Recollection
Mike emigrated to Australia many moons ago and made his life and family in Sydney. He celebrates Trafalgar Day, and Paston School, every year at the Lord Nelson Brewery Hotel there. I was fortunate to be hosted by him a few years ago by Mike and Archie Fraser (sadly now passed).
Mike could not wait to move on from Paston, and boarding. But on reflection noted the impact those years had on him, his character and resilience. So he has shared a Recollection which we publish here. Many OPs will recall the Masters and environment described.
Thanks Mike. (ed: John Dring)
Mike emigrated to Australia many moons ago and made his life and family in Sydney. He celebrates Trafalgar Day, and Paston School, every year at the Lord Nelson Brewery Hotel there. I was fortunate to be hosted by him a few years ago by Mike and Archie Fraser (sadly now passed).
Mike could not wait to move on from Paston, and boarding. But on reflection noted the impact those years had on him, his character and resilience. So he has shared a Recollection which we publish here. Many OPs will recall the Masters and environment described.
Thanks Mike. (ed: John Dring)
Mike Cuming - PGS 1952 - 59
The Paston School was established by a local wealthy land-owning benefactor, Sir William Paston, in 1606 in the small north Norfolk market town of North Walsham . At the time of my joining, it was a free, state-aided Grammar School with about 350 pupils, of whom around 35-40 were boarders. The latter lived in the three storey School House (built in 1766), along with the Headmaster, Col. Kenneth (“Kenny”) Marshall (later OBE), his wife Ursula (“Fanny”) and their then 3 year old daughter.
There was a sort of housekeeper, Mrs Punt, and at various times also a Matron and a Cook, but staff never lasted long and Fanny cooked for most of my years I was there. There were two fire escapes (since removed) from the second and third floor dormitories which were a convenient means of escape after lights-out, other than for the occasional fire practice. With this small number of domestic staff, it should be evident that the boarders undertook a great many of the manual domestic chores for the running of the house.
I had not been to the school until delivered one dark September night in 1952 by Feltwell parents of another boarder. It was quite overwhelming for a shy, small in stature country boy, and I still clearly recall the towering figure of Marshall welcoming me with “I suppose you are Cuming?”
In addition to the School House, the school comprised of a 1928 building (8 classrooms and the bell tower), 1939 multi-purpose building housing a gymnasium (which was variously a theatre, examination venue and end-of-term assembly hall), chemistry and physics laboratories, sports changing room and showers, plus the never-to-be-entered smoke filled staff room opposite the chemistry laboratory. These three buildings surround the front and sacred lawn. Behind the School House, there was a walled-in (but scalable!) tarmac yard, more classrooms, the assembly hall and canteen, plus the woodwork classroom. The school also owned an abandoned butcher’s shop on the corner of Grammar School Road, which was occupied by six formers doing zoology/botany. At the far end of the yard, there was a wooden hut known as the Armoury, because it stored all of the CCF equipment: uniforms for the three services, corp of drums instruments, plus weapons! About 50 Lee Enfield 303 rifles, a few Bren Guns, 2.2 range rifles and a quantity of both live and blank ammunition. A formidable arsenal which had added security during the time of IRA activity. Ted Preston, who was the school groundsman (sports fields and gardens) was also the armoury’s Quartermaster, which he managed very responsibly and efficiently. Nobody withdrew anything without the correct authorisation under his watchful eyes. Behind the woodwork classroom were the “bogs”, as the virtually open-air toilets were known. About half a mile away, there was an extensive sports ground, where there was also an indoor 50 yard rifle range, tennis courts and a then defunct 25 yard swimming pool. (The latter was re-commissioned in about my fifth year, after we undertook years of often tedious fund-raising.)
For the Boarders it was not quite Stalag IV, but decidedly in the style of it. The school house contained the oak panelled (and National Trust listed) Nelson Room, in which was/is housed a range of Nelson memorabilia, the floor having been reconstructed in the style of HMS Victory’s deck. I often refer to it as the room in which I spent many hours, “eating, studying, praying (nightly) and receiving punishment”.
Paston had an excellent reputation for its scholastic achievements, in addition to its Combined Cadet Force (CCF with all three services and a Corp of Drums) and sporting record. Amongst its famous old boys, it boasted Horatio Nelson 1758 - 1805 (later Admiral Lord Nelson), Thomas Tennyson 1636-1715 (later Archbishop of Canterbury), Henry Wharton 1664 - 1695 (famed historian and antiquarian buried in Westminster Abbey) and William Hoste 1780 - 1828 who was also a distinguished naval commander after initially being placed under Nelson’s care. Horatio Nelson's elder brother, William 1758 - 1835 was also a pupil and later entered the Navy as a Chaplain, before eventually becoming Baron and then Earl Nelson.
The schoolmasters routinely wore their black academic gowns (in various states of repair), and on special occasions, such as Speech Day, were impressively regaled in their multi-coloured university college capes. In retrospect there appeared to me there was little interaction between the Headmaster and the staff. Marshall had his large office in the school house, with a secretary and the teachers had their smoke-filled retreat next to the chemistry laboratory. The Head showed up for morning assembly, but little else other than the cadet force parade on Friday afternoon, which was his pride and joy. He was also involved in the annual camps for the Army boys. He rarely attended weekend sporting fixtures. However, the Boarders saw plenty of him, and he and Fanny dined with us in the Nelson Room. We were closely supervised in all aspects of our school life.
Thinking back there was a high turnover of staff and I can only guess the reason. I particularly recall four masters who prevailed in my seven years.
George Couper was Deputy Head and taught geography. As a former Army Captain, he also participated in Cadets and was highly respected by the boys.
Humphrey Grantham-Hill was Paston’s version of James Hilton’s “Mr Chips” . A brilliant maths teacher who also organised weekend soccer and cricket. On alternate summer holidays he took a group on a European holiday (I went to Austria and Switzerland after my final year). In between he took a soccer team to Wales. A bachelor, the school was his life and I had a very good relationship with him, exchanging annual correspondence for many years. He had a remarkable memory and would update me on the achievements and movements of my contemporaries. It was rumoured that he was at Bletchley Park as a code-breaker during the war, but only a rumour.
Bob Bennett was a very capable teacher of physics and as a war-time Squadron Leader in the RAF, was a natural for that section of the CCF. I attended three summer camps at RAF stations with him, as well as Field Days at nearby Coltishall. He was instrument in me learning to fly gliders at RAF Swanton Morley, and also attaining a Flying Scholarship which was my ticket to attaining a Private Pilot’s Licence. So I have a lot to be grateful for there.
