Thursday, July 06, 2006
Claremont School at 'The Close' Bradfield College, Bradfield, Berkshire. (In the UK).
From full three score years on.
It started for me in September 1942. The School had been relocated from its premises at Hove in Sussex. History had it that the day after it had moved out, a bomb had fallen on the building that the School had just vacated.
The Proprietor and Headmaster was Mr. William O'Byrne, a man of such immense height that every doorframe was an obstacle to his progress. He was assisted by his wife; his family also comprised their son Jeremy and daughter Andrea, who was in the care of her own Nanny. 'W.O'B' was a former Sussex Cricketer. Both he and his wife were well liked. Their School quite excellent in every way, despite that war raged around us.
There was a deputy Headmaster called Mr. Jenkins. He was an older man whose life style was maintained not through eating tintacks as legend had it, but medicated liquorice, were they called Negroids then? Any of his spare time was spent perfecting the manufacture of implements of chastisement. The culmination of design was a sort of paddle with a sprung handle, which added new meaning into 'this hurts me more than it hurts you'. Apart from on one occasion, the Headmaster W.O'B never actually beat anyone himself. The system was that during vacations, his son would tear sheets of paper into slips sufficiently large for notes to be written such as
'W.J.- {A.N. Other} Six hard- W.O'B'.
The idea was that after receiving such a voucher from the Head, one presented it to Mr. Jenkins for encashment.
It was either a matter of being instructed to bend over an old tea chest in his study, primarily there as a repository for Games equipment; or one was taken almost anywhere else that took his fancy. This might well be to a dormitory on the top floor of the building.
Mr. Jenkins was banker of credits, and distributor of the sweet ration. Remarkably this amounted to six sweets every Saturday. That was a lovely day. Classes would have finished before lunch. There were Soccer Matches against Schools such as the neighbouring St.Andrews Pangbourne; then run by the entirely successful Llewllyn Smith Family. Their children eventually distributing their talents as a Deputy Secretary at the Board of Trade and later Principal of St.Hilda's. Another was one of her Majesty's Ambassadors, whilst the youngest son a Professor, became Director General of CERN. Another daughter being completely normal married a schoolmaster at I believe Bradfield College.
Claremont had some sixty-six pupils, gathered from other Schools to form the homogenous whole. It was wonderful that our small establishment had thehospitality of Bradfield College. There we occupied 'The Close' and shared their magnificent Playing Fields. In those days some of the hinterland had been given over to Agriculture as a part of the war effort. We used their
Claremont had access to an area of woodland, which was quite alive with natural springs, all of us delighted to re-plumb their induced flow into Pools and waterfalls. My Source was the only one with a hot water flow. I had to show Mr.O'B precisely where I had found it. Apparently there were unaccountable problems with the hot water supplied to us by 'The House on the Hill' at the College. A mystery no longer! Not my fault I just found it Gov! The other thing that happened in the woods was the construction of camps, shelters that would have credited an African Safari guarding against lions. Our Digging for Victory took the form of a small Allotment for anyone interested in its maintenance.
Clearly most boys had parents at war, Brigadiers, and Wing Commanders abounded. My Father was already too old, but my siblings and cousins were all fighting the good fight. Claremont's windows were 'blued over' and the glass cross-taped, or each was fitted with its own blackout frame. There were high corrugated iron bastions filled with ballast to protect our designated shelter area, the games changing room. Occasionally we heard the sounds of dog fights overhead both by day and night, and once witnessed the mysterious descent of a Parachutist. Occasionally there were alleged night time Air Raid rehearsals so that we might become practised concerning what to do if the worst happened, but maybe they were not rehearsals after all?
The school was very keen to gather Rose hips each autumn. Sacks full were sent for the manufacture of Rose Hip syrup.
At some stage we welcomed two brothers (Were they called Rance?) recently escaped from occupied France, under machine gun fire as they crossed over the mountains. That was before anyone had thought of writing 'The Sound of Music'.
One bright morning we heard tell of ' D-Day', clearly after the day itself. None doubted our successful advance, which we heralded to the call of 'Onward Christian Soldiers'. The seriousness of the matter escaped the notice of ten-year-olds, but we should have known better. I caused my daughters to be on the beaches thirty years later. There were some old soldiers around, but public support was so sparse that Mrs. Eric de Mornay, whose husband was covering the event for BBC Television was reduced to chatting to us, but then that too was thirty years ago. 'Tempus Fugit'.
