of his mouth, a trait which didn't go wasted on Troy! So consequently when we were in Mr. Mills class he would shout, "W-I-M-P-Y!!!!" Usually I would try to contain my giggling, but on this particular morning I couldn't restrain my laughter. The more that Troy did it the louder my giggle got, and the louder my giggle was the more Troy would do it! This was going on throughout the lesson, and Mr. Mills started to get more and more flustered and uncomfortable as Troy kept saying, "Wimpy...." All of a sudden, right in front of the whole class, Mr. Mills just decided to walk out. We were all sat there (about 15 or so of us) looking at each other. After 5 minutes or so there was no sign of him, then after 10 to 15 minutes or so we realised that there was something seriously wrong. Eventually someone came to our room and told us that Mr. Mills wouldn't be coming back. That was the last class I ever saw Mr. Mills teach.

Jo Tryner Mark Zikking Arlette Mayo Wayne Cook Ruth Rice Sharron Price with S-Block in the background

Hitler: As if you didn't know already

My form teacher in 1-2 was Mr. Davies, who taught geography, everyone in school simply knew him as "Hitler". One day he went on a huge tirade in class. Presumably someone had upset him to the extent where he was about to go on a rant, and in his own unique style he decided to take it out on us.....Mr. Davies mumbled a lot, and this compounded with his deep welsh accent made him virtually indecipherable at times, but on this occasion he shouted, "Some people think I'm a fascist!" which everybody understood, and consequently a tsunami of universal snigger carried across our entire class.

When I was in the fourth and fifth years at Elgar my form tutor was Mrs. Rogers, and on many occasions she had individual and collective arguments with us all in our form, but one day she picked on the wrong one! Richard Weston was one of the most amiable of people I had ever met at Elgar. Rich came from Perdiswell, so he was someone who I had never met before, he was quiet, and once he got to know you he was great to be around. Richard was a good mate to me in my last two years at Elgar. One morning Mrs. Rogers got into an argument with Rich. What the argument was exactly about I don't know, but Mrs. Rogers decided to criticise Rich's attire and school uniform, which was ridiculous, because Rich was always smart, but bear in mind that Mrs Rogers herself looked like a cross between a sloane ranger and a bad imitation of Fanny Craddock, complete with the tacky turned up collar on her blouse. When Mrs. Rogers finished with her tirade it was Richard Weston's turn to speak. He looked her up and down and started to critique her outfit, and he did it in such a way and to an extent that she got flustered and was embarrassed! I don't think I could ever do justice to the way that Richard Weston put Mrs. Rogers in her place that morning, but she got exactly what she asked for that morning.

I've had more than my fair share of mental and verbal abuse at school. Much, much more, in fact I still do. I had problems in the first years with our year head Mrs. Hullah. My mum and the headmaster got involved. I also had problems in the fifth years with my chemistry teacher Mr. Phillpotts. I don't know whether you'd take the attitude of  'what goes around comes around' or if you'd say that it's all wrong?

I recently completed a college assignment in advanced designing of statistical spreadsheets, which contained quite a lot of maths formulas. As I sat there at my desk with my head in my hands trying to get my head around various maths theories, I wished that I'd paid more attention in maths!! Then I thought about how Mr. Jelfs could have a laugh at my expense for all my maths related woes!! But in all honesty I don't think he was the sort of teacher that would do that.

Sink Or Swim.......

Worcester Swimming Baths

It was an uncharacteristically bright Sunday October afternoon. I was going to make my way from my house via Lansdowne Road to play a matinee game of skittles at the Saracens Head pub in The Tything. As anyone who's tried parking around The Tything will tell you, it's a complete nightmare! So I decided to get on shanks's pony and take a diversion via Memory Lane. I've driven down Lansdowne and through the Tything in the car quite a few times, but I haven't actually walked around there in quite a few years, so this particular Sunday was promising to be a potential voyage of discovery. Maybe in this world of constant upheaval it would be yet another account that will testify to loss and perpetual local change? But In any case I started out from Astwood Road, and then took the right at the bottleneck crest of Rainbow Hill and headed down the sharp incline towards the canal.

As I walked down Lansdowne Road memories began flooding back like the trickling tide of waves on a distant bygone shore. My first innocuous memory was of Lasletts, the chip shop down on Laslett Street which had a reputation as being a great chippy but seemingly melted away from our consciousness into the twilight zone of chippy folklore. As I sauntered along Lansdowne I remembered Julie Creese and her brother Steve, who played the lead role of Oliver in the same titled musical at Sammies. This indirectly lead to another memory, that of seeing Steven Smith on stage in the main hall at Sammies/Elgar. He played the part of a Victorian bobby, complete with a truncheon, pork chop sideburns, a handlebar moustache, and a copper's helmet! How ironical was it that Steve would have played the old bill!!

Back in the day at Elbury Mount (in the mid-to-late 70's) we used to go swimming of a morning (on a Tuesday, Wednesday or a Thursday) at about 10 AM, where we would pile into the back of an Astons coach parked outside on Langdale Drive. We would make our way to the swimming baths on Sansome Walk, via Ambleside Drive, Troutbeck Drive, Tunnel Hill, Astwood Road and then down Lansdowne Road. The highlight of my morning was going down Tunnel Hill, where I would look across to see the railway yard at Tunnel junction leading across to Worcester Shrub Hill Station. The last great funny moment was riding over the canal bridge on Lansdowne Road when we were all launched in the air! When I saw the front of the Forester Arms pub I knew that our roller-coaster ride aboard Astons Coaches was over and we would all have to line up and make our way into the chlorine tinged swimming baths!

