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King Edward V11 Grammar. The Clapton Era


paulhib48

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Surprised to see no thread on my old school.

I was in the intake of 1959 and left the year Sharrock took over in preparation for the change to Comprehensive.

Anyone else still alive and just about kicking out there ?

 

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I was there the year after you. Some good memories of the place but couldn't stand Wednesday afternoon games in the winter. Only last week I rediscovered my copy of the book published by KES in 1995 to commemorate the first 90 years ("Tha'll never gerr in theer...").

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I have the fond memories that come with hindsight and nostalgia.

I don’t think I was ever really happy there but I appreciate all the things it taught me that have stayed with me throughout my life 

They taught you respect and discipline and other old fashioned values that are often frowned on these days 

I did languages and English at A Level and those subjects along with the snippets of Latin I picked up have been of great use to me.

I was a council house kid who lived in a prefab who was lucky enough to pass the 11 plus and was given an opportunity that once would never have been offered me.

I always regret not taking it fully and going to University at a time when I’d never met a single person who had.

How times change ?

I wonder if that book is still available as I’m sure I’d find it really interesting 

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Some where in this forum is mention of the 'Flour Bomb' incident. I didn't go to KES but I worked there from 2004 to 2011. It was a wonderful place to work and I have many happy memories. My old pal - Alan Powell often talked about the flour bomb incident. I also remember the School Council asking Nick Clegg (then MP) to talk to the students and they made him look a complete fool!

Wazzie Worrall

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12 hours ago, Paul Worrall said:

Some where in this forum is mention of the 'Flour Bomb' incident. I didn't go to KES but I worked there from 2004 to 2011. It was a wonderful place to work and I have many happy memories. My old pal - Alan Powell often talked about the flour bomb incident. I also remember the School Council asking Nick Clegg (then MP) to talk to the students and they made him look a complete fool!

Wazzie Worrall

I think the ‘flour bomb incident’ is covered in Sheffield Forum, Wazzie.

It happened sometime in the 70s I believe.

The school went Comprehensive in 69 and I guess was a far different place to the one I remember 

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I was present at the flour bomb incident.  Normally I would have disappeared for such a boring event as a prize giving, but luckily attended this one (as they took names of all attendees afterwards).  Here's an extract from the book "King Ted's" by John Cornwell. The teacher mentioned , David Anderson, taught me Economics, in the room where the bomb was secreted.

Prank of the Century
A different kind of challenge to the school’s authority came at the end of the Easter term 1974, when the annual Distribution of Prizes had been moved to the school’s Assembly Hall, because the City Hall was not available. Because of power cuts and the three day week in the final months of the Heath Government, the City Hall had been forced to cancel the school’s normal January date for the event, and this change of venue allowed a plot to be laid that was as ingenious as it was memorable. The brain child of Philip Beet, along with a few sixth form accomplices, it intended a precision bombing of the Headmaster at an early stage of the proceedings, when he was speaking at the lectern. The missile was to be a deluge of flour dropped through a ventilation grate in the roof, which could be accessed from a cupboard in the Economics Room on the top floor of the building.


This daring, and outrageous jape, would have been amazing enough if it had involved perpetrators emptying the bags by hand at the appropriate moment, but Beet had planned that this would be a “sting” operation whereby the plotters would trigger the deluge by a time fuse mechanism, whilst calmly sitting in the hall enjoying the spectacle themselves. A box, containing several pounds of flour, was suspended by a twisted string over the grate, which as luck would have it was immediately above the lectern on the platform. As the proceedings in the hall were about to begin that afternoon, a candle was lit whose flame would eventually burn through the string, tipping the box and its contents into the abyss below.


The plan was worthy of the highest sixth form intellect, but the security was lax.  The word had got out that something was going to happen, and at least one senior prefect knew precisely what was intended and sat wrestling with his conscience, trying to decide to whom he owed his loyalty in such a moment of truth. Fortunately for the plotters, unfortunately for the establishment, the platform party pressed on with the programme unaware of the suspended flour bag of Damocles, fifty feet above their heads.  The Headmaster made his “state of the union” speech at the lectern but the “bomb” failed to drop. He was replaced in the target zone by the Deputy Headmaster, Arthur Jackson, who began tolling the names of the prize-winners.


At this point, after nearly twenty minutes, it seemed the candle flame must have gone out and therefore the plot had failed. Presently a huge column of flour fell from the roof and continued to pour down onto the head of the Deputy Head. Unaware that he was the victim of “collateral damage”, he decided dignity was best served by standing immobile and receiving the full capacity of the flour bags. Covered in white, even the glasses in his hand acquired two perfect cones of flour on the upturned lens, he surveyed a hall shrieking with laughter. Many staff, including the Headmaster, could not repress involuntary laughter either, as one teacher, David Anderson, rushed up to the room above hoping to catch the culprits red-handed. He found, instead, that the tinder dry cupboard had been in danger of going up in flames, which could have added real tragedy to the afternoon’s farce.


