Gordon Pound remembers...

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How coming to Burford in 1952 affected life

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    My name is Gordon Pound. I was born and brought up in an Oxfordshire village near Henley-on-Thames where my father worked my grandfather’s small dairy farm. I failed the eleven plus exam but after that I topped the class in virtually all subjects which prompted the village school’s headmaster to recommend to my parents that I should look at furthering my education. With my family background in farming it was logical that any progression should have that bias and I was entered for and passed the examination to attend an institution that offered agricultural studies.

    I joined the agricultural stream at the (then) Burford Grammar School (BGS) at the start of the Michaelmas Term 1952 having obtained a scholarship so to do. At that time I was aged thirteen and joined the existing third form, the class that formed in 1950 as the school’s first co-educational class. This was not unusual to me having come from a county primary school that had been co-educational since its opening in 1913.

    The 1952 agricultural stream comprised David Attwood, John Amor, Michael Brown, Brian Stratford, Richard Woodford and I. These attended classes in all the usual academic subjects other than languages; instead we did agricultural science, metal work – in addition to wood work – and spent some periods working on the school farm. During those periods we were under the direction of the ‘Agricultural Master’, Mr Ken Pearson, - though the formal agricultural science lessons were taught by Mr Eden who also took woodwork - and sometimes supervision of the farm foreman, ‘Pig’ Dixon; more about those in anecdotes.

    Like all new boys away from home for the first time I suffered from a degree of home sickness, a misery compounded by life in the boarding house at that time. It was the tradition that seniority counted not in age but in the length of time one had been a boarder, consequently new boys were subject to harassment and bullying by everyone else in the house and though few in number the combined effect was demoralising.

    However I made it through those early years and began to become part of the scheme of things. I had never played rugger before but took to it and found myself playing in the school under14 team, the Lenthall House team and eventually the school 1st XV. I also turned out to be a reasonable middle distance and cross-country runner and was eventually awarded rugby and athletics school colours.

    The school Combined Cadet Force was also an attraction (as boarders we looked for attractive distractions) and I joined that early in my BGS school days rising eventually to the rank of sergeant with Certificate A Pts 1 and 2 and marksman’s qualification in both .22 and .303 calibres.

    While in the Vth form I made sub-prefect and was made a full prefect at the start of the school year in September 1955 and as such I assumed the positions of head of the boarding house and joint head, with Diana Brookes, of the newly amalgamated Lenthall/Falkland House.

    We members of the agricultural stream were automatically members of the school young farmers club that had also been set up under the jurisdiction of Mr Pearson. During my membership I participated in events at several shows, at one stage being he ‘Junior Pig Judging Champion of England’ a title earned at London’s Royal Smithfield Show. The club also provided opportunities to participate in other events, we boys assisted in the preparation and showing of the school farm’s pigs at the Oxfordshire Show and others and also in public speaking competitions.

In the summer holiday 1955 I attended the Outward Bound Mountain School at Eskdale in the Lake District and received an honour grade and a prize for breaking the junior cross-country record,

    I left BGS in July 1956 having completed only one year in the VIth in order to obtain a couple of special ‘O’ level subjects to ensure my entry to agricultural college. Leaving was a marked contrast to arriving but I left with a deep gratitude for the opportunities the school had given me and proudly clutching a copy of Freams Elements of Agriculture, the ‘Old Boys’ Prize for Service to the School.’

During the following year I completed the mandatory year’s practical experience on a farm before joining Seale-Hayne Agricultural College in September 1957. I left there in 1959 after a fairly undistinguished period as a student, mainly, I believe, because I was not certain that a life in agriculture was what I wanted. It was almost a relief when, in 1960, I was called up in the very last intake of National Service on 17 November 1960 and became 23818509 Gunner Pound G...

    Now the merit of having been to BGS, the activities I had participated in there and the mere fact of having undertaken some tertiary education became recognised. I was given the opportunity to apply for a commission. Selection was by means of the WOSB (Pronounced ‘Wozzbee’ and standing for War Office Selection Board) Having passed that at the start of 1961 I attended Mons Officer Cadet School in Aldershot and later that year passed out with a National Service Commission in the Royal Artillery. From there I was posted to the School of Artillery at Larkhill on Salisbury Plain and finding that I enjoyed army life I applied for and was again granted a three year Short Service Commission.