I made my way over the canal bridge at the bottom of Lansdowne Road. Crossing the bridge was a dull, lifeless affair compared to the exhilaration which I had enjoyed so dearly back in the day, when riding in a coach full of effervescent Elbury Mount children. By the side of the canal bridge is a children's playground, offset by a 5-a-side football field, and fenced away off of a cricket/football/rugby field owned by the Grammar School. I would ride past the field on our Astons coach and observe the young white cricket knights, suited up in a gladiatorial duel with red leather ball and a cricket bat. It was an exclusive club of the type that I was curious to watch but would never be invited to join.

By contrast to the exhilaration of Elbury Mount, Swimming at Samuel Southall Secondary School was a totally different kettle of fish. Our swimming class was first thing on a Monday morning. We had to make our own way down to the swimming baths, and in my case I would try to find the quickest way down there. One week I would walk down Lansdowne Road and the next week I would go via Church Road and Vigornia Avenue in a futile attempt to shave 5 minutes off my journey.

I walked up a footpath and an alley which led through Chestnut Walk. I then proceeded to take a right and walk up Northfield Street, it was then that I realised that I'd missed the swimming baths and was heading towards St. Mary's Church. The long spire of St. Mary's was the exclamation mark compared to the sedateness of the church hall. Back in the late 70's Simon Peters, Dave Taylor (on occasion) and myself, would go to judo practice at St. Mary's on a Monday and a Wednesday evening. Much to my chagrin the Worcester Judo Society had made way and moved away many years ago. It was now being occupied by Miss. Mountshaft and the Worcester Operatic Society, complete with greek theatre masks!

The skittles game which was the sole reason for my walk was a complete disaster, and it wasn't entirely unexpected. The team we played were called The Assassins, and we were duly dispatched! We've played this team before and if I'm honest I knew it was going to end up in a comprehensive defeat, it was just a matter of how many points we could salvage.

I made my way back from the Saracens Head, and this time I walked via St. Oswald's Road. At Elbury Mount we were taught about St. Oswald and St.Wulstan, so consequently I never got fed up of pointing out the street sign named after the canonised ex-bishop of Worcester! The Foresters Arms is still standing by the swimming baths but it has long ceased functioning as a public house. I looked over at the swimming baths and re-imagined all of us in the first years at Sammies, all bunched together in groups going over all the various TV programmes we had seen over the weekend. I'd be talking to Kevin Stride about the TV sci-fi series Buck Rogers! I'd being trying to do a naff impersonation of Twiki, ("Bee-dee Bee-dee Bee-dee Bee-dee Bee-dee! How about a surprise party?") and Kev would duly reply with his best Wilma Dearing impersonation! ("That's a good idea Twiki!!") That's the kind of ridiculous stuff we used to do to pass the time away!! (That's the kind of ridiculous stuff I still do.....) There was also Beaver, (Simon Smith) Stuart Webb, and many other of my mates from our class and from the first years who were all congregated together on that dank Monday morning stuck on a ramp trying to get in the line to get that all important locker space in the changing rooms!

The swimming part of the morning was peripheral. I enjoyed swimming practice when we actually got to swim, but the lessons I had were poor. Our instructor was the charmless PE teacher Mr. Johnson. He was about as charismatic as a pornstached dalek in flip flops, and had the vocal skills to match. Where everyone else would get to do all the exciting stuff like passing proficiency tests and swimming in their pyjamas, we were given a polystyrene float and told to, "Keep paddling" by some self-absorbed autocrat in sports shorts. 

For me, the highlight of the morning came after the swimming, where I would catch up with all my old mates from Elbury Mount who were scattered within the masses in the foyer. This sometimes consisted of watching Chris Doughty doing The Times crossword with Chris Chellacombe and Richard Oliver at his side desperately trying to decipher the cryptic clues! Sometimes I would also see my other mates from Elbury. There was only Andrew Orr and myself in 1-2, and I missed my old mates from Elbury, so it was awesome to see them again.

So after swimming we would have to make our way back to the school, and let's be honest, nobody was in a rush to go back to school!

Steven Smith (without the mutton chop sideboards!) and Richard Ellis

My own walk back home took me down Chestnut Street. Back when I was in the second years at sammies a new kid called Richard Ellis started in 2-2. After meeting this kid in a blue ski jacket, who was one of the only people who I ever knew who not only went on a skiing holiday, but went in the Dolomites! I knew this kid was going to be my new project! So I showed him the ropes and kept him away from some of the more troublesome influences in our school!! I used to pop over to Reggie's house every now and then, but I couldn't remember whether he lived over on Arboretum Road? I knew for sure that it wasn't down in Chestnut Street!

So I made my way back up Lansdowne Road and was thankful that it wasn't raining on my walk back home. One of the more disturbing images in my mind of swimming was watching our history teacher Mr. Whittle strolling around the swimming baths in a pair of Speedos.... In our first years, history was the last lesson of the day on a Monday afternoon. After watching Whittle parading around with his posing package on a Monday morning it was somewhat disconcerting to see him trying to teach us about prehistoric man on a Monday afternoon before home time.....

Sunday's skittle match was a loss, but the walk down Lansdowne Road through Chestnut Street, then around some of my earliest Elbury Mount/Samuel Southall Secondary School memories was priceless. We were all thrown in at the deep end in the Autumn of 1980, and it was comforting to see that some of us treaded water better than others. 

Art For Art's Sake & Who Art In Heaven? (17)

This blog was partly inspired by Steve Johnson!

