David Middleton attended THS School 1961 to 1967

I left London in 1982 to live and work in Sussex and as a consequence lost touch with my old stomping grounds in South London. One day, around the mid 1990’s, I was on my way home after a rare trip to Central London when I decided to make a detour through South London to catch sight of my old school. As I drove along Upper Tulse Hill I looked to where I expected to see that iconic building (or blot on the landscape according to your point of view), I saw instead a block of newly constructed flats.

It was only recently that I learned via the internet that Tulse Hill School, which I attended from 1961 to 1967 had closed in 1990. I think the real reasons for its demise have yet to be told and it would probably make an interesting story. The fact that Strand Grammar, Dick Shepherds have also gone and St. Martins in-the-Fields is now a City Technical school speaks volumes for the area. I have my own views but in the politically correct times in which we live I had better keep them to myself.

What prompted me to write this was seeing a previous item written by Stephen Gilliatt in which he wrote that Tulse Hill School had been the making of him as a person and he had enjoyed his time there. This prompted a rethink on my part because in my own case I absolutely loathed the place. Had I been too harsh in my opinion of the place; perhaps the fault lay with me?

The Road to Tulse Hill.

Together with my sister Vicky, who is two years my elder, I had attended St. Judes Church of England primary school in Herne Hill. This was an old fashioned 3r’s type of school opened in about 1843 and apart from a lick of paint an electric lights had probably changed little in the ensuing years. Of the two of us my sister was considered to be the brighter one a fact enhanced when in 1959 she passed the 11 plus exam and sailed off to Rosa Bassett Grammar school near Streatham. As for me it was expected that when my time came I would probably be headed for William Penn Secondary Modern on Redpost Hill, which was fine by me as it was only about 15 minutes walk from where I lived and one of my best friends, Allen Jewhurst, was planning to go there.

I probably gave no outward signs of being particularly academic but I was an avid reader and spent a lot of time in my local library browsing through and reading books. I have very little recollection of the 11 plus exam itself only that I had done the best I could. When the results were read out by the Headmaster a couple of months later no one more surprised than me that I had passed. As for my mother, a proud Yorkshire woman for whom going to a grammar school was a passport to a different world she was over the moon.

As far as she was concerned the leafy spires of Oxbridge beckoned over the horizon and it all went a bit to her head. She put me down for Alleyns School in Dulwich, a public school that for a few years at that time had an arrangement with the local education authority to take a small amount of state pupils for free. The competition for places must have been pretty fierce and at the interview nerves overcame me not helped by the fact that I was dressed like I was attending an audition for Oliver Twist. My second choice was Archbishop Tennyson’s in Kennington opposite the Oval Cricket ground, a top grammar school in those days, today sadly a failing inner London sink school. I think they were a bit miffed that they were my second choice, so I was blown out there also.

My mother was determined that I would go to a grammar school and after a lot of trouble I was offered a place at Tooting Bec grammar school. This was about six miles from where I lived and would have involved a change of buses. It was no farther than my sister travelled at that time and with hindsight I should have accepted. Instead because another good friend, Stephen Francis was going to Tulse Hill I persuaded my mother to let me go there instead.

Early years at Tulse Hill

For some reason that I am unable to explain my memories of Tulse Hill have been largely expunged from my mind. I remember the first day was a bit of a shock and I sought out my friend Stephen and stuck to him like glue. We were all like new pins and a source of great mirth and mickey taking from the older boys. On the first day I learned a harsh lesson when on going up the staircase I felt a tug on my blazer pocket and my brand new cap disappeared for ever. This left me in a bit of a panic as I would soon be in trouble without it not least from my mother. So in a dog eat dog fashion I resolved to nick one myself. This took some careful planning. Firstly it had to be the right size, secondly it had to be of the right House, in my case Turner, and thirdly and most importantly the victim had to be someone who should they catch me in the act would not be of the type to give me a severe beating up. I spent the first lunch break stalking likely victims. Having found one I stuck to him a followed him in the crush up the staircase and gently eased the cap from his pocket. It was a bit moth eaten and slightly smaller, but it sat at just the right Tulse Hill angle on the back of my head "Just William" style and together with a bit of dirt rubbed on to my blazer badge nicely took the newness of me!.

The other first day thing was the sight of two boys who actually turned up in SHORT TROUSERS!. Can you believe it!. What sort of parents did these boys have. Unbelievably one of these boys also turned up for his second year in yes SHORT BLOODY TROUSERS.

For the first couple of years I knuckled down quite well and in all subjects was comfortably in the top ten of the class, 1L4 I think. I remember scoring 96% in my Latin test in the first or second year, mind you I was sitting next to the boy who scored 100% so you may draw your own conclusion, I couldn’t possibly comment, anyway how do I know he didn’t crib of me!.

The Middle Years

This is where things started to go wrong. My father died in 1963 which may have something to do with it. For some reason I just stopped working and started mucking about, I was stupid and I regret it now. Apart from that I can’t think of anything else to say about this time.

Final Years

Entering into the fifth form was my last chance to come to my senses and up my game, but I was an arrogant little sod and became a rebel without a cause. I was not the sharpest chisel in the toolbox but I was a long way from being the dullest but instead of proving it I did nothing. Oh the folly of youth!!!.

The sixth form was probably the only time at Tulse Hill that I can say I enjoyed. Most of the rough types had left and those that were left were more in tune with my way of thinking. I discovered a couple of subjects I really enjoyed: British Constitution and Modern History.

I had failed History in the fifth form together with the entire class, I think Pete Jaggard was the only one that passed. But the teacher of Modern History the next year was the Head of Department, I can’t remember his name, but he had tutorial university type of lessons where he just talked and were expected to read up for the next lesson. I did not write one single essay but I found it so interesting that I sailed through the exam. I realised then that if you are really interested in a subject and you have a good teacher everything falls more easily into place.

General Thoughts

Head Teachers. Mr Thomas was the first head . I only learnt recently that he came from Dulwich College where he was Deputy Head. Running Tulse Hill on public school lines was absurd. He went everywhere wearing his gown and mortarboard and insisted that all masters wore their gowns. I thought the Headmaster’s procession at Morning Assembly preposterous. I bumped into a couple of times at he was always quite pleasant.

Mr Long the next Head was a bit of a martinet. The story of the school play The Long and the Short and the Tall where one of the actors put a bottle neck between his legs and simulated masturbation has been mentioned many times. However what I have not seen mentioned is when he addressed the School the next day at Morning Assembly and said. I have never seen or heard anything so disgusting in all my life, and that includes the five years I spent in the Army during the war. Now those of us that had fathers who were also in the army or indeed any of you that have been in the services will know that he must have been in a very sheltered part of the army not to have seen or heard these things. The one other incident involving Mr. Long which no one else has mentioned here or elsewhere is what I remember as the Red Pullover Affair.

He was a bit of a stickler for the correct wearing of the uniform and what got up his nose more than anything was the wearing of coloured pullover instead of the regulation grey. He did not realise that for some parents particularly those with several children the purchase of uniforms was a real struggle financially. At Charity, Second-hand shops and Jumble Sales grey pullovers were rare but coloured ones were more plentiful. Anyway, one day at Morning Assembly he spotted some poor tyke in a red pullover and dragged him up onto the stage in front of the whole school and made him take it off, humiliatingly for this poor boy his old worn out and frayed shirt was exposed showing that his family didn’t have two pennies to rub together. One teacher, Trevor Richardson walked out and this incident got a mention in the Daily Mirror. Where on earth did they dig up people like Long?.