Then there was John Mattocks, who I think only completed his degree during school years. From the zoo/botany long abandoned butcher’s shop, he taught and inspired some remarkable achievers who subsequently attained stella careers in medicine, academia and vetenary science from my years alone. I had intermittent contact with several of them in Australia, South Africa, Kenya and New Zealand in later years.
Two colourful characters I will mention: Harry Hawdon and Docker Havercroft (ed: 'Doker'?) taught English (language and literature) in an entertaining way. Docker was allegedly a Spitfire pilot in the war and I believe a photo of him was once uncovered.(ed: I believe he was Bomber, Navigation, Lancasters)
The school house contained the oak panelled (and National Trust listed) Nelson Room, in which was/is housed a range of Nelson memorabilia, the floor having been reconstructed in the style of HMS Victory’s deck. I often refer to it as the room in which I spent many hours, “eating, studying, praying (nightly) and receiving punishment”.
I review my seven years at Paston in three distinct categories:
1. Life as a Boarder
The least enjoyable (which has not mellowed with time) of the three categories was my life as a Boarder. It was tough, physically and to an extent mentally. We slept in dormitories with bare wooden floors, no window furnishings, an iron bed each and a chair on which to place your clothes overnight. In the wintertime, it was COLD as the windows were always wide open. There was a wash room where we each had a wash stand and enamel bowl, into which cold water was poured for our nightly and morning ablutions; it sometimes froze over in winter. There was a bathroom with two baths, each having a blue “high-water” line barely six inches off the bottom, for our weekly rostered lukewarm bath. Fortunately, the sports players benefited from more regular and warm showers.
Food was adequate in quantity, and poor in quality. I can vividly recall Pete staring at the offering on his dinner plate, and pronouncing in a strong Norfolk accent, “They say you eat a peck o’ muck before you die, but I’m buggered if I’m eating all mine in one go!” He ate it of course, with the alternative of going hungry. Ideally each boarder cultivated a day-boy who was happy to hand over his excess and always tasty packed lunch. And other tasty supplements could also be purchased with pocket money from the school Tuck Shop.
The Headmaster (Col. Kenneth "Kenny" Marshall), a Cambridge graduate in history and with war service at a Lieutenant Colonel in the Army, was a big man, who aimed for the school to be seen as a somewhat poorer version of Eton (ed: a Norfolk version maybe, but very different budget). In practice this meant a strong emphasis on maintaining traditions and discipline, neither of which in themselves are a bad thing. He was a vain autocrat, always immaculately dressed, who ruled by fear, occasionally exhibiting a vile temper and was subject to extremes of mood. There were times when he could be very charming (ie in front of parents and visitors) and more frequently when it was best to avoid him at all costs. He caned us in the Nelson Room (after evening prayers delivered by the school captain!) with a ferociousness which had to be seen to be believed. This style of supervision, whilst generating a degree of obedience through fear, did not engender respect, and in practice encouraged us to break his rules at every opportunity. And we did this with impunity as our way of “getting even”. (I contrast this with the supervisory style of most of the masters, who by and large we respected. They only had to say the word and we complied.) Your fellow Boarders respected and admired you for the biggest and most audacious rule-breaking stunts you could pull off without getting caught. I had my share, which I will not relate here! Mrs Marshall (“Fanny”) in turn ruled the Head, and consequently the Boarders. She was universally disliked and at times capable of dishing out totally unreasonable punishment, either directly, or via the Headmaster. In my final year I was Captain of the School, in which role and its extensive responsibilities I conscientiously gave my utmost, but was hounded by Fanny from dawn to dusk, seven days a week.
Against the background of these two, we Boarders tended to stick together like glue. I do not recall bullying of significance, and by and large, regardless of the disparity of our ages and backgrounds, we got on well. I maintain contact with some of them to this day, their friendship means a lot to me. We were a schoolboy “band of brothers”.
So what was the school routine? We rose at 7am (unless your were rostered for a range of kitchen duties, in which case you were up at 6.30am), washed (brrrr!) under the stare of HM while he read the newspaper, dressed, made beds (strict hospital corners) and went into the Nelson Room for breakfast. The Nelson Room had three long highly polished wooden tables, arranged in a U, with a square table occupied by the Marshalls in the middle. After breakfast, various details washed up and polished the tables. We then cleaned shoes and polished our brass blazer buttons in the Boot Lobby before the school day started with Assembly at 9am. There were three lesson periods followed by a 15 minute break (when the tuck shop was open, if you had any pocket money left), then two more lesson periods before lunch. Lesson times were punctuated with a bell being rung in the tower of the 1928 building; I was the bell-ringer whilst in Form 3. It was a job the Boarders unofficially organised and handed on. After lunch there were two more lesson periods, except on your designated sports afternoon and Friday, when Form 3 and above participated in the Combined Cadet Force parade and training activities. After school, the Boarders were free to go into the town or sports field between 4 - 5pm, at which time our evening meal was served. More washing up, followed by prep (homework) until prayers, conducted by the School Captain and attended by HM. Juniors went up to bed at 8pm followed by Seniors at 8.30pm, with lights out following 30 minutes later in each case. After lights out many of us read by torchlight under our blankets. In later years I had a crystal wireless set and head phones which I kept under a floorboard in the dormitory. On occasions, after ensuring that the Marshalls were in all probability asleep, one could don clothing and exit via the fire escape, over the back wall and do whatever! This was an extraordinarily risky venture, but I do not recall anyone ever getting caught, which would probably have resulted in expulsion. In later years after the school swimming pool had been recommissioned, some of us went swimming at midnight. Once every term, shortly after you had dropped off to sleep, the fire rattle would go off and we climbed down the fire escapes (officially this time) from our dormitories, to assemble and be counted in the school yard. Sometimes, to our great annoyance, this was repeated after you had dropped off to sleep for the second time.
On rare occasions the Marshalls went away for a night or the weekend (HM never missed the Twickenham inter-varsity rugby match), leaving us in the charge of various, but kindly, miscellaneous persons. Joyce was Katherine’s nurse during her pre-school days. Then there was the kindly Mrs Punt and in the latter years, Jake. Jake was a timid middle aged bachelor whose day job was as butler for one of the school governors! None of these “carers” exercised much control and consequently we were quite relaxed, secure in the knowledge that no incidents would ever be reported. I organised a group Boarders' photo, which included Jake, outside the front porch when the Marshalls were away on one occasion, and sold prints to all. Years later it was published in the “Eastern Daily Press” under the heading “Happy days, - where are you now!” In my case, 11,000 miles away, but it found me.
