November - Old Scarborians

Summer TimesSummer Times is the Journalof theOldScarboriansAssociationMembers of the Association areformer pupils and members ofstaff ofScarborough High School for BoysVolume 44 November 2003Old Scarborians AssociationWeb address: http://oldscarborians.orgPrice £1.50

David PottageInternational Golf CourseArchitectA Complete ServicefromProject AppraisalthroughDetailed DesigntoTurnkey Development70 Whitesmead RoadOld TownStevenageHerts. SG1 3JZTel: 01438 221026Fax:01438 229271e-mail davidpottage@ntlworld.comMember European Institute of Golf Course Architects

1This edition of Summer Times is dedicated to the memory of the lateAlan Roy Elliott, a past President ofThe Old Scarborians Association (1998‐2000),who died aged 66, on the 26th August 2003.An obituary appears on page 17.For when the One Great Scorer comesTo write against your name,He marks not that you won or lostBut how you played the game.(Grantland Rice 1880‐1955)Taken from the RUFC Handbook

COMMITTEE 2002-2003PRESIDENTMick Bowman,9 Ilkley Grove, Guisborough, ClevelandTS14 8LLTel: +44 (0)1287 634650E‐mail: mjwb@supanet.comIMMEDIATE PAST PRESIDENTRon Gledhill +44 (0)1723 362644HONORARY LIFE VICEPRESIDENTSFrank R. Bamforth +44 (0)1723 364432Jack Layton +44 (0)1723 362455Geoff Nalton +44 (0)1723 354268Doug Owen +44 (0)1723 360960SECRETARY/MEMBERSHIPPeter Robson, Forge Villa, High Street,Ebberston, North Yorkshire. YO13 9PATel: +44 (0)1723 859335E‐mail: Peter.Robson@btinternet.comDeputy Secretary/MembershipColin Hurd (01723 870597)E‐mail: colinhurd@yahoo.co.ukFINANCIAL, SPORT, &MAGAZINE ADVERTISINGChris Found, Pinewood Cottage, Silpho,Scarborough. North Yorkshire.YO13 0JP Tel: +44 (0)1723 882343E‐mail: DFound@ukf.netSUMMER TIMES EDITORIALPlease send all items for the next SummerTimes to:David Fowler,56 Prince of Wales Apartments, Esplanade,Scarborough, North Yorkshire. YO11 2BBTel: +44 (0)1723 365448E‐mail: osa@farthings.org.ukDeputy EditorJohn Mann(H: 01948 662943; M: 0799 0787089)E‐mail: john.e.mann@ukgateway.net2OSA WEB SITEhttp://oldscarborians.org (Please note newaddress)Please send all items for the web site, to:Bill Potts, 1848 Hidden Hills Drive,Roseville, California, 95661‐5804 USATelephone: +001 916 773‐3865E‐mail: osa@wfpconsulting.comPUBLICITYPlease send photographs for scanning for theweb site, from UK addresses, to:Mick Bowman,9 Ilkley Grove, Guisborough, ClevelandTS14 8LLTel: +44 (0)1287 634650E‐mail: mjwb@supanet.comCOMMITTEE MEMBERSColin Adamson +44 (0)1723 364373Paul Gridley +44 (0)1723 370806Maurice Johnson +44 (0)1262 470272Michael Peart +44 (0)1723 864164Eric Rushforth +44 (0)1723 364018Geoff Winn +44(0)1723 362414Ex OfficioChris Coole, Auditor +44(0)1723 577587Please send items for the next SummerTimes to David Fowler, (address opposite)by 15th February 2004. Items sentby e‐mail or on floppy disk are of greathelp; otherwise please type, or write,on single sides of paper.CONTENTS2. Contact details3. Editorial4. Presidential6. Secretarial, Treasurial, SportingOSA web site report8. Committee Profiles13. From here & there17. Obituaries21. Memories25. Long distance Explorer28 . Nostalgia – 50 years ago

29. Nostalgia – 78 years ago32. The history of Scarborough33. Tales of an Hotel Consultant36. Hovs’ War Memoir43 . Crossword results, No. 3, May 2003Prize Crossword Number 444. Summer Times– To be, or not to be?47. The President’s Jewel47. ‘Paomnnehel Pweor’47. Do you remember? The Mandrakes48. School photos51. Letter from Graham School52. Do you remember? SCFCHov’s Rugby reports54. Ted Lester remembers55. Future events, PostscriptEDITORIALFrom page 1, you willsee that this issue ofSummer Times is dedicatedto the memory ofthe late Alan Elliott.I didn’t know Alan wellat school as he was acouple of years ahead ofme. My own lack of sporting prowess (limitedto shinty on Oliver’s Mount), maybe also havehad a bearing!However, as a late‐comer to the Associationand to the committee, it was in the late 1980’s Istarted to get to know him, and I well rememberhis very successful stint as President ofthis Association between 1998 and 2000.Early in his presidency, restructure of the Associationwas taking place and new memberswere flooding in as though the school was stillin existence. At a committee meeting, and,with hindsight rather rashly, I volunteered toedit and produce Summer Times after verylong‐serving editor Frank Bamforth had indicatedhe wished to step down.At that committee meeting Alan quietly offeredto keep a watching brief over me, sothat, if I ran into trouble, (with the magazine, I3hasten to add!) I would have someone towhom I could turn.It was during that period that I got to knowAlan well. He was quiet, but very, very sincere.He had a dry sense of humour; but,above all his manner was caring, supportiveand helpful.And help he did, in those early, somewhathectic days from the end of 1999 when magazinecopy was sparse, and what did appearinvariably arrived well after the deadline andled to much burning of the proverbial midnightoil!Alan encouraged me; he encouraged membersto write for Summer Times; he advised uponcontent; he checked copy; he proof read thefinal draft; he attended sessions at the StephenJoseph Theatre where we enveloped the magazinesand any inserts, before adding addresslabels and stamps. He then took his share ofthe bundles of envelopes to post, and joined inthe race to get to the nearest post box as, whenwe had filled that one we had to move furtherafield.Thank you Alan. Summer Times is what it istoday, largely because of your encouragementand endeavours in those early days of the‘new’ magazine. You were a tower of strengthand you will be sadly missed.~~~~~~~~The following paragraph from the Editorial ofThe Scarborian, November 1947, caught myeye.“Finally, we have been compelled to confinethe magazine within strict limits on groundsof expense, but we hope that nothing vital hasbeen omitted.In some ways we envy our friends in Torontowhose massive magazine, with its prodigalityof illustrations and photographs, we have justreceived. They report that there were 62,000folds to be made and half of them had to bedone by hand; about 8,000 stitches had to bemade; over 2,600 covers had to be glued on;

and they used 1 ton of paper, 25 pounds ofink and 20 pounds of glue. They print 234photographs of individual pupils, each beingaccompanied by pungent comments on characterand abilities.”It seems Summer Times has some way to go!You will see that we indicate a price of £1.50on the cover of this edition. This was suggestedat a recent committee meeting, as away of drawing attention to the cost of producingand despatching the magazine. It isnot an additional charge and you will stillreceive your magazine as normal. Havingsaid that, with two Summer Times each yeareach £10 Life membership does not go far inmonetary terms. Our treasurer, Chris Foundconfirms we remain solvent, but new membershave reduced to a trickle so incomefrom subscriptions has also reduced. Overseaspostage also remains a heavy burden –up to £1.21 a copy for postage alone at AirMail printed paper rate to certain destinations.We remain very grateful for the donationswe receive, and, whilst we are not yet holdingout the begging bowl, if any memberdoes feel able to make a small donation thiswould be very welcome. These should besent to Chris Found – address on page 2.I already have some material towards thenext edition of Summer Times but would welcomemany more items, so we can keep themagazine fresh and interesting.Finally, very many thanks to contributors; toproof readers; to committee members whoturn up for committee meetings ‐ and arethen faced with an ‘Agenda’ of enveloping,labelling and mailing each copy; and to eachof our 643 members. Without you all therewouldn’t be an Old Scarborians’ Association,and there couldn’t be a Summer Times.David Fowler (1949-55)Editor4PRESIDENTIALBefore retiring I oftenwondered how Iwould fill my timewhen not at work.Since retiring I havecome to realise, asmost people do, thatI never had time towork. I now have adiary to keep to keeptrack of my social engagements, most ofwhich end at a bar ‐ perhaps thatʹs why Icannot remember everything!As a result of this I was amazed to receivethe call from David for a few notes for thismagazine. It seems no time at all since thelast issue and it has brought home to meonce again how hard and continuous thework load for David is. Once again, on behalfof the OSA, can I thank you?Since the last issue we have received copiesof Hovʹs match reports for the 1st XV for1952‐1953 and snippets of information aboutone or two players. No information has beenforthcoming about the origins of the MarsdenTrophy or the whereabouts of ex‐staff.The main events of the summer were the golfcompetitions and dinner reported elsewhere.I had the pleasure of playing in both events.The first with Chris Found, without whosehard work the golf would not take place, andthe second was an interesting four hours inthe company of Bill Chambers and DaveBurnley. I was informed the lower handicapswould go off first, we three were the last tostart except for Chrisʹs group sweeping upstragglers.I have since heard that Paul Gridley has hadhis handicap altered, not down as we hopedbut up. Must be old age, Paul, catching up atlast!The Dinner at North Cliff Golf Club was anexcellent affair with good food and goodcompany.

5A Home from Home with Qualified NursingCareA family run home with the emphasis on a gentle andloving approach. Our home provides comfort and privacywhen desired and long or short respite stay; private orfunded are all welcome. There is a smoking lounge forrelatives and residents, and two south facing sunny dayrooms. Even though we are in a rural location, a privatetransport service can be arranged for people, if they findvisiting their relatives or friend a problem. You are welcometo visit our Nursing Home anytime, for more informationplease call ourMatron: Judy Roddison8-14 Primrose Valley Road, Filey, North Yorkshire YO149QR.TEL: 01723 513545Proprietor: Capt. E.J.Baines M.N.I M.R.I.N.

Again on behalf of the OSA I would like tothank Chris for his time and effort and theclub for their kind hospitality.My brother‐in‐law John Walker, 1958‐1965,talked me into going to the cricket at NorthMarine Road and I was delighted to discoverthat the county cricket there serves as anunofficial OSA gathering. If you have notbeen I recommend a visit.On a general note it has been a pleasure duringmy visits to Scarborough to see thebeaches and seafront full of holiday‐makersthis year. It took me back to my school daysin the 1950s.The next events will be the AGM and theChristmas Dinner. If you are in the areaplease make the effort to attend and shareyour memories.Thanks once again to all those who work sohard on our behalf.Mick Bowman (1954-61)PresidentSECRETARIALAs of 9 th August, the membership stands at643 versus 635 the lasttime I reported in February,thus an increaseof 8. Regular readerswill recognise that thisis the smallest sixmonthlyincrease thatwe have ever reportedin this magazine and itis clear that recruiting has slowed considerably.The stimulus given by the creation of theweb site and the Centenary celebrations appearsto have petered out and any furtherincrease in our numbers must come fromword of mouth introductions by existingmembers. So please make sure that theschool friends that you have kept in touchwith are members of the Association and ifthey are not, point them in my direction. Itis easy to join and relatively painless. £10 for6life membership is not a large sum in today’sinflated currency; the cost of a very unexceptionalround of drinks at the pub.Sadly, as usual we have to report the deathsof 4 of our members; past President AlanElliott, the Very Reverend Robert Holtby,Ronald Welburn and Brian Megginson.We have 284 members on our list of e‐mailaddresses and it an excellent way to keep intouch with our overseas members, most ofwhom use this method of correspondence. Ittakes, however, constant effort on the part ofBill Potts and myself to keep the list current.People change e‐mail address far more frequentlythan they change their home address.If you change either address don’tforget to inform me, so that you receiveyour communications from the association,promptly.Peter Robson (1945-53)SecretaryTREASURIALIncome is still tricklingin but at an evenslower rate. However,it is supplemented bysome kind individualdonations. We are stillsolvent and all ourevents are still producingsmall profits. Iam confident that,financially, we are still a going concern but Iwish to repeat my appeal for more advertisersto help subsidise the cost of SummerTimes.Chris Found (1951-59)TreasurerSPORTING EVENTSTA Smith Cup - 17th July2003We were very fortunate with the weather forthis competition, particularly for the majority

of players who played in the afternoon. Aftera very miserable misty start to the daythe mist started to clear about 3pm and thewhole course was transformed as sunny andwarm conditions developed.The total number of players was 20, whichwas slightly on the low side, and the largemajority of entrants were those living locally,which I find slightly disappointing.However all players took great pleasurefrom the conditions and some sparkling golfwas played. Paul Gridley continued hisdomination of these events by adding the T.A.Smith Cup to his winning of the Dr.Meadley trophy in June.The format of the event was again a Stablefordwhich seems to be the type of competitionwhich the players prefer.The results were as follows:Points1st Paul Gridley (Ganton) 442nd John Brinkler (S/Cliff) 423rd Eric Rushforth (N/Cliff) 40In the evening 25 members and guests attendedthe annual golf dinner at the NorthCliff Club and we were treated to an exceptionallyenjoyable meal. After dinner thePresident, Mick Bowman, presented the cupsand prizes for both competitions, and otherswho attended were Geoff Nalton, MauriceJohnson, David Fowler and Mr & Mrs PeterRobson.Golf Competition by Post -2004Occasionally, an OSA member will post amessage on the Discussion Forum that meritsa reply from one of the Association officers.For example, George (Bill) Kendall hasposted a message with a topic heading of‘Golf days,’:Reference your Golf Day on the 17th July. Itis a little late but how about making it an7International Event? Such that an absentmember can submit his latest scorecard upto the date of the golf day. A golfer can betrusted to submit a correct card!! StablefordStroke? A trophy will not be required, justthe knowledge that one has played with theOSA members.ʺBill Kendall will be pleased to hear that hisidea is being adopted and next year we arehoping to institute an international competitionas part of our golfing activities. This willinvolve players submitting a signed scorecardfor a round played in any part of theworld within a specified period of time. Thisis primarily aimed at players who are unableto travel to Scarborough for the Dr Meadleyand TA Smith Competitions.Players will need to submit a card for around played anywhere in the world duringJune 2004. So that I know that there isenough support to make the effort worthwhileI shall be grateful if those interestedwill write to me for an entry form.CD FoundPinewood,Silpho,Scarborough, YO13 0JP, UKI will also be including details of this extracompetition when I write to our regular entrantsin April next year.This new event will be run as a Stableford.Chris Found (1951-59)Golf SecretaryOLD SCARBORIANS WEBSITE REPORTThe most significant event on the web site,since the last Summer Times, is the move to anew web hosting company and the changeto a new domain name (web address).The move was as a result of what can onlybe termed execrable service from our UKbasedweb hosting company. We could re‐

port problems to themonly through a thirdparty, which was a totalwaste of time, as theydidn’t respond at all.For reasons that aremore sentimental thanrational, we would havepreferred to move to another UK‐based webhostingcompany. However, we found whatseems to be an excellent (and, importantly,economical) choice—Infinology, which isbased in Los Angeles, CA. For a very lowprice, we can have a web site as large as 9gigabytes. As we’ve only used a little over 50megabytes so far, we’ll never be in danger ofexceeding or even remotely approaching theavailable capacity.Those attempting to visit the web site at itsold address are automatically redirected tothe new address, which is http://oldscarborians.org. In addition to the mainaddress, we have two special addresses.The first is http://update.oldscarborians.org.If you want to update your personal information(address, phone number, email address,etc.), that’s the place to go.The second is http://apply.oldscarborians.org. That’s the one to give to any webenabledold school friends who, unlike you,haven’t yet had the good sense to join theAssociation. Of course, you’ll need to pointout to them what an unbelievable bargainmembership is at only £10 for life.The move to the new location provided anopportunity to re‐examine our DiscussionForum software. More by good luck thananything else, I discovered an outstandingfreeware product called Snitz Forums 2000.Rather than describe it in detail here, I recommendthat those of you who are webenabledvisit the web site and take a look atit. Anyone can read messages, but you haveto register in order to reply to messages or to8post new ones. I recommend using your ownname (e.g., John Smith) as your membername. This, rather than some cryptic name,will allow others to immediately recognizethe authorship of your messages. (Membernames can include spaces.)All the messages ever posted to the old DiscussionForum are archived on the web site.They can be read, but any replies must beposted as new messages in the new DiscussionForum.I have returned to the task of adding themany photographs that many of you havetaken the trouble to supply. For my slowprogress, so far, I can only blame my owninnate laziness. The “Then and Now” photographsnow include two well‐known charactersfrom the late 1940s and early 1950s—Ron (Alf) Leng and George (Bill) Kendall.Most of the available photographs from the2002 Christmas Dinner and the 2003 LondonLuncheon are on the site. By the time youread this, all of them will almost certainly bethere.Contributors who have been waiting patiently(or otherwise) include John Hall andJohn Forster. Again, my aim is to includetheir photographs before this Summer Timesgoes to press.Bill Potts (1946-55)WebmasterCOMMITTEE PROFILESIn the May 2003 Summer Times we featuredProfiles from President Mick Bowman, PastPresident Ron Gledhill, and Committeemembers, John E Mann, Maurice Johnson,and Colin Hurd.Below, appear a few more, and we shall concludethis series in the next edition.Peter Robson (1945-53)Peter Robson arrived at SBHS in September1945 from Gladstone Road School and left in

