Chapter 4 - Evacuation part 2
From ChapmanCentral
- This is from the "magnum opus", Dad's memoir of his life up to middle age.
Haslemere
Eventually the authorities decided that it was alright to separate brothers from sisters and 'Chub' and I were sent to Haslemere in Surrey to join Fulham Central School for Boys and Marjorie and 'Rene' were sent to Woking to join Fulham Central School for Girls. Not only had I not passed the 11+ examination but was a year younger than most of my classmates.
'Chub' and I were billeted at Town House, a large house in the High Street. There were some twenty five or so lads living there with the owners, Mr and Mrs Glover and their teenage daughter, Christine.
Mr K J Smart, who taught art, also lived at Town House, as did his wife. If there was any heating in the house, apart from a roaring fire in the Glover's sitting room, we could not detect it. We asked 'K J' to intercede on our behalf and this resulted in the biggest snowball fight I have ever seen, by the end of which we had all warmed up. The first action of any newcomer to Town House was to go to the Town Hall and collect a straw palliasse on which to sleep, the camp beds being supplied from Government sources. The food was totally inadequate and was prepared by Minnie, the only person I have ever seen with a heavily nicotine stained top lip from chain smoking. What happened to the ash during cooking can only be imagined. Mr Glover seemed to spend most of his time travelling to and from the West Country buying antiques.
Aptitudes were seldom measured in those days and I had little or no aptitude for commercial subjects. It should therefore not have come as any surprise when I was found to be somewhat lacking in ability. Instead of which I was regarded by most of the teachers as an idiot. The Head was Mr Fleetcroft and he and the rest of the staff seem to have been fairly competent. That does not mean that they were liked, for instance, I had no idea about French and the mistress, Madame duCourzy Macdonnell, while being quite amazed that any of her pupils should find the subject at all difficult, did manage to convince me that, after Latin, French is the second dead language. It didn't help when my spectacles got broken and Madame made me sit at the back of the class but I think that it was a trifle odd that she then called me a stupid boy and 'Chub' a grinning fool.
'Chub' and I expressed fairly strong feelings about Town House and, probably helped by 'K J' and his wife, we were moved to another hostel called Scotlands, a large country house requisitioned for the purpose. There were about forty of us there and the place was run by Mr and Mrs Taylor. He was commonly known as 'Snitchy' from a habit of stroking his face near to his nose and in the region of a scar. It was rumoured that 'Snitchy' had his face blown off in World War I but this could not have been the case. No doubt he was injured while serving in submarines. He taught Mathematics and could be described as a stern disciplinarian. Luckily, this applied to people in all walks of life and this being the case, meant that he was given adequate staff help at Scotlands. The boys were all given duties along service lines, each being responsible for cleaning his own bed space and were given fatigues as punishments. I never saw any such punishment being unfairly awarded, although his school punishments were never fair. I say this having attempted, with may others helping (never mind the handwriting) to write 5OO times 'Neglect of duty', probably for failing to finish a homework task. Anybody who has ever attempted to write anything 5OO times in one evening will tell you that it is impossible.
The house was very well equipped with a table tennis room and a full sized snooker table. The snooker table was in the stair well, the staircase being a large curved affair, which led up to an open corridor with a number of bedrooms (dormitories). The stair well also contained a grand piano. A second staircase led up to the second floor where the oldest group of lads slept. 'Chub' was 'Chapman Major' and I was 'Chapman Minor'. On one occasion I fell foul of Mrs Taylor and 'Snitchy' sentenced me to sleep in the alcove, known as the 'Galley', part way up to the second floor. Now 'Chub' slept upstairs so this arrangement was quite acceptable. Another reason why it was agreeable was that the hot water tank was in the alcove and it was therefore pleasantly warm.
His classmates had all given each other nicknames and, on account of his japes, 'Chub' became 'Japer Jimmy' and has been called 'Jimmy' ever since. His classmates included Ted Tussler who had quite prominent front teeth and was therefore known as 'Tombstone Tussler'. Many of the lads had songs written about them. In 'Jimmy's' case it was (sung to the tune of that old Music Hall gem 'Do not trust him gentle maiden'):
- Please don't jape my little Jimmy,
- For your japes are rough and low.
- And it will make your character shady,
- And to Sing Sing you'll have to go.
Hardly a literary gem but a source of great amusement, especially to the initiated who only used the initial letters:
- P D J M L J,
- F Y J A R A L.
