THREE – SCHOOL DAYS 1944 to 1956

In most working class areas in those early post war years, there were no real aspirations in education. The
majority of children completed their education at Secondary Modern schools and started work at the age of
fifteen. Those who managed to progress to Technical or Grammar schools usually left at sixteen. Sixth form
education was rarely an option and universities were for “posh” people.

When children approached the age of five their name was put down at the nearest primary school where
they remained until the age of eleven. The Primary School syllabus was pretty basic, concentrating mainly
on literacy and numeracy. A few of the brighter ones were given extra attention in order that they might
pass the Eleven Plus examination, and perhaps go on to obtain a few G.C.E. passes and get a “good” job.
Modern day educationists are totally against the system of pass or fail at the age of eleven, I am inclined
agree with them, but I would add that there was a form of safety net in place. If a Secondary Modern pupil
showed above average ability he or she could attend an Interview and if successful could be upgraded to a
more suitable school. I am pleased to say that this happened to two of my Primary School class mates. One
of whom recently retired as a high ranking officer in the London Fire Brigade and the other became a
Solicitor in New Zealand.

My first school was St. Luke’s Church of England Primary School. According to my Mother, I started
school a year early, when I was four. Possibly because there was a shortage of children and that I was a
borderline case having being born in the month of June. The school was originally located adjacent to St.
Luke’s Church in Nelson Street, (now Tarling Road), Victoria Docks. This building was abandoned during
the war probably due to bomb damage, and classes were held in a disused fire station in Radland Road
until a new school was constructed. The new school was built in Rogers Road, next to Saint Luke’s Parish
Church, and was opened round about 1947 as part of the massive Keir Hardie council estate development.
The school was a single story building, running more or less east/west, the main body of which contained
six identical class rooms. You started at the east end at the age of five and emerged at the west end at the
age of eleven. Between classrooms three and four there was a main entrance hall, which was never used,
and a bell tower. If you were a good boy you might be allowed to attend school ten minutes early and ring
the bell. There were wings at either end of the main building, the east end housed the kitchen and dining
hall and the west end was an assembly hall/gymnasium. The west end was used as the main entrance and
also housed the secretary’s office and the dreaded Head Master’s study.

Class one was run by Miss S. She was “prim and proper” lady, who always wore long skirts down to her
ankles and wore her hair in a bun. If she had carried a cane in her hand she would have been the perfect
epitome of a Victorian school mistress. I don’t remember much about Mrs. W. who looked after class two,
only that she was a short, stoutish motherly figure.

In contrast, Miss K. of class three was unforgettable. She was young, quite attractive and fashionable,
owned a car and was disliked by everyone. Hardly a week went by when she was not confronted by some
irate parent who was complaining about her behaviour towards their child. I crossed swords with her on
more than one occasion and I remember one incident in particular. It was when I was in my final year. We
were engaged in a woodwork project and we needed a large hand saw that the school could not provide.
With his permission, I borrowed dad’s best saw, took it to school and inevitable forgot to take it home
Friday afternoon, as promised. I was sent back to retrieve the saw and, luckily, the caretaker was still there
and allowed me back in the classroom to collect it. My luck ran out when I was confronted in the corridor
by Miss K. who refused to let me take the saw home as I could not provide her with proof of ownership.
Fortunately dad’s annoyance at my forgetfulness was transferred to Miss K.
After year three we crossed over the entrance hall to the three senior classes who were all run by male
teachers. Classes four and five were run by Mr. G and Mr. W respectively. Although they were similar in
appearance they were opposites in personality. Both were short in stature always smartly dressed and each
had a full head of white hair. Mr G. was quietly spoken and mild mannered whereas Mr. W. had a loud
military voice and took great pleasure in relating detailed accounts of his hand to hand fighting in the
trenches of World War One. He played the ukulele and would often give impromptu concerts singing
banjo type songs from the southern states of America. Following his renditions any class member, when
selected, was expected to stand in front of the class and sing a song unaccompanied. My party piece was a
song called Chicory- Chick which was taught to me by one of my uncles; the lyrics were not English but
were a sort of Hindi that no one could translate, perhaps that is just as well, considering my uncle’s sense
of humour.

It was in this class where we first used pen and ink, we were only allowed to use a plain pen with a pointed
steel nib and ink was applied to the nib by dipping into an inkwell. I was not allowed to use a fountain pen
until year two at secondary school. It was deemed that the “new fangled” ball point pens made people lazy
and I was not allowed to use one until I went to college.