There was little apparent concession to the fact that there was a war on. The sun still shone, we occupied a well designed building, ate very well, attended the Village Parish Church every Sunday, after which the boys set off in crocodile formation for a walk. Prior to church one wrote home. After lunch one had a rest period, reading whilst lying on the lawn when the weather permitted. Then we went for a second walk. I think everyone at the school must have the fondest memories of time spent there. Maybe it was too soft by far? When the School returned South to newly acquired premises at Baldstow, I was sent elsewhere. It was only then that the reality of Prep School living hit me for the first time. I am sorry for any that knew no better.
New boys in 1942 were still expected to be properly equipped. Clothes Rationing did not really come into the scheme of the dress code. It was all half a dozen of this and a dozen of that, and overall a straw Boater for Sunday wear, whilst a cap was deemed adequate at other times. W.O'B once produced an enormous box of the best quality red leather cricket balls. These were retailed to the boys, at a time that such things were ‘unobtainable’.
There was an interesting selection of staff. The Gym was the preserve of Bradfield’s Sgt.-Major Hartigan. A man who threatened to use a spiked running shoe on miscreants, but of course he never did, it just seemed likely that he might. There was an incredibly old Mr Daniels from the Bradfield College retired stock, and the occasional use of their current staff members Mr. Bax and Mr. Burton Brown (B13) each a parent of boys at Claremont. Another of their masters was married to a French National. I recall her entertaining us, whilst wearing her National Costume, with a spirited rendering of 'La Normandie' and doubtlessly the Marseillaise so as not to appear too separatist.
There was Madame Perry who taught French. She was French, and every lesson started with a blackboard inscription that ' C' Est aujourdui Mercredi le Dix Juillet' or whatever. Which of us can not compete with a French man concerning the precise pronunciation of 'a','e','i','o','u'? Even so there were Elocution sessions to ensure the boys spoke English properly. None had any problem with the practical but only one boy; named 'Samuel' had any idea of how to interpret the theoretical signs and symbols on paper. It was akin to being able to use a computer, without having any need to write the software that operates the system. There were competitions for Public Speaking. I well remember the recitation of Gunga Dhin by was it Garfield? Impositions took the form of either transcribing hundreds of lines on the basis that' I shall not..............' alternatively one learned or just copied out, tracts of verse ' How Horatio held the bridge' and the 'Battle of Lake Rigilous' and 'How the good news was brought from Aix to Ghent' and too the 'Burial Of Sir John Moore' after the battle of Corunna. In these times when some might consider that little matter something to do with a football Club; the poetry endorses one's credentials amidst the similarly afflicted. Such together with the King James Bible, was the basis for a traditional English Education. Now alas swamped in the mediocrity of under achievement.
Miss. Brander was a lady with great presence, indeed stature. She had little trouble when it came to maintaining discipline. She had artistic handwriting, and was of the opinion that having put pen to paper, one should never take it off until one reached the end of the page. Maybe I had the matter confused with 'he who puts his hand to the plough and the matter of beating swords into plough shears'. The war was a confusing time for us all. Did Miss Brander have responsibility for some sort of P.T. Drill, which never quite materialised? I do not suggest she did any herself.
There was a Mr. Johnston who was an understudy to Mr. Jenkins. A man inexplicably not at war who was not only a teacher, but a general scholastic 'Mr. Fixit.' He was the apparently still vigorous member of the male staff. Miss Hutton was a respected teacher who possibly found us a little 'trying'. A Mrs Weston was always happy to lend a friendly ear. We had not only a Matron but also the housekeeper Miss Howick* who had charge of multi-purpose room devoted not only to matters of clothing, but which was used for sessions under the' Ultra Violet Lamp' and for Strip-Medicals. Did she ever realise how much embarrassment her presence caused to boys 'in the all together'? Looking at her picture now, I really can't imagine why any complained. Baths were taken on the open plan system. The bathroom doubled up as the School Surgery. It was here that Halibut Oil and Radio ? Malt and Scotts Emulsion were dispensed to those boys whose parents had provided them with such items. No doubt it was very beneficial to all that received it. The recollection of witnessing such medication, puts me in mind of the undoubted fact that one tends to see more unhealthy looking people in a Health Food shop, than one meets in a Pharmacy.