Mr Lovelace the Deputy Head. I never spoke one word to him in six years. He always wore what looked like a 1945 demob suit and had a funny movement of his mouth that looked like a cow chewing the cud.

Mr Shelley the Head of Lower School. Liked to make young boys bend over in front a mirror in his room before caning them, I know this is true because I was one of them. In my latter years when I had long hair he would often apprehend me and say, The Headmaster has asked me to speak to you about the length of your hair and to say that you should get it cut. He once did this three times in one day, not remembering me from before.Strange man.
Mr Smith the Head of Upper School. A really nice chap who I would have liked to have known better had it not been for my bolshy attitude.

There were several other teachers who I remember but mostly not worthy of mention, Maybe they were better than I thought or not as worse as I remember. One teacher I do have fond memories of is Trevor Richardson who taught R.E. and Humanities. He later became a Vicar,

Games and PE: I hated sport and PE with a passion. The only sport I liked was Cricket and we did not see much of that. I have been to many cold countries in my time, my wife is from Finland, but in all these places I have never felt so cold as I did during the winters on the playing fields of Ewell.

Houses: I had no interest in this public school type institution and so stayed as far away as possible from it unless it was unavoidable.

Prefects: When during the fourth year several boys were made House Prefects based solely on their prowess on the sports field I knew that this office was not for me. I was never asked nor did I ever seek elevation to this high office. Anyway standing around during my break time telling little boys not to run did not interest me. As far as being a School Prefect was concerned, wearing a little gown just looked ridiculous to me.

Corporal Punishment: I thought then as I think now that this institution was a shameful period in the history of this countries Education system. There is no doubt in my mind that several of the staff at Tulse Hill used it as a way of fulfilling their perverted tendencies.
There was one teacher who filled up the corner hem of his gown with sand in order to hit boys over the head. Unbelievable!.

Girls Schools: Many people have mentioned Dick Shepherds School. Well the only place where my fantasies laid were St. Martins in the Fields. I thought the girls there were just so much better.

Friends: One of the saddest things about my time at Tulse Hill was that apart from my friend from Primary School, Stephen Francis I never made a single friend in my six years there. Funnily enough about a year after I left I bumped into someone I vaguely knew from school and we became great friends and through him I met several others and became friends with them also. Why was this? It always seemed odd to me that all the boys called each other by their surnames. I could understand this from the teachers’ point of view, how else could they remember all the names. But I think that between the boys it became a barrier and that we did not see each other as real people. The other problem was that so few boys from school lived near me.

In Conclusion

I doubt if Tulse Hill was as bad as I have thought. I just cannot rid myself of the thought that I would rather have been somewhere else. Even if I had gone to a Grammar school there is no guarantee that I would have been any better off. Its just that I thought Tulse Hill too impersonal, there was no one to go to for pastoral help. I needed a mentor, someone to put me on the straight and narrow a father figure if you like.

Anyway there it is, my soul laid bare. If anyone wants to e-mail me then they are most welcome. My e-mail address is dgmiddleton@hotmail.com

Paul Hope recalls Tulse Hill School in the 60's and 70's

I joined the first year of the school in about 1969. I was in Dickens House, mad keen on athletics. Later to be house captain and athletics captain for a short while. I recall holding the school record in the first year for 200 mts, in a time of 26.6 seconds. Fast at the time, but I did not get much faster and the other schools such as William Pen had exceptionally fast sprinters. I have recently returned to cross country running aged nearly 50, running in the London League, and enjoy the contrasting
memories of schoolboy and veteran athletics. With any luck I will do the London Marathon again, next year. What more is there to say. Fit and well and ready for Xmas.

I note people mention on your website the visit made by Ali to the school. The person who asked him to attend was a school governor, Paul Stephenson. He phoned Ali at his London Hotel, asked that he attend, was asked about
payment of money (there was none available) so Ali obliged.

Stephen Gilliatt - Tulse Hill memories - 1960's

Memories of a Sixties Tulse Hill: The Good, the Bad and the Mad.

Whatever others may say about this school, it was the making of me. When I first arrived, I was a shy, lanky and bespectacled boy who had just moved from provincial Surrey backto my birthplace in South London (now Londonistan). At Tulse Hill, I found a stimulating atmosphere of non-conformity and innovation that helped to form my personality, gave me confidence and determined my fate. I was at the school from 1961-1968. I kept a diary so what I remember is accurate. Unlike many of your other correspondents, I do not remember the experience as just pranks and ‘bunking off’. If I had stayed in Surrey, I would have been doomed to a secondary modern 11plus-reject education with none of the varied, stimulating curriculum and friendship I encountered at Tulse Hill.

For the first few years or so, I spent my time trying to avoid being bullied by aspiring apprentices to the south London underworld. They nicknamed me ‘Gutsy’ because I refused to climb through the top of the wall bars in the gym or launch myself over the high jump bar on the rational grounds of potential risk to important parts of body. These trainee villains used to look at me and imitate the cutting of the throat with a knife when, at the end of lessons, as a monitor it fell to me to remind the teacher to set homework. Luckily having two attractive sisters at the nearby Dick Shepherd Girls School gained me the favour and protection of some of the more romantically inclined hard men. One or two of them reappeared at my older sisters wedding years later.

I remember the sixth form debates. A memorable example was led by a verbally rebellious pupil called Tewson who proposed the motion that “there is no love in a capitalist society”. His father, I believe, was a policeman.

After school hours and at weekends schoolboy camaraderie would continue with alcoholic refreshment and the thrill of the chase. These were the Saturday night gatecrashing party circuits organised by a clearinghouse named Ian Honeysett. The sixth form dances were also fab. One of them I helped organise, in a monk’s cassock, under the title Rasputins Transcendental Meditation Halloween Ball 7.30pm November 4^th 1967. Entrance price 3/6d (as you see, I still have the yellow ticket).

Parties, dances, drink, LSD in a cake, my first encounters with members of the opposite sex, (Rosemary Elliker, Susan Clarke, Wendy Mason, Teresa Gonet) family arguments at home, exam nerves and a ripe imagination all combined in April 1968 to produce an adolescent breakdown. This led to a brief spell in hospital with some very strange people (mostly failed university students and hippies) whose sixties ‘spacing out’ had also become unmanageable.

Tulse Hill produced some good friendships. I remember my old companion Pete Jaggard who adored Wagner and was reading Yates and Ezra Pound at the age of 16.

I also have recollections of Andrew Hume-Voggle whose ardent Scottish nationalism and serious antiquarianism occasionally brought out the cruel part of my nature. Sorry buddy but you were so beautifully marked I could not resist taking another shot 40 years later when you attempted to prompt your former schoolmates into nostalgia for the old place. However, the last laugh is yours. You have been successful in my case as this essay demonstrates. Good luck to you sir and keep out of that skirt if you can.