July 1953. He was amember of the SchoolRugby, Cricket andAthletics teams andwas School Captain inhis last year.He graduated fromBirmingham Universityin 1956 with an Honoursdegree (first class) in Chemistry and in1959 was awarded a PhD in Chemistry by thesame university. Following a year at DukeUniversity in North Carolina, he joined theBasic Research Department of Procter andGamble in Newcastle upon Tyne.Over the next 25 years he held assignments ofincreasing responsibility in the P & G Researchand Development function in Brussels,London, Cincinnati and Newcastle upon Tyne.In 1984, a German coffee company (JacobsKaffee) merged with a Swiss chocolate company(Suchard Tobler) and he became theirfirst Senior Vice President of R & D based inZurich and Neuchatel, Switzerland. In 1990Jacobs Suchard was bought by Philip Morrisand in 1992, he left the company and becameVice President of R & D for the European Divisionof CPC International, the makers of Knorrsoups, Hellmans mayonnaise, Bovril and Marmiteand Ambrosia custard and rice puddings.He retired in 1997 and lives in Ebberston nearScarborough with his wife Muriel. They havefour children and two grandchildren.Peter’s main hobby is gardening (3 acres of it)but he also retains a strong interest in sport,particularly Rugby and Cricket, at which herepresented his University and English Universities.Chris Found (1951-59)Normally, my policy is to hide my light undera bushel but I have been emboldened by JohnMannʹs fine effort in the May edition of SummerTimes to do my bit to fly the flag for thediffident and untalented. When I was in my9final years at schoolI had absolutely noidea what I wantedto do and the SBHSwere unable to offerany real guidance asit could not envisageany possibilitiesother than Universityfor the intelligentand TeacherʹsTraining Collegefor the mediocre. Indesperation I joinedthe Customs andExcise section ofthe Civil Serviceand I do not knowwho was more confusedby this ‐ meor them. Needlessto say I did not enjoy the itinerant lifestylewhich this career offered particularly in theearly training days. I think that the final strawwas turning up in the early hours in St. HelensLancs to start work there the next day andbeing unable to find a hotel. As a result I spenthalf the night on a bench in the local BritishRail Station until an official kicked me out andspent the rest of the night going round St. Helenson an early morning bus as this was theonly warm place which I could find.As an alternative career I decided to go intoaccountancy following Paul Ridley, a friend ofmine who had done the same thing a yearearlier. I signed articles with the local firm ofRobinson, Coulson & Co and became a lowlyarticled clerk at the astonishing salary of 30shillings per week for the 5‐year term of thecontract. I used to give my mother £1 perweek and my remaining 10 shillings used tokeep me going from pay day on Friday lunchtimeuntil last thing on Saturday. It is exceedinglydifficult to run a social life on 10 shillingsper week and by the time I had paid myrugby match fee at the specially reduced ratefor the impoverished of half a crown and had

two or three pints of Roseʹs bitter ( 1 shillingand threepence per pint) there was nothingleft to entertain or attract the ladies and thusarticled clerkship proved a most frustratingtime. The only redeeming factor was that havingno money for 5 days out of the 7 days ofthe week enabled me to get on with studyingfor the examinations of the Institute of CharteredAccountants in England and Walesthrough the medium of the worthy correspondencecourses of Messrs H Foulks Lynch &Co.Looking back I think that the only thing thatgot me through this period of my life was mymemberships of the Scarborough AmateurRowing Club, The Scarborough Rugby UnionFootball Club and the Yorkshire Lawn TennisClub and my friends who were members ofthose Clubs for their friendship and for subsidisingmy drinking. One of my close friendswas Freddie Drabble who was in a similarposition to me, being articled to a local Solicitorat the lordly wage of 10 shillings per week.I always remember when Freddieʹs employersagreed to put his salary up to £1 per week ‐but said that in future he should pay his ownNIC stamp which was 9s and 11p whichmeant that his effective increase would onlybe 1 penny per week. Happy days! I rememberthat Dick Hartley sat his final accountancyexaminations in Leeds at the same time asmyself and as we had come over together inhis car and as we had both finished the finalpaper early, he gave me the pint‐glass‐to‐themouthsign and we immediately left the hallto head for Roseʹs country, which in this casewas the back bar of the Green Man at Malton.After qualifying I decided that I needed ʺbigfirmʺ experience and thus spent the next 7years working for Peat, Marwick, Mitchell inTeesside, London, Vancouver and Toronto onan amazing variety of jobs ranging from thebanal to the very exciting (i.e. from the MiddlesbroughBlind School to Bourne andHollingsworth in Oxford Street to The BritishColumbia Jockey Club). I also did my share of10pulp mill auditing in the backwoods of BritishColumbia and paid frequent visits to a smalllogging town called Prince George. We usedto stay at a newly built hotel called the Inn ofthe North and I have three vivid memories ofthis time. My first visit there was as part of ateam of 4 and it turned out that the other 3 inthe team were bridge fanatics who wanted toplay non‐stop bridge every evening and unfortunatelyI was expected to make up thefour even though I had no knowledge of thegame and absolutely no interest in it. No wonderI still have a great aversion to the gamenot helped by my wifeʹs current obsessiveinterest in it.Secondly, in the Inn of the North it was possibleto put 25 cents into a machine by the bedon retiring and you were lulled to sleep by thebed being gently rocked. However I foundthat this did not necessarily work if you hadhad a night on the beer, and I had to lie on thefloor for half an hour until the motion ceased.If not there might have been other less acceptablemotions. Thirdly, I was invited to a receptionin the hotel where a great deal of ryeand dry was drunk. In attempting to escapeearly from this I exited through a self closingdoor and found myself trapped on an exteriorbalcony. This was rather serious as I waswearing a thin suit and the temperature was20 degrees below zero. In the end I had to takemy life in my hands and clamber down almost12 feet of wooden scaffolding to theground to enable me to get back into the hotel.During my travels I played Rugby for Darlington,a mediocre outfit called Tabard inHertfordshire and for the Vancouver RowingClub who played at Brockton Oval in StanleyPark. I also played soccer for the office in theCAʹs league in Vancouver and we were thechampions in my year there. As a keen sportsmanI could never generate any interest in theCanadian sports such as American football,baseball or ice‐hockey, nor was I happy withtheir hire‐and‐fire culture or their obsessionwith the almighty dollar. However our sojournin Canada did not do us any financial

harm and in the 21 months there we were ableto save enough to buy a decent detachedhouse outright. During my time in London Iwas introduced to my future wife Dee by Pauland Connie Ridley and after a whirlwindcourtship we married in May 1969 and almostimmediately emigrated to Canada. Havingreturned to England in 1971 I had a furtherspell working for Peat, Marwick in Middlesbroughand then Geoff Winn offered me theprospects of a partnership in Scarboroughwhich I jumped at. He had just severed hislinks with a Hull firm, Buckley, Hall, Devineand was starting his own independent firmbased in Pavilion Square, Scarborough withsatellite offices at Bridlington and MarketWeighton. Subsequently we opened offices inWhitby, Saltburn and Rotherham and fornearly 25 years I laboured away in the accountancyvineyard until taking early retirementin 1997,a thing which I had alwaysplanned to do. During that time, apart fromwork, I raised two wonderful kids, playedsquash for Scarborough in the Hull Leagueand for Bridlington in the Yorkshire League,played tennis for Hackness and thoroughlyenjoyed the varied activities of the Sons ofNeptune.My other great interest since 1987 has beenmy involvement with the Twinning betweenScalby/Newby and Pornic in Brittany, France.During this time we have made many strongfriendships with the people of Pornic and hada second home there for over 10 years. I amcurrently still Treasurer of the Scalby andNewby Twinning Association and one of mygreat ambitions is to prevail upon either theScalby and Newby Parish Council or ScarboroughBorough Council to provide us withsome funding to promote our twinning, as Isee the latter organisation spending greatsums of money sending officials to Osterodeand achieving absolutely nothing in the contextof genuine friendship.11In the late nineties, I attended an AGM of theOld Boys Association and was elected to theCommittee as happened to just about anybodywho attended such a meeting. I wasthen astonished to discover that the committeenever had any meetings and it was mainlythrough my efforts that a special meeting wascalled at my house which resulted in the revitalisationof the Association. At that meetingseveral stalwarts stepped forward to take upthe cudgels and the result has been an amazingincrease in our activities and this excellentmagazine.Paul Gridley (1954-59)I suppose Iʹm a ‘bottomender’ (no pun intended),as in early dayswe lived in Eastborough,just below RonGledhillʹs butchersʹshop. By school age wehad moved to Cornelian,where I attendedNormanton Rise(Convent), myself and Gerald Carr being theonly boys!Then on to Lisvane where I first met ourPresident, followed by the College and then toWestwood 1U and Carlyle.I didnʹt like the High School at all ‐ I suspect Iwasnʹt alone ‐ and it wasnʹt until the new generationof post‐war teachers, such as Bob Watsonand Nag Gallagher, that academic interestwas re‐kindled ‐ for many subjects too late ‐ inspite of the obligatory tea‐pot stand!I enjoyed what sport we did and the variouscamps, which whetted an appetite for traveland a plan to join the ocean liners. As ourfamily were in catering, then at the GeorgianGrill in York Place, that seemed a way forward.With Joeyʹs encouragement I escaped Westwoodafter 5th form and was one of the firstintake of the new National Diploma studentspiloted in Huddersfield, for those in theNorth.After three years of active student life which

Maritime MotifsSouthley RoadSouth MoltonNorth Devon EX36 4BLTel / Fax +44 (0)1769 572727We are pleased to providequality Sweaters/ Pullovers in100% Lambswool or Wool/Acrylic to members of the OldScarborians Associationworldwide. These bear theOSA emblem.Please contact us for details andprices.12FarthingsWebDesign......for web sites out of this world…...at prices to make your eyes twinkle!01723 365448http://www.farthings.org.ukincluded summer vacations abroad, I wasawarded a Travelling Scholarship enablingan easing of the red tape to working abroad.Forsaking thoughts of ocean liners, I headedfor a Rothschild family hotel in Chamonixwith thoughts of ski‐ing ‐ added to my contractat the last minute ʺno ski‐ingʺ!That winter of 62 we were snowed in byChristmas and the roads re‐opened on May22nd. Even the railway struggled, and ofsnow I had seen enough!On to the Swiss Italian lakes, by now aFrench speaker with a smattering of BonClarkeʹs German. I worked with Germanswho insisted on Hochdeutsch, learned Italianat the local Anglo/Swiss society, and Romanschand swearing fluently, in the hotelkitchens ‐ but I also drove a few speed boatsand fancy motors! I settled in Ticino, marriedAngie whom I met at college and was aboutto head for placements in Germany and NewYork, when my father was taken ill and weanswered the call to help out ‐ by then atRavenscar.We managed to extricate ourselves sometwenty years later, when we took on theCrescent in Scarborough, from where wehave recently retired on selling the business.Somewhere along the way Bowman andPeart asked me to attend an AGM and suddenly,faute de mieux ‐ a committee member.Angie has recently taken up golf to ruffle myfeathers, and I struggle with the game atGanton.When we go angling in Scotland, Angiecatches more fish than me, but perhaps Ioutscore her on reducing the EU wine lakeand bashing the lawn mower! We have adaughter who works with an ‘Old Scab’ inthe Midlands, and a son here in Scarboroughwith one of each grandchildren. They, ofcourse, speak computer which I do not, butPete Lassey has threatened to educate metherein.On reflection, SBHS introduced me to theUniversity of Life for an enquiring mind, butalso to some great friends and characters ‐see Summer Times each issue!

13FROM HERE AND THEREMaurice Gunter writes fromCheshunt (1959-64)Is there a ʹSouth of Englandʹ co‐ordinator ?(Editor: There isn’t Maurice. With presentday communications, and administrationbeing based in Scarborough we have foundno need. But are you volunteering?)John Rice writes fromSurbiton (1947-56)Congratulations onalmost everything inthe latest number!Re the title: manymagazines have titlesthat are descriptiveand hence dull,dreary and depressing.Summer Times,on the other hand, isin a different class. Change it by all meanswhen someone comes up with a better idea.But The Old Scarborian would be dreadful.Re the photo on page 31: (Volume 43) theboy bottom left is certainly Colin Mann, oneof a pair of twins who joined the school inabout 1952. His brother David was one ofthe leading actors in the late 1950s. I recognisethe boy sitting behind him, but thename escapes me, so Iʹm not much use toyou there. John Pitts is the younger brotherof Michael, well known in the Scarborougharea. Stephen Williamsonʹs brother Davidmarried my sister Pam.As regards my own contributions to SummerTimes, I fear I have now run out of suitablememories, other than of Sam Rockinghorse,of course. Perhaps it would be preferable forsomeone else to write about him. But let meknow if I can help in any other way, e.g. inproof‐reading.Editor: Will anyone volunteer an article onSam Rockinghorse?Mike Kipling write fromGuisborough (1956-61)I hit your site by chance. I was at the HighSchool 1956 until 1961 and now live at Guisboroughand work as a photographer. Youmight be interested in the attached pic ofʺBillʺ Binder taken by me on the day of hisretirement in July 1960 outside his form 5a.Editor: Thanks Mike. ‘Bill’ Binder’s photoappears above. Why not become a member?Life membership is only £10. Joinonline (http://apply.oldscarborians.org) oruse the enclosed form.Eric Thomlinson writes fromOntario Canada(1939-43)Thanks and congratulations on the MaySummer Times recently received. May weextend our sincere thanks for the inclusionof the Obituaries for Dennis Saunders. I amreferring our web site to his son Michael anddaughter Hilary so they can download copiesif they desire.

John E Mann writes fromWhitchurch (1950-56)A photograph of interestfor the website and, perhaps,the Autumn magazine.The play was Consequences,given at eitherthe Futurist or theSpa, probably in 1954,by St. Columbaʹs YouthClub as part of the NationalYouth Club Association Festival of theArts. All the boys are SBHS, the majority of thegirls SGHS, with the remainder being Conventgirls.Back Row...Peter Emms, Dave Hepworth,Dave Howden, ???, John Flinton, Barry Starling.Centre Row...Val Berriman, Beryl Wiseman,Hazel Shaw, ???, Front Row...PaulineEade, Roseanne Starling, Audrey Martin.Editor: Photo courtesy of Val Brinkler (neeBerriman)Bill Earl writes from NorthShields (1947-52)I enjoyed reading the piece from George Kendallin Summer Times. The last time I saw himwas when we had a couple of beers together ‐to celebrate my engagement to my wife.Do you have an e‐mail address for him?Editor: We were able to reunite Bill & George14David Regan writes fromOntario Canada (1946-54)Re: Ron Hutchinsonʹs mention of Mr. Clarkeʹsexperiences in the Great War.Curiously, my copy of the ʺMudpieʺ (1936 edition)has him as F Clarke rather than FirstbrookClarke. If I can trust my memory, sometimearound 1950‐51 he mentioned in class thathe was wounded on the last day of 1917 in theʺbow and arrow warʺ , as he called it, and onanother occasion said that a piece of shrapnelin his leg was being tiresome. I have neverseen him quoted in any of the many 100s ofbooks about that that war piled round ourhouse, so look forward to getting hold of theHolmes book.While at SBHS I heard rumours that Mr. Marsdenwas in the Somme battle, and that Mr.Bradley was in France during the last monthsof the war. Can anybody confirm?Don Potts writes fromCalgary Canada (1934-42)I note in the last issue of Summer Times that mygood friend Geoff Pugh has written an abbreviatedbiography so I thought Iʹd do somethingsimilarI attended the High School from 1934 to 1942and spent most of that time sitting next toGeoff at the back of the class, paying attentionto various teachers as and when they hurledchalk or wooden dusters at our respectiveheads. Needless to say, we did eventuallyleave to go our respective ways, Geoff into thenavy and myself into the RAF, where I becamea Pilot, flying single engine fighters. I must tellyou, though, that whilst academically I wasnot a bright shining star, as were some of mycontemporaries, I did play rugby and cricketfor the school, and was a prefect and housecaptain of Ruskin house in my last year.I left the RAF in 1947, went to The LondonHospital Medical School and qualified in 1953.I then spent four more years in the RAF as aMedical officer teaching aviation medicine and

doing a little more flying myself. However, Idecided that I would like to see what Canadahad to offer and ended up in Calgary in 1958.Strangely, I never met Geoff Pugh until justthree or four years ago after he had retired toKelowna.I am now semi‐retired and enjoy working acouple of days a week in the operating roomas a surgical assistant. It keeps me out of mywife’s hair.My wife and I visit Scarborough most yearsand I usually manage to get in at least onegame of golf with my very good friend, RonGledhill. If you want to know more aboutme, ask him!May the Old Scarborians continue to thrivefor many years to come. God bless them all.Professor Ken Gouldingwrites from Hatfield(1953-62)As you will see from the letterhead, (DeputyVice‐Chancellor, Middlesex University) Ihave progressed my career within academia.Having completed a London External Degreein Biology and Zoology at Bradford Instituteof Technology, I continued there to completea Masters Degree by Research of LondonUniversity (again external). The Institute thenbecame Bradford University and rather thancompleting an external PhD with LondonUniversity, I transferred (financial incentiveswere provided!) to complete a PhD fromBradford — the first PhD of the Universitypresented to me by the then Prime Minister,Harold Wilson, who was the first Chancellorof the University.15Following that, I embarked upon a career inHigher Education with leisure time spent insport — in particular cricket. I started at HatfieldCollege of Technology which, within ayear, became Hatfield Polytechnic. I remainedthere for 19 years, teaching and researchingand, for the last three years, as Directorof Studies for the (then) largest AppliedBiology Department in the Polytechnicsector. In 1985 I moved on to Preston Polytechnicwhich, during my time there, becameLancashire Polytechnic and shortly after Ileft, the University of Central Lancashire.Initially, I was Head of a new Department ofBiological Sciences (for three years) and thenDean of the Faculty of Science which embraced(in addition to Biological Sciences)Chemistry, Mathematics and Statistics, Physicsand Astronomy and Psychology. Themove to Preston hailed the end of my cricketcareer — on a high note, I might add, my lastthree innings for Hatfield Cricket Club resultingin 267 runs and out only once!On this latter note, I should add that mymodest success at cricket owes much to theearly ‘coaching’ by Jock Roxburgh — fearsomethough it was when he held the metaltipped stump close to one’s backside to preventany backing off as bouncers were delivered!And also to Ted Lester (ex‐Yorkshire)who, for a while, coached the school team.One of my proudest moments in cricket wasthe year which the School First XI won a localcup after a triumphant final at North MarineRoad, when Fred Trueman presented us allwith a signed copy of his recently publishedbook “Fast Fury”.Now, back to Higher Education. In 1992 Iwas appointed a Deputy Director of MiddlesexPolytechnic. As typically with my career(Bradford Institute of Technology to BradfordUniversity; Preston Polytechnic to LancashirePolytechnic; and Hatfield College ofTechnology to Hatfield Polytechnic) MiddlesexPolytechnic became Middlesex Universitysoon after I took up post! Today, I remainat Middlesex as Deputy Vice‐Chancellor and Deputy Chief Executive. TheUniversity currently has over 25,000 students— one of the largest in the UK — plus afurther 10,000 students on short courses and11,000 plus on programmes validated at partnerorganisations in the UK and overseas. We