Claremont celebrated the end of the war in Europe with a bonfire, and fireworks made in the Chemical Laboratory of Bradfield College, a fitting climax to our time there.
When the O'Byrnes retired from the school there were other Heads. Their son Jeremy was the Headmaster for a short time. My wife's younger brother was a pupil then, en route for Lancing.
The Internet once suggested that Claremont had been taken over as a State School. However my more modern technology tells that it thrives in the private sector.
There was a tremendous night life in the Dormitories. A small hole was drilled through a wall, and messages were passed on cleft sticks, except when a state of war existed between the two dorms. One parent sent in an especially iced cake for a midnight feast. Every night we were entertained by the best of Raconteurs. Was there a team Monk / Ross/ Caplain/ Freeman? Phillips would sing of ‘His Grandfather’s Clock’. I do not doubt that Staff mostly turned a blind eye to these ‘goings on’. The hole in the wall caused trouble, and there was the famed occasion when Mr.Johnson un-sportingly switched the light on so catching most of us out of bed. But in those days one was never safe in an air raid, despite the Silver Swallow brand potties under the beds which might well have doubled as tin hats.
I append a photograph of the Pupils and Staff who were members of Claremont in 1942. I hope I will be forgiven if some of the names etc. are incorrectly shown or spelt.
I revisited the Close one very wet August day last year. I regret to have to advise you all, that the place had seemingly shrunk in the rain.
John Brownfield Pope 1942-1945. mailto:pionono@tiscali.co
From full three score years on.
It started for me in September 1942. The School had been relocated from its premises at Hove in Sussex. History had it that the day after it had moved out, a bomb had fallen on the building that the School had just vacated.
The Proprietor and Headmaster was Mr. William O'Byrne, a man of such immense height that every doorframe was an obstacle to his progress. He was assisted by his wife; his family also comprised their son Jeremy and daughter Andrea, who was in the care of her own Nanny. 'W.O'B' was a former Sussex Cricketer. Both he and his wife were well liked. Their School quite excellent in every way, despite that war raged around us.
There was a deputy Headmaster called Mr. Jenkins. He was an older man whose life style was maintained not through eating tintacks as legend had it, but medicated liquorice, were they called Negroids then? Any of his spare time was spent perfecting the manufacture of implements of chastisement. The culmination of design was a sort of paddle with a sprung handle, which added new meaning into 'this hurts me more than it hurts you'. Apart from on one occasion, the Headmaster W.O'B never actually beat anyone himself. The system was that during vacations, his son would tear sheets of paper into slips sufficiently large for notes to be written such as
'W.J.- {A.N. Other} Six hard- W.O'B'.
The idea was that after receiving such a voucher from the Head, one presented it to Mr. Jenkins for encashment.
It was either a matter of being instructed to bend over an old tea chest in his study, primarily there as a repository for Games equipment; or one was taken almost anywhere else that took his fancy. This might well be to a dormitory on the top floor of the building.
Mr. Jenkins was banker of credits, and distributor of the sweet ration. Remarkably this amounted to six sweets every Saturday. That was a lovely day. Classes would have finished before lunch. There were Soccer Matches against Schools such as the neighbouring St.Andrews Pangbourne; then run by the entirely successful Llewllyn Smith Family. Their children eventually distributing their talents as a Deputy Secretary at the Board of Trade and later Principal of St.Hilda's. Another was one of her Majesty's Ambassadors, whilst the youngest son a Professor, became Director General of CERN. Another daughter being completely normal married a schoolmaster at I believe Bradfield College.