Another close mate from those days was Neil ‘Manfred’ Harrington, a budding scientist (now a psychologist in the Scotlands) who once used his chemistry textbook to distil 100% alcohol. This substance I later consumed with gusto washing it down with Cyprus red wine. Thus it came to pass that one afternoon after bunking off to the house of a fellow Pupil Chistadolou, a parents carpet was stained for all time and the little old ladies in the tea shop in West Norwood were given the fright of their lives as I passed by banging on the window and empting the contents of my stomach. We latter crashed out in the cemetery. Those who today decry binge drinking had better take a trip down memory lane before they cast any more stones at the contemporary practitioner.

I also remember those boys who were very good at sport and who took it up in later life. That was what was so good about Tulse Hill School: whatever you wanted to excel at there was always an opportunity to do so. Golf, sailing, rowing, chess as well as the more common fare were available. I dabbled at fencing for a time. Neil (Manfred) became quite good at it.

Trying to combine order with innovation were the eccentric and inspiring teachers like Patrick, Winkler, Ryan, Richardson, Thorpe and a host of others whose names I forget. I was caned by the headmaster Thomas for ‘answering back’ and ‘slippered' many a time by the maths teacher Morris for being “ an old woman and constantly nattering in class”. My father went berserk when he read that description in a school report and, unlike today, did not take it out on the teacher.

I remember the school plays. I had minor speaking parts in a few. Jaggard had the nerve to write his own play, spoofing Shakespeare, giving soothsayers major roles and portraying Kings and politicians as idiots. It was called Albert X and premiered on December 15^th 1967. It was very surreal. Although I had had a part in an play earlier on in the evening (extract from the Merchant of Venice) I was lucky to have been offered by Jaggard the important role of ‘the servant’ and later ‘conducted’ the pre-recorded orchestra. Although the new Headmaster Long sang along to Land of Hope and Glory at the end, he was not pleased with our outlook on authority and tradition. We were. Afterwards, for at least a day, when a number of people including the drama staff congratulated me on my performance, I thought I might go on and make a success of acting as a profession. Alas, I ended up as just another actor in everyday life; just like everyone else. (See Sartre’s portrayal of the waiter earnestly concentrating on ‘being’ a waiter in Being and Nothingness or Goffman’s Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, if you are out of practice.)

The real impact of Tulse Hill Drama did not come from our success that night. Although Jaggard had an even bigger one with his Alice in the Underground a year later, the real fireworks were reserved for a performance that another friend, Alan Knowles, starred in. This was a production of the Alfred Jarry play Ubu Roi. The ‘bad’ language upset the visiting local MP Sir Marcus Lipton. The headmaster ordered the curtain to be brought down and the school erupted in shouts and screams. A report of the tumult appeared in the Daily Express. Soon after this, Patrick the drama master went into exile to teach in Tasmania. The affair contributed to the government’s decision to abolish Theatre censorship in 1968.

Tulse Hill employed its first black teacher around 1965/6. His skin pigmentation went unnoticed because his colourful English did not. It so far excelled the other teachers that my classmates, black and white, would be agog with admiration. We nicknamed him “Snagglepuss”. I do not know why. I have a gem of his. After attempting to teach a rather ill behaved class the poor man exclaimed, (and I quote from my diary here): -

“For all the good that it has done you I might as well have opened the window and conversed with fowls of the air

I also remember, as many of your other correspondents have done, the chemistry teacher who used to set up experiments to explode when he left the room.

Then there were the Spanish teachers. In 1961, only a minority of us choose to study the language but when word got around that it was easier than French (being more phonetic) the numbers expanded. The efforts of Spanish teacher Gestra came in good stead in 1984 when I used what I had learnt to ingratiate myself with a Spanish beauty in a piano bar in Marbella. She later became my second estranged wife but thanks to my Spanish never learnt English. My estranged teenage daughter speaks no English either. Maybe manana. It is always tomorrow in Spain. Unfortunately, they are now yesterday.

Thanks must go also to the other Spanish teacher Mr Gomez for his back up work on Spanish culture. A short man with very dark sunglasses who never seemed to smile but was quite a good teacher. He did not have much to smile about with us. I do not think he liked Franco (still alive and perky in those days) because if we got down below our desks and shouted “Viva Franco” Gomez would line up the likely culprits for his special brand of excruciating torture (quite legal at the time and involving our newly grown sideburns). Gestra also utilised a light form of torture involving having to stand on one leg for a long period. We did not hold all this against the teachers. No doubt, they had read some manual by Torquemada before encountering the slovenly and undisciplined English. Go to Spain today and you can see the descendents of Tulse Hill pupils and the like walking the streets of Benalmadena and other places with their second hand gardening trousers, baseball hats, shaved heads, tattoos and lager-reddened faces. Another failure for the inquisiion and a victory for John Bull.

I was alone drinking at a hotel bar in the said town in 2005 when I got into conversation with a man and his wife who came from Peckham. He was a taxi driver and, while not fitting the description above, had a thick south London accent (which seems so strange to me now after living here in Tyneside for 19 years). Moreover he had gone to Tulse Hill Comprehensive School (although in the early seventies) and now often ferries retired teachers from the place around in his car.

I remember the school trip to Paris in 1966 when a group of us stayed up all night drinking wine and smoking Disque Bleu in a Latin Quarter bar near the Rue St. Michel. We were somewhat over-whelmed by a young American actress who danced on the table just for us. Who was that woman? I remember Jaggard saying to a Customs official on the return trip that he wanted to declare his six oysters and a picture of Wagner. I remember the official asked to see the oysters but was indifferent to the composer. I was sick on the boat when Jaggard decided to eat some of his shellfish before they went completely off.

So I think you can appreciate from these Spanish and French peregrinations that my experience of the rich tapestry of European culture is partly down to that now demolished place of comprehensive learning.

While I have you in an awe-like state let us also remember religion and the teacher who ran the Scripture Union in the early sixties. I joined the Scripture Union (SU) during the winter to avoid going out in the cold playground. I forget the gentleman’s name but his message was as severe as a blast from Johnnie Knox himself. We boys were told that it was sinful to look at the ladies lingerie advertisements when travelling up or down the escalator on the London Underground.

Another interesting character was a supply history teacher with a thick Rumanian accent who rumour has it some years later was arrested by the police for a property crime. His history lessons consisted of long dictations. He would eat lunch and a banana behind his suitcase and shout profanities that he took to be colloquialisms: -

“Shiete down and bagger off you boys, plesse!!”

Let us now do a spot of pottery with the Italo-Scottish art master Mr Pacciti. The first lesson was always the ‘pinch pot’. If you got that right then he would let you do something for the kiln. I had a flair for Toby jugs and the like. One of my pieces – a kneeling Turk – adorned the headmaster’s study. I wrote to the school in the seventies and they said I could have it back anytime but it would be missed, so I left it there. Presumably, it was demolished along with school? If not, can I have it back please? It is one of the few artefacts of that lost Lambeth civilisation of my youth; the cap and tie having long since disappeared.