Later, after a suitable interval for calling of the roll in a vain attempt to identify suspects, and very much to Jackson’s credit and imperturbability, the prize giving continued. The fun was not yet over because, against all gambling odds, the first boy to receive a prize after the re-start was called Whitehead and the laughter rolled around the hall again. The incident was so audacious, and so precisely executed, that it seemed churlish to prosecute the investigation too rigorously and Beet essentially got away with it. Unfortunately a year later he was involved in a road accident and was tragically killed. Of the victims, intended and actual, there are no hard feelings now, but for those who witnessed the “Flour Bomb Incident” it will remain the abiding memory of their time at KES.

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On 24/11/2021 at 14:20, paulhib48 said:

Surprised to see no thread on my old school.

I was in the intake of 1959 and left the year Sharrock took over in preparation for the change to Comprehensive.

Anyone else still alive and just about kicking out there ?

 

Present and correct.1960 intake/

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On 28/11/2021 at 14:33, Welney said:

I was there the year after you. Some good memories of the place but couldn't stand Wednesday afternoon games in the winter. Only last week I rediscovered my copy of the book published by KES in 1995 to commemorate the first 90 years ("Tha'll never gerr in theer...").

I was in your year. I was first in form 1.3, with "Eli" Vout as for,m master, then in form 2.1. I certainly remember "Fat Nat" Clapton and "Flinky" Jackson. K.E.S. boys had a way with nicknames, and my teachers included "Red Fred" and "Twyf" (maths), "Black Jack" (*history) and "The Slasher" (geography?) Oh yes, and a sleek individual who had two nicknames: "Jet" (after his initials) and "Slug" (after his appearance).

   My best friend, then as now (we spoke on the phone this week) was Jon Haworth. I was in the school scouts (C Troop then, after that disbanded, B Troop). I left King Ted's in the summer of 1962 when my Dad, a teacher at Woodhouse Grammar, got a deputy head's post at a grammar school in Leicestershire. I now live in Norfolk - actually about five miles from a village called Welney - any connection?

  I se that King Ted's is in the news at the moment as they're trying to make it into an Academy; as you'd expect, this is meeting strong resistance.

 

I wonder if you and I knew each other back then.

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I've remembered a couple more nicknames: "Lurgy" (metalwork) and "Clarence" (art). I remember on one occasion Clarence stroking my head and saying "Your hair is so soft, so silky". In retrospect I should have been worried about this, but it didn't occur to me at the time. There was also a stumpy little teacher who had a London accent, complete with glottal stops, but I can't remember his name.

   He most creative nickname must have been "Ponto". This was Mr. Bridgewater (pont, eau - geddit?) Ponto used to work in Philip Cann's record shop in Chapel Walk on Saturdays - whether through a love of music or because he was skint I don't know. One of my classmates reported going in there to purchase the latest fab, groovy tune only to hear the cultured tones of Ponto behind the counter asking "You're not going to buy that, are you?"

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...and here's another thang...Paulhib, the Old Edwardians web site is run by one John Parr, who I think would have been in your year. Do you remember him?

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Hi Athy.  
Sorry for the delayed response.

Some great memories there that involve the same group of masters who steered me through my time there 

I too started in 1(3) but I was blessed with JET Thompson or Slug as you accurately remember. Mind you having Eli Vout as your first form teacher must have made you want to run for the doors 

Red Fred Wilcox

the redoubtable pipe smoking Twyford 

Black Jack Wightman 

Slasher was Lawrence Slattery , a thoroughly decent bloke and one time close neighbour of mine .

Lurgy was Surgey . My time in metalwork was brief

Clarence was my erstwhile art teacher Clarence Helliwell . A colourful guy with huge handlebar moustache , who gave me a love of classical music.. I did well in Art and won several prizes . I’m not sure what Clarrie actually taught me but he filled me with enthusiasm. Each art lesson was carried out to a background of various overtures whilst he daubed  huge canvases with paint creating classical scenes . Half naked damsels , Roman soldiers and cherubs  . He died in my last year and a small deputation were allowed to go to his funeral at City Rd . He had a wife and daughters so that appreciation of your hair must have just meant that you had beautiful hair 😉

Keith Bridgewater I remember as a bit of a lad in comparison to those like the ‘stumpy ‘ little teacher who I can only imagine was Oppenheimer.

They were indeed good days, though I probably didn’t appreciate it at the time and I think I learnt more from teachers who were hard and strict to those who were easier going and more genial.

Tempus est ut concinamus

Some things you never forget 😉

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W ell I'd forgotten that.

But you have reminded me that some of us used to sing the school song to the tune of 'Oh My Darling Clementine'. It fitted perfectly.

   I remembered that Lurgy's real name was Surgey but was unsure how to spell it! Thjat puts me in mind of my woodwork teacher in the first form, Mr. Green, who I don't think had a nickname. But I do remember his exquisite, almost copperplate handwriting for a particular reason.