16are based on campuses in North London in theLondon Boroughs of Barnet, Camden, Enfield,Haringey and Islington. I have overall responsibilityfor all academic staff and academicprogrammes for research, continuing professionaldevelopment provision, and all partnershiplinks both here and overseas. It keeps mebusy! Getting up early in the morning to get toSchool from Gristhorpe, especially when theschool moved to Woodlands, has served mewell since I am regularly at work by 5 am!On the domestic front, I live in Hatfield withmy wife, Yvonne. Our two ‘children’ — Paulaand Suzanne — both live locally, each havingone child — Ben aged 4 and Rowan aged 12.I remember my days at the School fondly —Digger Speight, Tich Richardson, Billy Binder,Skinhead Clarke (as we called him), Keith Duttonas well as Jock Roxburgh! Above all, I owemuch to Mr Whalley (I think that is the correctspelling) for his inspirational teaching thatgenerated my long term interest in the BiologicalSciences, which has provided me with suchan exciting and rewarding career.Please feel free to edit as necessary and printthe letter in your next newsletter.I look forward to receiving future editions ofthe magazine and hopefully attending the LondonReunion.Arthur Nockels writes fromChipping Norton (1933-40)I enclose the ‘Guardian’ obituary on RobertHoltby. There is an important omission.Robert did begin his secondary education atScarborough College, but he transferred toSBHS for about the last three years.The Scarborough College Governors had aserious disagreement with the Headmaster inthe mid‐thirties. A number of parents withdrewtheir sons. Some of these, includingRobert Holtby, came to SBHS. He distinguishedhimself academically and socially.He went on to St. Edmund Hall, Oxford. InEric Rice’s memorable production of ‘JuliusCaesar’ he was an excellent Brutus. He was mycontemporary – one year older.I have written to the Obituaries Editor of the‘Guardian’. You may wish to mention this inSummer Times.Thank you for all your work for the Association.John E Mann writes fromWhitchurch (1950-56)Bill Potts has started something off in my brainwhich, perhaps, could run. Something I mentionedin one e‐mail message rang a bell withBill, who wrote back to mention an aged Auntof his who was a fount of Victorian attitudesand sayings, such as, ʺmind your elders andbetters.ʺ He then came up with a saying, reputedto be one of Stoddʹs, ʺboys should beobscene and not absurd.ʺ My response wassomething that my Grandmother always usedto say in her prayers for me, ʺGod, please savethis child from the evils of tobacco, alcohol andblonde haired women.ʺ She was totally unsuccessfulin all three requests to the Almighty!So ‐ How about a little competition, judged bythe committee. for the most original sayingfrom either family or school? This could wellbring to light some real crackers. Not, I hastento add, Stoddʹs masterpiece, ʺWhy does amouse when it spins? ʹCos the higher, thefewer.ʺ We all know that one! What do youthink?Lyndon Wainwright writesfrom Saltdean (1928-38)I enclose a photographthat you may care to usein some way. It is of aschool Morris danceteam – almost certainlydrawn from boys in theprep – circa 1930ish.The photograph wastaken at a display on the

football ground in Seamer Road. I have norecollection what it was all in aid of. The Morrisdance is the Flambrough Sword Dance andyou may have noticed there is a similar octagonof swords hanging in the wall of the pubin the TV programme Heartbeat. I recall wealso took part in a competition at a public hallon the north front at Whitby. Not with anysuccess, I should add!Holding the swords aloft is Eric Greathead; Ithink the lad immediately behind is DavidEnglish; but familiar as the next boy’s face is, Ican’t put a name to him. Without question thenext is Frank Watts. I am on the left with backto camera.In case it might save you some time I will recordthis letter onto floppy disc. Sorry I can’tscan the photo – no doubt the time will comewhen I feel I just can’t manage without one –ditto a link to the internet. But it isn’t yet.Keep up the good work. You’re doing a grandjob.Editor: I did a little research on the Internet.The spelling of ‘Flambrough’ is apparentlycorrect. In fact if you are internet enabledand want to purchase ‘The FlambroughSword Dance Song’, by Jim Eldon withRobert Leng and Jossy ‘Pop’ Mainprize, go towww.chanteycabin/Eldon/Eldons.htm17OBITUARIESAlan Roy Elliott 1936 – 2003by Howard Reynolds(1948-55)SBHS1948-55President ofThe OldScarboriansAssociation1998-00Alan was born in 1936 at 3 Falsgrave Roadwhere his parents managed a small shop sellingmainly fruit and vegetables.In the early months of the Second World War,the Elliott family moved to the village ofBulmer, west of Malton. Mr and Mrs Elliottcontinued to open their shop, travelling toScarborough each day by bus.Alan attended Bulmer village school until1945 when the family returned to Scarborough.His education continued at FalsgravePrimary School where he passed his elevenplus and in September 1948 transferred toSBHS.Alan’s years at the old school were happy andproductive. He excelled in both academic andsporting activities, representing the school atrugby and cricket through the junior teamsand eventually at first team level.His school career was interrupted in 1954when he suffered a serious illness,(pancreatitis) and was absent for most of thespring and summer terms.He recovered sufficiently to return to school inSeptember 1954 and complete his A level studies.A consequence of this illness however was

that Alan was declared unfit for national servicewhich subsequently proved to be a significantfactor which influenced the direction ofhis life and career.Enter a certain HW Marsden, who was awareof an opportunity with a local firm of solicitors.A meeting with Alan’s father was arrangedand the deal was done.In 1955 Alan began his life‐long career in lawas articled clerk to Birdsall and Snowball Solicitors,Scarborough.In 1960, after five years as an articled clerk andcontinued part‐time study, Alan was awardedhis Law Society Degree with second class honours.Later he became a partner and subsequently asenior partner at Birdsall and Snowball.In 1979, Alan became part time Registrar at theScarborough court but continued his privatepractice at B and S.By 1989, Alan was the only serving part timeRegistrar in the country and was persuaded toaccept a full time appointment. Two years laterin March 1991, he was appointed DistrictJudge covering an area from Scarborough,which included Whitby, York and Bridlington;a position he fulfilled with distinction until hisrecent retirement.His reputation and standing within the legalprofession is eloquently expressed in this recenttribute by Judge Simon Grenfell:‘ I should like to pay my personal tribute to afine and highly respected District Judge. Myearly experiences were when I appeared as abarrister in the Scarborough court. He was allan advocate could expect of a judge.He exuded sound common sense, had anequally sound knowledge of the law and theknack of reaching the right result.18I know that judges, barristers and solicitorsalike all share this view of him. I am sure thatthe local legal profession will miss his cheerfulpresence and his expertise as a judge and colleague.’Alan married Pam Thompson (ex SGHS) in1961. They have three children, Christopher,Timothy and Sarah, and five grandchildren.The location of their family homes in WestAyton and later in Irton enabled Alan to continuehis involvement and relationships withinthe Scarborough community.Alan was an active member of WestboroughMethodist Church for more than fifty years.He served as trustee and member of the churchcouncil. Just as important to him was the lessobvious role as Sunday School teacher, whichhe fulfilled for over forty years.During his years at Birdsall and Snowball,Alan became a well‐known and respected figurein Scarborough.His professional expertise was recognised andrespected and he was much in demand, but itwas also his friendliness, good sense and reliability,which characterised his involvement inmany areas of public and social activities.Alan served as governor of Hunmanby HallSchool until its closure in 1991. He was a memberof the Sixth Form College Parent / Teacherassociation, director of Raven Hall Hotel,president of the Scarborough Law Society andthe Scarborough Mediation Service, Hon. Solicitorto Scarborough Samaritans and presidentand committee member of the Old ScarboriansAssociation.Alan’s involvement with local sport is alsowell documented.Five hundred first team appearances as hookerfor Scarborough RUFC and club captain 1961to 1964. It is relevant to mention that duringthese years Scarborough RUFC were recognisedas a potent force in Yorkshire rugby,demonstrated by their victory in the PocklingtonSevens. Alan played in that winning teamalongside names which many will recognise,Oxley, Eade and Hopkin.(Is this really the same person who was de‐

clared unfit for National Service in 1955?)Alan was club President 1977 – 78 and clubchairman 1999 – 2001.After he finally hung up his boots, (for thefourth or fifth time), Alan continued to supportthe teams from the touchline and missedvery few home or away matches.Alan was also a talented cricketer with bothbat and ball. He was a member of the SBHSteam, which won the Bright Bowl at NorthMarine Road in 1955.After leaving school he played for many yearswith Forge Valley Cricket Club and was firstteam captain for a number of seasons.In later years he was happy to play for thesecond or third teams and pass on his experienceto the younger players.I know that it gave him enormous pleasureand pride to play club cricket and rugby withboth his sons.Through his recent illness he showed muchcourage and dignity. In difficult times his firstthoughts were for his wife, Pam, and his family.He consistently informed them that he was‘all right’ which was patently not the case.Typically he was determined to leave his affairsin good order and expressed concern thatin his very full life he had perhaps neglectedto do that which may be a poignant lesson tous all.He will be sorely missed because we have alllost a good friend.The Very Rev Robert Holtby(1932-39)Dean of Chichester, church historian andeducationist. Born February 25 th 1921; diedMarch 13 th 2003Robert Holtby, who has died aged 82, wasdean of Chichester from 1977 to 1989, and alsoserved the Church of England as a Yorkshirecurate, a chaplain to the forces and to schoolsand colleges, a residentiary canon at Carlisle, a19Church House administrator and a churchhistorian.Stocky, energetic and slightly patrician, hecould be a tough negotiator whether withbishops or civil servants. Professor Roy Niblett,a highly respected educationist, pays atribute to Holtby’s robustly held opinions.“Had I received some of the letters he couldsend bishops, deans and archdeacons, rebuttingtheir views, I might have taken time torecover.”Born near Pickering, Holtby was educated atYork Minster Choir School, Scarborough College,and Scarborough High School for Boys.He graduated in modern history from St EdmundHall, Oxford, in 1946, and also took adegree in theology from King’s College, Cambridge,in 1952. After training at CuddesdonTheological College and Westcott House Cambridge(1943‐46) and holding a curacy (1946‐48) at Pocklington, near York, he served as achaplain to the forces (1948‐52).He worked as a teacher and chaplain at MalvernCollege and St Edward’s School, Oxford(1952‐59), before becoming canon of Carlisleand diocesan director of education (1959‐67)There he learned not only the legal intricaciesof the dual system of state and church schools,but the need for trusting personal relationshipsbetween all those involved in education.From 1967 to 1977, as general secretary of theNational Society for Promoting Religious Education,he was faced with serious problemsuniting the society with the educational committeesof the General Synod’s board of education,and the stressful closure and amalgamationof church teacher training colleges.Aided schools were in financial trouble andsome at Westminster challenged their continuedexistence. With Bishop Robert Stopford hehandled an occasionally critical Church Assemblyand General Synod, as well as those inParliament who were sometimes unsympatheticto the churches’ historic role in education.He was invariably firm, kind to his colleaguesand ready with an impish sense of

humour.Holtby’s historical sympathies were alwayswith those who were orthodox and intelligentlytraditional. In 1966 he publishedDaniel Waterland: A Study in 18 th CenturyOrthodoxy. He made a well‐researched contributionto 20th‐century church history withhis life of his father‐in‐law Bishop Eric Graham(1967). His other biographies includedthose of Robert Wright Stopford (1988), andfinally (as editor) a volume in praise of EricMilner‐White (1991), the imaginative Dean ofYork, who created the Festival of Nine Lessonsand Carols and much else to beautifythe Minster.It was fitting that Holtby’s final post shouldbe as Dean of Chichester. In 1983 he celebratedthe work of Bishop George Bell, whohad done so much to rescue Jews and othersfrom Hitler’s persecution and death camps.Holtby established a Christian educationcentre in the cloisters, encouraged churchschools and commissioned a new font fromJohn Skelton. His fundraising for fabric repairswas notable. He always found time toshare ideas at the deans’ and provosts’ conferenceswith modesty, warmth and wit. Hehad done much to enable the diocese to appreciateits cathedral and was a respectedand trusted figure in the town.Holtby retired to Yorkshire and enjoyed theMinster library and many friendships. In1947 he married Mary. She and their twodaughters and a son survive him.(With acknowledgement to the ‘Guardian’)Derek Bielby DFC (1934-39)by Jack Knowles (1943-50)(Derek’s cousin)Derek joined the RAF in 1941 becoming apilot with Coastal Command and wasawarded the DFC in 1944 for pressing homean attack on a surfaced U‐boat. He laterbecame a flying instructor and left the RAF20in 1947 with the rank of Flight Lieutenant.On leaving the RAF he trained to become adentist at Leeds Dental School and, afterqualifying, he opened a practice inGuisborough in 1953, where he remaineduntil his retirement in 1984. During this timehe made three trips with the BritishAntarctic Survey in 1978, 1980 and 1982 asship’s dentist on the ʹBransfieldʹ, andthereafter his Christmas cards alwaysfeatured one of his fine Antarctic photos. Heretired to Pickering to pursue his interests inwalking, gardening, photography and golfat Ganton where he had been a membersince 1957. He was proud of his associationwith research in the Antarctic and was aregular attender at British Antarctic Surveyreunions. His wife Lesley pre‐deceased himand he is survived by a son and a daughter.The Rev Bernard CROSBY(1922-26)Bernard Crosby was born in Scarborough,Yorkshire, in 1911. He attended ScarboroughBoys’ High School, entering in the year that itbecame a boys’ school when the girls movedto their own Scarborough Girls High schoolin Valley Road.He was very fond of his days at SBHS and,years later, often recalled incidents and particularmasters. He enjoyed sports and recalledwalking up to Oliver’s Mount and tothe South Beach for Hockey.He left school at age 15, having obtained hisschool certificate and matriculation andworked for W Rowntree and Sons beforeentering the Methodist ministry.In 1932 he entered Hartley Victoria College,Manchester.His wife, Norah, supported him; they weremarried in 1939 at James Street church, Barbados,before his ordination in Trinidad. Hewas stationed in Barbados and Trinidad, Grenada,St Vincent, Barbados, St Lucia, whereduring the war he acted as chaplain to the

forces, Inspector of schools and acting Directorof Education. He then moved to Trinidadwhere he was appointed District Chairman.Bernard and Norah had four children ‐ John(who died in 1988), Margaret, Patricia andDavid. From 1958 he served in British Honduras,now Belize, as superintendent minister.During this time Hurricane Hattie hit thecountry and he did a great job of distributingaid and rehabilitation work.In 1964 he felt the need to return to Englandfor family reasons and served in the Easingwoldand Hornsea circuits. Bernard workedtirelessly in bringing churches together. In1976 he returned to his beloved Scarboroughand was very active in the circuit.He was ecumenically‐minded, led Bible studygroups and was chairman of the Bible Society.Bernard was widely read, and in later yearshis sight was failing but he derived greatpleasure and benefit from talking books. Aman who understood so much, but was alwayswilling to learn more. He was a vicepresidentof Sight Savers.From his earliest days Bernard had a greatlove of sports and was a member of ScarboroughCricket Club.Bernard’s life, work and faith were seamlesslylinked. To the end, his deep contentmentshone out, never a complaining word, stillconcerned to know about other people’sstruggles, still alive to the Gospel at work.Whilst he was always interested to hear of allOld Scarborians’ events, in his latter years,with failing eyesight and hearing, he was unableto attend functions.He died in his 92nd year and the 68th year ofhis ministry.(With acknowledgement to the ‘MethodistRecorder’. Additional material from MrsNorah Crosby)21MEMORIESGeorge Walter Kent(1941-45) remembersThank you to all concerned for another interestingissue of Summer Times. Why change thename? Surely we all know what the journal isall about — it tells us on the outside cover,very clearly and as it is not going to go out tothe bookstalls, I say leave well alone!Perhaps I did not shine enough at the SBHS toearn many mentions, but when I came toPages 24 & 25 (Editor: Volume 43 ‘Memoriesof a girl at the Girls’ High School—MytonCamp’) I wondered what I had done wrong.There I am, fifth from the left on the back rowand not a mention in the list of names. I ameven more puzzled when I looked closely atmy own copy of the photo from 1943, in myalbum, that many of those listed as attendingwere not on my photo, which is identical toyour printed copy. Were there two or moregroups for photos, or were there more campsthan one ?For example, I clearly remember Don Christianbeing there because he and I were ’mad’about aircraft and ‘spotting’ them. So off wewent one night, about 10 pm I guess, and wewalked a couple of miles or so to the edge ofan RAF airfield, where we watched Halifaxbombers (I think they were) taking off in thedusk. I think we had intended to spend thenight in a barn close by, but abandoned thatidea in case we were missed. I also rememberwaking up in the night not long after we setup camp, to find I was lying in an inch or twoof water after heavy rain. It put me off tentsfor years. Stooking corn sheaves was hardwork, especially when they were wet. Helpingload hay on to hay carts was more enjoyable,as it was dry then and we were workingnear the same airfield.I spotted Joy Youle on the photo, and next toRoy Hall at the end of the same row (1 rowdown from the back) is Marie Smith (not mentioned)with whom, and with Sheila Rayner