    The SSC expired in June 1964 and I considered my options, staying in the army was attractive but the ‘East of Suez Policy’ was in force and the defence forces were being pulled out of all the interesting places which meant a career spent on Salisbury Plain, in Germany or Northern Ireland. At that time Australia was faced with turbulent neighbours and had introduced National Service which produced lots of high quality private soldiers while officers, warrant officers and seniors NCOs took longer and were expensive to train. Ever pragmatic the Australian Government placed discreet advertisements in the better British newspapers seeking ex-British Army officers etc to join the Australian Army.

    Intrigued I applied, went through a selection process at Australia House in London, passed and with my wife and two small children sailed first class to Australia on board the MV Willum Ruys in October 1964.

    The trip to Australia was most enjoyable, less so was the trip north the following September on board  the aircraft carrier HMAS Sydney, converted to a troop carrier and tasked with taking the battery to which I was posted to Vietnam to start a twelve month tour. My tour was cut short by a bout of cerebral malaria and I returned to Australia.

    Unfortunately shortly after this my wife and children returned to the UK, like so many army wives she found the life hard to take, especially as for her it was still a strange country with no family support and very strong family pressures to return to the UK.

    More postings followed including a second tour to Vietnam. Part of Australia’s commitment to that conflict was a Civil Affairs Unit tasked with assisting the South Vietnamese Government in the Province the Australian force had been allotted. The CA Unit included an agricultural section, staffed initially by university trained National Servicemen, unfortunately they were required to liaise with South Vietnamese government officials and the ubiquitous Americans both very status conscious, an officer was required and with my background I was drafted in as the ‘Province Agricultural Adviser'.

    Returning from Vietnam I served in various other locations within Australia and the Far East until retiring from the army in 1984 as a lieutenant colonel. Following that I worked for the Government for some years before retiring for good and taking on a run-down farm in Tasmania. A description of those adventures may be found in Poverty Lodge published by Austin Macaulay, London in 2018 and available in hard and paper back and E-book.

    In 2011 family pressures caused me to return to the UK where I now live near Lymington on the edge of the New Forest. This return has allowed me to take a renewed interest in my old school and I was delighted to attend a recent reunion and find out how the institution has progressed, and progressed it certainly has.
    I was also given a conducted tour of Lenthall House by House Mistress, Sandi Kaaber and enjoyed a boarding house tea with Sandi, husband Henning and other members of staff. During this I was not only able to savour food, the like of which was never available to boarders in my day, and to witness the demeanour of the boys and girls all of whom seemed relaxed and happy.

    Burford School has come a long way in the last sixty years or so and appears to be flourishing which is very satisfying for an old boy to perceive. Conditions for boarders are an almost indescribable improvement on what they were, though, inevitably, there were some things that were better in my day!

    During the four years (1952 to 1956) I was at Burford School the school comprised two parts in two locations, Burford Grammar School, in the old buildings at the bottom of Burford Hill near the church, and the ‘Modern Department’ the comprehensive school next to the playing fields and the school farm, where he present Burford School is located just off the A40 Cheltenham Road.

    My four years were also spent as a boarder in Lenthall House which was then a school house in its own right along with the other boys’ houses, Neville, Carey and Heylin. The girls’ houses were Clayton, Falkland, Warwick and Wysdom.

    The old school buildings were divided into separate areas for boys and girls even though the first co-educational class was formed in 1950. The play grounds were separated by a wall with netting at the top to prevent cricket balls or tennis balls flying from one area to the other. This was particularly applicable to tennis balls from the girls’ side because the rough stone wall on their side had been smoothly cement surfaced and a line painted at net height to allow tennis practice.

    With the old buildings playing host to the entire Grammar Department of necessity the boarding house was small in number, usually around thirty to thirty five boys only.