   It must have been the end of term because he was painstakingly crafting lists of form marks while we lads sawed things. My saw unilaterally decided that it would rather be a tendon- than a tenon-saw: it leaped out of my piece of wood and sliced halfway through my left thumb. Of course, little Atherton rushed up Mr. Green's desk, shouting "Sir, Sir" and brandishing the thumb - which vigorously pumped blood all over his artistic form lists. I can still hear his anguished, high-pitched cry of "Oh, Atherton!" Despite this, my time in woodwork was no briefer than schedules, although I think he kept me away from anything sharp thereafter.

 

   Interesting info about Clarence - he must have died prematurely. I recall the tash, and also that he was probably one of the few masters who arrived at school by car. He had an old, possibly pre-war, black Rover which I think he used to park near the outside bogs. Come to think of it, were there inside bogs? I suppose the stadf must have had some, possibly the senior pupils did too, but we tinies had to use the outside ones round the back, just as we had to use the small back entrance. We used to look enviously at head boy Cheetham and his crew of prefects as they sauntered down the wide steps round the front.

 

   This conversation is awakening many dormant memories. I've just recalled how the discovery of a row of former classrooms which were now used for storage, but which retained their room numbers on the doors, led to a brief vogue for "portonumerology". I also recall that the prefects had their own common room, on the first floor probably. Of course we were not allowed in, but they must have had a radio in there, as during Test Matches they fixed a counter device, rather like a car's mileometer, to the door which showed the current score.

 

M.A.

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Your woodwork accident brought to mind a physics / chemistry lesson .

Sat in the lab idling the hour away, my good friend Pete Warburton RIP decided it would be a great idea to shove a pencil compass into one of the power points. Cue a flash and a huge bang that propelled him backwards off his stool and crashing to the floor..

Teacher ( can’t remember who ) came rushing over and without any concern for the stunned lad said , Warburton , you fool, go and fetch the cane ! He dragged himself of the floor staggered out of the room and was subsequently thrashed in the corridor when he returned .

We all thought it was hilarious 😂 

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I recall music master "Uncle Norman" (Barnes?) swnding me to get the cane (the only close encounter I ever had with one throughout my school career). When I returned with it and handed it over, he took me outside into the corridor where, his heart doubtless softened by my tearful little visage, he administered three strokes of the cane to the door knob. From that moment on, I was as good as gold in his classes and held him in high esteem.

I later learned that he did the same with other boys too.

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Wow Athy . The thought of Uncle Norman giving a child the cane !!

That just wasn’t his style . I was in the choir for about 3 years and he was a most affable and gentle soul.

I imagine it must have been frustrating for him trying to get kids to write music when most of them weren’t remotely interested in what he was trying to teach.

Re your previous post, there’s lots of tales that are best not repeated concerning the  outdoor toilets which were called the Backs and were a sheer joy 🙄  

I seem to remember there were 2 sets of indoor wash basins at either end of the corridor on the ground floor opposite the dining hall .

Most prefects were a pain and on a big ego trip. The best were those who were top sportsmen in the school and didn’t need to prove themselves by bullying 1sr and 2nd Years. They did indeed have their own room near the Hall and I believe they too had the power to cane you if it suited 

There was one pompous prig who unfortunately lived on our bus route home. He used to get off at the stop before ours . First Years had to wear their caps at all times that they were in uniform and out of the school , so we used to take them off immediately he got off. This one time he’d not got off and we’d never noticed so he crept up behind us and told us off and issued us with lines that we had to present to him in the prefects office the following day. 
 

I mean, seriously , could you imagine any secondary school kid accepting that today ??
 

 

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My understanding was that by the 1950s all official canings were supposed to be entered in the Punishment Book. This was certainly the case at FPGS where the Head was the only Master authorised to carry out such  punishments…but a whack with a ruler across a hand or a slipper across the rump were fairly frequent events from some notorious Masters

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27 minutes ago, Lysanderix said:

My understanding was that by the 1950s all official canings were supposed to be entered in the Punishment Book. This was certainly the case at FPGS where the Head was the only Master authorised to carry out such  punishments…but a whack with a ruler across a hand or a slipper across the rump were fairly frequent events from some notorious Masters

This was early 1960s. My memory i that teachers who wished to cane someone had to fill in a Caning Slip, which I assume was presented to whoever was the Keeper of the Cane and was then probably filed away in an office somewhere.

 

Yes Paul, The Backs, that's it. I was trying to remember their name but could only come up with The Lats, which I suppose was close.

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Yes Athey 

That’s my understanding of how it worked at KES 

I left in 66 and I’m sure it was still in force then 

I can only imagine it didn’t survive the school admitting girls then going Comprehensive in 69 😳

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Well, that brought back many memories. Yes, Athy, we did know each other; I was in 1(3) as well, my name is John Leigh. My abiding memory of Eli Vout is that he turned up to school wearing his scout uniform, including shorts.  I also remember a French teacher nicknamed Spiv (can't remember his proper name) and an English teacher WDL Scobie whose nickname was Waddles.

I was made a sub-prefect in my last year (no, I don't know why either) and gained access to the prefect's room. We all contributed money each week which was used to buy the latest 45s which were played on the record player in the room. I wonder what happened to all the records as they must have included dozens of classics from the mid-sixties.

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