(Pause while wipes tear from each eye in turn with freshly pressed handkerchief

Of Hymn practice and Hymns, I have nothing but bad memories. The local council should have sent in a swat team to stop this early form of child abuse. I was in the school choir, liked classical music and thought hymns dreadful so imagine how those lads who only responded to the Beatles and the Stones and little else must have felt. They were probably put off ‘serious’ music for life. “Oh God our help in ages past” we sang, forced and dirge-like, feeling all the time that if there was a God he had surely abandoned us to that devilishly fat and groaning organ that accompanied our funereal sound. Mr Moon and other music teachers introduced a richer diet of classical music in class but this was not capable of denting the impression that what Tulse Hill meant by music, on an everyday basis, was the ubiquitous and horrendous Hymn.

Best wishes to anybody that remembers those days. Please feel free to paste / forward these recollections to any interested parties. I have listed all the names I remember at the end. Apologies to anybody who I have left off or who feel aggrieved at not being mentioned more of in this dispatch. I have not forgotten that Ray Smith, Peter George, John Roberts, Dave Strevens, PC Ian Russell and (ex-officio) Chas Dickie were reassuring when times seemed hard.

The discerning reader will note that this hastily compiled recollection bears all the marks of an incomplete coverage of grammar and syntax while at school. As a former university lecturer and small-time, (sometime) wordsmith this often has got me into trouble with proper public school educated colleagues, editors and publishers. Maybe this accounts for why my work has up to now fallen “dead-born from the press”. Of course, I would like to blame anybody except myself for this especially as the school is not there to defend itself anymore. Nevertheless, the benefits of having been to Tulse Hill dwarf any of its failings and my memories will be retained hasta la muerte.

Ad Unum Omnes.

Stephen Gilliatt (alias Gutsy, Guillemot etc.)

LIST OF TULSE HILL FRIENDS, CLOSE FRIENDS, ACQUAINTANCES, AND EX-OFFICIO PARTICIPANTS IN THE FUN 1961-8

(TULSE HILL PUPILS):- Hardy, Harding, Squires, Balfour, Bathe, Jaggard, Harrington, Schubert, Winstone, Middleton, George, Gomm, Delamare, Tewson, Ede, Bailey, Strevens, Wright, Knowles, Hughes, Pugh, Gordon 1, Gordon 2, Hume, Smith, Christadolou, Furby, Patten QC, Payne, Kells, Marshall, Gaster, Roberts, Mackenzie, Honeysett, Russell, Blumaire, Healy, Martinez, Chapman

(EX-OFFICIO MALE PARTICIPANTS FROM OTHER SCHOOLS OR BARS):- Chas ‘Saxe-Coburg’ Dickie, John Hills, Frank Criddlehopper

(EX-OFFICIO FEMALE PARTICIPANTS FROM OTHER SCHOOLS):- Rosemary Elliker, Susan Clarke, Teresa Gonet, Wendy Mason, Jo Sinclair and Christine Casey

WHERE ARE YOU ALL NOW, I WONDER? HOW HAS LIFE TREATED YOU AND HOW HAVE YOU TREATED IT?

From John Harvey

My name is John Harvey, you may not remember me, I joined Tulse Hill School when it opened in the 60's, my classes were 3A1,4A1 and 5A1 etc. I actually lived in Tulse Hill next to St. Martins Girls School, so it was
really convenient for me joining Tulse Hill Comprehensive, having just left Gypsy Road School. I still live in the area.

I am not famous, but did very well working for an American Company as an Electrical Design Supervisor, in the construction of Oil and Gas Platforms, mainly for the North Sea. I used to hire many people to draw up final construction drawings and often flew offshore to the Rigs and Production Platforms to get them commissioned,
some were from my schooldays. I am retired now and have time for my travels and hobbies.

John Harvey was in Dickens House

From Jon Reyes

I was wondering whether the Turner referred to the painter, William Turner and Webb House would be Captain Matthew Webb, the 1st man to swim the channel. I was in Wren house but I've a feeling that the above may well be correct. On the subject of Famous faces, Nicky Chatterton attended our school and played for both Millwall & Palace. His dad, Len, was one of our sports-masters and a groundsman at Selhurst Park. Also, my maths teacher, Mike Edwards played for Surrey and opened the batting with John Edrich. Hope some of this is helpful. Regards,

Jon Reyes, 1963-1968

From Jon Baxter

I arrived in 1962, with my neatly pressed grey trousers, school blazer, school badge, white shirt, school tie and well polished black shoes. I even had a school scarf (my first big mistake) , boy was my mum proud of her little boy. Yes my fist day, I arrived very nervous and slightly intimidated by the size of the school, but I belonged, I had a uniform (the uniform was to produce a classless environment, I latter learned).

Well the classless society got hold of me, they were in the shape of third formers, it was 11.00 am break and I was on the terrace. They put me up against the wooden handrail on the terrace, put my arms over the top of the rail, then back under the rail and tied my hands in the front of me, using my brand new scarf. Bit of a jolly jape, I remember thinking, until they de-bagged me and threatened to cut off my willy, I think they called it my prick, I had never heard this term before, but I was as sure hell knew it now, amputated before any field action... I think I also learnt another term, incontinence, on that day, quite an learning curve on my first day!!!

Thankfully the deputy head passed , and the marauding 3rd formers scattered. He undid my scarf and set me free making some comment about a lot of fuss over a small thing. Well it was it¹s first appearance in front of an audience and it¹s first threat to be amputated, so under the circumstances I thought that it behaved rather well! *Jon Baxter was at THS from 1962 until 1969

From Nigel and Adam Cooper

FOND MEMORIES - When Long stormed out of a school play (The Long, The Short & the Tall, Kenneth Granham was the lead role) it was in the local paper etc and Long tried to shut the production because of the language.

Some guy made explosives and blew up one of the elevator/lifts and then tried to get Chapman’s (Head of Art) car in the parking lot but the bomb squad came. Easter leavers jacket slashing ritual in the back playground with them still wearing it. Throwing new boys in the first weeks over the wall between the side entrance to the main hall and the workshops.End of term punch up with the Strand school. They stopped it by delaying THS departure by 30 minutes so they could evacuate the Strand. Archery at lunch time where we nearly hit the head boy, Patent (who is now a Judge of some kind) by shooting arrows in the air - where they fall we don’t give a f*** (next to the headmasters window)! Fond memories!
* Nigel and Adam Cooper were pupils at THS from the late 50s and through the 60s. Nigel is now based in California

From John Griffin

One memorable event was open rebellion in history class. A young novice teacher, desperately trying to be in our good graces, allowed some of the more devious boys to get within *hands on* joking around range, (something no self respecting veteran in education would ever allow). The very next instant, the teacher had been muscled over to the glass and squeezed out of the fourth floor window. Everyone was hooting and shouting *chuck him out* - he started fighting back and the whole commotion roused the other nearby staff. End result we were all caned one at a time in front of the neophyte teacher, whining and crying appropriately to forestall any harsher punishments.

Magic moments: Rendezvous with the Dick Shepard girls during lunch, smokes and barter at the bicycle sheds, the ATC was something I really enjoyed, odd as it may seem. I couldn't wait for the tea to be ready!

*John Griffin was a pupil at THS in the early 1960s

From Alistaire Hayman

One of my mates, Tony De Swarfe, tells the story about a teacher at Tulse Hill who was never qualified to teach; he had faked all his qualifications! Tony says that the teacher was next heard of working as a surgeon in Africa cutting people's legs off!