Back in the day I used to be an aspiring artist of sorts. I enjoyed drawing, doodling and mainly copying other artists sleevework! In all honesty I was never really anything less than average, but that small fact never stopped me from trying to copy album sleeves, super heroes, Christmas cards and all other manner of 'artsy' related stuff!

In the first years at Sammies, my art teacher was the stringent Mr. Ryder, whose classroom was based in the very top left-hand corner of M-Block. It was easy to find Mr. Ryder's classroom, all you had to do was follow the medieval artwork up the stairs, and as if that wasn't enough, the closer you got to Mr. Ryder's classroom the stronger the smell of pipe tobacco became! Mr. Ryder wasn't exactly known for his love of modern art or for his sense of humour either.

Stood outside M-Block (L-R) Maxine Harris Joanne Tryner Phil Young and Sharron Price

On the day of our first art class, we (our form 1-2) were all collectively nervous at the prospect of having Mr. Ryder as our art teacher. As we entered his classroom for the first time there was the nervous fumbling as we reluctantly took our seats, quickly followed by a collective hush. It felt like we were the taciturn congregation at Mr. Ryder's medieval chapel, who were about to experience the full wrath of Mr. Ryder's fire and damnation brought down upon us. Mr. Ryder didn't look like your average stereotype of an art teacher. He looked more akin to being a straight man character from out of an Ealing comedy. He was immaculately turned out, with a precise beige checked sports jacket, razor-sharp pressed black trousers, finely polished brown brogues, a yellow waist coat, and secured with a windsor knotted old-school striped club tie. He also had an immaculate comb over which was camouflaged by an impeccable waxed moustache.

Our first lesson consisted of Mr. Ryder delivering a pre-rehearsed speech, which touched on many topics, featuring the totalitarian discipline which Mr. Ryder was going to enforce on us, and then as if to accentuate this he made everyone jump as he whacked a table with his 'instrument of terror,' a stick which resembled the base of a small fake wooden-fibreglass fishing rod. He then went off on a tangent about modern life, which was basically a rant about 70's celebrities, and in particularly a thinly veiled venomous attack on Jimmy Savile and how many times Savile had dyed his hair in an attempt to gain notoriety! This must have irked him for many a time, but was wasted on a classroom full of jumpy eleven year olds who only knew that Jimmy Savile could and only would 'Fix It' for them.

Our art classes had all the atmosphere of a wake at a co-operative funeral home, and consisted with all of us sat quietly at our desks trying to express ourselves in a edgy, nervous way, which wasn't exactly conducive for producing art . For my first art exam I had drawn a picture of acrobats, which at the completion, I felt very happy with about the end product! I thought that I was going to get top marks! When I got my my results I couldn't have been more wrong! I got a disappointing C+. Apparently Mr. Ryder wasn't that keen on Marvel comic art, and looked down upon the way that I outlined the muscle definition of my acrobats with a black pencil.....

In the weeks preceding Christmastime in 1981 a Christmas Fair was announced at Sammies, and in conjunction an art competition was also announced to produce a poster which would be used as a flyer for the forthcoming Christmas Fair. I fancied my chances of winning this competition, mainly because of my talent for copying Christmas cards! So I did a felt-tipped coloured collage, based around three distinctive Christmas cards. You could have knocked me down with a feather when it was announced that I had won the art competition........

Fast forward to 1983 and I was trying to get an O-level at art. My art teacher was still Mr. Ryder and the classroom atmosphere was still as oppressive as ever. Part of my art homework was to draw a picture of a relative, which was something that I should have done but eventually didn't getting around to completing. So I did what I do best, I copied a picture of Ian Craig-Marsh on a Heaven 17 record sleeve from a track entitled "I'm Your Money". / Are Everything.

From L-R: Glenn Gregory Ian Craig-Marsh and Martyn Ware

I brought my picture to school and tried to keep a low profile about the origin of my forgery! Usually nobody really cared about anything I did, but on this day my mate Darren Wells took some interest in my picture. For some reason I decided to keep the origin of my forgery a secret, mainly because I thought if I told the lads in my form that I made the whole thing up then I wouldn't live it down! So I proceeded to tell Darren that it was a friend of my dad's who sat for a portrait. The more Darren asked me about Ian Craig-Marsh the deeper the hole got that I was digging myself into! I commented on his suit, his hair and his age and lied through my teeth.

I've carried the guilt of that tissue of lies for almost 27 years now! So if you're reading this Darren, and if you remember the conversation we had then accept my sincerest apologies.

And as for the art competition back in 1981. My 'prize' was a 99p selection box which I was presented with by our headmaster Mr. Powell on the last Friday morning assembly before Christmas. My name was called, so I had to go on-stage in the main hall to collect my 'prize'. I confidently strided up to the steps to the stage, and in my own inimitable style, tripped on the final step right in front of the whole school........

There's an old saying that, "Pride goes before the fall" and what little pride I had at the time melted away in front of a guffawing school assembly.

Embarassing moment: #873

In Memoriam To Maxine Michaela

In memoriam to Maxine Michaela

It is with a heavy, sorrowful heart that I write my blog today. In light of the news of the passing of my old Samuel Southall school friend, Maxine Michaela. 

My first memory of Maxine was when she started out in the first years in 1-1 at Samuel Southall in 1980. Whilst I used to spend my break times roaming aimlessly around the playground, I'd often notice Maxine chatting away and having fun with her friends. She was always popular, and more often than not if Maxine spoke to me, she would always have something smart to say! She used to play me up, but it was never in a nasty way and in any case I was too shy back then. 

Maxine was very distinctive in her own wonderful, unique way. She was dark and very attractive, with the most beautiful brown eyes. But Maxine was much, much more than that. she was intelligent, and very sharp, and as if to compliment these virtues she was also outgoing, and possessed an acutely spontaneous, bubbly sense of humour!  