On Saturdays we might have been directed to a number of activities:
- Watch representative school sports (soccer and hockey in winter, cricket in summer) on the sports field, in which some of us might have been playing.
- Sent out on long walks around the country lanes. Once out of the residential area, we would sing our hearts out with a range of traditional songs. I particularly remember the “Rushes” song, and was amazed at the power of the 30-35 voices at my first experience.
- Left to organise ourselves, playing cards, chess, yard cricket, roller skating and roller hockey, snowballing in winter, or pursuing hobbies. I became enthralled and quite skilled in making model aircraft, gliders and some powered by a miniature (1.2cc) diesel engine. These could be flown on the sports field weekday afternoons in the 4-5pm slot. If nothing else, there was always some homework to be done!
- On rare occasions we were bundled into a hired bus (with Matron during the little time we had one, or under the School Captain for most of the time) and taken to a dull cinema in Norwich which showed equally dull films of an “educational” nature. The best part was the sing-song on the way back.
On Sundays we rose half an hour later (except on the first Sunday in the month, when we attended holy communion), and after breakfast and domestic routines, collectively attended (along with the Marshalls) morning service, where we had our allocated pews, in the local parish church. After lunch on Sundays, we were free to cycle or walk in the outside world from 2 - 4.30pm, having declared on paper which road we would venture upon. This was our single greatest period of official freedom each week and all manner of escapades were undertaken. I especially recall the manufacture of a “bomb” we made and exploded in the countryside. It was a bit of a fizzer (probably as well) with some clear design weaknesses. Between 4.30 - 5pm was official letter writing, when we wrote to our dear parents to tell them what a lovely time we were having. Or at least you certainly did for the first two years, when your letters were censored by HM before official posting. The latter was a farce as you could always write a separate letter in the week with the truth, but I never did. I accepted Paston as my lot to be endured.
One unusual situation of note; one year Lord Moran (Sir Winston Churchill’s physician) was our Speech Day guest of honour and subsequently stayed overnight in the school house. I was allocated the task of taking him an early morning cup of tea whilst he was still in bed. He was very nice to me. In the year after I left I returned for a Speech Day to receive the “Wimble Prize for Useful Service” (which was traditionally awarded to the previous year’s school captain), and was proud to accept it from Sir Barnes Wallis, of Dambuster fame.
During my earlier years, three boys, David, Alan and Ben, absconded at different times, each to be subsequently “captured” and retuned later the same day; but in every case did not reappear the following term. Ben was hauled off the early morning train (at HM’s telephone instructions) by the Station Master of an intermediate station on his way home to Yarmouth. He received star hero status (and extra special punishment) for punching the Station Master and temporarily evading capture!
2. Academic aspects
In academic terms, I was an average performer, and probably did not fulfil my capabilities. In retrospect, I sometimes regard the boarding house environment as being less than ideal for study, but then others managed to achieve excellence within its walls. Our masters ranged widely in teaching effectiveness, never more starkly demonstrated than by me jumping in one term from near bottom of my class in maths to near the top after I came under the tutelage of the greatly admired and respected Mr Humphrey Grantham-Hill. A friend and mentor, we corresponded annually until he died in the mid 1990s. For the record, I passed in seven out of eight General Certificate of Education ‘O’ level subjects (Maths, English Language, English Literature, Geography, General Sciences 1& 2, and Woodwork, failing French) and two (Pure & Applied Mathematics and Physics) of my three ‘A’ levels, failing Chemistry.
(ed: this section, though the smallest, captures the importance of the 'basics' that a Grammar School imparts so well)
3. Sport, CCF et al
And now to the activities I really enjoyed and looked forward to! Sport of any kind, the Combined Cadet Force, shooting, theatrical performances and virtually any “extra mural” activity which took me out of the boarding house routine. This was the enjoyable side to the school and I put my hand up for almost everything.
There was never any organised sport, per se, in my years at primary schools and to be kitted out in real soccer boots and shorts at the age of 11 years was terrific. Unfortunately, partly because of my small stature in the early years, I was not particularly good at soccer and never made a representative school team. I was goalkeeper for my house side in first form, with the school magazine report of the cup final (which we lost) stating “Cuming, surely the smallest goalkeeper the JFL has ever seen ...”. Thanks a million, fame at last!
But I still enjoyed it. Similarly, I was not much good at cricket either, but volunteered as scorer for my school year representative side every year, except my last, when I was umpire. This had the benefit of getting me out of the boarding house on a Saturday afternoon, with the bonus of being entitled to afternoon tea! - Sandwiches and a cake with a cup of tea!
I was quite a good runner, both cross country and on the track, in both half and one mile races. In my sixth year I came third in the Norfolk Schools cross country championship and was in the team which won the Norfolk Grammar Schools cup. I was awarded my Athletic Colours for this achievement. I also won the mile on the track that year. I loved running and still do. My best sporting achievements were on the hockey field (in which I was also awarded colours), which I turned to in Form 4, playing for the school First IX during each of my final three years, and was captain in my last. I was also picked (after a trial match) for the Norfolk Schoolboys IX, but unfortunately never played as our matches were cancelled through bad weather. Hockey was very much part of my life into adulthood. I also played some tennis and was quite a good shot with .22 rifle on our indoor range, and .303 with the CCF. In the latter I was in the school team which participated in inter-school CCF competitions on full size shooting ranges in East Anglia.
The Combined Cadet Force was compulsory (excepting one or two conscientious objectors) with a parade and training every Friday afternoon from 3rd form onwards. We had all three services, Royal Navy, Army and Royal Air Force, with schoolmasters who were former commissioned officers (and had seen WWII service) in command. The school groundsman, Ted Preston, doubled as Quartermaster. We also had a Corp of Drums (drums, bugles and fifes) which led the town parade on Remembrance Sunday. Overall it was a very professionally run organisation, and very dear to the HM as its Commanding Officer. All boys commenced in the Army, in which they undertook basic training, before being allowed to transfer to either of the other two services of their choice. At the end of my basic training year, I attended the Annual Camp, in which many other school CCFs participated. This one was at Shorncliffe, near Dover. We were under canvas and supported by regular army, who conducted our field exercises, including one at night. Why, as the smallest in my platoon, was I always given the very heavy Bren gun to lug around! At least I had the opportunity to fire it on the range, with the recoil taking me backwards several feet!