    The Boarding House comprised four dormitories officially and colloquially named; Upper (Top) and Lower (Bottom) dorms above the dining room in that part of the house nearest the church, Small (Little) dorm, on the second floor above the housemaster’s flat and opposite the Matron’s sitting room, and Cottage dorm in the complex on the other side of Church Lane that also housed the Headmaster’s study, the library and the museum.

    Top and bottom dorms each held twelve beds in two rows either side with a row of wash basins beneath the window on to the fire escape that led down to the school yard. There was also a large chest of drawers shared by all residents while jackets, coats and such we kept in a wardrobe on the landing. Each landing also contained a WC. Little dorm had five beds as did Cottage dorm

    The residents of the dorms were broadly; Top dorm juniors, first, second and third formers and new boys, Bottom dorm mainly fourth form (the boisterous trouble makers), Little dorm fifth and sixth formers while Cottage dorm had ‘out of work’ prefects, those without a function in the main building.

As mentioned, the dining room was on the ground floor and served by the kitchen next door. Boarders had breakfast and evening meal in the dining room and lunch in the common room while the day boys and male staff had their lunch in the dining room. The kitchen also cooked lunch for the girls and female staff which was collected and taken to the girls’ quarters by senior girls who had to run a gauntlet of wide-eyed boys as they crossed the yard.

It might be noted here that the girls in the co-ed classes complained that they were required to take a roundabout route to the classrooms in what had been the boy’s only part of the school. For the boys entry to the classrooms after break was via a steel staircase from the yard, but he steps on this were perforated, hence not ascendable by girls wearing skirts – as all did at that time.

    For meals we boarders had to assemble in the utility room just inside the entrance from Church Lane (the one with the ancient doorway bearing 1571). As the meal hour drew nigh we filed along the passage way, at that time open to the weather, and stood at our respective tables until grace was said. A table at a time we then filed past the serving point just inside the door and collected our meal.

    Entrance to the boarding house was normally via the gate in the wall opposite the alms houses and in through the door at the foot of the stairs. The common room was immediate inside this door on the right as one entered. In my early days the furniture comprised long deal tables with benches either side but these were later replaced by smaller tables and chairs

    A limited assortment of reading material was provided, chiefly among which were Sphere, Illustrated London News and National Geographic. The only comic allowed, provided by us boys, was Eagle. However, a comic in the form of The Rover was purchased each week by a member of Top Dorm and the stories were read aloud after lights out by a nominated dorm resident with the aid of a torch.

Past and opposite the common room was the locker room which in recent years has become the Housemaster’s study. Talking to the Housemaster in September 2019 he complained that the office had a peculiar smell. That’s not surprising really, there were no laundry facilities available to boarders in those days so our rugger gear, often muddy and damp after a winter game, was just stuffed in the bottom of one’s locker to be retrieved and donned for the next game – and as boarders we played Wednesday and Saturday afternoons regularly and sometimes other days as well.

    As far as our other personal laundry was concerned at the start of each term we handed in three of each, shirt, vest, pants, pyjamas and pairs of socks all marked with our names. Each Sunday a clean shirt, underwear and socks appeared on our beds the dirty ones being placed in a big wicker laundry basket on the landing. The underwear and socks were also changed on a Wednesday.

    The laundry baskets were taken away by the school janitor, in my day the legendary Ernie. Ernie tended the boilers, emptied communal waste bins and general kept the place tidy but he will forever live in my mind for two things. The first was his tolling of the 7.30am rising bell. To do this he walked slowly across the yard a large hand bell swinging at the end of his arm to produce a monotonous, tolling d’dong, d’dong, a dirge that jerked us into wakefulness, the uninviting prospect of leaving a warm bed for a freezing cold dormitory and the contemplation of another unhappy day.

    The second was his reaction when ‘Podge’ Pittaway shattered the door of the VIth form common room which was then at the end of the assembly hall building. It was raining and Podge returning from study elsewhere ran helter skelter down the yard, pressed down on the door handle and hit the door with his shoulder. Unfortunately the latch didn’t disengage and the door remained closed until Podge’s weight caused it to disintegrate. Ernie was summoned to survey the damage; “Bloody animals!” was his verdict.