The senior teacher in class six was Mr. B.; he was much younger than his male colleagues and was nowhere
near as smart. His clothes always seemed to be one size too small, his tie never covered his top shirt button
and he never appeared completely clean shaven. It was unusual however, as he was a Welshman who
couldn’t sing, so it wasn’t all bad.

The final member of the teaching staff was the Headmaster Mr. I. He had the look and mannerisms of a
Victorian gentleman. He was short and rotund and always wore the same clerical grey three piece suit, the
waistcoat containing two silver watches on silver chains, one a standard timepiece the other a stopwatch
used when supervising sporting activities. He had thinning grey hair and a perfectly trimmed moustache,
he always smelt of T.C.P. which I suppose was the forerunner of today’s aftershave lotion. He did not
partake in main stream classes but taught music and religious instruction and gave coaching in cricket and
boxing, which was his real passion.

Apart from the headmaster’s lessons, there were no specialist teachers and every subject was taught by
your class teacher. The basic subjects were Mathematics and English. Mathematics was simply called
arithmetic, which it was because the curriculum never went beyond addition, subtraction, multiplication
and division. There was, however, a strong emphasis on “mental” arithmetic which would probably
bamboozle modern day students because in those days there were no electronic calculators and no decimal
currency.

The old Imperial currency system was used and the pound was divided into twenty shillings and shilling
had a value of twelve pence therefore there were two hundred and forty pence to the pound. A typical
question would consist of adding up the cost of a series of items like three pairs of shoes at seventeen
shilling and five pence per pair, five shirts at eight shillings and four pence etc. You could memorise some
short cuts like remembering that six shillings and eight pence was one third of a pound, which often
cropped up in the questions. Two hundred and forty might seem a strange number but in actual fact it is a
useful number if you are dividing a pound’s worth of goods into different amounts. In the decimal system
one hundred pence can only be divided by seven whole numbers whereas two hundred and forty can be
divided by eighteen, and if you use halfpennies and farthings (one quarter of a penny), the divisor becomes
nine hundred and sixty. As part of the mental arithmetic subject we were expected to memorise our “times
tables” from two to twelve, which were often chanted by the whole class in unison.

English was mainly reading from standard issue “readers” and writing simple stories. In reading each
member of the class had to stand up in turn and read out aloud a couple of paragraphs from the chosen
book. Three boys in the class had extreme difficulty with their reading and nowadays they would probably
be diagnosed as dyslectic and given specialist attention. In those days, however, they simply had to suffer
the humiliation on an almost daily basis. I know that ten year olds can be cruel and can increase the
humiliation in cases like this, but it did not happen and I think most of the class, like me, just felt
embarrassed. In adult life this trio did pretty well: one became a qualified Shipwright and then a
businessman involved in stocks and shares, one become a major area distributor for an up-market
American bathroom company, I am not one hundred percent sure of the third, but I am informed that he is
a partner in a medium size civil engineering company with other members of his family. What would they
have achieved with a better education, who knows?

Other minor subjects included art, handicrafts, music, geography, religious instruction and general
knowledge. No serious tuition was given in these subjects just a series of lectures, discussions or partially
supervised practical exercises. In handicrafts I usually extended my fretwork hobby which Dad and I did at
home, but I did aspire to make a wallet in leather craft. Due to the expense of the materials, before you
could attempt anything in leather you had to demonstrate your expertise, or lack of it, by making the item
out of card. I had several attempts at this without success, but eventually I was deemed fit to cut into a
piece of leather, unfortunately this was towards the end of my final term at St. Luke’s and there was not
enough time to finish the project.

Music lessons consisted of the boring part: learning about three/four, four/four and six/eight rhythms, the
difference between crotchets, minims and breves etc., and the enjoyable part, community singing. It was
during these lessons that a few of us were selected (boys only) and asked to become founder members of
the proposed St. Luke’s Church Choir, after the recent engagement of a full time organist/choir master.
Everyone accepted.

One “subject” that was taught seriously in those days was discipline and good behaviour. Everyone was
made to obey instructions without question and not to answer back. Any misdemeanours were punished,
in order of severity, with a telling off, the cane or a slapping from the Headmaster. In the privacy of his
study he would pull up your trouser leg, we all wore short trousers, lay you across his knee and deliver
two or three heavy slaps with his hand, across the back of your thigh. I suppose that any teacher doing this
today would lose his job and probably go to prison. The school day was from nine o’clock until three forty-
five with an hour and a half for dinner (which the posh people called lunch). School dinners were cooked
on the premise these were not free, and as I only lived a short walk from school, I usually went home for
mine which was my main meal of the day.