Claremont had some sixty-six pupils, gathered from other Schools to form the homogenous whole. It was wonderful that our small establishment had thehospitality of Bradfield College. There we occupied 'The Close' and shared their magnificent Playing Fields. In those days some of the hinterland had been given over to Agriculture as a part of the war effort. We used their
Gym and had benefit of the 'Greek Theatre'; and too retired surplus teaching staff, at a time when so many younger Masters and Mistresses were fighting for King and Country . Visiting College Lecturers, visited us too, as did the Bradfield College 16mm Sound film Projector. We provided our own amateur Theatricals, Carol services, and had an excellent Party every
Halloween. Apple Bobbing and Roasted Chestnuts for all. These we previously garnered from Mr. Benyon's Englefield Estate. His house was in use as a Military Hospital and quite filled with personnel, each wearing the distinctive blue uniform of a wounded service man. Mrs O'Byrne's birthday was celebrated every year with an inclusive Garden Party on the lawn. There was, said the Headmaster to be a slice of cake for everyone except me the most junior boy. I didn't believe him, but should have done so. Even so did not go without ,for I received as compensation the choice of any of the cake on Mrs. O'Byrne's own table.
Claremont had access to an area of woodland, which was quite alive with natural springs, all of us delighted to re-plumb their induced flow into Pools and waterfalls. My Source was the only one with a hot water flow. I had to show Mr.O'B precisely where I had found it. Apparently there were unaccountable problems with the hot water supplied to us by 'The House on the Hill' at the College. A mystery no longer! Not my fault I just found it Gov! The other thing that happened in the woods was the construction of camps, shelters that would have credited an African Safari guarding against lions. Our Digging for Victory took the form of a small Allotment for anyone interested in its maintenance.
Clearly most boys had parents at war, Brigadiers, and Wing Commanders abounded. My Father was already too old, but my siblings and cousins were all fighting the good fight. Claremont's windows were 'blued over' and the glass cross-taped, or each was fitted with its own blackout frame. There were high corrugated iron bastions filled with ballast to protect our designated shelter area, the games changing room. Occasionally we heard the sounds of dog fights overhead both by day and night, and once witnessed the mysterious descent of a Parachutist. Occasionally there were alleged night time Air Raid rehearsals so that we might become practised concerning what to do if the worst happened, but maybe they were not rehearsals after all?
The school was very keen to gather Rose hips each autumn. Sacks full were sent for the manufacture of Rose Hip syrup.
At some stage we welcomed two brothers (Were they called Rance?) recently escaped from occupied France, under machine gun fire as they crossed over the mountains. That was before anyone had thought of writing 'The Sound of Music'.
One bright morning we heard tell of ' D-Day', clearly after the day itself. None doubted our successful advance, which we heralded to the call of 'Onward Christian Soldiers'. The seriousness of the matter escaped the notice of ten-year-olds, but we should have known better. I caused my daughters to be on the beaches thirty years later. There were some old soldiers around, but public support was so sparse that Mrs. Eric de Mornay, whose husband was covering the event for BBC Television was reduced to chatting to us, but then that too was thirty years ago. 'Tempus Fugit'.
There was little apparent concession to the fact that there was a war on. The sun still shone, we occupied a well designed building, ate very well, attended the Village Parish Church every Sunday, after which the boys set off in crocodile formation for a walk. Prior to church one wrote home. After lunch one had a rest period, reading whilst lying on the lawn when the weather permitted. Then we went for a second walk. I think everyone at the school must have the fondest memories of time spent there. Maybe it was too soft by far? When the School returned South to newly acquired premises at Baldstow, I was sent elsewhere. It was only then that the reality of Prep School living hit me for the first time. I am sorry for any that knew no better.
New boys in 1942 were still expected to be properly equipped. Clothes Rationing did not really come into the scheme of the dress code. It was all half a dozen of this and a dozen of that, and overall a straw Boater for Sunday wear, whilst a cap was deemed adequate at other times. W.O'B once produced an enormous box of the best quality red leather cricket balls. These were retailed to the boys, at a time that such things were ‘unobtainable’.
There was an interesting selection of staff. The Gym was the preserve of Bradfield’s Sgt.-Major Hartigan. A man who threatened to use a spiked running shoe on miscreants, but of course he never did, it just seemed likely that he might. There was an incredibly old Mr Daniels from the Bradfield College retired stock, and the occasional use of their current staff members Mr. Bax and Mr. Burton Brown (B13) each a parent of boys at Claremont. Another of their masters was married to a French National. I recall her entertaining us, whilst wearing her National Costume, with a spirited rendering of 'La Normandie' and doubtlessly the Marseillaise so as not to appear too separatist.