*Alistaire Hayman was at THS from 1959 to 1963. He now lives in Hong Kong.

From Ian Rudd

Do people remember when we made all the furniture for the 6th form common room, orange and blue/green covers!! *Ian Rudd was at THS in Faraday House from 1961 to 1968 and was House Captain in 1967/8. His father was active in the PTA and became a lifetime member of the Tulse Hill Charitable Trust

From Bob Morrisey

**Social graces**. In the second year Baron B. bought a new dimension to the concept of public masturbation. In the back of a classroom while the lesson was in progress, on the bus to Priest Hill, the showers at Priest Hill. You name it and Baron probably performed there. One day at Priest Hill, he climbed up and out of the window above the showers to perform at the corresponding next door window, where a female staff member was changing.

**Sixth form dances in the Great Hall**. Impossible to obtain a bar licence, so the enterprising upper sixth set up the bar in the 'blue' lift, with the intention of stranding the lift on the eighth floor if interrupted.

**Trouble at Mill**. Raymond G Long got wind of the upper school’s intention to literally invade the Strand School. The invasion was set for after school, but the entire school was held back in an emergency assembly to thwart the plan. I later told my brother, who went to the Strand, how lucky he had been.

**Summer Blues**. One extremely hot summer day, a full assembly was in progress. Despite all windows and door being wide open, it was stifling in the hall. The head, or it may have been 'Old Man' Shelly, was visibly disturbed at constant interruption of boys fainting and being hauled out of the hall. He declared that 'the next boy to faint will be beaten'!. I always thought that was a nice touch.

**In the Lab**. The day that Vernon Tyley was demonstrating radioactivity with sources kept safe in a neat lead lined box and a Geiger Counter. Having done so, he mentioned that some luminous watch dials could also be radioactive, and tested a volunteer. The Geiger counter went off the scale, Vernon merely mentioning that he hoped the pupil had no intention of starting a family soon.

**Vernon Tyley** Teaching practical applications of friction, hurled two worn out brake shoes at the class while advising us not to conduct the experiment on Shooters Hill.

**Junior Common Room** Lunch time. Surprise visit by several staff members. Scramble to dog our fags, but heavy blue haze and complete silence fills the room. The teachers, grinning, saunter around the room making a cursory inspection, then leave. The door closes with a wail of laughter from the teachers. Guess they had a sense of humour after all! *

*Economy of phrase**. Aubrey Winkler taught us economics in the 5th Year. His first words in the first lesson were 'Gentlemen', you may smoke. Always enjoyed economics.

**Mexican Standoff**. We were taught French by an attractive young lady who (and I’m still not sure why) would always sit on her desk facing the class. There was always a scramble for front row seats, and the lessons were punctuated by the sound of dropping pencils. On one occasion, a half crown hit the floor and gently rolled down the aisle, coming to rest fairly and squarely between the teacher’s dangling feet. Silence ensued as the teacher, red faced, wondered if she should even acknowledge the event, and the boys wondered if the owner of the valuable coin would have the nerve to retrieve it.

**On Manoeuvres**. Members of the Army Cadet Force will recall that the highlight of a parade was being given access to the 'guns'. One evening, before we were issued uniforms, we were split into two sections and told that each section should employ its skills in a hunt and capture scenario. Our section penetrated the workshop block and were fairly silently creeping down the corridor, when a workshop door suddenly opened and an evening class adult sauntered out. This poor man almost had a heart attack when confronted with a dozen heavily armed youths wearing THS uniforms.

**Will The Wedge please stand up**. Was it Colin Kolb? Or is it Wedgewood? For a period of several weeks in the fourth year (?), graffiti proclaiming 'The Wedge is Here' appeared everywhere across the school, including staff toilets and, I believe, the admin block. 'The Wedge' has never been positively identified. (See Glen Jeffrey's story below for some clue as to the Wedge's identity..can anyone confirm?)

**Lack of uniformity**. Does anyone remember the first day of each school year, and the intake of 1st Years? There was always at least one whose parents didn’t understand and sent their child to THS in short trousers. Those poor kids were harassed for the rest of their time at THS. And then, towards the end of the first week, the playground would be covered in balls of blowing black fluff which had been worn off the new kid’s blazers.

*Bob Morrisey was a pupil at THS 1964 to 1970 and now lives in America.

From A.N.Other (1)

My first year and two thirds of secondary education were carried out elsewhere, which means that I must have started at THS just before Easter 1960 going into Judy Grinham's class. My parents insisted that I stayed on an extra year to take exams, so I guess I left in 1963.

Prior to going to THS, I was at a very good school. I excelled at technical drawing (TD) and decided that I wanted to be an architect. Halfway through my second year, my parents discovered that I was having some major problems at the school. These were very strange, totally unconnected with the learning process and with no apparent solution. One of the THS school governors got to hear about matters and decided that I was an ideal candidate for poaching.

Years later, I discovered that there had been background wheeling-and-dealing going on for many weeks before I was whisked off to the hill. At the start of my 'interview', Thomas stunned me by suggesting an incredibly simple plan to resolve my difficulties. He also explained that he knew about my abilities and that I would have excellent tutoring in TD if I joined his school. It was rather effective coercion. Hindsight has taught me that teenage tunnel vision is not the most reliable basis for making a decision.

I never got the excellent tutoring in TD that I was promised. My entry into the school proved to be a great leap backwards academically. You may recall the end of year tests that were used to determine which class you would go into the following year? At the end of my first full term - having missed most of the year - I still came second in the class. The following year I was next to bottom. It was not long before I realised that there was a fundamental problem with formal education. It is almost impossible to put around thirty individuals in a room and expect them all to be receptive to the same subject at the same time, to work at the same speed as each other and to ask the same questions within a time frame that also requires them to switch to another subject on demand. That was not peculiar to THS, that was (and still is) a fault inherent in the system and I suffered, together with many others. The final straw - and the reason that THS ultimately failed for me - was that I found the teaching methods so uninspiring, and the speed of the curriculum so slow, that I was bored out of my pants. I literally switched off and nobody realised why.

Alongside this were other problems. The rest of the class had struggled through almost two years without me and had bonded together to support each other. I was an unknown quantity that turned up towards the end of a term and was thrust upon them. I was an outsider. Then two other newcomers joined and we three stuck together. One was Chris Ellingham who quickly became my best friend. Grinham really took Chris and I under his wing. He twice took us to an inter-school holiday camp in Salcombe (we were the only two from THS that went there) and remained in contact with us all the way through the school, even when he no longer taught us. By chance I bumped into Grinham in the 1970s when he was headmaster of a school in the Home Counties. For the record, there was nothing strange about 'Judy' Grinham. He gained the nickname simply because it was the name of a famous swimmer at the time. I know that Grinham was responsible for keeping me in the higher classes when I really should have been pushed back - he told me as much. Maybe he thought that I might start trying again, maybe he just wanted to keep Chris and I together;

I do not know. Looking back, he is the only teacher in the place that I really liked. It is fair enough to comment that THS was a bold experiment, but it was us who were the guinea pigs and many of those experiments were not to our advantage. For example, when I arrived back for my examination year, I was told that we would not be taking O levels, instead we were being fobbed off with a new exam the CCSS (or some equally unmemorable name) that was a pilot for what eventually became the CSE. It was pretty obvious at the time that this would be totally useless to us. I was still obsessed with TD and had been teaching myself for years.