Isn't it strange how you can remember someone for a seemingly innocuous detail or feat? If there's one thing I associate Maxine with at Sammies was her ability to dance! I'm not entirely sure why? But I think it may go back to when she won a dancing competition in the first years at Sammies. But ever since then when I think about Maxine I seem to recollect at her ability to dance!

It was heart-warming to see Maxine again after so many years, and I cherish the time that she was on Facebook.

We all (willingly or unwillingly) advance on our life journey together. For some of us its a sprint, in the sense that our life is fast-paced, and have very little time to look back. Whilst for others its a slow arduous marathon. But for all of us it is a minefield, which at times we tend to tip-toe through in a state of self-induced somnambulism. In my personal instance I forget how tenuous life really is. We get complacent and take things for granted. This comes at a high price, and the reality check can often be very tragic and invariably comes at the expense of our loved ones. 

Maxine was an amazing person. She had an infectious personality, which radiated around everyone she touched. She may not be with us now, but Maxine's memory will live on in all of our hearts.

My heartfelt condolences go out to Maxine's family, particularly to Maxine's gift to the world, her beautiful daughter. Who is as angelic as her mother.

Maxine with her beautiful daughter.

Maxine Michaela 1969-2010 

Rest in peace Maxine. 

Our loss is heaven's gain.

Fourth Year Kitchen Sink Memories......

Back in those heady days in 1983, I was at the beginning of my fourth year. The newly risen phoenix of Elgar High School had failed to soar spectacularly out of the cold dead ashes of Perdiswell and Sammies. In the dull afterglow of this befuddled amalgamation, was an administrative nightmare that consisted of all of us in our year being split up into our various subject classes, combined with the seemingly random form classes that we randomly scattered into.

In my instance, I had to endure Physics with the torpid Mr. Tavendar, Chemistry with the pedantic Mr. Cummings, Maths with the abrasive Mr. Powney, English Language with the sardonic Mrs. Davies, English Literature with the adept Mrs Clayton, Art with the austere Mr. Ryder, History with the drab Mrs Morphy and Geography with the indecipherable Mr. Davis. My form tutor was Mrs. Rogers, who 'taught' domestic science (a euphemism for cookery) and from my own first-hand experience was at best a mediocre cook disguised as a second rate teacher, who looked every inch the poor Elgar High School middle-class knock-off of Fanny Cradock, which had gone badly-badly wrong. Amongst others who were in our form were Robert Lewis, Paul Gummery, Darren Wells, Richard Weston, Michael Barrow and Phil Young. If I'm completely honest, I was never at ease in that form. All my mates from my third years (in our form 3B) had been split up, and I always felt isolated, nervous and on edge. Probably with good cause too! Our classroom at that time was in the science block on the second floor, in one of those domestic science laboratories which was really a low-tech kitchen in disguise.

Joanne Honeywood, Joanne Powell, Jo Tryner and Sarah Greatbatch on location at the Science Block

During the summer break my mum had bought me a coat from Kays, it wasn't anything special, but it did the job and came in handy. One innocuous lunchtime I returned back to school from home. As I walked around the science block I heard voices calling me from above, as I briefly glanced upwards I noticed that whoever they were had something sinister.....It was a fully loaded bottle of Fairy Liquid, and before I could say "Now hands that do dishes can feel soft as your face...." I was covered in washing-up liquid. It was worse enough that the washing up liquid was all over my coat, but it had also got in my eyes, and was pretty sore. I looked up, and perched above, hanging out of the window were the laughing faces of my baby-faced Fairy Liquid assassins.....It was Rob Lewis and Phil Young.

A few days after my 'squirting' I was making my way home from school. It had started to rain as I trudged down Church Road, it was just my luck that it was a sharp, heavy downpour. I felt thankful that I took my new coat with me! As the rain started to get heavier I noticed something peculiar about my coat. It was a solid navy blue colour, and as I traipsed in the rain strange things started to happen. I looked down and certain areas of my coat were starting to go a strange white colour. As the rain got heavier the navy blue of my coat started to exude a rainbow tinged bubbly froth. It then began to dawn on me that it might be the Fairy Liquid that Rob Lewis and Phil Young had doused me with. The more it rained the worse it got

By the time I had got down to the junction of Church Road and Astwood Road it looked as though I had contracted a particularly severe case of rabies, and couldn't wait to get home and get out of the suds  rain.

From that day on I never trusted anyone in my form, and even to this day I have an irrational fear of soap suds and washing up liquid commercials......

By the way that was embarrassing moment: #1048

The Origin of the name "Chalky" and the 'Webb' of intrigue.......

Back in those early heady days at Sammies, we were preoccupied with such pressing matters as getting pole position in the PE changing rooms, by queueing up outside of there a good ten minutes before the bell rang at the end of the mid morning playtime. Making fun of the latest on going repairs to Mr. Jelfs war torn, patched up rag-tag suit, and wondering how on earth Mr.Whittle got away with wearing those Speedos to our swimming lessons on a Monday morning?  

Another mate from back in the day who I remember very well is Stuart Webb. More or less from the start of my first year at Sammies I used to sit next to Stuart in class, and was transfixed to watch his handwriting. I'm left handed, so consequently my scribing made Egyptian hieroglyphics look like block capitals! Stuart's handwriting on the 'other hand' was impeccable. So where I would be berated by Mrs. Crisp in english for handing in work which was indecipherable, Stuart's work always got all the plaudits!