(not shown ?) and Sheila Showers (not shown)I spent many an hour playing tennis alongwith James Frankland (contact lost), KenKnox, Eddie Carr and Gordon Young, etc.Maybe I am unique in one respect: I was firstan Army Cadet, then an ATC cadet, then Iserved in the Royal Navy (1945‐47), thenaround 1950, I returned to 739 squadron as acivil instructor, and was commissioned intothe RAFVR in 1954. I served with 739 ATC,and also 2030 Squadron ATC in Birmingham,where I had gone to work in the NHS.Hap Taylor had hoped that we would win theWing Aircraft Recognition trophy, which iswhy, as a member of the original team whichwon in 1944, I was asked to join to train theteam. I think we managed a second place, andthen I think the competition ceased.One last mention. I joined the Purchasing andSupply service of the NHS in 1949, starting atScarborough Hospital, then Birmingham, thenScarborough again, then Torquay where Ifinished in 1985, retiring from the post of‘District Supplies Officer’ following openheart surgery in 1984. Not an ‘exciting’ workinglife, but a very satisfying one, most of thetime.PS. The original intention was to drop a lineto ask for a booking form for the Joint Reception& Buffet of 27th September, as I seem tohave misplaced mine!Editor: My apologies as there was some Mytonconfusion. The photograph and detailscame from two different sources and I hadn’trealised there were two successive Mytoncamps. The details were from 1943 – fromthat year’s ‘The Scarborian’ ‐ but the photographJoy Youle provided was of the 1944camp. Alan Green in the following letterclarifies things.Alan Green (1937-44)remembersMany thanks for the latest Summer Timeswhich I read from cover to cover within 322hours of receiving it. Another first‐class effort!I puzzled over the Myton Camp photographuntil the penny dropped. Joy Youl(remembered with more affection than is appropriateto record here—a lovely girl!) hasproduced interesting reminiscence but there isone error. The camp list is indeed 1943 but thephotograph is of the 1944 campers. On theback row I can pick out John Stephenson, me,Harvey McGregor and Bill Scriminger, Allgrouped together in the middle. None of thisgroup was on the ‘43 camp. Harvey and Imanaged both the Boston and the Mytoncamps in ‘44, incidentally. We must have beenbarmy.Joy attended both the ‘43 and ‘44 Mytoncamps. Harvey and I went home from Mytonbriefly before joining up in Edinburgh/ Arbroathin September ‘44. No more farmingcamps for another 4 years!For anyone interested in those stirring times,see ‘The Scarborian’ No’s 28, 29, and 30, November1942, ‘43 and ‘44 respectively.Nostalgia really ain’t what it used to be!(Editor: Thank you, Alan, for your very generousdonation towards Association funds.)Adrian Casey (1951-59)remembersWhile playing Second Witch in the schoolproduction of the Scottish play, I noticed onthe last night that none of the puffs of smokethat should have billowed from the cauldronhad happened. At the cue for the last one, Idisobeyed the warnings to lean away andinstead peered myopically into the depths ofthe vessel. There was a slight fizzing, which Ithought was all that was going to happen, so Iopened my mouth, sucked in a deep breath todeliver my last line… WOOMPH!The electricians had wired all the smoke potsand all the firing circuits together. A twelvefoothigh lilac and yellow flame shot out ofthe cauldron just in front of my nose. I finishedthe scene wreathed in smoke as the

front of my wig smouldered away. When Icame off, I was handed a mirror so I couldsee what I looked like. My face, hitherto afilthy brown with dark lines and wisps ofcrepe hair, was now sooty black. The wigwas a write‐off.In a play called You Canʹt Take It With You,fireworks were manufactured in the cellarand Scene 1 ended with ʹLook at the red fire Ijust made.ʹ A small pile of theatrical red flarepowder was lit with a match and the stagewas supposed to be suffused with a lovelygentle red glow. Unfortunately, the actor(Barry) who had to apply the lit match wasterrified that it was going to go off in his faceand the match kept going out as he tossed itat the powder. The producer asked me, theʹpyrotechnicianʹ, to make a fuse. Since thepowder had to be brought onto the stage atthat point, an electrical igniter was impossible,so I mixed potassium permanganatecrystals and powdered sulphur and added asmall pinch to the top of the pile of flarepowder. The merest glow of the matchwould set it off, even if the match wasthrown on top. This worked fine until thenight of what the fire brigade call a DuringPerformance Inspection.I prepared the effect well beforehand on anenamel plate and left it in the male dressingroom to collect and bring on. On this occasion,unbeknown to me, the plate wasknocked over and the fuse got mixed in withthe flare powder. Thus, when Barry appliedthe match what happened was not just whathe was afraid might happen but the stuff ofhis worst nightmare!23Instead of a slow, gentle red flame thatlasted half a minute, the mixture went off inless than a second. An enormous flame shotstraight upwards, gobs of fire flew everywhere,and the plate turned red hot. Thetable on which it was placed was covered ina red velvet cover, somebodyʹs pride and joyuntil that moment; a hole was burned rightthrough it and the pile was scorched in severalother places. The table itself acquired ablack circular mark. (The official from thefire brigade only arrived during Act Two,fortunately, by which time the smoke hadcleared and Barry had changed his underpants.)So, when I later found myself posted to theFire Department of the Home Office and waspart of the team writing the new Guide to fireprecautions in existing places of entertainment, Icontributed much of the chapter on pyrotechnics.Ray Bloom (1953-60)remembersAfter another enjoyable read of SummerTimes I’ve decided to extend the inspirationinto action. I hope it might result in somecontact with old boys from my era.Although my time at the school was not themost fulfilling academically, I have fondrecollections of many of the teachers whoseguidance and influence I only appreciatedwell after the event. Although never a greatplayer of chess and rugby, I’m particularlygrateful for the introduction to these gamesat SBHS. However, cricket was my mainsport at which I represented the school at allage levels and eventually led to playing forEngland Schools in several matches includinga game against the Public Schools atLords. Many school cricket memories centrearound Bright Bowl matches at North MarineRoad and in the villages. A particularmemory for me as a wispy 16‐year‐old washitting Cloughton’s fearsome strike bowler,

John Sheffield, out of the ground during anevening cup match. I can still see the look ofdisbelief on his face.Towards the end of my schooldays and duringteacher training in the soft affluence ofrural Buckinghamshire, my summers werespent on cricket fields, culminating in aninvitation to join the Yorkshire team on theirSouthern Tour to fill in for players called upfor England Test matches. As 12 th Man in thefirst two matches, Hampshire at Portsmouthand Sussex at Hove, I spent many hours sittingthrough card games and drinkingstewed tea during these rain‐affectedmatches, but was chosen to play in the thirdmatch at Dover.This match turned into a one‐man show forRay Illingworth who scored a gutsy 135 on aturning wicket against an array of spin bowlersincluding Derek Underwood, thenbowled out Kent twice with figures of 7 for49 and 7 for 52. It was a great experience tomingle almost on equal terms with the likesof captain Brian Close, Fred Trueman, ColinCowdrey, Alan Knott, plus the other fabledYorkshire players who gave the county suchsuccess in the mid‐60s. My memory of DerekUnderwood’s bowling was tinged by theclatter of my off‐stump being hit as I tried todrive him against the spin!It was a great experience but it taught methat cricket didn’t appeal to me as a career.However the following 18 years playing forthe Scarborough Club at the highest clublevel gave me enormous pleasure. It includedanother playing visit to Lords when the teamwon the National Club Championship for thefirst time.My early working career saw me teachingfirstly in Sheffield, then back home in Scarboroughwhere I married Judith, met whilstshe sported the brown Scarborough Conventcap. The marriage lasted 8 years and we hada son, Nick, who currently lives in Bristol. Bythat time I had taken a job as full‐time cricket24teacher/adviser visiting schools in NorthYorkshire to help teachers with the developmentof the game in the school curriculum.After 6 idyllic years travelling around thismost beautiful county, I fulfilled an ambitionby joining the private business sector as StaffDevelopment Manager with a major distributionbusiness based in Ripon, North Yorkshirewhere Liz, my second wife, and I wereliving at the time. It was there that our son,Peter, was born in 1980.Promotion within the business saw us movedown South to live in St Albans, Hertfordshire,where we now live. Although nowamicably divorced we still meet up as a familyunit and are mutually supportive.I have returned to teaching to use my businessexperience as a Business Studies specialist,firstly in a Hertfordshire school, then for 2years in Malawi, Africa, but now preparingfor a 1‐year contract at an InternationalSchool in Cairo, starting September 2003.I finished my cricket playing when I leftNorth Yorkshire, but now swing a golf club,hitting frequently over mid‐wicket instead ofover the bowler’s head!A new interest for me is performing in amateurmusical productions, firstly tried withsome success and great delight in front of theex‐pat community in Malawi. Since then I’veperformed with 2 local groups in ‘CalamityJane’ and, very recently a raunchy adaptationof G & S’s ‘Gondoliers’.In my current free and single status, travelstill features strongly in my plans. It wouldbe good to meet up with, or have contactwith, any old boys who want to swap experiencesand stories.Frank Holmes (1937—45)remembersWartime LadiesMaurice Johnson’s contribution to the latest ‐

as ever, excellent ‐ Summer Times refers to the‘heroines’ who taught at SBHS during theSecond World War. I remember, particularly,four of them.Florence Andrew: A vivacious and volatilered‐head. She taught French. With some othermembers of the Sixth Form I had coffee (?) inher digs. The other guests were a couple ofyoung Polish soldiers, stationed in Scarborough.At one point, Miss Andrew referred tothe “unfortunate geographical location ofPoland”. One of the young soldiers spent acouple of minutes with his dictionary andthen said: “Yes! Poland — bloody bad site.”Margaret Meehan: Tall, immaculate; straightout of Oxford, I think. She, too, taughtFrench. We thought she was, initially, ratherreserved. She was probably as nervous asanyone is in a first job. (By the way, why is itthat Modern Linguists — Joe Marsden, LesBrown, Margaret Meehan and me—have suchexquisite, but minute, handwriting?)Bernice Morley: Excellent tennis player. Shetaught Biology and so did not teach me. I gotto know her well during the rehearsals for“Hamlet” in which she played Ophelia,opposite Donald Hellmuth. A cheerful extrovert.She came from Gloucester and was veryknowledgeable on W G Grace and WalterHammond. With encouragement, she would“compare and contrast” Rowntrees in Scarboroughwith the Bon Marche in Gloucester.Sylvia Rice: was the ‘wartime lady’ I knewbest. She came to teach English at SBHS whenher husband, Eric, went into the Army. Shehad to coax 30 Fifth Formers through‘Richard II’ and ‘Youth’, by Joseph Conrad (NTeodor Josef Konrad Korzeniowski) as theyprepared for School Certificate English Literature.In the Sixth Form it was very different.We were all volunteers. We enjoyed Dickensand we thought ‘Anthony and Cleopatra’ wasmarvellous. I ‘did’ ‘The Taming of the Shrew’in a hurry, because I could not understandthe metaphysical poets. I still can’t. During25the war years, most out of school activity waspre‐service training: ATC, CCF ‐ no NavalSection! Mrs. Rice organised play‐readingswhich eventually led to her production of‘The Devil’s Disciple’ with Donald Hellmuthand Harvey MacGregor. Then came the outstandingproduction of ‘Hamlet’, with DonaldHellmuth, Bernice Morley, Cyril Isherwoodand Peggy Noble. I think we all sensedduring rehearsals that this was going to besomething special. And it was. When Mrs.Rice died I wrote to her son, John, to tell himhow much I valued his mother’s encouragementand enthusiasm. Sixth Formers instinctivelytell you what subjects they are taking inorder of preference. I went into the SixthForm to study French, German and English toHSC Level; I emerged, having taken English,French and German.‘Heroines in their way’? Intrepid? I don’tknow. But, splendid teachers, undoubtedly.ACCIDENTS ANDINCIDENTS OF A LONGDISTANCE EXPLORERGeorge W (Bill) Kendall(1947-1955) remembersBetween starting with mining work experienceat University, to completing SeismicSurveys in different countries and environmentscertain interesting incidents tookplace.In Bentley Colliery near Doncaster, on oneoccasion whilst controlling full tubs of coal tobe loaded in the cage, I thought the worldwas about to end. The engine winder startedlifting the cage of tubs before they were completelyin the cage. Amid loud screeching andan enveloping cloud of coal dust, we thoughtthe roof had caved in. When we picked ourselvesup off the ground there was relief allround. I think the winder was sacked.Underground at the Randfontein, South Africanuranium and gold mine, I came across a

native who had fallen asleep at the edge of asupply road. His arm had swung over theroad and a tub had run over his hand.Undertaking Seismic surveys in Australia, andas Party Chief with First Aid training I was theMedical Officer.Our survey convoy had made two deep rutsacross a number of large sand dunes andwhilst moving a drilling rig over a dune, thedrill offsider slipped into the sand rut andunder the drill wheels. The crew dug him outwhile I called the Flying Doctor over the radio.I reported that we had a patient with two brokenlegs. The doctor advised me to place eachleg in an inflatable splint from the First Aid kitand to give him a morphine injection. I gavethe injection into his buttocks and placed himin the back of a Land Rover to be driven to thenearest airstrip at Oodnadatta where a RoyalFlying Doctor Service plane would be waitingto transport him to Port Augusta. We heardlater that he ended up with only one brokenleg. The irony was that one of the splints had apuncture in it and had to be reinflated periodically.The punctured splint was on the brokenleg of course and the morphine didn’t haveany effect for a while so the shuddering tripacross the sand dunes was a little bit painful!We used the RFDS to send telegrams to Adelaide(mobile phones weren’t available then),for medical emergencies and for listening in tothe conversations of the outback people. TheSchool of the Air also used the service.A new employee on his way to the desertcamp ‐ site, had celebrated in town and a coupleof days later he came into the office caravanand said he had a problem. He showedme his problem. A certain appendage wassore, bleeding and horrible looking. I got on tothe Flying Doctor and outlined the symptoms,with the entire outback population listeningin! The doctor prescribed the treatment, whichincluded an injection. I had seen nurses in the“Carry On “ films give a short quick jab so Ithought I would try that method. As the needlebounced off his buttock, screams were26heard in the camp, so a little gentle persuasionwas needed to give it another try. We had tobuild a special toilet for him, as nobody woulduse the same one as the patient. We eventuallysent him back to town.We didn’t work on Sunday, most likely tosave money, so the crew would sleep, washtheir clothes, drink if they could or go for longwalks in the bush.One particular Sunday a crew member witha .22 rifle, on his way back to camp after abush walk, was clambering over the perimeterfence, when his rifle slipped in its sling, hit theground and the jolt caused a bullet to lodgeinto the side of his body. Luckily someone sawhim and brought him into camp. I inspectedthe wound, which was just a small hole and asmall swelling. We all felt utterly helpless.Luckily the campsite was only a short drivefrom a local hospital. We heard later that thebullet had hit a rib, shattered and was dispersedthroughout his body. The shrapnel isprobably still there to this day.Previous to me taking over a Seismic andGravity Survey in the Fly River area of PNG, ahelicopter had crashed and the pilot had brokena leg. A native worker had also died oftetanus. His death had such a traumatic effecton the other natives that they walked off thesurvey line. I was based in Port Moresby andregularly flew out to the survey line whereeverything settled down over time. We triedto bring the natives back to the survey line buta judiciously positioned black magic stickadorned with feathers soon stopped that. Afterworking on a different line, the nativesreturned and eventually finished the line.Later, a second crew in the jungle increasedthe numbers to nearly 1,000 men. Such a largenumber of personnel necessitated the employmentof a registered male nurse in the field toattend to jungle sores, fungus and malaria.Our acting Camp Manager, an American surveyor,after sending the crew out to the line,decided to have a shower. On his way to the