There were morning and afternoon playtime breaks, at the end of the break is where the extent of the
regime of discipline manifested itself; the teacher on playground duty would blow a whistle and
immediately everyone would freeze on the spot and remain stationary until a second blast of the whistle
when each class would from up in a two abreast column and then march into school in age order, youngest
first. The only time this system broke down was when a fight was in progress; a shout of “fight, fight”
would ring out and a circle would form around the protagonists and a continual chant of “oo-oo-oo”
would ring out. The whistle was ignored and by the time a teacher arrived the contest was usually over. By
today’s standards fights were a pretty tame affair and usually consisted of a few punches being thrown and
ending in a wrestling match. If the combatants were evenly matched there would be no disciplinary action
taken apart from making them shake hands. In many cases, after the fight, they became friends for life. On
rare occasions there might even be a fight between two girls which was more hair-pulling than fisticuffs.

During the morning break we were given a small free bottle of milk. Not everyone drank the milk and at
the end of the day any bottles left over were sold for one halfpenny each, rationed to one bottle per child. I
was always provided with the necessary coin and I had the unfortunate habit of keeping it in my mouth so
I could raise both hand when the sale commenced. This backfired on me one day when I managed to
swallow the coin and spent ten days in and out of hospital having x-rays, monitoring its progress until it
was recovered in a natural way. For many years this discoloured coin had pride of place on the kitchen
picture rail and passed round to each and every visitor.

The academic side of school was pretty basic but not as basic sports coaching which was virtually non-
existent. The only sports for boys were football, cricket and boxing for the boys, netball and rounders for
the girls. I was never very good at football and I usually played in goal. It was more or less compulsory to
turn out to play for the school on a Saturday morning; the first team made up from boys in the top class
kicked off at eight-thirty, and the second team of nine year olds at ten. I believe we only played thirty
minutes each way. I thought I would automatically become the first team goalkeeper in my final year but in
the last game of the season I hurt my foot and let in a couple of goals and the following season I was
relegated to right-back in the second team.

We did receive some coaching from the headmaster in cricket but it did not do me much good as I always
batted at number eleven and never scored any runs. I avoided cricket from then on until my early twenties
when I was encouraged to take part in interdepartmental twenty-over game when I was working at Tate
and Lyle. I played a few games batting up the order at number-ten, with similar achievements.

One day I was saved from this embarrassment by a professional sportsman who was watching the game
and told me the simple fact that I was taking my eye off the ball just before I swung the bat, and suggested
that in my next innings I watch the ball right up until the time it hit the bat. Needless to say in that next
innings I hit every ball and scored twenty-two runs and because I had scored more than twenty I had to
retire. At the end of the season I was batting at number three and was never dismissed directly by a bowler.
If someone had given me that advice when I was ten who knows I might have played for England. I must
add that the only cricket I played at that time was twenty-over fun cricket where everyone bowled two
overs, so it was not particularly difficult to score a few runs.

I faired a little better at boxing possibly because of the headmaster’s tuition or maybe following in my
family’s footsteps; two of my father’s brothers were boxers, one a top amateur and one a professional, also
my grandfather and his brother who were fairground fighters. I was a fairly skilful boxer but unfortunately
I could not punch my weight. This was fine until I met a serious opponent. This was a few years after I left
St. Luke’s and was in the Essex team taking part in the Great Britain championships. I had had an easy
passage until the quarter finals which were held on my home ground at the Canning Town Public hall. I
weighed in at ten stone nine pounds (67.6 kg) but my opponent was more than eleven stone seven (73 kg).
About thirty seconds after the first bell I managed to land what was to my mind a perfect right hook on his
jaw, although this raised a few oohs from the crowd, it did not impress the recipient who was completely
unmoved. I only have two other memories of the rest of bout, firstly seeing my gum shield flying across the
ring and secondly waking up sitting on a stool in my corner. It was my victor’s fifth first round knock out
in a row and he went on to be Great Britain champion. From then on I decided boxing was not for me and
that was my last fight.

I did pretty well with my lessons and always finished second in the class in the end of term exams; Yvonne
S. always came top, she went to Grammar School and became a Librarian. At that time I enjoyed going to
school probably because I reached the standard of competence expected and was not pushed any further.
The final couple of years were spent just improving on the basic three Rs. I was brought down to earth with
a bang when, at the age of eleven, I managed to pass the eleven-plus and was given a place at my first
choice school - North West Ham Technical School in North Street, Plaistow.