Mr. Stuart Webb

It just so happened that unbeknown to us, that both our dads worked on the railway. Stuart's dad, Ron had worked on there for quite a few year years, and my dad also was known to do some railway work from time to time on a few occasions! When the day came when we asked each other what our dads did for a living, it was a pleasant surprise, and was great to go home and ask my dad about Stuart's dad.

my dad was economical, and told me that Stuart's dad was a character and etc... So the following day I went to school and we both regaled in stories about our dads. But Stuart went one better than I did. Ron had told Stuart about our family nickname "Chalky" It seemed that from that day forward I had transcended from being plain old "Alan Richard" and became Chalky across the school. It didn't really matter to the haters either, when they slagged me off they even replaced Alan with Chalky! I eventually got to go Stuart's palatial house and met Stuart's dad, who I thought was amazing. I came home and was full of stories about how great Stuart's dad was and etc. Stuart tried to show me how to fish at the canal, but after my line became so entangled past the point of no return we gave it up as a bad job!! 

At eighteen I started working on the railway. I got to meet Stuart's dad Ron once again. back then, I just started on the railway as an engineer, I was awkward, shy and extremely nervous, but Ron was really good to me. He helped me out, and gave me sound advice when I needed it. I was very grateful for Ron's help because it helped keep me in a job, and I was always appreciative of that fact. Ron was always very proud of Stuart. When I would ask him about Stuart, Ron's face would light up as he talked about him.

It was a very happy surprise to see Stuart on Facebook. If you happen to read Stuart's posts then you'll know how important Stuart's son is to him. I can't help but be touched by Stuart's passion and devotion.

If only I could have come up with a great nickname for Stuart Webb?

Howabout "doting father?"

That's probably the greatest compliment I could ever pay you mate ; )  

Thirty Years On: September 1980 - July 2010 & The 25th Anniversary Reunion.....

A long time ago in a secondary school far far away......... 


My earliest recollection of having to go to Samuel Southall Secondary School, or "Sammies" as it was simply know as to everyone else in Worcester, was waking up on one groggy September morning in 1980, then subsequently closing my eyes and trying to forget that I had to be at Sammies in the mid-morning to begin my secondary school education. 


My transition from junior school to secondary school wasn't exactly a smooth one. At Elbury Mount I was in my comfort zone, I knew everyone there and to a certain extent at such an early age I pretty much liked all my school mates and teachers. (with the obvious exception of Mrs. Evans) In the springtime of my last (fourth) year at Elbury I failed the eleven-plus exam, and at the tender age of eleven I was convinced that my academic life was all but over. Instead of going to the Worcester Grammar School with all the clever kids and learning interesting subjects like latin, and greek mythology I would have to slum it out at Sammies, maybe learn some french swear words and be 'factory fodder' like everyone else. So the idea of changing schools and taking that relatively short walk to Merrimans Hill didn't exactly fill me with any kind of excitement. I'm the youngest of six, so there wasn't really any exciting school uniform shopping to do! In fact my mum ordered the maroon jumpers and white shirts from Kays catalogue, the rest was hand me downs.


Just shy of thirty years later, on a humid Friday afternoon, I was sat in a college classroom full of computers. I was caught in my usual catatonic state of indecision. I kept thinking to myself, "Do I want to go to the reunion or not?" I had exchanged texts and called one of my oldest and coolest friends from Elbury and Sammies, Mr. Wayne 'Cookie' Cook to see if he was going, but because of Wayne's job, (he's a top banana installing and maintaining boilers) he wasn't sure whether he could make it or not to the reunion. So I thought to myself, "If Wayne goes then I'll definitely go!" So I departed from the college of technology ("The Tech") and headed across town to TK Maxx where I proceeded to spend the best part of an hour trying to decide whether to buy a t-shirt, or maybe take the plunge and get myself a polo shirt. As my wife will quite happily testify to, indecision really is my middle name.... So after much soul searching I settled on a polo shirt, then plodded over to Boots to buy a replacement battery and a film for my camera, and got open-wallet surgery by a chemist in the process. My journey home from town consisted of being slumped on an overcrowded Blackpole bus lost in contemplation, peering out of the window whilst seemingly staring through the various buildings and pedestrians waltzing their way around downtown Worcester. I later sat alone in my bedroom staring transfixed at my shirt, whilst trying to think of a thousand excuses not to go to the reunion. Cookie didn't call me back so I guessed that he was delayed at work. From that moment of clarity I more or less knew that I would be going on my own. 


From the earliest stages of my childhood I've been shy, I'd like to think that if you know me well then you'll know that I'm kind of shy and reserved at first, but it's very different situation once I get to know a person! Its always been a major barrier of sorts for me. There has been many times where I've been walking around Sammies and I've wanted to say hello to people like Julie Foster or Shelley Smith, but could never muster the courage and consequently stayed insecure in my anonymity. One thing that hasn't changed over the years is that I have a strong dislike of walking into crowded places. I can't stand to walk into pubs and I won't even get on a bus if there are too many passengers on there. Its something that has stayed with me all my life and has remained constant. The fear of walking into a room full of people that I haven't seen for so long felt like the kind of hurdle that I didn't want to attempt to negotiate. In my time spent at Sammies (and later at Elgar) there were those of whom I liked, and those who made it their business to repeatedly ridicule and try to humiliate me, along with the many others who these clowns thought they were superior to. I would have sooner have stayed at home than have to endure someone who thought they were better than me, stand there and judge me, whilst wanting to know what I've got and whether or not it was more than what they had. I'm the kind of person that if I like you then I will do anything in my power for you. But on the other hand, if I don't like you then I don't want anything to do with you. Think of it as a "Keep your friends close, and your enemies further still" philosophy.