    I say the days were unhappy, for my first couple of years they were purgatory. The custom within the boarding house at that time was for seniority to be from the time one became a member of Lenthall House, not by age. All new boys were automatically junior to all other house members. This meant that we members of the agricultural stream who had joined as thirteen year olds in the third form were subject to the whims of those who had joined one or two years before as eleven year olds. Existing boarders could make new boys run errands for them, generally fag for them and inflict all sorts of indignities in the name of tradition.

    The smallest new boy had to suffer his head being pushed into a toilet bowl and the chain pulled, new boys were made to fight each other and drink ‘concoctions’ made from leftover food scraps and anything else devious minds could find that wasn’t actually toxic.

    One of my year somehow incurred the displeasure of a second form boy and was required to wait upon him in the locker room after school where the junior boy ‘promoted’ him by strokes with the whippy end of a fishing rod across the backside; one stroke for a lance corporal, two strokes for a corporal the following day, three for a sergeant the day after and so on. As I recall he got to about warrant officer class one before getting bored.

    As well as individual bullying there was collective harassment as well, especially by Bottom dorm against Top dorm even though some members of Top dorm had been boarders for a year or more.

    Classic examples were ‘reigns of terror’ when night after night after lights out the dorm door would be flung open and a host of bottom dormers would race in and upturn all the beds or a couple of boys would be tipped from their beds and the beds removed leaving he individuals to manage as best they could.

    On one notable occasion, again after lights out, a messenger came up from Bottom dorm, woke the boy in the first bed and told him to report down to Bottom dorm. The summoned one knocked on the door, waited until bid to enter and timidly did so – it was well known that no good ever came from a summons to Bottom dorm. That dorm was also in darkness but on entering the visitor was seized, a pillow case pulled over his head, so that darkness was complete, his pyjama trousers were pulled down and a layer of boot polish vigorously applied to his genitals with a stiff brush. That completed the pillow case was removed and he was shoved out of the dorm with the terse instruction to, “Send down the next one!”

    I was the second or third to receive the treatment and on return to Top dorm told the next one to go down stairs then took my place at the row of wash basins and with trousers round ankles tried to remove as much of the polish as possible. I removed what I could and made way for the next polish recipient because by then the half dozen basins were all occupied by boys gingerly trying to get themselves clean. At this point the light was switched on and there was Mr ‘Willie’ Dyer, one of the housemasters. He surveyed the line of boys naked from the waist down and blinking in the sudden light but showed no sympathy, “Get back in to bed, all of you, this instant!” he barked, waited until they had obeyed and turned the light out. Nothing more was said.

    With all this going on it is right that one should ask, what were the housemasters doing? At that time there were three; Mr Kipper’ Wright - so called because of his splay footed walk - , Mr ‘Bung’ Bennett and Mr ‘Willie’ Dyer.

    Kipper had a flat on the first floor into which he disappeared every afternoon after school and was never seen again other than at meal times, though we always knew when he was in residence from the smell of his pipe which permeated that part of the house. As far as lessons were concerned I think he only ever took the occasional geography lesson, his main preoccupation was coaching cricket.

    The two junior housemasters, Bennett and Dyer, had their own bed-sitting rooms; during the day Bennett taught Latin and religious instruction while Dyer took French and music. Dyer also played the piano for assembly and produced the annual school play. Bennett was regarded as being ‘easy’ and was subjected to about as much insubordination as was at all possible in those days. A favourite trick was to hold up the lid of one’s desk as ‘Bung’ walked along the aisle and close the lid as he went past thereby trapping his gown which usually caused it to tear. I did this trick on one occasion but because I had trapped the end of his gown Bung was level with the boy in front when the gown ripped. Thus it was that the quite innocent Walter Morrison was on the receiving end of Bung’s irate clip around the ear.