- A I W M Y C S,
- A T S S Y H T G.
On the occasion of my next indiscretion 'Snitchy' threatened to throw me OUT of the 'Galley'.
In the event of a good conduct award being appropriate one was given a job with a certain amount of responsibility and referred to as a 'Privileged Boy'. When I achieved this exalted rank my job was to operate the incinerator, having first constructed it, and then to separate the salvage and burn 'dried egg' boxes and the like.
The grounds contained three lawns, one with clock golf, and a hard tennis court. The scale of the grounds can best be judged by the fact that the winding drive was in excess of a furlong in length and included a straight section where, on sporting occasions, the 1OO yard run could be staged. In another area there was a natural maze of rhododendrons and in spite of many ramblings through the maze during some 2 years stay, I still didn't know all the routes when I left.
The Taylors lived at the back of the house but segregation was simply to avoid embarrassment and, when required, they could easily fall into a parental mode. It would be easy to say much more about experiences at Scotlands but one lasting memory is worthy of mention and that is that neither 'Chub' nor I could finish our first meals there, our stomachs having shrunk with the meagre fare at Town House.
The educational objective at Fulham Central School was to prepare boys for the School Certificate and, hopefully, Matriculation. The subjects included Shorthand, taught by Mrs ('Old Ma') Crannenbrook, Typewriting, taught by Mr Woods, as was Bookkeeping. Mr Woods was a rough diamond who would say, "Bung it on the credit (or debit) side" and was hence called 'Bunger' Woods, which quickly became 'Chucker Forest'. He drove an ancient motor cycle combination, perhaps it was merely dirty and unkempt, but in any case the whole ensemble looked really scruffy. Some years after the war, I saw his outfit in a London filling station and said, "Hello, you're Mr Woods aren't you?" There was no reply, merely a shake of the head, but I was absolutely certain that it was 'Bunger'. Perhaps he had fallen on hard times.
I cannot remember who taught English/Scripture but recall that, having been told which verses of the Bible would be required to be quoted from memory, all the boys tore out the page to use for a 'crib'. One day, 'Old Ma' was unwell and it fell to 'Johnny' Fleetcroft to take her class. By good fortune, not only was he no good at shorthand but also, he had received Entrance Examination papers from Wandsworth Technical School and so he set this as a class exercise under strict examination conditions. Only the papers from unwanted pupils were sent in and Mum was asked to visit Dr Lewis, the Headmaster of Wandsworth Technical School. Dr Lewis told her that I had only narrowly failed and, on hearing her pleas about the poor boy being without his spectacles for more than a year and being the wrong age group for my class etc he decided to let me into the School.
Before moving on to talk about my time at 'Wandsworth', I feel that a few other memories should be recounted. 'Snitchy' was the C O of the local Squadron of the Air Training Corps and, following a musical evening at which we were given a piano recital and other items, we seemed reluctant to go to bed and he started an argument as to which service was superior, Navy or R A F. He supported the Navy, one of a small minority and the rest of us shouted for the R A F. Eventually, when 'Snitchy' could sense that we were about 'all in' he called for 'Pipe down' and peace gradually reigned. His penultimate comment was, "Good night lads" and finally, just before he went out of earshot, he shouted "NAVY".
One day the whisper went round that the King and Queen would be driving through Haslemere. The security arrangements were obviously poor because, sure enough, at the appointed hour their car drove slowly up the High Street, to tumultuous applause.
On another occasion, it was decided to hold a mock invasion, to test the readiness of the Home Guard, the attacking enemy being represented by Canadian Soldiers who were stationed nearby. We were refugees, and our task was to make a general nuisance of ourselves. The Town Hall, which stands in the middle of the road, was to be the defence headquarters and a Home Guard N C O stood on guard outside. The first of the 'attackers' was invited to, "Stick em up." He, while being generally impolite, hit the N C O with his rifle butt and disarmed him. He then placed a smoke cannister inside the door, shot it with a blank to start it and then closed the door. He thus defeated the Home Guard single handed. It was decided that he would have been shot in the first place and to carry on with the exercise.
Francis L Sullivan lived in Haslemere and his car bore the scars of enemy action. Being a film actor of some distinction we felt that he should have been involved in the mock invasion.
It seems a pity to end the chapter on a sad note but we heard, just before I left, that Peter Shirgold who had been the Head Choirboy at St Clements, and had been with us at Scotlands, had joined the Army and news had just been received of the death in action of Lt P Shirgold.
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