shower he had a heart attack. The malenurse treated him and he was transportedimmediately by helicopter to the first aidstation but sadly he died en route. The surveyoroften spoke of his two main dreams inlife; one was to get married so that his wifecould take over his American social security,and the second was to go to London. I organiseda lead casket for his transportationback to America via Brisbane but somewherealong the line he got lost and waseventually found in London! So he got hiswish to go to London but the U.S. Governmentsaved some money, as he didn’tmarry.We had a contract to build a log roadthrough the jungle to enable a drilling rig tobe moved to its location.This involved a small crew with an Aussieoverseeing a group of experienced nativesfelling and placing trees trunks to form a logroad. During a lunchtime break, they wereall sitting down when a tree fell and killedone of our valuable Papuan crew members.He was taken to the nearest airstrip where Ihad organised for a plane to fly him to PortMoresby but because of bad weather theplane couldn’t get out. The local police thensaid that they would take over the case. Intime another flight was arranged (I believehis body was held in the local lobster freezershed) and when it was released, it was flownto Port Moresby and placed in the localmorgue. Eventually the enquiry was overand his body was then released to his relatives.I arranged for him to be flown back tohis local area where a truck would transporthim over the final leg of the journey. Hisrelatives came to see me (one had by nowrealised the poor chap was on the nose) andsaid it was too smelly in the small plane. Igave them a couple of cans of sweet smellingaerosol and advised them to get the pilotto start the engines to cause a draught andthen jump in when the plane was ready totake off. I never heard how the last leg of thejourney by truck went.27A contract was pending in the NW Sepikarea of PNG. Our American manager hadflown over from the States to recce the area.We chartered a small plane to fly us fromsouth to north over a large mountain range.We set off in the morning and arrived in theSepik, where the flat estuary‐type area withits numerous waterways looked inviting, sowe made a couple of landings to take in alittle of the local culture. In the afternoonwhen we set off for Moresby, the cloudswere settling on the mountains. The pilotflew up and down a number of valleys tryingto find a way out without success. Eventually,through a break in the clouds we sawa small grass airstrip in a valley and after acouple of reconnaissance runs we successfullylanded. A Patrol Officer who hadn’tseen another European for two monthsgreeted us. We were made welcome andspent the night in his hut. The followingmorning before leaving we heard on theradio that an ‘Islander plane’ with 10 peopleon board had crashed the evening beforewhile trying to fly over the mountainsthrough the impenetrable clouds. We realisedthen the quality of our pilot.The Patrol Officer (usually Australian) inour survey area on the border with WestIrian Jaya showed me a jar of burnt humanbones, a possible case of cannibalism that hewas investigating.Moved to England to join an interpretationteam. The only bit of excitement there wasgetting malaria after I had finished the regulationdaily dose of Quinine ‐ a requirementfor everyone working in PNG.Then moved to Kuwait where obtaining alocal driving licence meant waiting in longqueues, usually the wrong ones, until youfinally got it.While we were living in a high‐rise apartmentin Fahaheel, a fire broke out in theelectricity supply room near our entrancedoor. I knocked on each door on the floor towarn the tenants but no one would open up

(were they too scared?). Joyce rang the firebrigade while I got an extinguisher and tried toput out the fire. The blaze was apparently confinedto our floor as I finally succeeded in puttingit out. The fire brigade arrived with noladders and shouted up six floors from theground for information. They didn’t come intothe building or bother to check it out. The firecould still have been burning! As I had inhaledsome smoke I went next day for a medicalcheck‐up in case of future bad health, and nobodybelieved that there had been a fire!In an indeterminate border location, wherenorthern Kuwait meets the southern Iraqi border,the Kuwaiti Government was flat outdrilling wells. Iraq’s largest oil field southernlimits were in this area and very much open toexploitation by Kuwait. Occasionally the Iraqiswould arrest a Kuwaiti rig worker while hewas walking from the camp to the rig, sayinghe was in Iraqi territory. We never saw thesemen again. This near‐border drilling may havebeen one of the reasons for the Iraq/Kuwaitwar.Back to Australia and a desk job until my positionbecame superfluous to the company’sfuture plans.I spent a year as a consultant in Adelaide andthen we bought a motel on the Gold Coast inSE Queensland.Normal incidents like Federal police drugbusts resulting in blocked toilets two dayslater, us liaising with other motel owners tocatch runners, replacing stolen fitments, checkingon “quickies” to enable another booking ofthe room and generally having a jolly goodtime, we don’t think!!Now retired, we are very comfortable in thislovely part of the world. We take a trip abroador elsewhere when it suits and generally lead apleasant life reminiscing – isn’t that what one’ssupposed to do?28NOSTALGIA - 50 years agoOn July 14th this year it was exactly 50 yearssince the school cricket team won the Hospitalcup, then and now the top competition open toall teams in Scarborough and District.Norman Overfield has suggested organisinga reunion of the team members at the Christmasdinner this year.Below we give an extract from the EveningNews article following the school’s victory.Story-Book Finish to FinalGives Hospital Cup to ScarboroughHigh SchoolIt ended like a boys’ schoolboy story. ScarboroughHigh School last night won the HospitalCup—off the last but one ball of their matchwith Ganton at North Marine Road. They repliedwith 105 for 6 to Ganton’s 104 all out.And it made a fitting finish to the school careersof the High School’s top cricketers ‐ skipperDonald Barnes and quick bowler PeterRobson.Yesterday morning before the school broke upfor the summer holidays, Barnes received thebatting prize for 71 against Hull GrammarSchool and Robson received the bowling prizefor his 8 wickets for 26 against Brompton in theHospital Cup semi‐final.Then last night, Barnes ‐ who goes to CaiusCollege, Cambridge next term ‐ carried his sideto within sight of victory with a top‐quality 43,and Robson ‐ he goes to Birmingham Universityafter the holidays ‐ took 5 for 48 and madethe winning hit in a thriller of a finish.This victory crowned a good season for theHigh School, who have not been beaten thisyear. And to get to last night’s final they had tobeat some of the best teams in the district ‐Oriel, Heslerton B, Heslerton A and Brompton.It was the first time that an all‐boys team haswon the Hospital Cup since the competitionstarted 25 years ago. High School put their

29names amongst the winners in 1944, but thatteam included masters and old boys , mostnotably Ted Lester, who scored 87 and tookmany wickets.On‐their‐toes fielding enabled the HighSchool to dismiss Ganton for 104. They tooksome fine catches , the best being Robson’scaught and bowled dismissal of Dalby. Hepicked a real “blinder” out of the air with onehand.Barnes and Merriweather were a stylishopening pair against tight bowling by EricScruton and Snowball. Snowball was bowlingjust short of a length, and Scruton was makingthe ball run away awkwardly towards theslips.With only six overs left to go the schoolneeded 43 runs to win ‐‐‐‐‐ an average ofseven an over, but a happy 21 by Moor putthem back into the game with a fightingchance. They took it and when the last overarrived needed seven to win. But with Snowball, an old hand at bowling so that a batsmancannot score off him , sending down thelast over , the result was very much in doubt.There was a bye of the first ball and Robsongot two off the next and a single off the third.Three balls to go and three to win. Gouldingscrambled the ball a way for a single. ThenRobson took a swipe, the ball spun away inthe air for two runs ‐ and the High School hadwon.The cup and the miniature replicas for thewinning team were presented by CouncillorJack Field, a member of the Scarborough HospitalManagement Committee.Said Donald Barnes: “It used to be thoughtthat this was not our type of cricket. I stilldon’t think it is…” But he had the cup in hisarms to prove that these High School boysplayed it better than any other side in thedistrict.GANTONWatson b RobsonHeadley b OverfieldE Scruton lbw b RobsonR Scruton c Pennock b RobsonRackham c Yeadon b ReganHenderson b RobsonWarman c Pennock b OverfieldSnowball c Robson b OverfieldEllis b OverfieldDalby caught and b RobsonClarke not outExtrasTotal (all out)Bowling :Robson 11‐1‐48‐5Overfield 8‐0‐28‐4Regan 6 ‐ 0 ‐ 22 ‐ 1SCARBOROUGHBOYS’ HIGH SCHOOLMerriweather caught & bScrutonBarnes b ScrutonPennock b ScrutonRegan run outRobson not outMoor caught Dalby b SnowballYeadon b ScrutonGoulding not outExtrasTotal ( 6 wkts)Bowling:Snowball 12.5‐1‐53‐1E Scruton 12‐0 ‐ 49 ‐ 4NOSTALGIA–78 years agoSCHOOL PHOTO 1925by Peter Robson (1945-53)3100232224150016_1041143801121443105Although the following item appeared in Volume43 (page 42), we repeat it as the story hasexpanded.Peter Emms (1951‐56) is a partner atGoodall’s Estate Agents in Scarborough.While surveying an empty house which he

had been commissioned to sell, he found aframed photograph of the staff and pupils ofthe SBHS dated June 1925. The first thing henoticed was that his father was in the frontrow of the assembled school. Naturally, hetook possession of the photo and passed it onto the Old Scarborians’ Secretary.The photo has the following handwritten inscriptionon the back:‐.“This picture was in the possession of JoeHopwood for 45 years in Simonstown, SouthAfrica. It was given to Herbert W Denniswhen visiting South Africa in 1974. Joe said itwould give far more pleasure to people inScarborough, Yorkshire UK.“Herbert Dennis had it published in the ScarboroughMercury in January 1975. It created atremendous amount of interest – letters camefrom all over the world – including one fromHarold Denton in Pietersburg. He is an accountantwho served his time with Robinson,Coulson and Kirkby in the 1920’s. Anotherletter was from Sep Brown in the Isle of Man –now retired from being Surveyor with StourportRDC – and lots more.”A second inscription in different writing is asfollows:‐“ July 18 th 1985. Mrs Tom Laughton, widow ofthe late Herbert Dennis, kindly gave the photographto William Leslie Swinney, as he hadshown interest in the photo, as guest at dinnerduring Herbert’s lifetime.”Bill Swinney, who supplied many of us withour school uniform from his shop in AberdeenWalk, died 18 months ago and it seemsreasonable to assume that the photo somehowsurvived the clearance of the contents of hishome.It is a marvellous object in pristine conditionand is an important addition to our archive.Since that item in our last Summer Times, Ihave been carrying out a correspondence withMrs Norah Crosby, the widow of Bernard30Crosby, who died earlier this year.(Editor: Bernard’s obituary appears on page20)Recently she sent me two cuttings from theEvening News which she had found amongsther husband’s papers.In the Evening News on 28th December 1974was a reproduction of the 1925 school photodescribed earlier in the article, identifyingHeadmaster F Mayor, and staff members WFAllen and CH Bradley.Pupils mentioned are TW Baker, L Bowman, SBrown, C Cattley, W Clarke, Herbert Dennis,Stan Devonshire, Joe Hopwood, Arnold Roberts,W Swinney, T Sutton, HO Taylor, and ETemple.In the Evening News article on 25th January1975, there appeared a smaller copy of thephoto but several letters from readers includingone from the late Bernard Crosby identifyingmore people on the photo.Unfortunately that press photo is not clearenough to reproduce here. I also recognisethat everyone on the photo will be in theirnineties if they have survived.Here follows a selection of the items submitted:First reportThe first of the old boys of Scarborough HighSchool to come forward was Mr. Alec Jackson,now a gunsmith, who was just 12 when thephotograph was taken, and is pictured on thefront row, sitting between the knees of gamesmaster Mr. C. H. Bradley.Mr. Jackson runs his own shop in QueenStreet, a business established by his father in1902.Form 4L and some soccerhotshotsThe Rev Bernard Crosby, SuperintendentMinister of the Hornsea Methodist Circuit,

wrote: “I have spent a fascinating hour scrutinisingthe photograph. I can just about rememberthe occasion and the place ‐ the lowerplay‐ground.“My form ‐ the 4L of that year ‐ is to be foundmainly on the fourth row up, beginning withHarry Smith, who is tenth from the left, andcontinuing for the next 30 or so along. It issignificant of the time that almost all of us leftthe next year having completed our SchoolCertificate (many of us having matriculated ‐five Credits, at least), but places at universitywere few, and it would have involved a furthertwo years. Times were hard, and jobswere scarce.“I have picked out Harry Smith, Jack Shaw,Harry Newlove and WiIf Spencer, with whomI was to work later at Rowntrees. There arealso four who were to become Methodist ministers:Rodham Dowson, Willie Passmore, BobThompson, and myself.“I was also interested to identify the UnderFourteen XI of that year, which had been verysuccessful: Ernie Moorhouse, Eric Stenton,“Bunny” Robinson, Willie Passmore, LesterAllison, “Titch” Bowker, Harold Cordukes,Stan Curry, and full‐backs Bob Potter andCyril Mallory. Fortunately, with such a team Iwas not over‐troubled as goal‐keeper.“I have two particular memories of Mr.Mayor. My interest in maths stemmed fromthe time he took us in hand. I also recall hiscare in the arrangements for the school visit tothe Wembley Exhibition of the previous year.”“I am next to my old friend, Harry Smith, towhom I send greetings.”Cush, Tich, Johnny, Snaff,and Happy HarryA medical man, who for professional reasonsmust remain anonymous, gave us a positiveflood of names. He wrote:“Among those depicted are JC Ireland, Jan HYindrich, Reg Gibson, Howard Shields31Harold Miller, Claude Harling, AH Sellers,HGT Godolphin, RC Parnaby, KY Pollard, W.Passmore, S Curry, P Furness, SWG Ellyard, LAllison, J Pearson, LS Greasley and MauriceStephenson. Some, alas, have died, includingHarry Godolphin and Gibson; the former emigratedunder a teacher‐training scheme inabout 1928, to Australia, along with SammyEllward and a few others The latter becameCounty Surveyor. Quite a few remain in Scarboroughor have returned to the old place onretirement.With the schoolboy’s ability to amass mountainsof useless knowledge while struggling toget a grip on the main issues of education, Istill remember that ‘HGT’ stood for HarryGeorge Teed, and ‘SWG’ was the initials ofSamuel William George ‐ who was naturallyalways known as ‘Standard Wire Gauge’.Naturally the staff all had nicknames ‐ ofwhich I am sure they were all well aware ‐ andthese included ‘Cush’ Turnbull, ‘Tich’Richardson, ‘Happy Harry’Halliday, ‘Froggy’Allen, ‘Snaff’ Rudsdale, ‘Johnny’ Francis, and‘Cass’ Shires. Mr Burnley was, always ‘AmosIsaac’ ‐ his correct forenames, as were ‘Bob’King and ‘Freddy’ Mayor.CH Bradley is the only staff member still alivefrom those days, and he has just had his 80 thbirthday. He was always affectionately ‘Brad’,and Mr Brown, the history and music masterwas just ‘Browny’.School discipline was strict in those days, butmainly fair in its imposition. It was acceptedas norm, with the exception of Mr. Walsh’slavish ‘invitations’ to his ‘Thursday Teaparties,’which were, in fact, a form of workingdetention until about 5 pm, universallyhated. As chemistry master, his word was law,and he would tolerate no questioning of hisauthority, on his subject.At the time of the picture there were earlymurmurings of the possibility of ‘splitting theatom’, and I well remember him stating thatthe atom was the ultimate particle, and would

never, therefore, be split. Unluckily, I remarkedthat as the blanks in the Periodic Tableindicated that there were obviously manyas yet undiscovered elements, was it not possiblethat there may well be undiscovered partsof atoms, which therefore might be capable ofbeing ‘split’?This short war earned me the immediateaward on the field of (a) an invitation to threeconsecutive ‘tea‐parties’, and (b) 500 lines inbest handwriting of the phrase, “I must notquestion the knowledge of my superiors” – tobe produced the following day!The lad with the capIt was years since Mrs. Muriel Wallace hadseen a school photograph of her eldestbrother, Edward. But when she saw that 1925picture, it was immediately familiar.Her parents had the photograph at their homeat 12 Spreight Lane Steps ‐ and sure enough,when she opened The Mercury, there wasyoung Edward Crosby on the next to the backrow, cap on the back of his head.Mrs. Wallace said: “Edward was a United busdriver In Scarborough, and lives now at Scunthorpe.I remembered the photograph as achild, and how proud my mother was of it.“My brother won a scholarship to the HighSchool ‐ from St. Mary’s, I think.”Happy memories were triggered off for Mr.Crosby, of Scunthorpe, who was sent a copyof the picture by his sister.He said: “I would be about 15 at the time. Myclass — the 4th, I think — was under Mr.Turnbull, one of the finest men I ever met.”Mr. Crosby has lived In Scunthorpe for 20years, and has just retired as an ingot weighmanat a local steelworks. He would like tohear from former classmates, he adds.Extracts with acknowledgements to the ScarboroughEvening News.32THE HISTORY OFSCARBOROUGHIn 2001 former Boys High School teacher, Dr.Jack Binns published a full history of Scarborough,the first such history for over 70 years.Originally to be entitled The First Resort, researchfor the book had taken over 40 yearsand was 3 years in the writing. Previous majorworks of history have, in the past, been publishedby Hinderwell, Baker and Rowntree,but the last of these originates from 1931. Thebook was finally published in September, 2001with copies being signed by the author at Waterstone’s.The book costs £25.The book outlines Scarborough’s prominenceas Britain’s first holiday resort and contraststhe lives of the wealthy tourists and residentsof the South Cliff with the poverty and unhygienicconditions of those living in the OldTown. “These people lived diseased lives,suffered from malnutrition and lived in vermin‐infestedhouses side‐by‐side with luxury,”said Dr. Binns.Dr. Binns’ research has led him to unearthseveral unusual stories, such as “ShadeWoodall”, the man who built the Town Hall,being so named because he wore a patch overone eye following a smallpox infection. He hasalso discovered that the population of Scarboroughfell from 38,000 in 1901 to 37,000 in 1911,this at a time when all other seaside resortswere growing in numbers.Each chapter in the book is followed by a fullbibliography that allows the reader to makefurther research. The book also compares progressin Scarborough to that in other parts ofthe country.Much of the information for the book wasgained from the North Yorkshire County RecordsOffice in Northallerton, and from variousnewspapers that have been published inScarborough since 1830. The book is illustratedwith both colour and black and whitephotographs.Dr. Binns studied History at Cambridge and