I had also been employed by Old Motor and Vintage Commercial magazines since I was 13 years-old producing scale drawings of old buses, lorries and cars. I was well in advance of TD O level standard and at least wanted to take a GCE in that subject. No way. The school refused my request. So I did what I always do when someone says no, I found a way to do it. I used some of the money that I had earned from my drawings to enter myself as an 'external candidate' - a facility that is general reserved for adults that have studied privately and are not associated with a school or college. The examination board rejected my application saying that as I was a pupil in full-time education, I needed written permission from the headmaster in order to sit the exam. Instead of going to the head of the upper school, I asked for an appointment with Thomas, I wanted him to know what I was doing and why. It was the last time that I ever spoke to him. He refused to sign the form and said that he would look into the matter. I was not particularly bothered; I had another way of getting his signature on the paper if I needed it - but that turned out to be unnecessary.

When I was given permission to take the exam, it was on the proviso that I did not take it at THS. On the big day, I walked down to Brixton College and sat the examination in room a full of adults. I remember feeling totally out of place in my school uniform. To add to my embarrassment, the adjudicator took me to one side to check my identification and to ask why I was taking the exam there. The only high point was catching sight of all of the others chewing their pencils and struggling with the answers while I raced ahead.

Just before I left the school, Grinham told me that all hell had broken lose when I put the form in. Thomas felt that I had pushed him into a corner and he was furious. He said that if I took the exam elsewhere there would be awkward questions, but if he allowed me to take it at school then others could demand similar treatment. Eventually the TD master defused the situation by assuring him that I would never pass the exam anyway, thus giving the school a good reason for refusing to enter me. On that basis the form was signed and returned to me some days later. For the record, I passed top grade and sent a copy of the certificate to Thomas asking if the school would be prepared to refund my examination fee. I never got a reply!

*A.N.Other was at THS from 1960 through to 1963

From A.N.Other (2)

I transferred to THS in 1960 and expected a 'warm welcome'. I got one, but not quite in the way I had expected - I was caned in front of a mirror for being late on three consecutive occasions and was not allowed to speak until after the punishment. To me this was totally unreasonable as I lived a long way from the school and had to travel on an unreliable bus service. The following day I acquired a 'late pass'. By showing the pass to the gate prefects, I could enter the school anytime after registration and not be penalised. If I was so late that there was no one at the gate, I registered at the office; no questions asked.

Having received the punishment, I felt that I was justified in committing the crime. In order to get full value from the pass, I tried to be late as often as possible right up until I left THS. There were a number of other passes that the school issued, such as 'excused games' and a 'lift pass' that permitted pupils who had problems with the stairs to travel in a lift that was otherwise reserved for teachers (the one nearest the Great Hall). All of these were based on the same small pastel-card that was used for the late pass, with wording added or struck out as appropriate. I unsuccessfully tried to alter my pass to give me additional privileges but made such a mess of it that I had to shred it up under a tap and claim that it had been damaged in the wash in order to get a new one.

After that I used my technical drawing skills to manufacture my own passes before progressing to 'permission to travel’ slips. These were strips of plain duplicated paper that allowed the holders of bus or train passes to travel during school hours if they were bunking-off (travel passes had time restrictions to avoid truancy, but had to have an override mechanism to allow for medical treatment and emergencies). The crowning glory of all my work was that I could do a perfect copy of Thomas' signature and, almost 40 years later, I can still do it!

I joined a few clubs during my time at THS, particularly ones that I could go to at lunchtime if the weather was cold or ones that got me out of lessons (such as drama *). Amongst the clubs that I joined for this purpose were the Pre-History Club, Archery, Fencing, the Debating Society and the Discussion Group -- I remember being severely reprimanded after speaking in the Discussion Group for using the words 'This 'bloody' sport' when talking about boxing.

One club that only existed in our minds was the Swimming Club. The teacher that took us for religious education was easily led; we often got him talking about sex by quoting biblical passages that we claimed not to understand. A couple of the guys in the class thought that if he was that thick he might let them go early to attend a school activity; so one day, they got up and walked out 20 minutes early claiming that they had to go to the Swimming Club. As the term went on, around two-thirds of our class were leaving early, together with one or two individuals from other classes that decided to join in with the fun. Some of them even took swimming trunks and towels in case they were challenged. Eventually the teachers got wise to what was happening and trapped a group as they were leaving school; other escaped into the toilets and locked themselves in a cubicle until someone had the clever idea of setting off the fire alarm.

At one time there was a drive to encourage us to run our own groups, so I started the Camera Club. I do not know what I had in mind, I just thought that it might be useful to have a legitimate club to hide behind if I wanted to get up to anything. As it happened, the school had a room that was equipped as a darkroom complete with a photographic enlarger that I was encouraged to use. The room was one of those small ones that sat between the classrooms in the long corridors. It was about eight to ten feet wide and ran from the corridor through to the windows facing the lawn. There were fitted wooden work surfaces along both of the interior walls with a couple of sinks and Bunsen burners. The place was full of scientific apparatus stored in cupboards underneath the work surfaces or in glass fronted cabinets on the walls. It did not take long to realise that this was a great location for conducting experiments in private, for reading the nudie magazine 'Health and Efficiency' or for getting up to all sorts of mischief undisturbed. If anyone came along I had plenty of time to tidy up simple by keeping the door locked and saying that I was developing film. The Camera Club was never a great success, but that was not important. To stop it being wound up, I occasionally booked a free speaker from Ilford films to give the effect that I was making an effort.

I think it was in the summer of 1961 that an older boy from the Archery Club told me that he planned to blow-up Thomas' car. Although this may sound extreme in this day and age, I do not seriously think that it ever occurred to us that explosions could cause damage or injury. The intention seemed to be to make a load of noise and to frighten the hell out of whoever it was aimed at. After unsuccessful experiments with various mixtures, the answer came from a boy whose father worked on the railway. He had some fog warning devices that made a huge bang. These were metal percussion discs about three inches in diameter that were designed to be strapped onto the railway track as an audible warning in an emergency. They were rather primitive devices and dated back to the days before modern high-powered, high-visibility electric signalling. As the wheels of a train crushed them, they set off an explosion that was contained within the casing. These seemed ideal as they required no fuses and were very, very loud. To give some idea of the noise level, each one of these devices was apparently capable of being heard inside the cab of a steam locomotive travelling at full power.

The plan was to place one of these under each wheel of Thomas’ car on a day when he left school early presumably to go to a meeting. Basic physics suggested that a car with flexible rubber tyres might not have quite the same properties as a few hundred tons of railway train with steel wheels. A simple supplementary device was therefore designed to ensure that the right amount of pressure was applied in the right place to effect a detonation. A lad, who had a small sideline making and selling standard classroom keys, was recruited to produce these pieces. A test-run was carried out away from school under the wheel of a milk float. I remember that a milk float was chosen because there would only be a short wait between deliveries before the vehicle moved off and the result could be seen and heard quickly. The test was completed satisfactorily and the milkman survived.