At the end of my basic training year, I satisfied my long-time interest in all things involving aviation, and transferred to the RAF under the command of Squadron Leader Bob Bennett, learning (and later instructing as an NCO) and being enthralled with the principles of flight, navigation, morse code and aircraft recognition. We had our annual Field Days at the nearby RAF Station Coltishall, being taken up in an ageing Avro Anson. My first RAF annual camp was at RAF Station Hawarden in Cheshire, when again we were taken flying over Wales in another Anson. For my third annual camp, we went all the way to RAF Station Kinloss (where in later years Dad was stationed) in the north of Scotland. This was a Coastal Command Station with Avro Shackletons and we flew at night on an exercise over the North Sea. Not very exciting with little to observe, except when one of our mob tripped on his parachute on leaving the aircraft and was roundly abused for releasing it!
In 1957 and shortly after my 16th birthday, I gained a place on a week’s gliding course at RAF Station Swanton Morley in Norfolk. We trained initially in open cockpit Sedburg T21Bs, with cable launches to around 1,000ft. My instructor’s “day job” was in command of a Vulcan V bomber! Later we progressed to Kirby Cadets, in which I did my three solo flights for ‘A’ and ‘B’ certificates. It was a truly wonderful week, with a couple of evening adventures in the local pub, where our ages were not questioned!
In mid 1958 I spent two days at RAF Station Hornchurch undertaking the regular aircrew selection procedures, becoming a successful candidate for a Flying Scholarship. In the subsequent 1958 school summer holidays, this took me to the small privately owned airfield and flying club of Plymouth Roborough for a full 30 hours flying training in a De Havilland Chipmunk. I had digs alongside the aerodrome, with a delightful lady, Mrs Wilson, with whom I kept in touch (and later stayed with when I flew to Roborough in 1963) for many years. On one solo cross country flight, I flew to, and circled Padstow, where Mother and Dad were waving a bed sheet in the garden, to the intrigue of the neighbours. The course qualified me for a Private Pilot’s Licence, with my final cross-country being (with landings) to Weston-Super-Mare, returning via Exeter. It was a truly satisfying and exciting experience.
In my last year of 1958-59, I was the senior cadet, having been promoted to Cadet Warrant Officer, and led a tri-services Guard of Honour for the visiting Chief of Air Staff, Sir Dermott Boyle, who was guest of honour for the annual Speech Day. The parade was held on the lawn in front of the school house, where earlier in the day, Sir Dermott and his ADC had landed in a Bristol Sycamore helicopter. It was a remarkable occasion and I was pleased that my Auntie Brenda was able to attend the parade and subsequent Speech Day proceedings. In the latter I gave the vote of thanks (which I still have) for Sir Dermott, referring to him as a “deus ex machina”, although I was not an especially good latin scholar! [Note: Later that year, after Dad was notified of a posting from St Mawgan in Cornwall to Ballykelly in Northern Ireland, I wrote to Sir Dermott and pointed out how the remoteness of this posting was going to make things difficult in my transition from school to tertiary education. I received back a sympathetic letter from his ADC, and Dad’s posting was subsequently delayed!]
In my final year we were unable to have an RAF Annual Camp, so I went back into the Army and joined in their camp at Brackenbury Fort, Felixstowe. You may accurately conclude that I enjoyed the manifold experiences and benefits of the school CCF.
Other than sport and the CCF, there were other “extra mural” activities which I enjoyed. On alternate years we performed a Gilbert & Sullivan opera, and as a soprano, I was in the chorus of “HMS Pinafore” and later as a tenor, was Major Murgatroyd in “The Pirates of Penzance”. I missed the “Mikado” in between, when my voice was neither soprano nor tenor, but assisted with the wardrobe. These were public performances over four nights and well attended by parents and the local townsfolk. I was pleased when Mother, Dad and Nannie were in the audience for “Pirates”; other than my confirmation it was the only function they were able to attend in my seven years at Paston.
In my first 18 months at Paston, Dad was still at RAF Feltwell, and I spent half terms and the three main school holidays there, fishing with Vic Hunter (with whom I am still in contact), cycling, working on the Fens and also spending time at Reepham with my Aunty Brenda and Uncle Alan. The latter was mostly out with Alan on various farming activities; in the spring I rode the seed drill, and in summer operated the grain bagging system on the combine harvester. In later years I was sometimes allowed to drive a tractor with a harrow. After Dad was posted to RAF Laarbruch in Germany, Brenda and Alan were officially designated as my guardians. Reepham was cycling distance from school, although invariably Alan or Brenda would drive over and collect me. They were extraordinarily kind, and I never felt other than one of their family, along with cousins Margaret and John. They were very happy holiday times. I did get to Germany twice a year, Christmas and Summer, in most of the four years, The first time was a great adventure for a thirteen year old who had never been out of England and travel was arranged at short notice just before Christmas. I took trains to Parkstone Quay (opposite to the Felixstowe docks) for the overnight crossing of the North Sea, sharing a cabin with three strangers, to the Hook of Holland. Here I had to find the right train to cross Holland and into Germany, where I was met at Goch by a relieved Mother, Dad and sister Mary. I think I took it all in my stride, boarding school certainly taught me to be independent.
RAF Laarbruch was a base for Canberra aircraft in both bomber and photo-reconnaissance configurations. This was the height of the Cold War, and was part of the UK’s contribution to NATO. It was a large and very modern base, with good facilities. I made friends with some other boys and in the summer we spent time at the swimming pool and also played badminton in a big gymnasium complex. Mother, Dad and Mary lived in a large, centrally heated house, complete with basement, and there was invariably snow on the ground when I was there for Christmas. Mary attended a school on the base which was just over the road. Dad invested in some good camping equipment (I still have my two person tent) and in the summer holidays we toured southern Germany and Austria with a roof rack on his Opel Rekord. On my final summer visit, I had a school friend, Mick Hough, come with me, and for the only time we flew to Germany with Channel Airways, from Ipswich to Southend in a De Havilland Rapide and then on to Rotterdam in a De Havilland Dove. This was my first commercial flight, of which I was to make many, many more around the world in the next forty-five years.