after completing National Service taught inCheshire before moving to Scarborough in1962. He taught at the Boys High School untilit closed in 1973, and moved to the Sixth FormCollege until 1992 when he retired.A History of Scarborough, North Yorkshireby Jack Binns is available from booksellers inScarborough at £25, or can be ordered throughany book‐store, ISBN 0953507270With acknowledgements to the ScarboroughEvening News.TALES FROM A HOTELMANAGER & CONSULTANTby Rodger Slape (1956-62)I could hear the highpitchedwhine of the mosquitojust before it crashlandedon the back of myneck. Another parasitehas arrived to feed on thebackside of industry.What, I thought, am Idoing here? Wearinghighly polished brownleather shoes, crisply pressed cream linentrousers and a short sleeved linen shirt, I wasdressed more for the close cropped turf ofSmiths Lawn, Windsor, than the jungle rainforest of Ubud on the tropical island of Bali.Life as a management consultant to the hoteland leisure industry has its ups & downs. Ijust couldn’t decide whether this was an “up”or a “down”, but as we trekked deeper intothe hot, humid rainforest of this narrow, wetravine I was rapidly coming to the conclusionthat it was probably going to be a “down”.The story started one sunny summer afternoonin London. I was driving out of town onmy way back home to Windsor, where I livedin a quiet, comfortable apartment not too farfrom the polo grounds in Windsor Great Park,where I spent my spare time, either trying toplay this fast, vigorous and sometimes violentgame or simply watching the masters from theArgentine showing us the way.33My telephone shrilled above the roar of theLondon traffic and I picked it up to hear thevoice of an old chum and business contactcalling from Bristol. Rodger, he said, in a rushthat may have heralded the last coming, youmust call this guy in London straight away.He is the agent of a big client in Indonesia andhe has problems with his hotel on Bali. Heneeds help, but he is only in London for anotherthree days – call him immediately. Yes,yes, I thought, after replacing the telephone,another great “lead” in a long line that willprobably end at the buffers. Anyway, I wastired after a long hot day of meetings and all Iwanted was a shower and a couple of beers.When I got back to the office, which is part ofwhere I live, I thought, maybe I should givethis guy a call, all I can lose is the cost of anotherphone call, and the thought of sometropical sun, long white sandy beaches, andbeing pampered by olive‐skinned grassskirtedgirls, was quite alluring, especiallywhen it would all be paid for by someone else.The call, which lasted all of five minutes, resultedin a meeting at the Institute of Directorsin Pall Mall the next day when I was introduced,by the agent, to the client. The agentturned out to be a retired Lieutenant Colonelfrom the British Army, whose last posting wasas Assistant Military Attaché to Indonesia. Theclient was the 28‐year‐old son of a senior armyGeneral who was appointed as a Minister inthe Indonesian government.It transpired that Yogi, yes that really is hisname (short for Hariyogi) had one hotel in Baliwith another in the throes of construction andsome very grand ideas about flattening largeareas of Bali and other beautiful tropical islandlandscapes in the pursuit of his ambitions tobecome the wealthiest of the growing numberof young entrepreneurs who are the sons anddaughters of Indonesia’s elite. BUT, Yogi confessedthat he had a problem, he knows nothingabout hotel management and his indigenousmanagers are equally unqualified to“sweat the asset”. Could I help and how muchwould it cost?

Yes and a lot, I thought.Well, 10 days later, after clearing my diaryfor a week I was settled comfortably in BusinessClass on a Singapore Airlines flight toSingapore with onward tickets for Jakartaand ultimately Denapsar – the airport on theisland of Bali. Now I come from a humblebackground – remember school dinners atSBHS, the 1½ hour journey from Malton toScarborough by double‐decker every morningand evening, the climb up through thewoods to the Playing Fields on Oliver’sMount. Well, you can understand then thatas the son of an impoverished Yorkshirepoliceman I had to keep reminding myselfthat this was WORK!! Yes, if this is work letme have more of it, please.The miles and hours slipped effortlessly byin unparalled luxury until we eventuallyarrived at Changi, the International airportserving the island state of Singapore. Thelast time I had visited Changi was courtesyof the RAF in 1963 when I was awarded anOverseas Flight as a cadet in the Air TrainingCorps. Changi had certainly changed in27 years. Gone were the ramshackle groupsof grass huts, which made up the kampongsthat were scattered along the roadside intoSingapore city. Replaced by super highways,manicured verges and a massive,gleaming and highly efficient internationalairport, which is so large that it always appearsto be empty!I was only in Singapore for a few hours beforethe next leg to Denpasar, where I wouldspend a day with Yogi in his office, beforethe final short journey by Garuda, the Indonesiannational carrier to the island of thegods – Bali.Jakarta was interesting, if you like Sovietarchitecture, concrete statues 25 feet high,traffic pollution that would do credit to theair quality of the coal burning 50s in Londonand lady boys – no, no I’m not even thinkingabout telling you the story, well not thistime anyway!34So, Jakarta gave way to the clean air and hottropical sun, tempered by a gently south seabreeze that characterises the island of Bali –the island of the Gods. I think it carries thisdescription with some authority, for as Iprogressed slowly through the countrysideinto the urban sprawl of Kuta I was neverfar from a small procession of women carryingofferings to be placed at the foot of ashrine to the gods. Even as I arrived at thesteps to Yogi’s first hotel, girls were placingfresh offerings at the shrine, which was coveredaround the lower half by a black &white chequered cloth not unlike the materialused for some of the rather more gaudytrousers worn by TV chefs.I was greeted by the ever friendly and lovingBalinese people and shown to my airconditionedbedroom in one of a number ofsmall bungalows dotted around thegrounds. I was told that Yogi would be comingin the evening and we would meet in themezzanine bar after dinner.I was given a handsome meal after which Isat overlooking the South China Sea watchingthe sun dip into the water, leaving abrilliant orange glow behind as darkness fellwith dramatic speed, at 6.15pm on the dot. Iwas miles away in my mind when a particularlybeautiful young western woman whosaid – “Aren’t you Rodger Slape, who usedto manage the Anugraha Conference Centrein Egham?”, approached me from the beach.Well strike me down with a feather duster;here I am 12,000 miles from home, quietlyenjoying my “sun‐downer” when up popsthis vision of loveliness. I confessed to myidentity, to be told that her father was one ofmy fellow directors of that establishment,although I rarely saw much of him as heworked extensively in Kathmandu. Weswapped a few stories, then as quickly asshe appeared, she disappeared.Yogi arrived with an entourage befitting ahighflying young Indonesian entrepreneurand immediately instructed his architect to

spread out the plans for a proposed new hotelin the hills – just outside Ubud. This, he said,is going to be magnificent, a series of PresidentialSuites with a number of Senior Suitesand then Junior Suites for the lesser mortals.The land is on a hillside, he stated, you mustgo tomorrow and have a look at the site. Unfortunately,he could not accompany me as hehad urgent business in Jakarta. That shouldhave rung the emergency bell in the Slapemind, but I had become hypnotised by Baliand the Balinese. However, he assured me, hiswife Mary would go with me carrying their18‐month‐old daughter. You see, Slape, I saidto myself, his wife and baby are coming too,so what are you worried about. Answer nothing….much.The drive next day to Ubud took ¾ of the dayas the roads are so bad and the driving is soerratic that progress is slow and often painful.We passed the homes of many artisans, stoppingfrom time to time to look at their handicrafts,which included some strange, evenbizarre woodcarvings of mythical, and maybenot so mythical, men with a penis that wouldpoke the eye out of a giraffe. We eventuallyarrived at Ubud with its sprawl of shops sellingsilver and other jewellery and a cluster ofopulent hotels on the outskirts, which givesuccour to the well heeled who have long agogiven up the backpack in favour of the LouisVuitton. Our stay was to be in more modestaccommodation; a bedroom without air conditioning,just an open wall filled with wiremesh, to stop the mozzies, but raised sixinches off the ground to allow the free passageof anything which felt like travellingthrough. Moreover, I can tell you, in the deadof night when it was so dark it was impossibleto see anything, many things were passingthrough! I tried not to think about it, but I canassure you I didn’t sleep too much – just incase.After a simple breakfast, Mary announcedthat she would be going no further but myguide and driver would take me so far, then I35would proceed to the site on foot. OK, thatsounds fine. Who was I trying to kid; I wasthe only one listening.We drove down a track to a small clearingwhere we disembarked to complete the journeywith my guide. He did not speak English– I did not speak Indonesian except forGood Morning and Good Night, neither ofwhich I hoped would be appropriate.As we entered the jungle, monkeys screechedhigh above in the jungle canopy, swingingwith amazing dexterity from branch tobranch. I was altogether more concerned withmatters at a lower level. What, I thought,could bite through my thin trousers, sinkingits deadly fangs into my white shin, or slitherup my trouser leg to create permanent damageof a very nasty nature? No, I had notcome prepared for this. Where is the whitesand, the tropical beach and the swayingpalms? Well, we had the swaying palms, but Iwas not impressed with one out of three, particularlythis one.We struggled on with my guide slashing atjungle creeper and vine with his machete, anaction which required me to travel at somedistance behind in order to avoid becomingsliced up like the vegetation in front. Weseemed to descend forever, when the rushingsound of water alerted me to the prospect ofour descent coming to an end. IT DID. Butthat was not the good news I had expected.We had, I understood from the gesticulationsof my guide, to cross the stream, but itseemed OK, for a little way downstream wasa bridge. That’s all right then, I thought, untilI saw the bridge. Two bamboo poles for thefeet and one bamboo pole at waist height tohold on to. I wished I had been wearing thetrainers worn by my guide rather than myleather soled shoes that would surely contributein no small measure to my certain demise.Well, I got across, but I still have to get backand that little feat will no doubt play on mymind for the rest of the journey.

We passed three women, naked to the waist,washing their clothes in the stream and thencame across a beautiful clearing which wasthe client’s land. What a wonderful place tobuild a luxury hotel. Except that 13 years laterit still hasn’t happened. We worked togetherfor 2½ years on several projects, but the last Iheard of Yogi was some years ago, when hewas alleged to have been caught in a Jakartahotel bedroom with a few pounds of cocaineand a couple of Kalashnikov rifles……….butthat’s another story.Editor: Recently, Rodger joined us as a newmember and agreed to let us have an article.From his schooldays, he remembers BobWatson well. When I mentioned Bob’sname, Rodger said, “Good lord, is he stillalive!!”Rodger went on to say he was a lousy pupilbut he remembers Bob so well that wheneverRodger needs a password for his computer,he always chooses “bobwatson”!I met Bob recently at the Stephen JosephTheatre. Bob, who is 80, very alert, and haleand hearty, was tickled pink to think hisname featured as a computer password!HOV’s WAR MEMOIRThe World WarII experiencesof an infantryofficerby MajorGeorgeReginaldHovingtonEdited by Michael Rines—continuedfrom Volume 43CHAPTER 4: 1942 – INDIATelevision pictures have made those whohave never been to India aware of the dichotomybetween rich and poor, the magnificent36buildings and the wretched shacks, but theycan never, of course, convey the true atmosphere,or the stench! The sun is so strong andthe reflected light so fierce that it strikes upfrom the pavements and almost blinds you.Millions in the big cities like Bombay just liveon the streets where they fornicate and givebirth, and beggars abound.The professional beggars I found the worst,for they were loathsome to the eye – childrenfrom birth had had their legs and arms tightlybound, so that, when they were old enough tobeg, their limbs were like willow twigs. Thehigher castes and the well‐off were seldomseen walking on the streets; the poor wereeverywhere with nowhere to go, spitting theirbetel juice, which dried blood‐red in secondsand left perpetual stains on the pavements.We had a few days in Bombay to see thesights, the temples, the Brabourne Stadium,the famous cricket ground, and, of course, theriver in which people washed their clothes,and defecated. I went to see a film in a mostmodern ornate air‐conditioned cinema and,putting my hand in my pocket to take outanother piece of chocolate, was bitten by arat. I bear the marks to this day.On the way to Ranchi, in Behar, the battalionspent a few days with the 2 nd Battalion, whichhad been in India for 25 years. Their turn‐outwas immaculate and put us all to shame. Ilearnt that even a private soldier had one ortwo batmen. Out of pity, I employed as mybatman an old man, at four shillings a day.He proudly produced for me a dog‐earedtestimonial signed by a CaptainHigginbotham, which read: ‘If you employhim, I can guarantee you’ll find him the laziestbugger you’ve ever met’.All our movements were supposed to be secretbut, when we eventually reached ourbase at Ranchi, there he was to greet me. Howhe knew where we were going and how hegot there even before we did, I shall neverknow. When I asked him, he pretended not tounderstand.

He stayed with me throughout our sixmonths in India. When I went on a weekendleave in Calcutta and stayed at theGreat Eastern Hotel, he was waiting for meoutside my bedroom, though I had not toldhim where I was going or where I would bestaying. The only wrong word I had withhim was when, each morning, he tried toinsist on putting my trousers on for me. ButI shall never forget the luxury of calling fortea at any time of the night – he slept on thefloor in the corridor – and being shaved inbed every morning with a cut‐throat razor.We drove from the station in Ranchi inbuses driven by Indian troops, who forgotwhat it was to take their feet off the accelerator.Our bus, swerving to avoid a bicycle,collided with and killed a sacred bullock.Within seconds, we were surroundedby a menacing crowd, and only by firingmy pistol into the air twice were we able toget away.We were told we were to be billeted in atent camp, but, when we arrived at ourdestination, about ten miles from Ranchi,there were no tents. The Colonel distributedhis companies each under a large mangotree in a clearing surrounded by a forest ofsal trees. Fortunately, in the clearing therewas also a lake, which, though full ofsnakes, was nevertheless welcome to tiredand dirty travellers.Having eaten basic rations, we slept on theparched ground. What amazed me, as Igazed at the skies, was the brightness andmultiplicity of the stars, which seemed solow in the sky.The morning brought disaster. There wasnobody in the battalion of 900 men whohad not had his shirt and trousers on theside he slept on eaten away by white ants.We were all a sorry sight, but the Britishsense of humour overcame the ignominy.It was a few days before we were able to bere‐kitted, provided with tin boxes to thwart37the hungry white ants and given the shelterof tents. The toilets were sited on a smallhill ‐‐ deep trenches surrounded by hessian.At all times, day or night, about a hundredvultures at a distance of 30 yards keptwatch. As you went up the hill, their neckscraned round to follow your every step.They smelled to high heaven – no wonder,for as soon as you passed them on the waydown the hill, they flew in for a feast.It was so hot during the day – about 120F –that parades were held between 5.00am and7.00am; breakfast was at 8.00am, afterwhich everybody stayed in his tent, orroute marches took place. But such was thehumidity that in the first week three of ourmen died from heat stroke. The War Officewas to blame for these deaths, for they hadissued orders that on route marches, it wasa court martial offence to drink from yourwater bottle. It was some months beforethis order was rescinded, and, although wehad no more deaths, many had to be carriedback to camp suffering from heat exhaustion.In another clearing amid the sal forest werepaddy fields, and a few fields of corn. Onemorning, on a route march at about halfpast five, we passed a woman leading abullock round in a circle, winnowing corn.A hundred or so yards on, we heardscreams, and the sergeant and I rushedback to the woman, who was giving birth.He knew more about what to do than I did,but together we managed to ‘extract’ anenormous, ugly, slimy baby with a voicelike a dervish. On our way back from ourroute march about eight o’clock, there wasthe woman, leading the bullock round andround, the child strapped on her back!Cloudless skies one day gave way to loweringgrey masses on the horizon and, twodays later, the heavens opened – the monsoonhad arrived. In no time, the paddyfields were flooded and our camp wasawash. The rain was so torrential that you

