YOUR MEMORIES OF BECKENHAM cont...

"Get out your David Copperfields!" was the warcry of our English literature guru, Mr Oxley, and  when today I fish out a copy of that very book to enjoy, I never cease to reflect upon the threat to its delights imposed by this particular  schoolmaster.  However. he was very  good in other ways, and  it was he who installed the nickname  to our "Turnip" Townsend during  a history lesson.  Talking of which, our Miss Robertson had a way of  pouring out historical facts of a boring nature  and scribbling them endlessly on the blackboard which defied my memory to absorb them, quite apart from the fact that I was becoming short-sighted and didn't realise it. No-one tested eyes in those days..

All this shows how different things are today, when classrooms seem to be so much more inviting and cheerful; where knowledge is imparted as something to be enjoyed rather than put up with.

Our school library was notable for its limited stock and poor selection of titles. I took out The  Last of the Mohicans; I had heard of its merits, but I  don't think I finished reading it.

Every boy had  a problem in managing to carry around all his books and papers - so would a camel! There were no lockers and the desks we used for storage purposes  were almost always occupied  in the various classrooms, so that it was difficult to retrieve what was necessary when it was required.  Every boy was told to affix a padlock and it was with a shock that one day  I discovered my desk had been  forced open.  Apparently the culprit was discovered and punished   with the cane. I believe it was the principle of the thing.

Came the winter, and we slid wildly along the ice strips near the bicycle sheds.  In more clement weather, the playing field at the rear of the school (today completely covered with housing) was home to our athletics and out-of-school antics  in fighting, air-gun shooting and home-made parachute flying.  The sports included  a 2-mile cross-country  canter around the surrounding area, at the beginning of one of which I got a "stitch". Having completed the course and come roaring into  the playing field arena, I was dismayed to discover that a complete circuit  still needed to be covered, by which time I had burnt myself out!

Yes, schooldays  of yore.   During the summer holidays some of us fruit-picked  in  Kent,  and those who didn't wished they had!

The exigencies of war resulted in a ragged end to my school career at Beckenham Technical School, for V1 flying bomb evacuation took me away  to  the Five Towns in Staffordshire,  and on my return  the school had finished for the summer. Next term I started at  Beckenham School of Art - but that is another story.

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