In 1958, Dad was posted back to the UK, to Coastal Command with Shackleton aircraft at RAF St Mawgan on the north Cornish coast. Initially they lived in digs with a nice widow lady at Newquay, and I spent one Easter school holiday there. Later they moved to married quarters in Padstow, which was a place I really came to enjoy, especially in the six or so months after I left school in July 1959. So I had my final year’s long school holidays at Padstow, with half-term and short breaks spent variously at Reepham, or with John Turnbull in Cambridge, or sometimes at Ipswich with Nannie.
Looking back after many years, my experience at boarding school probably set me up for life and the ability to cope with virtually any situation. Nevertheless, I could not get away from it fast enough in July 1959.
-Mike Cuming, Sydney, NSW, Australia
The Paston School was established by a local wealthy land-owning benefactor, Sir William Paston, in 1606 in the small north Norfolk market town of North Walsham . At the time of my joining, it was a free, state-aided Grammar School with about 350 pupils, of whom around 35-40 were boarders. The latter lived in the three storey School House (built in 1766), along with the Headmaster, Col. Kenneth (“Kenny”) Marshall (later OBE), his wife Ursula (“Fanny”) and their then 3 year old daughter.
There was a sort of housekeeper, Mrs Punt, and at various times also a Matron and a Cook, but staff never lasted long and Fanny cooked for most of my years I was there. There were two fire escapes (since removed) from the second and third floor dormitories which were a convenient means of escape after lights-out, other than for the occasional fire practice. With this small number of domestic staff, it should be evident that the boarders undertook a great many of the manual domestic chores for the running of the house.
I had not been to the school until delivered one dark September night in 1952 by Feltwell parents of another boarder. It was quite overwhelming for a shy, small in stature country boy, and I still clearly recall the towering figure of Marshall welcoming me with “I suppose you are Cuming?”
In addition to the School House, the school comprised of a 1928 building (8 classrooms and the bell tower), 1939 multi-purpose building housing a gymnasium (which was variously a theatre, examination venue and end-of-term assembly hall), chemistry and physics laboratories, sports changing room and showers, plus the never-to-be-entered smoke filled staff room opposite the chemistry laboratory. These three buildings surround the front and sacred lawn. Behind the School House, there was a walled-in (but scalable!) tarmac yard, more classrooms, the assembly hall and canteen, plus the woodwork classroom. The school also owned an abandoned butcher’s shop on the corner of Grammar School Road, which was occupied by six formers doing zoology/botany. At the far end of the yard, there was a wooden hut known as the Armoury, because it stored all of the CCF equipment: uniforms for the three services, corp of drums instruments, plus weapons! About 50 Lee Enfield 303 rifles, a few Bren Guns, 2.2 range rifles and a quantity of both live and blank ammunition. A formidable arsenal which had added security during the time of IRA activity. Ted Preston, who was the school groundsman (sports fields and gardens) was also the armoury’s Quartermaster, which he managed very responsibly and efficiently. Nobody withdrew anything without the correct authorisation under his watchful eyes. Behind the woodwork classroom were the “bogs”, as the virtually open-air toilets were known. About half a mile away, there was an extensive sports ground, where there was also an indoor 50 yard rifle range, tennis courts and a then defunct 25 yard swimming pool. (The latter was re-commissioned in about my fifth year, after we undertook years of often tedious fund-raising.)
For the Boarders it was not quite Stalag IV, but decidedly in the style of it. The school house contained the oak panelled (and National Trust listed) Nelson Room, in which was/is housed a range of Nelson memorabilia, the floor having been reconstructed in the style of HMS Victory’s deck. I often refer to it as the room in which I spent many hours, “eating, studying, praying (nightly) and receiving punishment”.
Paston had an excellent reputation for its scholastic achievements, in addition to its Combined Cadet Force (CCF with all three services and a Corp of Drums) and sporting record. Amongst its famous old boys, it boasted Horatio Nelson 1758 - 1805 (later Admiral Lord Nelson), Thomas Tennyson 1636-1715 (later Archbishop of Canterbury), Henry Wharton 1664 - 1695 (famed historian and antiquarian buried in Westminster Abbey) and William Hoste 1780 - 1828 who was also a distinguished naval commander after initially being placed under Nelson’s care. Horatio Nelson's elder brother, William 1758 - 1835 was also a pupil and later entered the Navy as a Chaplain, before eventually becoming Baron and then Earl Nelson.
The schoolmasters routinely wore their black academic gowns (in various states of repair), and on special occasions, such as Speech Day, were impressively regaled in their multi-coloured university college capes. In retrospect there appeared to me there was little interaction between the Headmaster and the staff. Marshall had his large office in the school house, with a secretary and the teachers had their smoke-filled retreat next to the chemistry laboratory. The Head showed up for morning assembly, but little else other than the cadet force parade on Friday afternoon, which was his pride and joy. He was also involved in the annual camps for the Army boys. He rarely attended weekend sporting fixtures. However, the Boarders saw plenty of him, and he and Fanny dined with us in the Nelson Room. We were closely supervised in all aspects of our school life.
Thinking back there was a high turnover of staff and I can only guess the reason. I particularly recall four masters who prevailed in my seven years.
George Couper was Deputy Head and taught geography. As a former Army Captain, he also participated in Cadets and was highly respected by the boys.
Humphrey Grantham-Hill was Paston’s version of James Hilton’s “Mr Chips” . A brilliant maths teacher who also organised weekend soccer and cricket. On alternate summer holidays he took a group on a European holiday (I went to Austria and Switzerland after my final year). In between he took a soccer team to Wales. A bachelor, the school was his life and I had a very good relationship with him, exchanging annual correspondence for many years. He had a remarkable memory and would update me on the achievements and movements of my contemporaries. It was rumoured that he was at Bletchley Park as a code-breaker during the war, but only a rumour.
Bob Bennett was a very capable teacher of physics and as a war-time Squadron Leader in the RAF, was a natural for that section of the CCF. I attended three summer camps at RAF stations with him, as well as Field Days at nearby Coltishall. He was instrument in me learning to fly gliders at RAF Swanton Morley, and also attaining a Flying Scholarship which was my ticket to attaining a Private Pilot’s Licence. So I have a lot to be grateful for there.
Then there was John Mattocks, who I think only completed his degree during school years. From the zoo/botany long abandoned butcher’s shop, he taught and inspired some remarkable achievers who subsequently attained stella careers in medicine, academia and vetenary science from my years alone. I had intermittent contact with several of them in Australia, South Africa, Kenya and New Zealand in later years.