This move was a real shock to the system; moving from a modern comfortable easy-going establishment to
an establishment similar to those found in the writing of Charles Dickens. St. Luke’s was a new building
with central heating and modern facilities. In contrast this school was a Victorian structure with primitive
facilities, lots of stone stairs and lots of cold draughts. The teachers seemed to be ancient and somewhat
remote. This move brought home to me how basic my primary education had been and my first, and only,
year was an absolute nightmare. Almost all of my new classmates were streets ahead of me and had basic
grounding in numerous subjects including French, Algebra and Geometry.

For my first day at school I was kitted out with a school uniform (unheard of in Primary Schools). It
consisted of a green blazer with matching cap and black trousers. Although I felt pretty grown-up, Mum
and Dad did not believe I was not old enough for long trousers, so I wore short ‘uns with long socks. Socks
in those days were not elasticated so they usually lay wrinkled just above the shoes. The school was two
miles or so away from Lansdowne Road, so instead of my usual short leisurely walk (or a mad rush), I had
to leave home much earlier for a bus ride and a long walk either end.

On arrival I was ordered by a Prefect to stand in a corner of the tiny playground with the rest of the “new
kids”. They were all lined up in with their shiny shoes and brand new uniforms, and most of them had
beautiful brand new leather satchels. Unfortunately I only had a brief case made by Dad from plywood,
although it was an attractive item having perfect dovetail joints and finished by French polishing, it wasn’t
quite the same.

We were then marched into “assembly” in the main hall, a multipurpose, theatre cum gymnasium
complete with a stage. Being the youngest, we made up the first rows of the congregation. I use the word
congregation because it was very much a Christian gathering with prayers and hymns which, being a
choirboy, I was used to. Although it was compulsory to attend, any non Christians had the option to leave
the room before the religious element began. The student remained standing whilst the teaching staff were
provided with chairs on the stage and were allowed to sit whilst the Headmaster made his introductions.

After assembly we were marched up a long flight of stone stairs to our form class room; this was a huge
room with a high ceiling and large windows that were well above eye level, so as to eliminate any external
distractions. In one corner was a fire place; although unlit at that time it proved to be a really wonderful
facility during the forthcoming winter months, when we would arrive early and crowd around it until
teacher arrived. The floor had a slight incline towards the back of the class so that pupil and teacher could
keep an eye on each other. There were rows of double desks made of well weathered dark oak decorated
with numerous carved initials of former pupils, who probably paid the penalty for executing this early
form of graffiti. There was a large kneehole desk for the teacher and the finally there was the visual display
unit, namely a black board and easel complete with a box of chalk and a gingham duster,

Hovering in the background was an elderly gentleman who stepped forward and introduced himself as
Mr C., our Form Master. Whom we later found out was nicknamed “Sphinxie”; the reason being that,
although he was a French teacher he had a great interest in Egyptology and that when he wished to bring
the class to attention, he would shout “Sphinx” whereupon everyone would be required to sit with a
straight back, place their forearms on the desk and remain silent and motionless, awaiting further
instructions.

His first task was to “mark the register” that is to make a tick against the name of each pupil on an early
form of a pen and ink “spreadsheet”. Instead of the accepted method of calling-out each pupil’s name and
awaiting a reply we were to “number off” in French. Fortunately I was first alphabetically and happened to
know the French word for one, so from then on he just said “register” and I made a sound which after a
few weeks I turned it into an impression of a vintage car horn. My classmates thought it was a great joke
but, fortunately, Mr C. didn’t realise I was taking the Mickey.

The first lesson was, predictably, French and Mr C. had the practice of giving everyone a French sounding
name which approximated in same way to their given name. As I am Roy his logic said that Roi is the
French word for king, there had been numerous kings of France called Louis, so I would be known as
“Louis”. He then asked for a show of hands for anyone who knew the verb “to be” in French. To my
consternation there was a forest of hands but none of which was mine. However I did know what a verb is.
A very pretty girl called Patricia (real name) stood up and recited “Je suis etc. etc.; I fell in love instantly.
Incidentally a decade or so later a work colleague of mine happened to mention her name as one of his
friends, and a few days later showed me a photograph of her appearing as a Windmill Girl wearing
nothing more than one small feather. I fell in love again.