could feel the impact on the body of eachlarge drop, and it was impossible to see morethan a few yards. Then, after an hour, it suddenlystopped and the sun came out. It wasthen that the parts of ground that were notflooded came to life. You could see the earthpulsating, and insects and snakes appeared onthe surface, together with a myriad little plantshoots.The next day right through the camp came acolumn of black ants. We traced their source –it was two miles away. Some of the troops lit afire in its path. You could see their scoutssearching for a way round it, but in six minutesthey had decided to skirt it on the left. Asoldier then lit a fire directly on their newroute. The same procedure occurred. Abouttwenty fires were lit till the humans got tiredand left the ants to pursue their journey.One day, someone produced a rugby ball andwe picked sides. Faces began to appearthrough the prickly sal trees. When it was halftime, about 100 children and youths appearedon the field and in high jinks just knockedeach other down. I do not know what sort of agame they thought we were playing. Althoughthe ground had been deluged by therain, the hot sun had soon caked the ‘pitch’and everybody got cuts which all festeredwithin the hour.The most vivid memories I hold of India arethe happy and friendly faces of the childrenand the visit to a Church of England nunnery.I happened to go on leave for a weekend toCalcutta with our Battalion’s padre. On theSunday, he prevailed upon me to go with himto a nunnery. It was the day they were collectingthe unwanted babies from the dustbins.Those they brought in were emaciated andcovered in rat bites. Two died in front of me,but the rest were bathed and put in neat cots.The concern and the loving care of the sistersrestored any loss of faith in humanity.I gave a rugger ball to the local schoolmaster,and he invited me for a meal. He ushered me38into a large straw and mud hut, and motionedfor me to sit down on the floor. Young girls,presumably his daughters, for he did not introducethem, brought in two large earthenwarebowls, one filled with hot goat stew andthe other with puffed rice. There were noplates and he indicated how to eat the food.First he took a handful of rice and moulded itin his hands and then withdrew from the stewpot a piece of meat, inserted it in the centre ofthe rice and sucked it through. Every fiveminutes he stood up and delivered like anorator: ‘God bless Queen Victoria!’We found the Indians in the villages, whichno doubt belonged to the Raj, extremely patriotic.Hedley Verity* told a story about whenhe toured India in 1938. He had played in afriendly match on a Nabob’s private ground.All the Nabob’s retainers were present and awhite uniformed band played. Whenever theNabob, opening the innings, touched the ballwith his bat – and the MCC team had beenbriefed that they must return hospitality byletting him get a good score – the band struckup ‘God Save the King!’, enabling him to runsix. Perhaps we should try it today against theAustralians.[Verity and Norman Yardley, both of them Yorkshireand England cricketers, were close friends ofHov in the Green Howards throughout much ofthe War. Yardley and Hov would remain closeafter the War. Yardley even played for Hov’s Sundaycricket team, which consisted mostly of Scarboroughtown players.]CHAPTER 5: IRAN – 1942-3At the Colonel’s briefing, we were told thatwe were to move to Qum in Iran, the birthplaceof Fatima, Mahomet’s daughter. Wewere to be ready to repel any invasion by theGermans through the Caucacus, and we wereto travel in trucks through Baluchistan, a formidablejourney. However, the next day, wewere told this plan was off, as the road in severalplaces had proved impassable, and wewere to return by train to Bombay, then go by

oat to Basrah, then by road to Qum.The journey was uneventful. We stayed twodays in Basrah in a POW Camp with thetemperature at 120º, and then began the longjourney by truck through Kermanshah to aposition ten miles outside Qum. The Persianlandscape was devoid of greenery – toweringvolcanic hills and rocks and interminablesandy plains. The only people we saw on thelong uncomfortable journey were nomadswith their cattle, though I do not know whatthe cattle found to eat.We pitched camp in the middle of a vastplain. First, we dug a hole three feet deep,just less than the size of the tent, and thenpitched the tent over it, enabling us to standup easily inside. Temperatures were up to120º during the day, but below zero at night.All the food we had was bully beef and biscuits,but we were able to buy eggs fromnatives, who appeared from nowhere, atabout tuppence (a piastre) a dozen, whichwe fried, whenever we could buy some fatfrom them. Strangely enough, even a dozeneggs on top of rations, were not enough tofill the belly without bread.On all night exercises, those in the platoonwho were not on sentry used to lie on top ofeach other, making a pyramid. Those at thebottom of the pile changed places with thoseat the top after an hour, so the warmth of thebodies could be shared. After one of theseexercises, I was, as duty officer, inspectingthe cookhouse – by this time we had receivedsupplies of bread and potatoes andrice – when a private soldier who had gotback late from the exercise asked the cook forsome bread. The cook refused, saying themeal would be ready in half an hour. Thesoldier then cocked his rifle and shot himdead. There were three seconds of completecalm, then all who were near pounced onhim.We had no tobacco supplies and no beer. Indesperation, the troops smoked rolled up39parched grass in newspaper, and the stenchwas deplorable. The Colonel sent me to Qumto see if there was a brewery there. Therehad been, I discovered, but it had beenclosed down 11 years before. Eventually, Ifound the owner. He said he could brew, butthe only vegetable he had to make beer wasonion.A week later, I collected a dozen barrels ofbeer from him. When you brought a mug toyour mouth, the stench of stale onions wasoff‐putting, and many troops just threw theliquid to the ground, but, gradually, we allovercame our nausea and drank it. It was sostrong that after two pints, you felt your legsbuckling. When, near the end of our sixmonths’ stay, Canadian beer was deliveredby the NAAFI, we couldn’t drink it – it wastoo sweet and too weak after our local onionbrew.During my original search for a brewery, Ifound myself in a large warehouse. Here, theIranians were slicing open the bellies ofpregnant ewes, extracting the lambs andskinning them alive. I asked why such crueltywas necessary. They just laughed at myignorance. Only in that way would the astrakhanfur be perfect!Whenever we could get away, we travelledthe 70 miles to Teheran, which I found themost beautiful city I had visited. In the distancewas the snow‐covered triangularmountain Demavend, and flowing throughthe centre was a stream, bordered by trees. Iwas told that the rich, including the Shah,lived upstream, and all the sewage and litterfloated serenely through the town where thepoor lived.Even more so than India, there was the blendof east and west, Buicks in the same trafficjam as camel trains, and troikas carryingEuropean passengers pulled by bare‐footeddrivers.In the villages, I never heard a child cry.Every hut reeked of opium, obviously the

perfect soporific.It was with regret that I learned that we wereto be on our way again, for this was a fascinatingcountry – by road through Baghdad to theBitter Lakes near Suez, to prepare for the invasionof Sicily.CHAPTER 6: THE MIDDLEEAST - 1942-43On our way through Baghdad, we were astoundedto see Hedley Verity. He had caughtamoebic dysentery in India and was sent tothe hospital in the city for treatment beforebeing repatriated. How he knew our companywas to pass through I do not know but therehe was, like a hitch‐hiker, stopping our leadingtruck. Ignoring his doctor’s advice, heresumed his old job as commander of ‘B’ company‐‐ a decision that was, indirectly, to leadto his death in Sicily ‐‐ but Hedley was thekeenest ‘amateur’ soldier I have met.40The journey through Iran and Iraq was badenough for officers, who sat in front with thedriver, but for the troops, crowded together inthe back, it must have been a nightmare in theheat and the dust. Of course, there were a fewovernight stops in rest camps for showers andfood, but the whole journey to Syria was anuncomfortable bore – the scenery nothing butdesert and volcanic rocks.It was a relief to reach a camp at Quatana inthe Syrian hills, where the grass was green andrich and, as you walked along, you scatteredthousands of locusts. The fleshpots of Damascuswere heaven after the hell we had left behind.Training, of course, continued, but theColonel took his cricket team for two days tothe Gezira Club in Cairo, where we played‘The Middle East’ – a team consisting mostlyof South African international cricketers.On the evening after the game we went to seethe Pyramids and saw King Farouk in a nightThe Palm Court is a 3 Star Hotel with a superb central location and guaranteed free covered parking,minutes to the beach, town centre, theatres, Spa.All 47 bedrooms en-suite with colour television, tea / coffee facilities, telephone. Ideal for the discerningconference delegate offering in-house conference facilities in the hotel's purpose builtconference suite.The elegant Rosedale Restaurant offers full traditional English breakfast, Table D'Hote and A laCarte evening dinner. Adjacent is the Troutsdale Ballroom which is available for private functionsor a conference suite seating up to 200 guests.Other facilities include Indoor heated Swimming Pool, Cocktail Bar, Lift to all floors, Weekend,midweek, weekly breaks all year, Saturday Dinner Dances, Christmas and New Year breaks.Rates: B & B £30.00 - £46.00

41club. We noticed he sent an equerry to bringgirls he fancied to dance with him. He wasgross, puffy‐faced and greasy. When he andhis entourage disappeared, some drunkenofficers started to shout:King Farouk, King FaroukHang your bollocks on the roofStaniswar, pull your wireKing Farouk.Even the waiters laughed!After Paris and Teheran, I would rate Beirutthe most beautiful city in the world, with itsluxurious white hotels and its shimmeringblue sea, its wide avenues lined with palmtrees and dominated first by forested hillsand then the mountains of Lebanon.I went with a colleague on a weekend’s leaveto the Cedars. As we reached the snow linein brilliant sunshine, the snow ploughs hadjust been out, and on either side of the windingroad to the hotel at the summit, the snowwas piled 12 feet high. We were the onlyguests in the hotel, the staff of which consistedof the manager and his wife and aFrench ski instructor.The evening meal consisted of twelve grilledsparrows on a platter, and we were told thatwas to be our staple diet, as that was all thefood they had. However, we had broughtrations with us and we all sat down togetherthe next night for a superb meal of bully beeffritters fried in garlic, grilled sausages andtinned peas ‐‐ the best meal they said theyhad had for weeks.The ski instructor refused to take any moneyfor his lessons, and before the end of ourstay, we were both able to make three‐footjumps, which sounds nothing but was extremelyexhilarating. When we got back tocamp, we told the Colonel and he told theBrigadier etc, so that in a few weeks a skicentre was established there to train personnelfor the likely invasion of Norway.CHAPTER 7: THE BITTERLAKESIt was a shock to leave the balmy air and thegreenery of Syria for the dull, flat, unattractiveregions of the Bitter Lakes, near Suez,where we were to do exercises in combinedoperations, as part of the training for theinvasion of Sicily. On the second night there,I had taken care before going to bed in a tentI shared with another officer, to put the companypay roll, which was to be distributedthe next day, in my sleeping bag with me. Iwoke suddenly in the middle of the night tosee a figure dart out of the tent.I felt for the money – it had gone. The thiefhad successfully found his way past the sentries,and had taken the money from thedepths of my sleeping bag without reallydisturbing me. In no time, tracker dogs werebrought out, but a violent storm put paid toany pursuit. This storm raged for two days.It was impossible to see more than a fewyards, and the driving sand stung your faceand filled your eyes, nose and mouth so fullthat it was impossible to work outside. Everybodyjust went to bed and, as no foodcould be cooked, had to be content with drybiscuits.Daytime was spent on practice in climbingdown the ropes on the side of an old mooredliner into landing craft, and on the inevitablecompany, battalion and brigade mock battles,plus frequent TEWT (Tactical ExercisesWithout Troops) for the officers.We were billeted near the Suez Canal, wherewe swam – the water so saltily buoyant thatit was impossible to sink. It took a while toget used to the sight of the top decks of linersand warships proceeding, as it seemed,through the middle of a desert.Eventually, we were ready for a completerehearsal for the invasion of Sicily, whichwas held in the Gulf of Aquaba. It is a modernport now, but then there were only a few

uildings and no greenery. When you turnedover a rock, there were always a couple of scorpionsraising their tails menacingly.I was unlucky enough to be chosen to take aparty from the battalion – chosen by lot – tosome part of the desert east of Cairo to attend acelebrity concert. The journey was long anddusty, and when we arrived we were usheredinto an enormous marquee with a small stage atthe end. What the troops wanted to see weregirls; instead they had to listen to an elderly fatsoprano singing three songs. The third was ‘OneFine Day’, by the end of which the audience wasso bored that it cheered ironically ‐‐ and the42poor soprano, basking in the applause, sang thesong again!However, we thought, there was always the topof the bill, Vivienne Leigh, to come. She wasgreeted with tumultuous applause. When shewas eventually able to get started, she did excerptsas Scarlet O’Hara from ‘Gone with theWind’. She certainly held her audience, but inthe middle of a most dramatic part, there was anatural pause, and a Scottish voice from themiddle of the hall was heard to shout ‘Show usyour twat.’ The whole area rocked with laughterand she ran red‐faced off the stage.Editor: To be continued in the next edition.CRICKET IN OMAGH: Top: Green Howards XI: Back row(l to r) Lt WD Thomas, Lt KE Kissack, Lt PD Wild, W Burke, RSM F Broad,L/Cpl ES Pawsey, Front row: Lt GR Hovington, Capt. Verity, Lt-Col AL Shaw, Lt NWDYardley, Pte G Mortimer

43CROSSWORD SOLUTIONNumber 3—May 2003No correct answers were received for Crossword3 so the prize rolls over to this issue.Answers are as shown opposite:1 2 3 4 5 6S P I O T T7 8M C C A I N P E A S H O L MH N A A L O9 10 11R O T C P A L M C O U R TL A T U12 13 14 15 16P A R K L I D D I C O T T17R E O C A H18 19 20 21U S E D H O T E L A R C SA I U E L O22 23 24P L A Y H O U S E K I N GE P B V26 27 28 29 30E Y E O P E N E R O B E YR E O I A N31 32S P R I N T E R C A R E T SC E M E D S25PRIZE CROSSWORD - Number 4Compiled by Alan Bridgewater (1933-40)1 2 3 4 5 6 7 89 1011 121314 15 16 171819 20 212223 24 252627 28 2930 31

Answers please, to reach the Editor before 30thJanuary 2004. Photocopies accepted. For contactdetails see page 1.Across1 (and 11 across) Tarzan Riceʹs ʺstageʺ name,(6)5 When the 1959 School photo was taken, hehad recently returned from being Head of aSecondary Modern School. (8)9 This type of equine animal might have beenof use in the Woodwork department. (8)10 The tuckshop might have been the place tofind this! (6)11 See 1 across (12)14 Members of the Yacht Club do this to themainsail when the wind increases. (4)15 Of which Secondary Modern School was thesubject of 5 Across the Headmaster? (8)19 Donald was a pupil in the 1930s and taughtEnglish in the 1950s and 60s. (8)44tackling was not likely to cause harm. (9)4 Some French masters taught these about thebridge at Avignon! (6)5 In the wild west the meat would have beenfresh if this person had been around! (7)6 Some cricketers claim that they are given thisunfairly. (3)7 Two apostrophes are placed under a word todenote this. (5)8 Joey Marsden took over these from RaymondKing in 1930. (5)12 If the unit of work is removed from thegearing, we should make a profit. (4)13 Many organisations have this to raise funds.(4)16 Many members will remember this fromtheir youth. It was ʺrampantʺ in the 60s! (4,1,4)17 Bon often used ʺfairʺ or ʺvery fairʺ when hereally meant this ‐ or we tried to convince ourparents that he did! (4)21 To have one of these in a vein or artery is avery serious matter! (4)23 He was senior lab technician in the 1950s.(5,1,6)27 A tree dwelling Australasian marsupialtypically with a prehensile tail. (6)29 A farmer might be called this when towinga heavy frame set with teeth or tines overploughed ground. (8)3 0 Euclid developed this with theorems, butmodern Mathematics does not use theorems.(8)31 In 1959 he taught French, Spanish and someGerman. His namesake started the Open University.(6)Down2 The first name of the writer of plays put on atthe former Odeon. (4)3 Our rugby coaches constantly told us that18 We might have a fit of petty annoyancewhen our homework was covered in red ink!(4)20 Tall people often appear to be this. (7)22 The masses crowed when their team won.(6)24 EH Rice would define this as ʺto portrayemotion theatricallyʺ. (5)25 It is quite easy to lose a packet at this location!(5)26 When Fred left Hereford he might havereceived a medal. (4)28 Do you think some of the staff cars wouldhave passed this in the early days? (1,1,1)SUMMER TIMES? - To be ornot to be?A few members had suggested we considerchanging the name of the magazine.