Back at THS, it was decided to go for the real thing. All of the equipment was stored in the Camera Club room, behind a wall panel in one of the cupboards under a sink. The most difficult part of the operation was to place the devices under the car, as boys were not generally allowed in the parking area. Things did not go smoothly and there were a couple of failed attempts at placement. Eventually, I think that some of the Archery club helped to create a diversion. The ‘explosion’ occurred on a very hot afternoon during the summer term. I was in Forbat’s class at the time and one of the boys had some sort of a fit as a result of the noise. He stood up, screamed and grabbed hold of Forbat. I remember the look of horror on Forbat’s face as he came into physical contact with a pupil. After a few moments one of the boys took control of the situation and led the lad off to the medical room. It is the only time I ever recall Forbat letting anyone leave his classroom during a lesson. I desperately wanted to look out of the window to see what had happened, but I was in the middle of the room and it was not possible. I later discovered that the car had stopped part way out of the parking space just after the explosion. It was still there when we left school, was missing the next day but it returned the following week. When a teacher was pressed by a boy to give an explanation, he claimed that he could not recall the incident but that it might have been a sonic boom or an experiment in a science room. Strangely nothing official was said about the matter and there was no sign of any investigation; facts that caused considerable anxiety for those involved simply because they did not know what was happening...and that was the worse punishment of all.

*A.N.Other was at THS from 1960 through to 1963.

From Chris Pocock

I was a pupil at THS from 1964 to 1970. I was in Blake House and was a house prefect during my 5th year and a School prefect during the last year. I was in 1L1 during my first year with Mr Couldray as my form master. He was a nice old chap and would sometimes give me a lift home in the evening. This was helpful because I lived in Peckham and had to walk down the hill to Tulse Hill station, then catch a train and then a bus. The lift saved me about an hour. It also stopped me going in the bakers shop and buying a tanners worth of stale cakes.

I remember Mr Morris ran the rowing club and taught us maths. I recall him using an old sandal if you really got under his skin. A feat regularly achieved by a Kid called Feraille, who he insisted in calling 'ferral'. As we trooped into the room he'd be shouting 'Sit down! Open your books! Ferral - stop talking!'

There was a sort of conspiracy which meant that lessons were always as far as possible from the one before and the one after. Coupled with the fact that the lifts never worked this meant that lesson changes were always frantic. I can also remember playing penny-up-the wall in the playground and the DC comic swapping over by the back fence at playtimes.

If there was a fight Peter Chapman would bring the place to a standstill and then stride around the playground till he caught the participants. Why did they always walk straight towards him? I saw him in 1986 at Nye Bevin School in Wandsworth when my son was going to go there.

I also remember the complete chaos in the lower hall when it rained and we were allowed to stay in at playtime. It all went silent when Big Joe strode out of the hall before classes restarted then there was a mad rush for the stairs. I only ever met Raymond Long once and that was when I was made a School Prefect. He made six of us stand behind him in assembly while he spouted about authority, we felt very important until we got back with our mates who made it abundantly clear that it made no difference whatsoever to them.

After Tulse Hill I had a couple of Jobs finishing up with London Underground in 1977. I worked my way up to Train Service Manager at Docklands Railway before being made redundant in 1996. I am now a Senior Project Manager - contracted back to London Underground, live in Gillingham, Kent; am married with two grown up sons and two grandchildren.

*Chris Pocock was a Blake House THS pupil from 1964 until 1970

From A.N.Other (3)

What about the time that Headmaster Thomas swore at the entire school? It was when alcohol based felt tipped pens were just starting to become available and pupils were experimenting with them on the stairwell walls. Thomas suddenly said 'Shit' in assembly. After everyone had given a fake gasp of horror, he said that if we were shocked at hearing him use that word imagine how shocked he was to see it written all over the walls of 'my school'. He then got so wound-up that he made a huge mistake. He asked why we needed to write a word that was nothing but slang for 'the product of a bodily function - excreta'. By the next day the offending words had been neatly crossed out and corrected to read 'excreta'!

*A.N.Other was at THS from 1960 through to 1963.

From Peter Hannaford

Does anybody remember a pupil by the name of Judd or Cudd who had a fight with the maths teacher Mr Meredith and he went down about three flights of stairs - don't remember who won but plenty of punches thrown.

*Peter Hannaford was in Brunel House at THS from 1958 to 1963. Now living in NZ

From Ian Rudd (2)

The marvellous stage sets of the school plays. When we nearly got prosecuted for obscenity when one of the house plays (The Long, The Short and The Tall...about army life) had a very graphic reference to masturbation and was demonstrated by the shaking of a beer bottle. The play had not been cleared for public licence by the Lord Chamberlains office, it caused the visiting dignitary who was judging the plays to walk out. I think that it made the papers.

The time a bomb was let off in one of the lifts. Water bombs from the top windows into the staff car park.

*Ian Rudd was at THS in Faraday House from 1961 to 1968. Ian was Faraday House Captain in 1967/8. His father was active in the PTA and became a lifetime member of the Tulse Hill Charitable Trust.

From Bill Risbridger

I've just spent an hour reminiscing, the list of teachers certainly jogged some memories, not all good. However, I think I'd just like to record my thanks to John Sherrington for treating me as though he actually felt there was a reason for my existence, and encouraging me to use my imagination in writing. It didn't carry on into adulthood, but I think it kept me sane through the last year or so of my Tulse Hill experience.

Mr. Lomas for his infinite patience in trying to teach me Latin. It didn't work. Likewise I'd like to thank Mr Skene. We had double English at the end of the week, and he'd spend the last 15 minutes or so reading us a story!! I particularly remember Of Mice and Men. He did fantastic voices, especially the two main characters, and I can still remember them very clearly.

I also remember a group of us going to Cambridge, (Oxford?), with him. I suppose he was hoping we'd get the urge to go to university. We had a great day, including punting up the river, cream tea and going for a swim. It was freezing, and I thought I'd drown. He pointed out one leafy secluded little inlet, and said with a wistful smile on his face, 'And that is called fornication creek'. My mum nearly had a fit when I asked her what it meant! These three showed consideration and a bit of respect. Cheers wherever you are!

*Bill Risbridger was at THS from 1964 to 1971

From Steve Kulka

The School had a Tannoy loudspeaker system used for announcements, messages and 'the pips'. The 'pips' were used to indicate class start and end times. They could be heard in the surrounding neighbourhood.

I was asked to 'do the reading' in a Morning Assembly in my First Year. Mr Shelly, Head of Lower school, lead me to the rostrum and away again when I had finished. Loads of older kids told me that they'd never seen him be so paternal and rumours started that I must have been related. I'm not!

Mr Parrot 'taught' me Geography in my early days (late '60's). He was HM for Faraday House, of which I was a member. I say 'taught', but his technique was to get the whole class to rewrite some pages from a text book in our own words, while he got on with his own admin.

Mr Morris taught my group Maths in '69. He was very fond of the sports shoe (or slipper) as a form of punishment. On one occasion, while I was 'up the front' asking a question, he suddenly leapt out of his chair yelling 'I can't hear a bloody thing this boy is saying'! He then got everyone to queue up around the room and he gave everyone a stroke of the slipper except me. I wasn't very popular for a couple of days!