My next disappointing lesson was mathematics which I knew as arithmetic. The lesson was conducted by
an elderly man Mr D. For some unknown reason nicknamed “Cheese”. He wrote some sort of code on the
blackboard consisting of letters and numbers and asked “what is the golden rule”. A chorus of voices
(including Patricia’s) sang out “letters to the left, numbers to the right”. This left me completely bemused;
what have letters got to do with Arithmetic? This was my first introduction to Algebra. I remained equally
bemused to the end of the school year and finished bottom of the class.

I just did not understand half of what the teachers were talking about and at the end of the term I finished
twenty-fourth out of twenty five in the class.

Probably the most significant event in my academic life took place . A brand new school, South West Ham
Technical School, was opening in the next term and they were advertising for pupils. I applied and was
granted an interview with the head master which I attended with my father. Fortunately I passed and was
offered a place in the new school and for some unknown reason I was placed into the “A” stream where I
remained until I left. At the interview I was asked to spell two words, parallel and necessary, the spelling of
which I have never forgotten, I often joke that if I had misspelled those words I would have probably
returned to my previous school, eventually thrown out and relegated to a Secondary Modern. I would have
left with no qualifications, turned to a life of crime and would now be living on a luxury yacht on the Costa
Del Sol.

South West Ham Tech. was a real technical school and was an expansion of the old West Ham School of
Building. It was an excellent, boys only, school with some excellent teachers, in particular, I am eternally
grateful to my two maths teachers Mr. Baxter and Mr. Wilson who took time to let me catch up with my
contemporaries and by the time I was fourteen, along with three other classmates, I managed to pass “O”
level G.C.E. These two gentlemen, along with several other teachers, were ex army officers and, in my
opinion, were streets ahead in their teaching methods compared to their purely academic colleagues. I
should also mention two other teachers Mr. Greerson and Mr. Bachelor. Mr. Greerson was the metalwork
teacher and an ex Chief Engineer in the Merchant Navy who managed to get me through my “O” level in
metalwork. Mr. Bachelor taught technical drawing and along with two of my mathematical students I
managed to pass “O” level at the age of fifteen and went on to sit the “A” level the following year. My two
colleagues passed but I missed out by a few percent. However I do hold an unbreakable record by being
the first student to fail an “A” level at West Ham Tech.

I suppose that the establishment could be classed as a Trade School as great emphasis was placed on
practical subjects and each pupil was given a chance to try their hand at many skills including: bricklaying,
plumbing, metalwork, carpentry, painting and decorating. It seems hard to believe in this day and age that
a pupil of twelve years of age was taught bricklaying and plumbing. It did not seem strange in those days
if one considers that my father’s generation left school and started full time employment at the age of
fourteen and in my grandfather’s time the age was twelve or less.

1953 was a significant year for me. The previous year Lansdowne road was flooded to a depth of
about a metre or so, when the Thames “came over”. The outcome was that our house was
“condemned” and we had no option but to be housed by the local authority. We moved to a
modern “maisonette” in Plymouth Road. In that era a maisonette was deemed to be a two storey
apartment, now known as a duplex. It was quite modern and for the first time ever we had a real
bathroom and an indoor WC,

During that year I had my thirteenth birthday, which meant that I could legally work for a certain
number of hours in paid employment; the downside to this was that my parents decided that I
would now have to earn my own “pocket money”

Fortunately my cousin “Micky” T. Decided to “jack in” his paper round, and fixed me up as his
replacement. I soon found out why he decided to move on. Although the “round” was fairly small
and could be completed in about an hour, the total hours worked, were quite onerous. There were
morning and evening deliveries six days a week, and I was required to collect the evening papers
from Canning Town station; although there was no evening delivery on Sundays, I still had to call
at every customer on Sunday afternoon to collect the money, all on foot. The rewards of my
labours consisted of the princely sum of ten shillings, (50p) per week.

To help me speed-up the round, I decided to buy a “bike”; no cash, so I took out a hire purchase
agreement with the local shop (now a large car dealer). Dad did me a great favour by acting as
guarantor to the agreement, but offered no financial assistance. Problem was that the payments
were ten shilling and nine-pence a week (54p), so I had to make up the difference by other means.