I scanned down at my list of friends from Elgar on Facebook. the quiet echo of my conscience went from a murmur to a whisper. The seeds of doubt were sewn earlier in the week when I got an e mail from Louise Peffers (Evans) asking if I was going on Friday. Louise is a dear friend of mine, who I hold in high esteem, and the thought of missing my old friend was difficult to take. I gazed at the profile pictures of my Facebook friends, I looked at the images of my friends like Steven Johnston, Angie Roddis, Neil King, Julie Foster, Vanessa Glisson, Susan Patrick, Shelley Smith, Sharron Price, Richard Ellis, Joanne Roberts, Steven Smith, Sharon Jackson and many other pics. They were all the motivation I needed.


As I walked up Astwood Road, I made it over the brim and took in the memories of my old school friends who lived in and around the hills (Rainbow and Tunnel) and passed a couple of my old school friends houses en route. As I sauntered down Rainbow Hill I felt the same range of emotions that I did back in September 1980 when I took the short, but steep amble from my domicile to  Samuel Southall Secondary School. I remember reluctantly stepping out of the front door of my house via Church Road and onwards to sammies. There was some kind of nervous anticipation, mixed with a foreboding sense of nausea at the thought of walking into a playground chocked full of rules, conformity and kids drowning in a sea of maroon blazers and other colour co-ordinated school attire. The forlorn figure of Simon Peters was the first person from Elbury Mount who I saw treading water in that maroon toned oceanic playground back in 1980. Fast forward to 2010, and it was the solitary figure of Mr. Neil King (Sid) who I caught in my peripheral vision standing outside the Pheasant.


I took a deep breath, and with trepidation, sauntered into the lion's den. I was immediately welcomed by a friendly face. I think if I ever wrote a script of who I wanted to meet first at the reunion, Steven Johnston might have very well have been one of suspects at the top of the list. Back in 1980, in that draughty Sammies main hall, our two names were called out, and we ended up amongst others in our form called 1-2. Steve was a great friend of mine at Sammies. In retrospect, I think that more or less all my class mates in 1-2 were on the whole a great bunch to be around. I was quite fortunate to have such a great number of characters in my class. Our form tutor was Mr. Davies, who to be fair, wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs to be around, and I think that helped galvanise us as well as a classroom full of nervous eleven year old kids who were slung together could be.

From Back L-R Mark Zikking, Arlette Mayo, Jo Roberts, Ruth Rice, Sharron Price, Wayne Cook.  

From the moment I set eyes on Steven Johnston the night just went from one hectic noise filtered conversation to another! It was great to meet and speak to old friends like Kevin 'Striddle' Stride and Mark Zikking. Striddle was also in 1-2 with me, and was and still is one of the most amazing characters I ever met at Sammies. Kevin was upbeat, and had a knack for making funny, astute observational comments about anything and everything. After an hour of listening to one of Mr. Whittle's historical diatribes Kev was just the tonic I needed!! What can I say about Mark Zikking? Well, I knew Zik from Elbury Mount, and we were always playing football together at in the Elbury playground. Zik is a lifelong Derby fan and always used to give me grief about Crystal Palace FC. Which is something he continues to do with aplomb!! On numerous occasions I've walked home from Sammies with Zik down Green Lane, and talked non-stop about music! Speaking as someone who spent his teenage years and beyond locked in a deathmatch with all music genres it was a revelation to listen to other informed opinions about music that I liked. I'm pretty certain that when I first to I went to Tramps on a Tuesday night, that I went down there with Zik! 

From L-R Darren Douglas, Sharron Price, Ian Bedford, Joanne Roberts, Paul Davies, Shelley Smith, Arlette Mayo

I think if I had to pick someone from my days at school with whom I have known near enough all my entire school life, then one of the first names would probably be Alan Mansell. I've known Alan from my days at Elbury Mount Infants, to Elbury Mount Juniors, and right through to his breakdance days, and to that dark day when he broke my nose with a cricket ball at Sammies! We were playing our cricket house matches, and Alan and myself were both in the Wulston cricket team. I had played cricket with Alan for quite a few years, and I knew that he could bowl the ball at a rapid pace, so bearing all that information in mind when he decided that he wanted to have a practice at bowling I told Alan that I would be his wicket keeper. Alan then tried to give me some good advice, and told me not to bother, but of course, I knew better. So Alan did his usual accelerated run up, stuttered at the line and in a high speed perpendicular motion delivered the ball down the pitch. I stood there hypnotically (or stupidly) as I seemed to be caught watching the flight of the cricket ball in slow motion as it made its way like an exocet missile to where I was stood. I stopped the ball, but unfortunately with my nose. All I heard was a dull thud, and a crack!! My nose then proceeded to explode and I had to go back to the changing rooms and mop the blood out of what was left of my nasal passages!! Our PE teacher at the time was Mr. Johnson. He told me to go to the changing rooms, get cleaned up and get changed. But I decided to go back down and still played the cricket game!! 
So the moral of the story is never volunteer to catch a cricket ball with Alan Mansell....


It was a real unexpected pleasure to meet both Diane Houldey and Claudine Jones again. Diane and Claudine were both stuck with me in 1-2!! Diane was quiet, but when she did speak, was engaging and had an incredible sense of humour. Claudine was kind of similar to Diane, she was tall and had the most beautiful natural wavy hair. When I saw Claudine for the first time at the reunion, her hair was straight. It felt so strange to see Claudine like that! Diane and Claudine still are absolutely gorgeous, and I enjoyed every minute in their company at the reunion.


