I arrived at Aldenham in 1936 to find myself in Mead’ s House, but living in the village for the first term, presumably because there was not enough room in the junior dormitory. I was one of 3 or 4 new boys who boarded with
Mr R G Evans, the Geography master. ‘Tibbie’ Mead, our Housemaster, I remember as being of small stature, slightly rotund, and with a cheerful countenance. He used to tour the dormitories every night before lights-out and congratulate anyone who might have excelled that day at sport or, being a classical scholar himself, in a Latin or Greek test. His sister, known to us as ‘Tabitha’ – and she did remind me of a furry, sleepy cat – ran the administrative side of the House. On a Saturday evening she would read to new boys in Mr Mead’s study. One book I recall described the adventures of ‘Blackshirt’ a well to do, rather refined thief who burgled the houses of the rich solely for the thrill of it – wearing his low visibility black shirt of course. I cannot recall whether he returned his booty to its rightful owners or, like Robin Hood, he passed it on to the poor.
There were several traditional rules to be obeyed – all three jacket buttons to be done up during the first term, only the middle one need be fastened at the end of the first year, no fraternising with more junior boys, first years not permitted to go beyond the first two tables in the Common Room. My book locker happened to be in the ‘forbidden zone’ so could only be approached along the side of the room and not up the middle! There was a rule about hands in trouser pockets but I cannot remember when one qualified for that ‘privilege’. Prep was done every evening in the Common Room, but on Saturday we could read anything we liked during the first half. Then the wireless was turned on and we all listened to Music Hall.
The Tuck Shop was managed by Mrs Timms, a small, neat lady. She and her husband - Mr Timms was the school grounds man – lived over the shop. At the other end of the building was the School Shop where, with prior consent from parents, school uniform and other items of clothing could be purchased. On a Saturday afternoon it was possible to book a table for afternoon tea and cream cakes in the café area between the two shops providing a very civilised way of entertaining one’s friends, or one’s parents when they came on a weekend visit.
I must confess I did not find life easy at Aldenham, probably because I was very lacking in self-confidence, not at all competitive, and inclined to be a loner. Boys who disliked contact sports, or who were not much good at them, tended to be side lined by both staff and pupils. So far as I was concerned a run round the Five Mile Field (I don’t think it really was 5 miles) was preferable to an afternoon on the football field. In the late 1930’s Public Schools were still turning out a quite distinctive end product, quite different from that produced by the state education system. Today the differences are less marked. And perhaps today more importance is attached to developing individuals and enabling them to realise their potential. In my time at Aldenham we were ‘streamed’, the academically less able (and the lazy) among us making our way doggedly up the ‘C’ stream (2C, 3C, 4C, 5C) towards School Certificate. The A and B forms meeting the needs of the more able classics, mathematics or modern languages scholars. One of our more interesting teachers was Mr Vasey, a quietly spoken history master, who took us away from dates and politics to look at how ordinary people lived in times past. French was taught by Mr English. His wife was a young (to us anyway), attractive French lady who sometimes deputised for him. Keeping us on our toes by making us speak French throughout her lessons. Failure to complete work set by Mr English could result in a visit to his study in the evening, where he kept a cane handy. Caning could still be administered at that time, but I believe only by Housemasters. His aggressive, and at times alarming, teaching style must have suited me because I learnt a great deal from him.
Apart from choral singing in the Chapel, and music lessons which involved learning folk songs, I cannot recall there being much corporate music making. If you were learning to play an instrument you had lessons on your own from an external tutor. There was no School orchestra and no small instrumental ensembles. When the School put on Gilbert and Sullivan’s HMS Pinafore, I, as percussionist, was the only Aldenham boy in the orchestra, all the other musicians having been brought in for the production. Yet, in Mr Leighton we had a first class music master, who organised classical music record evenings in the Hall and who gave Liszt and Chopin piano recitals in the Chapel. A very different musical outlet for me was the OTC band, made up of drummers and buglers trained by a bandmaster, from I believe, one of the Guards Regiments. I do not know if he presented the silver mounted drum sticks, but I was very pleased to be the first boy to win them.
Inter-House drama competitions, as well as larger School productions provided a useful introduction to the dramatic arts. One of the latter I recall was Shakespeare’s, The Tempest. In Scene 1, Act 1 there is a stage direction – ‘enter Mariners, wet’, the cue for five of us, with no other parts to play, to trudge across the back of the stage looking wet and bedraggled, and proclaiming “all lost! To prayers, to prayers! All lost!” At rehearsal we were told to hang our heads, later amended to look straight ahead, an instruction I must have missed, for as the ship wallowed dramatically before sinking below the waves, four apparently courageous sailors were seen crossing the back of the stage, followed by a miserable looking mariner who obviously knew what was coming!
I cannot recall there being much emphasise on art, other than an occasional exhibition of pictures on the walls of the School Hall. One such, which impressed me, was a group on London Underground posters by well-known contemporary artists.
I liked the old Chapel, now I believe the Recital Room. For someone struggling to come to terms with Christianity it was a comforting place to visit and to worship in. During my time at the School plans were prepared for the new Chapel, the foundations were dug, and I watched with interest as gradually it took shape. Initially it felt cold and unwelcoming but only phase one of the building was completed in my time – and there was no organ. When the building was Consecrated, I believe by the Bishop of St Albans, I remember being very put out that he had to make three dents with his crook in a brand new doorway, in order to gain entry. It would be interesting to discover if these marks are still there, bearing in mind that the doorway in question, near the vestries, may not be the one used as the main entrance today.
In the 1930’ the class system was still much in evidence. It may not be easy nowadays to appreciate how different conditions were for the underprivileged, compared with the life style of families who could afford to send their boys to a Public School. The School played a part in attempting to bridge this gap by setting up and supporting a club for teenage boys in Kentish Town, one of the poorer parts of London. I cannot recall how I became involved, but I did visit the Club on more than one occasion. And one year I stayed on at the end of the Summer Term to join the boys during their annual camp, at the far end of the School cricket ground.
Maybe I should not be surprised if, over sixty years later I cannot recall a great deal about events taking place on the world stage. When
King Edward VIII gave up the throne in December 1936, the whole School assembled in the Hall to listen to his abdication speech, and an address by the Prime Minster, Stanley Baldwin. I remember it as a particularly solemn occasion, and I am not sure we all understood why it was such a significant event. The Coronation of King George VI a year later was of course a great occasion. Because my father was to take part in the procession my mother and I had seats on a stand in the Mall.
If the true significance of the abdication escaped us the same must have been true of the visit by the Hitler Youth in 1938. I remember them as being a very disciplined group, all of them lightly tanned and all dressed the same in shirts and shorts, possibly in lederhosen though I cannot be sure. Had I realised that in Germany all other youth organisations had been banned, and that they had been indoctrinated to consider themselves representatives of a master race, I might have been less impressed.
Finally. It may be worth mentioning that we never had any contact with girls during the school term, and I cannot even remember a dance being held. The situation did not seem to worry most boys, although I did hear talk of occasional clandestine meetings with young ladies in the School grounds after lights out. The less adventurous among us had to wait until the holidays. Even so, when I came out of Aldenham in 1940 I still knew very little about girls, how they ticked, and how to treat them. And I have yet to be convinced that 18 is the right age to start on that particular learning curve!