At that time I was a member of the choir of Saint Luke’s parish church and therefore a regular
church goer; now that I had passed my thirteenth birthday, I could and did become a member the
youth club attached to the Church. The “Club” was run by the assistant curate, the Reverent
Sidney Goose whom I had known since my early school days and often “ran errands” for. Now
that I was legally employable and had my own transport (my bike), I was offered lots of odd jobs
to do both by him and the “Sexton” Mr A., usually on a Saturday morning. One of the more
pleasant tasks was to deliver the Church newsletter to the parishioners. The publication was
produced by the Reverent on an old manual typewriter and a hand operated duplicator and
delivered through the post. Each letter needed a two-and-a-half penny stamp, so I offered to
deliver them for a penny each, to which he agreed; I believe he used to “bung” me two bob (10p)
on top so I don’t think he saved much, but at least he knew they got there and on time. Sometimes
Saturday was a busy day as quite often the choir was asked to sing at wedding, for which we each
received half-a-crown (12.5p), so all in all I managed to keep up my payments.

Round about this time, I gave up my paper round mainly because of my after school activities and
the burden of the dreaded homework!

For a short period I managed to get a Saturday morning job along with a school mate David Mac.,
at a small engineering company. This consisted of cleaning the offices and shovelling up and
removing the swarf and “steel sawdust” from the machines in the workshop. This was my first
insight into the working of an engineering company; little did I know then how many hours I
would spend in a similar environment in the years to come.

1955 was also significant year for me; I was now fifteen which meant I could leave school and start
full-time paid employment. Because I was “doing well” I did not leave school and I had a good
chance to obtain some more qualifications. I worked very hard at school that year to try to obtain
my maths and technical drawing GCEs, which I did’ I was very proud to achieve this especially
with maths which I passed just before my fifteenth birthday. At the end of the term it would have
been good to be rewarded with a nice holiday or something, this was not to be; my only reward
was that dad had fixed me up with a full time labouring job at Tate and Lyle. On reflection I
probably agreed to this because most of my local friends were leaving school and were looking
forward to earning some money.

My job was in the syrup filling department, where the empty tins were filled with golden syrup
by an army of young ladies, by hand. The tins arrived from the can making department and were
placed on a weighing machine and filled by hand by means of a lever operated valve. Little did I
know that in a year or so I would be in the workshop refurbishing these valves. There was a
bottleneck between where the cans arrived, and where they were filled. Something like fifty or
sixty cans were placed in an aluminium tote bin about a metre cube; my job was to lift the full bins
in reach of the filling station and remove them when empty; six weeks non-stop!

Although it was a pretty tedious task there were compensations. It gave me an insight into the
working environment and I met some really friendly people who took me under their wings. Most
significantly I became interested in the function of the maintenance engineer. When a machine
broke down he seemed appeared from nowhere and after delving within the innards for a few
minutes the machine was up and running. I decided then that I wanted to be an Engineer.

Come September I was back at school for my final year which was pretty uneventful just hard
work to attempt to get more GCEs. There were some lighter moments when I decided to organise
some out-of-school activities, one of which would probably not be possible to-day; I organised a
“Beano” that is a coach trip to the seaside. Imagine what would happen today if a fifteen-year-old
schoolboy hired a coach, filled it with boys of his own age and set off for a day at the seaside.
What was even more remarkable is that we stopped at a pub on the way home and were all served
with alcoholic drinks. Was it because we were naturally well behaved or was it that unruly
behaviour would not be tolerated in those days? Who knows.

With the help of one of the younger teachers I managed to organise an end of term dance, what
would now be termed a Prom. Our school was boys only, so where would the girls come from?
The answer was from my previous school, South West Ham Tech. I sought out one of my old girl
classmates and asked to invite all the girls in her class. Guess what? A hundred percent turnout!
Obviously they liked boys as much as we liked girls. The evening was a great success. Tiny, tinny
record player, soft drinks and cakes, who cares, the girls were there.

I suppose I can sum up my academic ability as being the proverbial “Jack-of-all-trades, Master-of-none”. I
was usually in the top five in every subject, but never top; even in the final end of term mathematics
examination I achieved ninety-six percent and came fourth. At the age of sixteen at the end of my final term
I had obtained O-level G.C.E.s in Metalwork (fitting and turning), mathematics, physics, chemistry, and
technical drawing; in addition I was well into the A level syllabus for maths and TD. Because of the
vocational elements in my education I already had the ability to use the basic metalworking hand tools and
operate some of the more common machine tools in an engineering workshop; in addition my academic
qualifications gave me exemption from the first year of the Higher National Certificate course. These
qualifications gave me the hope that I might fulfil my ambition and to obtain an Engineering
Apprenticeship, preferably with T and L.