Thinking about "gorgeous" reminds me of Joanne Roberts and Sharron Price. I have a lot of happy memories of Joanne and Sharron at Elbury Mount Infants and Juniors. Joanne Roberts was always a good friend to me, and someone whom I have always adored with deepest affection. As if to compliment this, Sharron Price is another person with whom I hold in the highest regard. Back in my Elbury days I used to like to talk to Sharron and Joanne. If there is such a thing as poetic justice then the fact that they are seemingly inseparable is proof enough for me. Every time I look at Joanne and Sharron, they seem to look more beautiful than before.


By contrast, Richard Ellis and Steven Smith are not beautiful!! Richard "Reggie" Ellis started at Sammies in the second years, as I think Steve may very well have done too? Mr. "Frank" Mason was our form tutor back then, and after meeting Richard for the first time I decided to take him under my wing!! I more or less shepherded Rich around the Sammies and kept him out of trouble until my work with Rich was done, and the rest is history!! As everyone knows Richard Ellis is an awesome character, and was a pretty decent footballer too. For as long as I knew Steven Smith at Sammies, I expected two things: No. 1. That whenever he saw me, he would call me "Chalky Whitely" (A character from out of Coronation Street....) and that one day Steve would be in the army. One Wednesday night, after playing skittles I was at the chip shop at Rainbow Hill, and I saw Steve. He told me about how he was in the army and etc. and quite honestly it came as no surprise! Sometimes you look at people and you just have an inkling that they're destined for great things, and Steven Smith would definitely be no exception to that case.


Back in my days at Elbury Mount, I heard a story about a scottish girl called Angie Roddis who was in Mrs. Evans class. With the possible exception of my mate Graham Dargie, I'd never really met anyone from Scotland before and was curious to see her!! I also heard that she could look after herself, and as a ten year old it kind of made me a little wary of Angie!! Can you imagine my surprise at that Elbury Mount playground when I first set eyes on this beautiful, darken haired angel.......? I thought surely this isn't the same Angie Roddis who'll beat me up? I think she probably did punch me at some point at some point! I was so happy to see Angie again at the reunion, and I actually plucked up the courage this time to speak to Angie too!

From L-R Julie Foster and Sharon Jackson

Julie Foster and Arlette Mayo were two enigmatic mysteries to me. In the fourth years Arlette was in my art class. (with Mr. Ryder) I'm not entirely sure if Julie was in any of my classes at all at Elgar? But to me Julie was instantly recognisable because her distinctive red coat, which seemed to compliment her beautiful blonde hair. I would often see Julie, and I seemed to always watch Julie in slow motion as she glided serenely like an earthbound seraphim around the school campus. 

Julie and her red coat!

One thing about Arlette which always stood out to me was her wonderful smile. Arlette was a very welcome diversion in art, along with Ying (now Theresa) who were a pleasurable alternative to listening to Wayne Jackman who was also in our class. Jacko's sole purpose in class was to distract me, and wanted me to do anything apart from art. He really didn't care less if he passed his art exam or not! By contrast to the serenity of Julie and Arlette, Jacko may probably have been some kind of mischievous imp/demon in human form!

From L-R Mark Zikking Jason Head Kevin Stride Sharron Higginson

One of my more embarrassing moments on the night was when I talking to someone who was telling me all about my family. I kept looking at her face, and thought to myself that that I knew her from somewhere, but I couldn't remember who it was? As I listened intently I kept trying to think of who she was, and in my desperation I decided to take a photo. I looked through the lens and was ready to take the photograph. From out of nowhere the name Anne-Marie Bornio (sp) jumped out at me!! Anne-Marie lived just up the road from my house, As if to compound my memory I even walked past Anne-Marie's house on my way down to the reunion!! But it wasn't until the very last second that I recognised her!! Anne-Marie still has that lovely wavy hair and beautiful eyes. Back when I used to see her at school and on Astwood Road I was captivated by her, but was far too shy to say anything...... 
Errr.....well that was embarrassing moment #560,034 on my list.

From L-R Sharron Jackson Kevin Stride Angie Roddis Mark Zikking

I think that maybe one of the most naturally gifted footballers I have ever seen at Sammies who I personally known was Darren Bullock. Back in my Elbury days I used to play football over Brickfields Park, and Darren was always over Brickies playing footie, and was usually along with Michael Perry!! Darren was an amazing character with it too. The last time I saw Darren he was at Worcester City FC. I was so chuffed for him when he played at Huddersfield and later at Swindon Town. Darren Bullock lived the dream and I have so much respect for that. Although I maybe a little jealous that Darren's got his own entry on Wikipedia!

Another happy surprise was seeing Zoran Vukasovic again. We were in the same group for english literature, and I always remember going with our english literature group, along with with Mrs. Clayton to watch the play Anne Frank at a school in Hagley. Let's be honest, when you're going to watch Anne Frank it's not exactly going to be a laugh a minute really is it? But Zoran was a great kid to be around, he has a very sharp wit, which kind of made the subject matter of the play a little more bearable, and lightened up the evening! Mark 'Den' Davis noticed that Zoran's dad had a van parked on Hollymount Road with the sign 'V. Vukas' painted on the side. And Den being Den, proceeded to remind Zoran about it at every opportunity he got! So consequently, whenever I travel through Hollymount Road I always think of Den, Zoran and his dad's van!