Two colourful characters I will mention: Harry Hawdon and Docker Havercroft (ed: 'Doker'?) taught English (language and literature) in an entertaining way. Docker was allegedly a Spitfire pilot in the war and I believe a photo of him was once uncovered.(ed: I believe he was Bomber, Navigation, Lancasters)
The school house contained the oak panelled (and National Trust listed) Nelson Room, in which was/is housed a range of Nelson memorabilia, the floor having been reconstructed in the style of HMS Victory’s deck. I often refer to it as the room in which I spent many hours, “eating, studying, praying (nightly) and receiving punishment”.
I review my seven years at Paston in three distinct categories:
1. Life as a Boarder
The least enjoyable (which has not mellowed with time) of the three categories was my life as a Boarder. It was tough, physically and to an extent mentally. We slept in dormitories with bare wooden floors, no window furnishings, an iron bed each and a chair on which to place your clothes overnight. In the wintertime, it was COLD as the windows were always wide open. There was a wash room where we each had a wash stand and enamel bowl, into which cold water was poured for our nightly and morning ablutions; it sometimes froze over in winter. There was a bathroom with two baths, each having a blue “high-water” line barely six inches off the bottom, for our weekly rostered lukewarm bath. Fortunately, the sports players benefited from more regular and warm showers.
Food was adequate in quantity, and poor in quality. I can vividly recall Pete staring at the offering on his dinner plate, and pronouncing in a strong Norfolk accent, “They say you eat a peck o’ muck before you die, but I’m buggered if I’m eating all mine in one go!” He ate it of course, with the alternative of going hungry. Ideally each boarder cultivated a day-boy who was happy to hand over his excess and always tasty packed lunch. And other tasty supplements could also be purchased with pocket money from the school Tuck Shop.
The Headmaster (Col. Kenneth "Kenny" Marshall), a Cambridge graduate in history and with war service at a Lieutenant Colonel in the Army, was a big man, who aimed for the school to be seen as a somewhat poorer version of Eton (ed: a Norfolk version maybe, but very different budget). In practice this meant a strong emphasis on maintaining traditions and discipline, neither of which in themselves are a bad thing. He was a vain autocrat, always immaculately dressed, who ruled by fear, occasionally exhibiting a vile temper and was subject to extremes of mood. There were times when he could be very charming (ie in front of parents and visitors) and more frequently when it was best to avoid him at all costs. He caned us in the Nelson Room (after evening prayers delivered by the school captain!) with a ferociousness which had to be seen to be believed. This style of supervision, whilst generating a degree of obedience through fear, did not engender respect, and in practice encouraged us to break his rules at every opportunity. And we did this with impunity as our way of “getting even”. (I contrast this with the supervisory style of most of the masters, who by and large we respected. They only had to say the word and we complied.) Your fellow Boarders respected and admired you for the biggest and most audacious rule-breaking stunts you could pull off without getting caught. I had my share, which I will not relate here! Mrs Marshall (“Fanny”) in turn ruled the Head, and consequently the Boarders. She was universally disliked and at times capable of dishing out totally unreasonable punishment, either directly, or via the Headmaster. In my final year I was Captain of the School, in which role and its extensive responsibilities I conscientiously gave my utmost, but was hounded by Fanny from dawn to dusk, seven days a week.
Against the background of these two, we Boarders tended to stick together like glue. I do not recall bullying of significance, and by and large, regardless of the disparity of our ages and backgrounds, we got on well. I maintain contact with some of them to this day, their friendship means a lot to me. We were a schoolboy “band of brothers”.
So what was the school routine? We rose at 7am (unless your were rostered for a range of kitchen duties, in which case you were up at 6.30am), washed (brrrr!) under the stare of HM while he read the newspaper, dressed, made beds (strict hospital corners) and went into the Nelson Room for breakfast. The Nelson Room had three long highly polished wooden tables, arranged in a U, with a square table occupied by the Marshalls in the middle. After breakfast, various details washed up and polished the tables. We then cleaned shoes and polished our brass blazer buttons in the Boot Lobby before the school day started with Assembly at 9am. There were three lesson periods followed by a 15 minute break (when the tuck shop was open, if you had any pocket money left), then two more lesson periods before lunch. Lesson times were punctuated with a bell being rung in the tower of the 1928 building; I was the bell-ringer whilst in Form 3. It was a job the Boarders unofficially organised and handed on. After lunch there were two more lesson periods, except on your designated sports afternoon and Friday, when Form 3 and above participated in the Combined Cadet Force parade and training activities. After school, the Boarders were free to go into the town or sports field between 4 - 5pm, at which time our evening meal was served. More washing up, followed by prep (homework) until prayers, conducted by the School Captain and attended by HM. Juniors went up to bed at 8pm followed by Seniors at 8.30pm, with lights out following 30 minutes later in each case. After lights out many of us read by torchlight under our blankets. In later years I had a crystal wireless set and head phones which I kept under a floorboard in the dormitory. On occasions, after ensuring that the Marshalls were in all probability asleep, one could don clothing and exit via the fire escape, over the back wall and do whatever! This was an extraordinarily risky venture, but I do not recall anyone ever getting caught, which would probably have resulted in expulsion. In later years after the school swimming pool had been recommissioned, some of us went swimming at midnight. Once every term, shortly after you had dropped off to sleep, the fire rattle would go off and we climbed down the fire escapes (officially this time) from our dormitories, to assemble and be counted in the school yard. Sometimes, to our great annoyance, this was repeated after you had dropped off to sleep for the second time.
On rare occasions the Marshalls went away for a night or the weekend (HM never missed the Twickenham inter-varsity rugby match), leaving us in the charge of various, but kindly, miscellaneous persons. Joyce was Katherine’s nurse during her pre-school days. Then there was the kindly Mrs Punt and in the latter years, Jake. Jake was a timid middle aged bachelor whose day job was as butler for one of the school governors! None of these “carers” exercised much control and consequently we were quite relaxed, secure in the knowledge that no incidents would ever be reported. I organised a group Boarders' photo, which included Jake, outside the front porch when the Marshalls were away on one occasion, and sold prints to all. Years later it was published in the “Eastern Daily Press” under the heading “Happy days, - where are you now!” In my case, 11,000 miles away, but it found me.
On Saturdays we might have been directed to a number of activities:
- Watch representative school sports (soccer and hockey in winter, cricket in summer) on the sports field, in which some of us might have been playing.
- Sent out on long walks around the country lanes. Once out of the residential area, we would sing our hearts out with a range of traditional songs. I particularly remember the “Rushes” song, and was amazed at the power of the 30-35 voices at my first experience.