    Poor Walt, he was subject to another indignity, this time in the gymnasium which was at the corner of the High Street and Church Lane opposite Hussey’s ‘tuckshop’.  Dress for gym for us boys was only shorts and plimsolls and on one occasion, while we were lining up preparing for a vault or some such, the P.E. master, Mr Morgan, spotted Walt committing some misdemeanour or other, called him to the front of the class and told to turn round and face us. Walt did as he was bidden at which point Morgan whipped down Walt’s shorts and as Walt bent hurriedly down to pull them up he received a smart slap on his bare bum. Even in those days when such indignities were relatively common the class was a bit taken aback but the benefit was that a lesson had been learned and the class continued without further incident.

    Later on Bung Bennett was replaced by ‘Jimmy’ Robinson who occupied the flat in the cottage, opposite Cottage Dorm in which I, as a newly promoted but unemployed sub-prefect, was a resident. I mentioned earlier the routine for meals, in the case of breakfast boarders assembled in the utility room at eight in the morning and it was Jimmy’s habit to throw open the dormitory door and shout, “C’mon lads, five to eight!” which meant that residents of Cottage Dorm had five minutes to get dressed and across the road to join the queue for breakfast.

    In my case, as I’m sure it was with the majority of others, my clothes were on a chair next to the bed and arranged with vest, shirt and pullover all together to be pulled on as one, the school tie was tied at the beginning of term and only loosened to be removed at the end of the day so this only had to be slipped over one’s head and pulled tight while pants, trousers, socks and shoes could be donned in seconds. Thus it was possible to make the queue and, as befitting our senior status (remember I said Cottage Dorm was for senior boarders and out of work prefects) saunter to the head of the line.

    It so happened that one Saturday evening Jimmy was out and we residents of Cottage dorm decided to stir him up. Waiting for a suitably late hour we dismantled all the beds and hid the parts where they could not be seen from the door then took our bedding in to the gymnasium. Access to the gym was facilitated by the fact that the door key was hanging on a nail in the boiler room and could be reached via the transom in the adjacent window. Sure enough the following morning Jimmy, probably a bit hung-over, threw the dormitory door open and cried, “C’mon lads, five to eight!” and was taken aback to find the dorm empty. He reported the fact quite cheerfully to Mr Douglas, the new Housemaster at breakfast but Mr Douglas was not amused.

    The residents of Cottage dorm were summoned to the gym after breakfast, told to return their bedding to the dorm and then to report back to Mr Douglas in the gym. We did so and in succession each received ‘six of the best’. Jimmy was required to witness this and I’m sure there were tears in his eyes at this unforeseen happenstance.

    It so happened that that day Dave Hogg and I had arranged to take a cross country hike from school to Bourton-on-Water as part of our preparations for the forthcoming Easter trip to the Lake District. Just before directing me to bend over Mr Douglas told me that, as a result of my misdemeanour, I would not be allowed to go on the hike, Dave was devastated. After considering the matter I sought out Mr Douglas and told him that I realise we had done wrong (creep!!) and deserved to be punished but I was being punished twice. He agreed immediately and Dave and I went on our walk.

    That Mr Douglas was so ready to dispense corporal punishment might seem odd in that he was a Quaker and thus supposedly adverse to violence but his willingness to deliver six of the best when he considered it appropriate brought significant benefits. While ‘Kipper’ Wright had been a bachelor Mr Douglas came to Lenthall House with his family and they made an enormous difference. Immediately Douglas made it clear that he would not tolerate bullying or harassment in any form and those who persisted soon learned of his remedy and found it most comfortable to cease and desist. Within weeks the boarding house became a much happier place, the older boys took on the role of mentors to the younger ones rather than perceiving them as objects on which to inflict the indignities that they had been victims of as juniors.

    It was obviously felt that boarders needed to be occupied for most waking hours seven days a week. I have mentioned the routine prior to the start of classes and the school day passed probably much as it does today. It was outside school hours that things were different.

    We boarders has some free time between the end of classes at around 4pm ( that time varied slightly being a few minutes earlier in winter) and tea at five thirty, most days except Friday when, for some unknown reason, it was five o’clock. After tea there was prep from six fifteen for an hour and then we were required to be in our dormitories preparing for lights out at either nine thirty or ten depending on which dorm.