I asked for views about this, both at the LondonLunch and in our last edition. Fourmembers responded.These are extracts from more detailed letters.The score at present appears to be 3‐1 infavour of no change of name!Peter Newham (1954-61)On the subject of SummerTimes, as a relative newboy I feel somewhat presumptuousin expressinga view, but ‘The Scarborian’or ‘The Old Scarborian’(if we admit to notbeing as young as ourfantasies) would surely be preferable as atitle. Even if one ignored the incorrect‘summer’ connotations of a twice yearlymagazine, I like to think our academic agerange was more appropriately the Springrather than the Summer of our lives, otherwisesome of us are in danger of slipping, ifnot into second childhood, into a late winter!Having said that, obviously the contents ofthe Magazine matter more than the name,and although I sometimes with age struggleto remember recent events, I surprise myselfat my belated recollection of events some 45years ago, triggered partly by Summer Timesand partly by a fund of stories from seasonedreprobates at the Luncheon, Gridley Pbeing a particular culprit, who (perhaps notwholly deservedly) still looks not totallydissimilar from his appearance all thoseyears ago, which is perhaps more than canbe said of some of the rest of us!It all seems a long time ago (and indeed itwas) but we are what we are today as a result,although I am not sure to whether sucha statement is a matter for selfcongratulationor otherwise!45John Rice (1947-56)Re the title: many magazineshave titles that aredescriptive and hencedull, dreary and depressing.Summer Times, onthe other hand, is in adifferent class. Change itby all means when someonecomes up with a better idea. But The OldScarborian would be dreadful.Gerald HinchliffeNow, the name?Emblazoned on thefront is the descriptive‘Journal of the OldScarborians Association’.Down the side wehave the evocativeSummer Times. Inside we have a combinationof the evocative and the descriptive. I guessthe evocative is what is treasured most bythe readers (especially GH!).Summer Times is not a chronological associationas Mr Newham implies—rather it remindsreaders of relatively carefree days,days of discovery under the blossom, withtime to stand and stare (except when Bontrod his relentless path along the corridor!).I could quote Shakespeare (who posteritywill no doubt discover was an Old Scarborian).He has many a reference to summer.‘Summer’s lease hath all too short a date…’‘...the summer of our youth.’No doubt, David, you will also remind methat he wrote, ‘a rose by any other namewould smell as sweet.’Still, I think (you would never haveguessed) I prefer the retention of Summer

46Drabble & CoSolicitorsOld Rose Cottage409 Scalby RoadNewbyScarboroughNorth YorkshireYO12 6UATel: 01723 507508Fax: 01723 500540DX 61806 SCARBOROUGHUnder 14’s XV– 1954-55

Times.Thanks again, for an excellent edition of……………………. ! I enjoyed it immensely.I would never tolerate my 80’s being regardedas ‘Winter Times’!George Walter Kent(1941-45)Thank you to all concerned for another interestingissue of Summer Times. Why change thename? Surely we all know what the journal isabout — it tells us on the outside cover, veryclearly, and it is not going to go out to thebookstalls, so I say leave well alone!THE PRESIDENT’S JEWELby David Fowler (1949-55)At the Dinner following the second 2003 GolfTournament, I was in conversation with PresidentMick Bowman and we touched on theunusual design of the President’s Jewel. It isapparently made of silver, is fairly intricateand has had additions soldered on, somewhatclumsily.The jewel is engraved on the reverse, “OLDSCARBORIANS ASSOCIATION”.The design bears no resemblance to the SBHSblazer badge, nor the emblem (castle, ship, sea,star, and moon) which appears in variousolder OSA publications; or to the motif on theold boys’ maroon striped tie.After a few beers, a good meal and plenty ofred wine, we surmised that the jewel had possiblybeen donated to the Association.But by whom?A little research showed the design of the jewelto be vaguely similar to the logo of the ScarboroughMunicipal School which preceded theBoys’ High School, if only in shape.Could it have been the jewel of the ScarboroughMunicipal School Old Scholars Association,which was then passed on to The Old47Scarborians Association when the latter wasformed, before being engraved?Can any member shed any light on the jewel?On the left, above, appears the emblem fromthe Scarborough Municipal School Magazine,Midsummer Term 1916; on the right a photo ofthe present OSA President’s jewel.THE PAOMNNEHEL PWEOROF THE HMUAN MNIDAoccdrnig to rarseech at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy,it deosnʹt mttaer in waht oredr the ltteersin a wrod are, the olny iprmoetnt tihng is tahtthe frist and lsat ltteer be at the rghit pclae. Therset can be a total mses and you can sitll raed itwouthit a porbelm.Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raedervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe.Amzanig?DO YOU REMEMBER?THE MANDRAKESTop Scarborough group The Mandrakes –played its first gig at St. Peter’s Youth club inthe mid 1960s. They quickly gained popularityand within months were playing at Scarborough’stop venues, including the Spa and theOlympia.The Mandrakes, fronted by lead singer AllenPalmer – made their first record in May 1968.The group went to a Hull recording studio tomake demo discs of numbers written by 19‐year‐old Palmer.(continued on page 50)

Taken from postcardsof the schoolkindly lent by JohnRice (1947‐56)48

It cost the five group members, who had allattended Scarborough Boys High School,£12/10s/0d for the use of the studio.In a nine‐hour session there, they discoveredthat recording is no easy business.Palmer said afterwards, “Originally wethought we would just go there and reel offfour of our own numbers.“In the end we only did two. It was hardwork and took us a lot longer than we hadthought.”And the result?Copies of the recordings of the two Palmernumbers – ‘Babysitting’ and ‘It’s the hardest50thing in the World’ – were sent to Fontanarecords and the Beatles’ recording company.The Mandrakes went on to support JimmiHendrix, Fleetwood Mac, The Who, Traffic,Geno Washington, and the Tremoloes.Palmer played his last gig with the band atThe Penthouse in Scarborough in 1969 andwent on, as Robert Palmer, to find fame andfortune across the globe with hits such asAddicted to Love.The Mandrakes finally split up in 1971.Editor: We have just learned of the death ofRobert Palmer aged 54. An obituary willappear in our next issue.John Hall writes: This was a patrol formed from Scarborough troops as part of ajoint North and East Riding patrol sent to the 1957 Jubilee Jamboree in Sutton Park(I’ve still got my shirt!). 4 out of 5 were at SHSB, 2 were School Captains (Hall andTaylor), 1 Head Librarian (Mann). I think Hirst was an old boy as well. Back (L‐R): Dave Mann, ʺBuster Hirstʺ (Scouter), John Hall Front: Pete Taylor, Bunting(Graham Sea Training), Ron DayEditor: “Buster” Hirst was a pupil John, and is a member of OSA

51November 2003Dear Fellow MemberThirty years ago this month, Graham School received the legacy of the ScarboroughBoys High School in the form of the fabric of the school, its staff and its culture.I am writing to you as Chairman of the Board of Governors to solicit your supportin helping the school raise funds and thus enable them to bid for substantial governmentfunding available (up to £600,000 over 4 years), by way of the school becomingof “Specialist Status”.Funding for education continues to be a thorny subject and despite Governmenthype, I can tell you that for the past three years funding levels to Graham havebeen cut. It has only been the success of the school in achieving a rising pupil rollthat has provided a temporary respite.The funding that is now available requires that the school directs its focus into akey area of education and for this purpose, Science has been selected. The schoolwill become a Science College. The leaflet enclosed with your Summer Times explainsin more detailIt is encouraging to see that further cash is being channelled into education, but asusual with these things there are strings attached.The string attached to this funding is the need for the school to raise £50,000 fromthe “community” to support their bid. It is with this in mind that I am appealing toyour generosity and love of the old school to help us meet that target. We are wellon the way from local support and a number of businesses have been particularlygenerous. Any additional support you can provide would be most gratefully received.I wonder if Mr Marsden ever faced these issues????Many thanksChris Coole—Scarborough Boys High School (1956 ‐ 1962)

52DO YOU REMEMBER?SOUTH CLIFF FOOTBALLCLUBIn May this year, Chris Nixon of the ScarboroughEvening News phoned to see if we couldprovide information about the South CliffFootball Club, which was formed by pupils ofScarborough Boys’ High School.We couldn’t, so he passed his research on tous.A reunion of the club was held in May whenformer members were expected to attend.These included David Cook, ex‐Scarboroughtheatrical agent, and John Jarvis, a formerSBHS pupil who went on to become chairmanof the Jarvis Hotels group.Mr Jarvis helped to launch the club in 1958when a side was entered in the Red TriangleMinor League before joining the Scarborough& District League. His parents once ran theEsplanade Hotel on Esplanade.Mr Cook, who was also once a Liberal memberof Scarborough Council, later becamemanager of the South Cliff Club.Rod Gill, who played for the team, said, “Itwas started by a group of lads who all used togo to the Boys’ High School. We have been intouch with John Jarvis and he said he will beattending as well. He came along in 1983 for aparty to mark the 25th anniversary of the club,which folded a few years later.”HOV’S 1st XV RUGBYREPORTS 1952-53Peter Midgley (1945-53)writes from AylesburyI was at the High School from 1945 to 1953,one of my best friends there being PeterRobson.I have just read the latest Summer Times. May2003, and in particular your Presidential contribution.I was fortunate and honoured to be the 1st XVrugby captain for the 1952‐53 season under theguidance of Hov. You will probably be awarethat Hov always wrote a report of each matchand pinned it on the school notice board. Healways passed on to me as captain, the carboncopy of the report. These I dutifully kept andeventually persuaded my typist at work tomake them more presentable. The result Ihave enclosed as a contribution and start to anOld Boys archive of Scarborough High SchoolRugby.The press reports were taken from the ScarboroughEvening News, with the exception ofArchbishop Holgate’s away match, which wasin the Yorkshire Post.Re‐reading them has made me aware of justhow important Hov’s critical comments wereand how relevant they still are to rugby today.I doubt whether this will be suitable copy forSummer Times but I will leave the decision asto what to do with the reports to yourself andDavid Fowler. It would be interesting to hearof the players’ rugby exploits post school. Iwent on to play rugby at Leeds University,mainly for the 2nd XV but occasionally for the1st XV when the regular full back Mike Gavin(who eventually went on to play one matchfor England against Wales) was injured.After University I took to playing tennis andsquash which were less demanding on one’stime. Now in my dotage I try to play somethingresembling golf as often as possible.I cannot praise Summer Times enough. It isalways read from cover to cover immediatelyupon receipt. Congratulations to everyoneconcerned.Editor: Thanks for your comments, Peter.Your letter and Rugby records were passedon by President Mick Bowman.A couple of Hov’s rugby reports follow. Ifmembers’ would be interested in furtherreports being included in future issuesplease let me know.

SCARBOROUGH HIGH SCHOOLBridlington 4 October 19521st XV 0 : Bridlington School 6GeneralWith more luck and experience the schoolteam would have won this game comfortably,but Bridlington played hard, fast and openRugby and our backs were not skilful enoughto evade their opponents’ fierce tackling.BacksMidgley played a superlative game at fullback. His tackling, fielding, kicking and anticipationwere fine examples to the rest of histeam. The two centres, Fewtrell and Harris,tried hard and showed promise, but theymust learn to follow in position their standoff.Jones was left on two occasions with nocentre within passing range and waspromptly tackled with the ball. Also, theywere not quick enough in moving onto theiropposing centres. However, they have muchlatent ability. Robson was the best of thebacks. Davison at scrum‐half, played a cooldetermined game and if slow in passing, hetackled well with balanced ease. Reynoldslooked like a good wing‐three but he must gowith more determination on his own all outfor the line.ForwardsWhat a hard game each one played, with Beadleand Bennett the best forwards on thefield! But they were never all together; therewas no co‐ordination either in the pushing inthe scrum nor in the loose. Too often theybattled on not knowing where the ball was.Smith, in vain, tried to get them round him.Remember, forwards, that eight of you playingtogether all the time are unstoppable Youwin games, not the threes. Without you, theyare superfluous.SummaryBridlington scored a penalty kick after a minorinfringement and a try in the far corner,53the wing‐man crashing over taking the cornerflag with him. We missed at least four tries inthe first half either because the centres passedtoo soon or too slowly. On four occasions, thewing‐men were bumped into touch near thecorner‐flags.Credit to Bridlington who look like being avery good team, and to our team for trying sohard. It was a good start. We should do well.TeamP Midgley, P Robson, J Harris, D Fewtrell, HReynolds, T P Jones, J Davison, J P Smith,A Elliott, G London, A Haslam, W Redman, SBennett, A Storey, K Beadle.PRESS REPORT‘School honours evenScarborough High School first fifteen werebeaten 6‐0 by Bridlington schoolboys at Bridlington.The sides were well matched, and adraw would have been a fairer reflection ofplay.The game was marked by hard, spirited tacklingon both sides, and developed at timesinto a furious forward battle. Midgley at fullback,played soundly, and Beale and Bennettwere the best forwards on the field.At Oliver’s Mount the High School secondstring turned the tables beating BridlingtonHigh School 6‐0.’SCARBOROUGH HIGH SCHOOL1st XV 28 : Acklam School 1st XV 3Oliver’s Mount 11 October 1952GeneralAcklam proved not strong enough to makethis more than a ‘practice’ game. Our forwards,ably led by Smith and Beadle were toorobust for them and our backs had a splendidservice.ForwardsThey are beginning to look like a good pack

ut;a) the marking in the line‐out is poor,b) the jumping is very poor,c) some still back‐heel the ball instead ofpushing over it, and on two occasions the ballwas passed back with the foot!! This is inaccurate,sloppy and bad Rugby and mustn’t happenagain!d) the wing forwards need sprinting practice.Great credit, though, for their enthusiasm,hard tackling, fearless falling and better,though not yet perfect, co‐ordination!BacksThey had sufficient use of the ball to score 100points. The centres played hard and enabledthe wing men to score three tries each buttheir play was often shabby ‐ badly directedpasses, twenty yards’ gap often betweenthem, a tendency to hold on to the ball toolong, kicks ahead directly to the full back’shands, no tricks to offset good tackling andpoor recovery in defence. However, all theyneed is practice and soon the Robson‐Jones‐Fewtrell triangle should be formidable.Reynolds and Harris played outstandinglywell.SummaryAll is not quite well with this young team butit shows much promise and the examples ofJones, Robson, Beadle and Smith and the energeticleadership of Midgley should producesound consistent results. Reynolds and Harrisscored three tries each, Robson convertingtwo and kicking a penalty goal.TeamP Midgley, H Reynolds, T P Jones, D Fewtrell,J Harris, P Robson, J Davison, A Storey,A Elliott, G London, J P Smith, K Beadle, RLeng, G Watson, S BennettPRESS REPORT‘High school victories54Both High School rugby teams thrashed theirAcklam School opponents at Oliver’s Mounton Saturday, the first fifteen securing a 28‐3points win, and the second string rattlinghome 38 points for no reply.The school first team were superior in everydepartment. Their centres were in fine form,continually servicing wing‐men Reynolds andHarris, who managed to take three tries each.Robson converted two and kicked a penaltygoal. Forwards Smith and Beale were outstandingin the grand pack.’TED LESTER (1933-39)REMEMBERSScarborough Cricket FestivalHuge hits out of theground; peekingthrough the gates at theTrafalgar Square entranceand seeing LenHutton being bowledout by Ray Lindwall inthe first over; and seeingthe legendary Don Bradmanin action, are just a few of the memorablemoments recalled by former Yorkshire andScarborough cricketer Ted Lester, from thedays when the great and the good flocked toNorth Marine Road for a true end of seasonfestival celebration.Bradman, Len Hutton and Denis Compton alltook to the crease in the heyday of the festivalin the 40s and 50s, with huge crowds descendingon the ground to catch a glimpse of thestars of the time.A mixture of end of term celebration intermingledwith serious cricket, the festival producedsome magic moments of individualbrilliance.Lester recalled the ‘most incredible shot hehad ever seen’, as Australian Services batsmanCec Pepper, at the time regarded as theworld’s second best all‐rounder ‐ blasted ahuge six out of the ground and over the roofs

of nearby houses.Lester said: “It’s my first really vivid memoryof the festival. It was 1945 and I just rememberedmarvelling at this shot by Cec. Pepper.He gave it an almighty whack and it sailed outof the ground and over the nearby houses inTrafalgar Square.“There are a lot of people who say it nevercleared the houses, but I remember talking tothe wicketkeeper from that match a few yearsago and he told me he watched it go up and upall the way and sail over the roofs of the propertiesin Trafalgar Square.”Aussie Pepper was not the only dasher fromDown Under to etch a permanent place in Lester’smemory, with some the Scarborough cricketer’sfavourite moments coming from thegreatest batsmen of all ‐ the legendary DonBradman.Ted Lester said: “My favourite memory ofBradman is from 1948, the last time he playedat Scarborough, against HDG Leveson Gower’sX1.“Such was the anticipation of him playing atNorth Marine Road, that the place was packedto the rafters.“When I got down to the ground the crowdswere still swelling in front of the entrance and Iended up watching his innings of 153 from thedressing room of HDG Leveson Gower’s X1. Itwas a magnificent innings which thrilled everyonewho watched it.Lester himself played in 10 festivals during the40s and 50s, and one of his strongest memoriesis of the ultimately doomed ‘plot’ he and teammateNorman Yardley cooked up to take‘revenge’ on West Indian spin sensation SunniRamadhin.He said. “We had both faced Ramadhin atBradford and he had bowled us out verycheaply.“So Norman and myself got together and decidedthat at the Scarborough Festival we55would show him who was boss and look to hithim out of the ground.“Well, everything did not quite go to plan. Inthe first over I faced from Ramadhin he bowledme and then he went to claim Norman for aduck in each innings.“I managed to get a few runs in the secondinnings before he came on to bowl, but he soonhad me out.“But he was a great bowler and probably thebest I ever faced at the festival.”Adapted by Ted Lester, from an article in theScarborough Evening News. Ted promisesmore memories for a future edition of SummerTimes.Ted Lester (left) and Len Hutton at the 1948Scarborough Cricket FestivalFUTURE EVENTSAGMThe Boden Room, Stephen Joseph Theatre,Tuesday, 25th November 2003 at 7.30 pm

56Christmas DinnerPalm Court Hotel, Scarborough, Friday 28th November2003, 7 pm for 8 pm, £20since 1999, is available at £2 (£3 overseas).Order from David Fowler. Address onpage 2Please complete the attached reservation form.Reservations, to Peter Robson please, by 20thNovember 2003London LuncheonCentral London location, Saturday 13th March2004, 12 noon for 1 pm, £42Please complete the attached reservation formto receive further details. Reservations to PeterRobson, please by 1st March 2004POSTSCRIPT• The final copy date for our next issue is 15thFebruary 2004. Please see page 2.• A CD containing all issues of Summer Times• Will existing members please pass on theenclosed membership application form to anon‐member old boy? If everyone found justone new member, we could double ourmembership very quickly and with littleeffort!• A few copies of Frank Binder’s tour deforce remain available from Mike Rines. Heoffers these at £5 a copy plus £1 UK p& p.(Proceeds to FB’s family). Please contactMike direct at 32 Saxon Way, Melton,WOODBRIDGE, Suffolk, IP12 1LG Telephone01394 610034.E‐mail rines@rinesm.freeserve.co.ukSpeech Day at Queen Street Central Hall. Which year?

Published by The Old Scarborians Association, Telephone 01723 365448Printed by Prontaprint, 5 Station Shops, Westborough, ScarboroughTelephone 01723 367715