- Left to organise ourselves, playing cards, chess, yard cricket, roller skating and roller hockey, snowballing in winter, or pursuing hobbies. I became enthralled and quite skilled in making model aircraft, gliders and some powered by a miniature (1.2cc) diesel engine. These could be flown on the sports field weekday afternoons in the 4-5pm slot. If nothing else, there was always some homework to be done!
- On rare occasions we were bundled into a hired bus (with Matron during the little time we had one, or under the School Captain for most of the time) and taken to a dull cinema in Norwich which showed equally dull films of an “educational” nature. The best part was the sing-song on the way back.
On Sundays we rose half an hour later (except on the first Sunday in the month, when we attended holy communion), and after breakfast and domestic routines, collectively attended (along with the Marshalls) morning service, where we had our allocated pews, in the local parish church. After lunch on Sundays, we were free to cycle or walk in the outside world from 2 - 4.30pm, having declared on paper which road we would venture upon. This was our single greatest period of official freedom each week and all manner of escapades were undertaken. I especially recall the manufacture of a “bomb” we made and exploded in the countryside. It was a bit of a fizzer (probably as well) with some clear design weaknesses. Between 4.30 - 5pm was official letter writing, when we wrote to our dear parents to tell them what a lovely time we were having. Or at least you certainly did for the first two years, when your letters were censored by HM before official posting. The latter was a farce as you could always write a separate letter in the week with the truth, but I never did. I accepted Paston as my lot to be endured.
One unusual situation of note; one year Lord Moran (Sir Winston Churchill’s physician) was our Speech Day guest of honour and subsequently stayed overnight in the school house. I was allocated the task of taking him an early morning cup of tea whilst he was still in bed. He was very nice to me. In the year after I left I returned for a Speech Day to receive the “Wimble Prize for Useful Service” (which was traditionally awarded to the previous year’s school captain), and was proud to accept it from Sir Barnes Wallis, of Dambuster fame.
During my earlier years, three boys, David, Alan and Ben, absconded at different times, each to be subsequently “captured” and retuned later the same day; but in every case did not reappear the following term. Ben was hauled off the early morning train (at HM’s telephone instructions) by the Station Master of an intermediate station on his way home to Yarmouth. He received star hero status (and extra special punishment) for punching the Station Master and temporarily evading capture!
2. Academic aspects
In academic terms, I was an average performer, and probably did not fulfil my capabilities. In retrospect, I sometimes regard the boarding house environment as being less than ideal for study, but then others managed to achieve excellence within its walls. Our masters ranged widely in teaching effectiveness, never more starkly demonstrated than by me jumping in one term from near bottom of my class in maths to near the top after I came under the tutelage of the greatly admired and respected Mr Humphrey Grantham-Hill. A friend and mentor, we corresponded annually until he died in the mid 1990s. For the record, I passed in seven out of eight General Certificate of Education ‘O’ level subjects (Maths, English Language, English Literature, Geography, General Sciences 1& 2, and Woodwork, failing French) and two (Pure & Applied Mathematics and Physics) of my three ‘A’ levels, failing Chemistry.
(ed: this section, though the smallest, captures the importance of the 'basics' that a Grammar School imparts so well)
3. Sport, CCF et al
And now to the activities I really enjoyed and looked forward to! Sport of any kind, the Combined Cadet Force, shooting, theatrical performances and virtually any “extra mural” activity which took me out of the boarding house routine. This was the enjoyable side to the school and I put my hand up for almost everything.
There was never any organised sport, per se, in my years at primary schools and to be kitted out in real soccer boots and shorts at the age of 11 years was terrific. Unfortunately, partly because of my small stature in the early years, I was not particularly good at soccer and never made a representative school team. I was goalkeeper for my house side in first form, with the school magazine report of the cup final (which we lost) stating “Cuming, surely the smallest goalkeeper the JFL has ever seen ...”. Thanks a million, fame at last!
But I still enjoyed it. Similarly, I was not much good at cricket either, but volunteered as scorer for my school year representative side every year, except my last, when I was umpire. This had the benefit of getting me out of the boarding house on a Saturday afternoon, with the bonus of being entitled to afternoon tea! - Sandwiches and a cake with a cup of tea!
I was quite a good runner, both cross country and on the track, in both half and one mile races. In my sixth year I came third in the Norfolk Schools cross country championship and was in the team which won the Norfolk Grammar Schools cup. I was awarded my Athletic Colours for this achievement. I also won the mile on the track that year. I loved running and still do. My best sporting achievements were on the hockey field (in which I was also awarded colours), which I turned to in Form 4, playing for the school First IX during each of my final three years, and was captain in my last. I was also picked (after a trial match) for the Norfolk Schoolboys IX, but unfortunately never played as our matches were cancelled through bad weather. Hockey was very much part of my life into adulthood. I also played some tennis and was quite a good shot with .22 rifle on our indoor range, and .303 with the CCF. In the latter I was in the school team which participated in inter-school CCF competitions on full size shooting ranges in East Anglia.
The Combined Cadet Force was compulsory (excepting one or two conscientious objectors) with a parade and training every Friday afternoon from 3rd form onwards. We had all three services, Royal Navy, Army and Royal Air Force, with schoolmasters who were former commissioned officers (and had seen WWII service) in command. The school groundsman, Ted Preston, doubled as Quartermaster. We also had a Corp of Drums (drums, bugles and fifes) which led the town parade on Remembrance Sunday. Overall it was a very professionally run organisation, and very dear to the HM as its Commanding Officer. All boys commenced in the Army, in which they undertook basic training, before being allowed to transfer to either of the other two services of their choice. At the end of my basic training year, I attended the Annual Camp, in which many other school CCFs participated. This one was at Shorncliffe, near Dover. We were under canvas and supported by regular army, who conducted our field exercises, including one at night. Why, as the smallest in my platoon, was I always given the very heavy Bren gun to lug around! At least I had the opportunity to fire it on the range, with the recoil taking me backwards several feet!
At the end of my basic training year, I satisfied my long-time interest in all things involving aviation, and transferred to the RAF under the command of Squadron Leader Bob Bennett, learning (and later instructing as an NCO) and being enthralled with the principles of flight, navigation, morse code and aircraft recognition. We had our annual Field Days at the nearby RAF Station Coltishall, being taken up in an ageing Avro Anson. My first RAF annual camp was at RAF Station Hawarden in Cheshire, when again we were taken flying over Wales in another Anson. For my third annual camp, we went all the way to RAF Station Kinloss (where in later years Dad was stationed) in the north of Scotland. This was a Coastal Command Station with Avro Shackletons and we flew at night on an exercise over the North Sea. Not very exciting with little to observe, except when one of our mob tripped on his parachute on leaving the aircraft and was roundly abused for releasing it!