I remember the day that Mr Morris helped in the rescue of boys from a stalled lift. The lift had stopped about half way between the 4th and 5th floors. There was just enough gap at the bottom of the lift door for the boys to squeeze out onto the 4th floor. The gaping lift shaft was the reason that he had to pull them well clear. Everyone thought he was a hero.

Peter Humber, HUS joined THS in 1970. He brought two golden Labrador dogs to school every day. He had a very liberal view of school attendance. If you asked for time off to go somewhere sensible, he would let you go. There was a Science teacher that used to set up 'booby traps' on the 'top bench' in his lab room. I can't remember his name. A short'ish, rotund chap. Things on the bench top had 'Do Not Touch' signs and were set to explode when kids fiddled. One that I remember looked like a proper piece of laboratory equipment on a dark wood base board. It consisted of a large coffee tin containing an explosive gas/air mixture and some bits from a car ignition system, with a spark plug soldered into the tin. I think we can work out what happened when fiddled with!

Mike Thompson taught my 'A' level Chemistry set (72/73). He was keen on fume cupboard pyrotechnics (coffee jar rocket motors) and used to allow us to stay in the 8th floor lab during break and lunch times.

William Pinching (who wrote a good interactive History book) taught me History (late '60's) and organised University trips (Sponsored by Shell) for sixth formers. I stayed at the Uni. East Anglia and Uni. of London. That led to a fantastic encounter with a girl from South Wales. I wonder if Mr Pinching knew what good value the trips were?

The bearded Dr. David Finney (Head of Science) was my form tutor the year that he left. We all clubbed together and bought him a pen as a leaving presie. Excellent teacher. I went to The Croft a couple of time with him, to help supervise other class trips. He almost made me want to become a teacher!

The School had many Clubs. Two I particularly remember were the Rowing and the Slot Car Clubs. Rowing happened at The GLC boathouse at Barnes on the sports afternoon (Wednesday) and the Rowing Club was held at the same place on Saturday. The 1/32nd scale Slot Car club built a huge slot car track in the labs on the 6th floor. It was built from four sheets of 8' x 6' boards that clipped together when required.

Another 'sort of' club' was a lunch-time activity, the 'Bread-run'. Some of us would exit the main gate to the local bread shop (down Upper Tulse Hill, on the left) to buy half an un-cut loaf. We would then walk on down to the chip shop, throwing and eating the contents of the crust. We would then fill the crust with chips and if we could afford it, a flaked pickled onion. On one occasion, a boy sitting on a car bonnet outside the bakers had his legs crushed by a reversing delivery lorry!

*Steve Kulka was a pupil at THS (Faraday House) 1966 to 1974. He later studied Electronics at West Norwood Technical College (now also gone!)

From Glen Jeffrey

Does anyone else remember Long telling us about teacher T....'s death in assembly and the shock and anger in Long's face as the cheer went up. I remember T.... making us run around the playground for half an hour in the snow in our thin gym gear, then telling us to have a shower. He knew the showers were always cold.

I was in 1B2 in the first year and had G..... as our form teacher (room702). He would get boys to stand on desks with the trousers rolled up and some poor kid would hold one end of a string of elastic bands to the back of your leg and walk backwards with the other end saying 'are you ready boy' before letting go. He also had the habit of stroking your hand with a ruler before hitting you with it. With such treatment is it surprising that kids ended taking it out on the first weak teacher they could find.

Fire drills were always an interesting event. Firstly, because they always used a megaphone that never seemed have been left on charge, so no one could hear a thing. Secondly, because it was a gauge of the vast number of boys bunking off.

Does anyone remember who it was who half filled a plastic dustbin with water and left it leaning perilously against the closed doors of the staff lift on the second floor? Who was the big physics teacher who ran around with a hockey stick imposing order? Glen sheds light on one of the THS mysteries: 'The Wedge' was not Colin Kolb. It was a Wedgwood, a guy in the same year. *Glen Jeffrey was a pupil at THS (Brunel House) 1966 to 1974.

From Rob Duncan

Two incidents spring to mind involving chemistry lessons and both involved the same teacher...Mr Gent. For those who can't remember Mr Gent, he had a habit of sitting behind the front bench on a stool, leaning back against the revolving blackboard and putting his feet on the bench. This would have fine except for the holes in soles of his shoes.....that always made us smirk!

It was in Mr Gent's class around 1967 when the first incident occurred. We were conducting the age old experiment of making hydrogen in small test tubes then putting a flame to the gas and listening to the 'pop' of the tiny explosion. The class 'character' who is referred to by Tony Taylor as being 'very disturbed' decided that making hydrogen in a test tube was a little boring and that he would conduct the experiment on a larger scale. Unnoticed by the teacher or other pupils our 'disturbed' colleague, aided by his cohorts, proceeded to make the hydrogen in a large, empty glass aquarium which was on the shelf by the windows. After a while he decided that enough gas had been deposited in the tank and dropped a lighted taper in. The resulting explosion not only shattered the aquarium but also took out some of the windows!! It was a miracle the no one was seriously injured either in the classroom or in the car park below as the shards of glass rained down.

The second incident took place around the same time.....not the most successful year for Mr Gent but that could explain the holes in his shoes! Mr Gent was demonstrating the various qualities of phosphorous and how when exposed to the air, spontaneously combusted. We boys crowded around the front bench and watched in awe as Mr Gent, using a pair of long tongs, very carefully took a piece of phosphorous from the jar where it was kept in protective liquid. Placing the phosphorous on an asbestos mat he proceeded to cut into it. Now, whether it was the speed at which it ignited or the intensity of the flame I guess we will never know but in his haste to pull his hand away he managed to knock the entire jar of phosphorous over the bench. With flames erupting everywhere Mr Gent grabbed the fire bucket that hung on the wall behind his bench and attempted to extinguish the fires with the cigarette ends, empty Players No.6 packets, a couple of condoms and what little sand was at the bottom of the bucket. As us kids ran for the door coughing and spluttering the fire was doused with the fire blanket. Could this be the fire that is referred to in the 'Infamous THS incidents' section?

*Rob Duncan was a pupil at THS between 1966 and 1972. A Wren House prefect from Year 5, he 'never attained the dizzy heights of the Big Oak Leaves

From John Ford

One afternoon I decided to bunk off. As I was furtively making my way through the bushes at the front of the school I turned around to make sure I wasn't being seen. To my astonishment I saw a kid** falling through a boarded up window on the 2nd floor. A teacher dashed out and, assuming the lad was seriously hurt decided, for reasons best known to himself, to administer mouth to mouth resuscitation. This was enough to stir the lad from his prone position. The ungrateful tyke bellowed aloud in terms that, shall we say, suggested that the teacher's sexual orientation was other than heterosexual. 'Get off me you ****!' was, I think, the precise expression *John Ford - THS 1966 to 1973 - (Wren) House Prefect in the 4th form, School Prefect in the 6th form but stripped of his oak leaves by one David Bargery because he was judged too indisciplined! ** Kid now identified as Duncan Robinson! Thanks to William Batchelor and an excellent memory. Duncan's teacher at the moment of departure from the second floor was Jean Davies. Duncan recovered and was back in School five weeks later - thank you, Paul McLean, and another excellent memory.