    On Saturday mornings there was housekeeping/maintenance to be done. We could be employed on various jobs around the boarding house with the bulk employed in the cottage garden which provided some of the vegetables for the kitchen. A favourite job, because it was inside during the winter, was repairing bed springs. The beds in those days had metal frames and the ‘springs’ comprised a mesh of linked wire triangles. Inevitably the beds took quite a hammering – boys whose beds were furthest from the door would often enter the dorm and bounce on the intervening beds until they reached their own while using somebody else’s bed as a trampoline  was a favourite sport.

Spring breakage was inevitable and two boys, equipped with a box of spare wire triangles and pliers, spent every Saturday morning going round all the dorms, lifting mattresses and repairing any damage found.  I spent an entire winter term on this duty and felt quite relieved.

    Saturday afternoons we usually played rugby in the winter. This took the form of a match and being so small in number virtually all the boarders played. This meant that junior boys were playing against much larger and heavier opponents, something that served us well when it came to inter house sports; although he smallest house numerically Lenthall always played above it weight. In the summer we played cricket or if it was too wet we might be encouraged to do some private study.

    Sunday mornings we all attended our respective churches, in my day limited to Anglican, Catholic or Methodist. I had been brought up as a Congregationalist and so attended to Methodist Church in the High Street. There were only about half a dozen of us and one of the benefits was that we were occasionally invited out by one of the parishioners for Sunday afternoon tea a real treat after the boarding house food. A number of the Methodist congregation were local farmers and on a couple of occasions we chapel going boarders were asked to join the beaters for a shoot over the farmlands. This turned out to be healthy exercise if a little wet but was compensated for by a hearty meal washed down by cider afterwards. Our tales of the day – probably told with the odd hiccup – were greeted quite enviously by the Anglicans and ‘left footers’.

    On many summer afternoons we used our free time after school for a quick swim in the Windrush.  An astute observer would have noticed a number of boarders, clad in their normal school clothes but looking a bit plumper than usual and with a bulging pocket, heading down to the bridge.  Having crossed the bridge they would climb over the wall and head off upstream to a bend in the river where the current had scooped out a sizable pool.  Towels would appear from where they had been wrapped around bodies under shirts and bathers would be dragged out of pockets. A quick change was followed by active swimming until it was time to dry off as well as possible, rewrap one’s towel, wring out the bathers as much as possible, cram them into a jacket pocket and hurry back to Lenthall House in time for tea.

    Occasionally, on really hot week-end afternoons there would be ‘official’ swimming parties in the same location supervised by one of the housemasters. Stored in the loft off the long passage at the top of the boarding house was Green Poisson, a green painted large surfboard affair christened I suspect by Willy Dyer. This was toted down to the river and provided a minor diversion.

    The loft also contained a number of toboggans and these came out when the snow was on the ground. On those winter week-end afternoons when the snow made other sport impractical we would take the ‘sledges’ along to North Hill, the slope  between the A40 and Witney Street on the way to Swinbrook.

    The river meadows on the other side of Witney Street to North Hill were the venue of another winter recreation. In the 1950s those meadows often flooded to a depth of a few inches to a little over a foot (this was pre-decimal remember) and some days the water froze almost solid. The boarding house possessed a number of pairs of ice skates and these were handed out to anyone who had suitable footwear to which they could be attached. I acquired a pair of figure skates and manged to screw those to a pair of old boots I sometimes used for walking; some even had their own skates attached to proper boots. Whoever had skates was then able to enjoy acres of ice rink or explore along frozen ditches way up the Windrush valley. Particular fun was to be had by impromptu ice hockey matches using field hockey sticks and a rubber bung from a laboratory flask.

    Most of the foregoing involved all the boarders, we in the agricultural stream, the ‘Specials’, had our own particular adventures mostly related to the school farm. The events that follow are those that involved my particular ‘special’ form; David Attwood, John Amor, Michael Brown, Brian Stratford, Richard Woodford and me.

    I’m not sure what records exist of the school farm but I suppose it was about twelve acres in extent with arable land and the infrastructure devoted to the herd of pedigree large white pigs.