In 1957 and shortly after my 16th birthday, I gained a place on a week’s gliding course at RAF Station Swanton Morley in Norfolk. We trained initially in open cockpit Sedburg T21Bs, with cable launches to around 1,000ft. My instructor’s “day job” was in command of a Vulcan V bomber! Later we progressed to Kirby Cadets, in which I did my three solo flights for ‘A’ and ‘B’ certificates. It was a truly wonderful week, with a couple of evening adventures in the local pub, where our ages were not questioned!
In mid 1958 I spent two days at RAF Station Hornchurch undertaking the regular aircrew selection procedures, becoming a successful candidate for a Flying Scholarship. In the subsequent 1958 school summer holidays, this took me to the small privately owned airfield and flying club of Plymouth Roborough for a full 30 hours flying training in a De Havilland Chipmunk. I had digs alongside the aerodrome, with a delightful lady, Mrs Wilson, with whom I kept in touch (and later stayed with when I flew to Roborough in 1963) for many years. On one solo cross country flight, I flew to, and circled Padstow, where Mother and Dad were waving a bed sheet in the garden, to the intrigue of the neighbours. The course qualified me for a Private Pilot’s Licence, with my final cross-country being (with landings) to Weston-Super-Mare, returning via Exeter. It was a truly satisfying and exciting experience.
In my last year of 1958-59, I was the senior cadet, having been promoted to Cadet Warrant Officer, and led a tri-services Guard of Honour for the visiting Chief of Air Staff, Sir Dermott Boyle, who was guest of honour for the annual Speech Day. The parade was held on the lawn in front of the school house, where earlier in the day, Sir Dermott and his ADC had landed in a Bristol Sycamore helicopter. It was a remarkable occasion and I was pleased that my Auntie Brenda was able to attend the parade and subsequent Speech Day proceedings. In the latter I gave the vote of thanks (which I still have) for Sir Dermott, referring to him as a “deus ex machina”, although I was not an especially good latin scholar! [Note: Later that year, after Dad was notified of a posting from St Mawgan in Cornwall to Ballykelly in Northern Ireland, I wrote to Sir Dermott and pointed out how the remoteness of this posting was going to make things difficult in my transition from school to tertiary education. I received back a sympathetic letter from his ADC, and Dad’s posting was subsequently delayed!]
In my final year we were unable to have an RAF Annual Camp, so I went back into the Army and joined in their camp at Brackenbury Fort, Felixstowe. You may accurately conclude that I enjoyed the manifold experiences and benefits of the school CCF.
Other than sport and the CCF, there were other “extra mural” activities which I enjoyed. On alternate years we performed a Gilbert & Sullivan opera, and as a soprano, I was in the chorus of “HMS Pinafore” and later as a tenor, was Major Murgatroyd in “The Pirates of Penzance”. I missed the “Mikado” in between, when my voice was neither soprano nor tenor, but assisted with the wardrobe. These were public performances over four nights and well attended by parents and the local townsfolk. I was pleased when Mother, Dad and Nannie were in the audience for “Pirates”; other than my confirmation it was the only function they were able to attend in my seven years at Paston.
In my first 18 months at Paston, Dad was still at RAF Feltwell, and I spent half terms and the three main school holidays there, fishing with Vic Hunter (with whom I am still in contact), cycling, working on the Fens and also spending time at Reepham with my Aunty Brenda and Uncle Alan. The latter was mostly out with Alan on various farming activities; in the spring I rode the seed drill, and in summer operated the grain bagging system on the combine harvester. In later years I was sometimes allowed to drive a tractor with a harrow. After Dad was posted to RAF Laarbruch in Germany, Brenda and Alan were officially designated as my guardians. Reepham was cycling distance from school, although invariably Alan or Brenda would drive over and collect me. They were extraordinarily kind, and I never felt other than one of their family, along with cousins Margaret and John. They were very happy holiday times. I did get to Germany twice a year, Christmas and Summer, in most of the four years, The first time was a great adventure for a thirteen year old who had never been out of England and travel was arranged at short notice just before Christmas. I took trains to Parkstone Quay (opposite to the Felixstowe docks) for the overnight crossing of the North Sea, sharing a cabin with three strangers, to the Hook of Holland. Here I had to find the right train to cross Holland and into Germany, where I was met at Goch by a relieved Mother, Dad and sister Mary. I think I took it all in my stride, boarding school certainly taught me to be independent.
RAF Laarbruch was a base for Canberra aircraft in both bomber and photo-reconnaissance configurations. This was the height of the Cold War, and was part of the UK’s contribution to NATO. It was a large and very modern base, with good facilities. I made friends with some other boys and in the summer we spent time at the swimming pool and also played badminton in a big gymnasium complex. Mother, Dad and Mary lived in a large, centrally heated house, complete with basement, and there was invariably snow on the ground when I was there for Christmas. Mary attended a school on the base which was just over the road. Dad invested in some good camping equipment (I still have my two person tent) and in the summer holidays we toured southern Germany and Austria with a roof rack on his Opel Rekord. On my final summer visit, I had a school friend, Mick Hough, come with me, and for the only time we flew to Germany with Channel Airways, from Ipswich to Southend in a De Havilland Rapide and then on to Rotterdam in a De Havilland Dove. This was my first commercial flight, of which I was to make many, many more around the world in the next forty-five years.
In 1958, Dad was posted back to the UK, to Coastal Command with Shackleton aircraft at RAF St Mawgan on the north Cornish coast. Initially they lived in digs with a nice widow lady at Newquay, and I spent one Easter school holiday there. Later they moved to married quarters in Padstow, which was a place I really came to enjoy, especially in the six or so months after I left school in July 1959. So I had my final year’s long school holidays at Padstow, with half-term and short breaks spent variously at Reepham, or with John Turnbull in Cambridge, or sometimes at Ipswich with Nannie.
Looking back after many years, my experience at boarding school probably set me up for life and the ability to cope with virtually any situation. Nevertheless, I could not get away from it fast enough in July 1959.
-Mike Cuming, Sydney, NSW, Australia
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