Vigeon Post

I think I probably hold the record for attendance at Carlisle Grammar School - eleven years and a term. I had been there so long that when I turned up again in September 1946, so that I might take University entrance exams, our Headmaster could not refrain from appointing me head boy. But he also appointed a co-head boy, Jack Edmundson-Jones, so that there was some sporting ability in the highest echelons of the school.  That Autumn, Peterhouse, Cambridge offered me a place to be taken up when I had completed National Service.

So it was that I was on the platform of Carlisle Station on the morning of 13th January 1947. A date so etched in my memory that I still use it as a password, along with my service number.

Jphn Nanson and I took slightly embarrassed leave of our family and set off in the 8.20 am Carlisle to London train which was to be a standard feature of the railway timetable for many years.  London was still of course very much a blitzed city at the time. It was amaziing really how efficiently things happened. From Euston we crossed to Paddington and took a train which stopped at Corsham, a few miles east of Bath.  A truck took us to HMS Royal Arthur the basic training camp; and we were ushered into the dining hall for a hot meal. I can't remember what it was, but I do remember the phrase "thick rich brown gravy" - a product which was often used to cover a multitude of culinary sins. We were kitted out, and given instruction in the basics of marching and saluting. A few nights after arrival there was some horseplay in our hut as a result of which a fire extinguisher was let off. About six of us were hauled up the next day in front of our Divisional Officer. I seem to recollect his name was Lieutenant Dickens and that he was a relative of Monica Dickens and so also indirectly of the great man himself. We were warned that we must learn how to behave; and that any further stepping out of line would have dire consequences.

At that time my Uncle Gray (mother's youngest brother) and his family lived in Filton just outside Bristol and this meant that on a couple of occasions I had a bolt hole to keep me sane. One Saturday Uncle took me to a concert in Bristol Town Hall by the Halle Orchestra given by their new conductor John Barbirolli.  It wa a revelation; and a bonus was that the major work was Elgar's Second Symphony.  It was an adventurous choice seeing that the reliability of the Halle's horn section was notably delicate. Another weekend, it was the birthday of my cousin Wendy and I was invited to her party, marked by the presence of seveeral  enthusiastic 18 year old girls.  I suppose by modern standards our behaviour was very seemly - but in those days games where 'snogging' was permitted were regarded as daring; and care had to be taken to ensure that parental generation people did not come on the scene unannounced.