    The farm was under the overall direction of Ken Pearson who also ran the agricultural stream generally. Ken was passionate about the pigs and under his guidance the herd became quite well known, producing prize winning breeding animals that had a ready market, including overseas, as well as animals for the meat trade. He was also responsible for setting up a school Young Farmers Club (YFC) and arranging inter-club events.

    Daily oversight of the farm was by one ‘Pig’ Dixon assisted by two labourers whose names escape me I’m afraid but one was notable for the permanent ‘dew drop’ on the end of his nose that earned him a rather disrespectful  nickname. On one occasion a group of us specials were helping lift sugar beet, the beet being loosened by a blade drawn by the farm’s little Ferguson tractor. During this activity the siren sounded that summoned the volunteer s of the Burford Fire Brigade of which ‘Pig’ was one. Keen to answer the call (he was apparently close to retirement but if he continued to answer calls he was entitled to a small gratuity) he turfed the boy driver off the tractor, climbed on and set off across the playing fields towards the town leaving us with no other option than to try and pull the beets by hand.

    The pig herd comprised pigs of all ages accommodated differently so the range of sties was quite extensive. Husbandry necessitated that the pigs be treated in various ways and this was usually done at a central location with the patients being driven there from their sties. On one occasion we (the half dozen listed above) were driving about a dozen half-grown pigs up to the weighing station where their growth could be ascertained. No anyone who knows anything about pigs will recognise that half-grown baconers are the porcine equivalent of juvenile delinquents, full of hormones and mischief. This lot performed to expectations and we herders were fully employed in keeping them heading in the required direction. Occasionally one would break free. To start with we tried to contain the rest while a couple of us went after the truant.

    “That’s no good” shouted ‘Pig’. “If one breaks you might as well let ‘em all go”. So the next time one broke we stood back and let the rest scatter. At this point in the move we were very close to the copse that stood on private land next to the farm, the boundary being a Cotswold stone wall, sadly dilapidated in places and offering no sort of obstacle to a bunch of hyperactive pigs bent on escape. ‘Pig’ was furious and directed that we round them up. There followed an hour of sheer hilarity as we six pursued the pigs in the thick undergrowth, a couple of times I was reduced to near hysteria, leaning weakly against a tree listening to the shouts, swearing and squeals and catching occasional glimpses of pigs with boys in hot pursuit – though sometimes it appeared the other way round.

    At the other end of the Top School grounds, beyond the playing field and adjacent to the A40 was another small copse. In to this one day plunged a F86 Sabre fighter aircraft from Brize Norton which was then a USAF air base. Several lads visited the copse in search of souvenirs to find the site surrounded by USAF MPs. George Douglas – son of the housemaster – told me later that he had crept in to the copse as the MPs were stringing ‘KEEP OUT’ tape around the crash site. The tape snagged on a branch near his head and he reached up and untangled it before a policeman came to investigate.

    Assisting with the pig herd as well as forming part of our agricultural learning also helped when it came to YFC competitions, particularly the art of pig judging. For the uninitiated pig judging involves examining a pen of four pigs, placing them in order of quality and explaining the reasons for your choice to a panel of judges. Several of us participated in these competitions at shows around Burford and on one momentous occasion at the Royal Smithfield Show in London where I became the Junior Pig Judging Champion of England!

    Having been brought up on a farm that used horses well in to the 1940s  I was entered in the horse handling competition at the Oxfordshire Show being required to harness a horse to a two wheel cart and put it through several manoeuvres. I was successful at this which caused Mr Pearson to nominate me in the competition to harness and work a horse and four wheel wagon at the next show. Now that’s a much more difficult proposition and I was quite glad when the show was cancelled due to the threat of a foot-and-mouth outbreak.

    Another competition in which the school YFC did well was public speaking. I was very comfortable doing that and I found that the lessons learned proved invaluable in later life.

    As previously mentioned BGS had a Combined Cadet Force (CCF) unit and I joined fairly soon after arriving in Lenthall House. The unit was affiliated to the Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry and wore the rifle green beret and bugle badge of that regiment. I was particularly proud of that because my father had enlisted in the Oxon & Bucks LI in 1915 as a sixteen year old youth and later was involved in the Battle of Delville Wood, one of the many individual battles that collectively became known as the Somme Offensive.