There was Madame Perry who taught French. She was French, and every lesson started with a blackboard inscription that ' C' Est aujourdui Mercredi le Dix Juillet' or whatever. Which of us can not compete with a French man concerning the precise pronunciation of 'a','e','i','o','u'? Even so there were Elocution sessions to ensure the boys spoke English properly. None had any problem with the practical but only one boy; named 'Samuel' had any idea of how to interpret the theoretical signs and symbols on paper. It was akin to being able to use a computer, without having any need to write the software that operates the system. There were competitions for Public Speaking. I well remember the recitation of Gunga Dhin by was it Garfield? Impositions took the form of either transcribing hundreds of lines on the basis that' I shall not..............' alternatively one learned or just copied out, tracts of verse ' How Horatio held the bridge' and the 'Battle of Lake Rigilous' and 'How the good news was brought from Aix to Ghent' and too the 'Burial Of Sir John Moore' after the battle of Corunna. In these times when some might consider that little matter something to do with a football Club; the poetry endorses one's credentials amidst the similarly afflicted. Such together with the King James Bible, was the basis for a traditional English Education. Now alas swamped in the mediocrity of under achievement.
Miss. Brander was a lady with great presence, indeed stature. She had little trouble when it came to maintaining discipline. She had artistic handwriting, and was of the opinion that having put pen to paper, one should never take it off until one reached the end of the page. Maybe I had the matter confused with 'he who puts his hand to the plough and the matter of beating swords into plough shears'. The war was a confusing time for us all. Did Miss Brander have responsibility for some sort of P.T. Drill, which never quite materialised? I do not suggest she did any herself.
There was a Mr. Johnston who was an understudy to Mr. Jenkins. A man inexplicably not at war who was not only a teacher, but a general scholastic 'Mr. Fixit.' He was the apparently still vigorous member of the male staff. Miss Hutton was a respected teacher who possibly found us a little 'trying'. A Mrs Weston was always happy to lend a friendly ear. We had not only a Matron but also the housekeeper Miss Howick* who had charge of multi-purpose room devoted not only to matters of clothing, but which was used for sessions under the' Ultra Violet Lamp' and for Strip-Medicals. Did she ever realise how much embarrassment her presence caused to boys 'in the all together'? Looking at her picture now, I really can't imagine why any complained. Baths were taken on the open plan system. The bathroom doubled up as the School Surgery. It was here that Halibut Oil and Radio ? Malt and Scotts Emulsion were dispensed to those boys whose parents had provided them with such items. No doubt it was very beneficial to all that received it. The recollection of witnessing such medication, puts me in mind of the undoubted fact that one tends to see more unhealthy looking people in a Health Food shop, than one meets in a Pharmacy.
Claremont celebrated the end of the war in Europe with a bonfire, and fireworks made in the Chemical Laboratory of Bradfield College, a fitting climax to our time there.
When the O'Byrnes retired from the school there were other Heads. Their son Jeremy was the Headmaster for a short time. My wife's younger brother was a pupil then, en route for Lancing.
The Internet once suggested that Claremont had been taken over as a State School. However my more modern technology tells that it thrives in the private sector.
There was a tremendous night life in the Dormitories. A small hole was drilled through a wall, and messages were passed on cleft sticks, except when a state of war existed between the two dorms. One parent sent in an especially iced cake for a midnight feast. Every night we were entertained by the best of Raconteurs. Was there a team Monk / Ross/ Caplain/ Freeman? Phillips would sing of ‘His Grandfather’s Clock’. I do not doubt that Staff mostly turned a blind eye to these ‘goings on’. The hole in the wall caused trouble, and there was the famed occasion when Mr.Johnson un-sportingly switched the light on so catching most of us out of bed. But in those days one was never safe in an air raid, despite the Silver Swallow brand potties under the beds which might well have doubled as tin hats.
I append a photograph of the Pupils and Staff who were members of Claremont in 1942. I hope I will be forgiven if some of the names etc. are incorrectly shown or spelt.
I revisited the Close one very wet August day last year. I regret to have to advise you all, that the place had seemingly shrunk in the rain.
John Brownfield Pope 1942-1945. mailto:pionono@tiscali.co