I always like to read Kevin Sanders-Broomfields's posts on Facebook, he has a keen sense of humour, and has makes interesting quips and observations which always seems to make me laugh. To see Kevin again was an immense pleasure for me. Much in the same vein is Paul 'Poopsy' Davies. I knew Paul from Elbury Mount, and in the aftermath of the Sammies and Perdiswell amalgamation,  I saw Paul again for the first time in years. He was and still is one of the finest characters at the new Elgar that I encountered. I think of all the people I've ever talked to on Facebook, Paul has to be one of the most quirky, truthful and down to earth mates I'll ever know. Paul more or less has the same warped sense of humour as I do, which is so very disturbing on many levels......


Ian "Beds" Bedford was in my physics group in our fourth and fifth year, along with our teacher Mr. Tavender, and with a strong supporting class that featured Darren Brown, Christopher Brace, Jason Head, Steven Cook, Steven McCarthy and occasionally, Victoria Ainsbury. As many of you know Ian has always been a very cool fella. For many a few years Ian sold me a lot of electrical gadgets in his time at Dixons. It was awesome to see Ian again, and to me he has hardly changed at all since I last saw him, and I mean that in a good way!  


Lisa Allen was someone who I tended to see around school, and was another person who used to live down the road from me. Usually if I saw Lisa she was in the company of another special person, Lorna (Heeks) Dangerfield. Its funny in a sense that I probably saw more of Lisa outside of school than in it!! It was a delight to see Lisa again, she still has that beguiling smile and beautiful eyes. Lisa was in good company at the reunion, Susan Patrick and Karen Smith were also at the reunion, along with Tina Tunstall,  Janice Kemp, Debi Smith, Jane Brace and Lynda Hodgetts. 


Darren Wells is another person I've known since my days at Elbury Mount, and in the last 2 years at Elgar we were in the same form together. Our form tutor was Mrs. Rogers, and in our class amongst others were Richard Weston, Rob Lewis, Paul Gummery, Phil Young  and Michael Barrow. 


Louise Peffers (nee Evans) is someone who I hold in high regard and have affectionate memories of. Back in my early childhood in the mid seventies I lived in Cherwell Close, and Louise lived three doors away from me. As a matter of fact Robbie Meiklejohn lived next door to Louise, and Karen Woodward lived next door to me! At the age of five or six, Louise and her mum taught me how to play cards, and in the process also taught me how to count!! I eventually moved away from Cherwell, and over to Astwood Road, then later when I started at Sammies I had the pleasure to meet Louise again. In my third year at Sammies friends like Louise, Richard Ellis, Michael Perry, and Chris Brace were very special to me, and that in no way diminishes my other school friends at Sammies. Thanks in part to Alan (Mansell) posting pictures of Louise (!!) on Facebook I was able to say hello and re-connect. I don't think she's changed one bit. I still think that she's grounded, and has a great attitude to life. It makes me so happy to see how well she has done well for herself. In retrospect it  made my going to the reunion all the more worthwhile just to see Louise.

In Memorium to David Ballard who sadly left us in 1996.

A poignant part of the night for me was talking to Nicolette Platt and Paul May. Nicolette is the sister of David Ballard who sadly died in 1996. Both David, Paul myself went to Elbury Mount together, we all lived by Brickfields Park, and used to get up to all sorts of mischief together!! Paul and I were both in Mr. Baker's class in my second years at Elbury Mount, and at a time where I was inserted into a classroom full of kids a year older than me, Paul was a great friend. Paul lived near opposite to Dave, so usually if I went to play footie with Dave then Paul was there abouts too!! I have so many happy memories of Paul and Dave, and his family. It was great to see Nicolette and Paul again, even if it did feel kind of bittersweet, but the memory of my mate David Ballard will live on.


            
There were those who I saw at the reunion, of whom I never got the chance to speak to. Two of those people in question were Sharon Jackson and Shelley Smith. I always take time to read both Shelley and Sharon's posts on Facebook. Their posts are of all descriptions, and usually they get quite a lot of feedback, which are fun to read. Admittedly Sharon was busy dancing when I saw her at the reunion, so I missed my opportunity to say hello! I missed Graziella Rainsford, who was one of the first people from Sammies who I first tried to look for on Facebook. I also missed Sharon Edwards and Vanessa Glisson, who also used to go to Elbury Mount back in the day. I saw Darren Poolton throughout the evening, and briefly got the chance to say hello to Tony Watson and Andrew Harper.   


September 1980 was the start of my secondary school journey, and to a larger extent the first tentative steps into a larger scary world. In July 2010 I relived those same lingering feelings of self-doubt, anxiety and insecurity as I did on my first day at school. In 1980 we were all young, irrelevant and naive. In 2010 we are all a lot older, worldly-wise and maybe just a little less naive. In 1980 I thought that my school life was over before it had begun. In 2010 I'm at college and wish that I'd have paid more attention at school. I tend to think of my friends at Sammies and later Elgar as being the bedrock of my childhood. They were what helped me make sense of a crazy world, and put up with my good moods and bad. After leaving school I never got any kind of closure. I've often spent many an hour thinking about my friends at Sammies and Elgar, (particularly when I was in the USA) and consequently ruing the fact that on my last days at Elgar and beyond, that I never took the time and effort to keep in touch with my friends. 


After temporarily overcoming my own personal demons like indecision and self doubt. I'm glad that I went to the reunion on Friday. It was nice to share in the memories of all my old school mates. It wasn't easy for any of us from 1980 to 1985. We were all rounded up and branded, then collectively catapulted on a crazy journey for five incident packed years of our lives. To encounter my old friends again and relive our shared past was an amazing experience which I will savour for many a day.


A big thank-you goes out to Ian Bedford and Alan Mansell for organising the reunion.


I would also like to express my gratitude to Julie Foster, Karen Smith and Rachael Hemming for allowing me to use their photos.