    The cadets paraded one afternoon a week and practiced drill, weapon handling, map reading and other military skills. Our instructors were predominantly the unit commander, Flight Lieutenant Samuels, otherwise known as Mr Samuels the chemistry master who had been in the RAF during WW2, and Second Lieutenant Morgan – Mr Morgan the games master – who had completed his national service as an officer in the Royal Artillery. We also received instruction from regular army instructors and attended week-end courses and a two week camp once a year. A small bore (.22) rifle range was established on the school farm and we cadets fired a program to qualify with that weapon. For drill purposes we trained with the standard Mk IV Lee Enfield .303 service rifle and fired these once a year at an annual range practice.

    Because of Mr Samuels air force connections we cadets were able to visit the RAF flying school at Little Rissington. One flight I had was in an Anson twin engine aircraft used for RAF navigation training but the biggest thrill was in the front seat of a single engine, two seat Harvard training aircraft. This entailed strapping on a parachute, which became the seat ‘cushion’ and a helmet complete with headphones and microphone. The instructor in the seat behind let me take tentative control for a few moments and asked if I wanted to try any aerobatics. Not being at all sure I declined and we flew in sedate circles while ‘Gus’ Morgan appeared alongside in the front seat of a Meteor jet aircraft, its wheels and flaps down to match our speed.

    Back in the house that evening we cadets excitedly discussed our adventure. Most vociferous was Brian ‘Titch’ Tebbutt who had agreed to let the pilot flying him engage in some aerobatics. Brian described them in detail then started to turn green at the thought of what he had volunteered for. Suddenly he stopped in mid-sentence and fled the dining room to be violently ill outside. That evidence convinced me I had made the right choice.

    Not only did Mr Samuels teach chemistry and command the CCF unit but he and his wife organised yearly trips to the Lake District in the Easter Holidays. I went on three of these trips, two to the CHA hostel at Seatoller in Borrowdale – ‘the Heart of the Lake District – and one at the hostel on Buttermere. The trips inspired a deep affection for the mountains and inspired me to spend a month of the 1955 summer holiday attending the Outward Bound Mountain School at Eskdale. A report of that event is contained in The Burfordian summer term 1956

    The end of term and the idea of going home was naturally are very inviting prospect, particularly in the early boarding years and the signs heralding its approach were welcome. Scholastically there were the end of term exams but to us boarders the most significant indication of the proximity of that happy day was the arrival in the dorms of our trunks. Ernie retrieved these and each boy’s trunk was placed at the foot of his bed, gleefully we started to fold and pack away our clothes and awaited the return of those items (Shirts, vests, pants, socks) that had been deposited with matron for laundering.

    Last night of term was heralded and marked by a ‘dorm feast’. The goodies for ad been previously solicited from our parents and were either delivered by visits or in parcels in the mail. The items were individually stored prior to the last night but when the time arrived they were all pooled and dorm members good take their pick. Obvious the feast’s components had to be those that needed to no preparation or required particular storage requirements; consequently sweets, cakes and biscuits proliferated. Naturally some items were more attractive than others and soon ran out; some were virtually ignored while others were donated in such abundance that there was a surplus. I recall Michael ‘Mekon’ Young playing marbles with maltesers on his way to the bog. By the way, the lights weren’t turned on for this celebration but there was plenty of torchlight and while the activity remained until quite late there was never any interference from house masters.

    I mentioned ‘bogs’, the vernacular for WC, of which there was one adjacent to each dorm. They were no larger than a separate toilet in a house but proved capable of holding a surprising number of smokers, their presence being evident in the atmosphere for some hours after they had flushed away the dog ends and vacated.

    No doubt as time goes by more anecdotes will come to mind but the foregoing is surely sufficient for the moment so let it be. I have enjoyed this delve into the past, my days at BGS were at times both miserable and joyful but over-all they were momentous and formative and any success I enjoyed in later life has been in part due to those four momentous years.

    Gordon Pound