King Henry VIII Grammar School

He was our R.E. teacher in the 2nd form, but as you say hardly ever turned up. He would send the Head Boy whose name was Van something or the other I think, or the Vice or Deputy Head Boy whose name was I think Jeremy something. The Head Boy was OK but no-one liked the other guy, very stuck up and supercilious. Maybe someone can shed light on those two and jog my poor memory on that subject.

When you refer to his formidable secretary, are you meaning Miss French? Or was she later? I didn't find her formidable at all, she was very helpful to me when I was suffering with migraines before Frank Scotford diagnosed me as being short sighted after noticing me squint to read the blackboard.

Mrs Gardner?

I remember a Jeremy Jeans prefect, light grey suit, nose in the air, a real snob who hated us lower years. If you so much as looked at him he'd threaten to put you in a prefect's detention. We all hated him.

Agreed, it was Mrs (Miss?) French in my day, and she was a very fair and reasonable person.

I think many people will remember Jeans. A thoroughly nasty piece of work, detested by all, including some of the teachers if memory serves. Fancied himself as a Flashman figure. Was he actually school captain (as they called the head boy) or just a senior prefect? I can remember him in one of those caps with a red tassel. I'm sure he was a target for some of the older lads. I wonder what happened to him. Incidentally, the other one referred to was called Van Hee, a tall slim lad who may have had ginger hair. Regarding school secretaries, Miss French was certainly the one who held that title, and was effectively Herbie's secretary. You could only access his office by going through her office. I remember her as being very pleasant. She dealt with attendance sheets and sick notes. Piggy Shore had a secretary who was a Mrs Gardner. She was unsmiling and hatchet-faced, and sat on the right as you went into Piggy's office, which was a tiny place at the top of the stairs. There was a little dark corridor leading to it where miscreants waited to face him. He sat at the far end in front of a small window and you could hardly see him for the cloud of smoke that hung over the place. I presume that atmosphere was created deliberately to intimidate.

Thanks for that, MisterD-Di. Mrs Gardner was indeed Piggy's secretary, and I can picture the scene exactly as you paint it of his office and the approach to it, probably some five or six years earlier than your days there.

Dear both, exactly as I remember Piggy's office. I only had to go there on two or three occasions during my stint, and on one occasion, I queued to see Piggy, who promptly deflected me, in his gruff voice, with "Mrs Gardner will deal with you!" I do wonder if my life has been shortened by the passive inhalation of tar and nicotine.

Just to weigh in on the topic of Miss French; absolutely agree with the previous posts. I remember her dabbing witch-hazel on a bump I had (surely not part of her job description?) and even sewing on a shirt button I'd lost! Never heard a single bad word about her. If I recall, the office had large windows facing onto Warwick Road, and it always seemed light and airy in there. Always wondered what the atmosphere was like in the staff room - it seemed like a comfortable space; but obviously I never saw it when the teaching staff were present. I'd have liked to be a fly on the wall - sometimes the staff seemed to have strange ideas about what was going on in the school; maybe these ideas originated in the staff room conversations?

You're right. I seem to recall that both Piggy and his henchwoman would be sat there puffing away all the time. It was quite disgusting in there. I was never a smoker but imagine he would have punished those they caught while sat with a fag in his mouth! My visits to Piggy's office were probably more frequent than yours, and usually for the same reason - the length of my hair. It was always quite long and by the fifth form it was often getting noticed. Some busybody teachers, such as Jeff Vent, would make comments and demand you get a haircut but nothing ever happened. However, if Piggy passed you in a corridor and demanded your presence you really had to go. I took to tucking my hair into my shirt collar at school but it wasn't that convincing. So I permanently wore a house scarf at school throughout the year and it stopped me getting noticed. I never actually got a haircut on Piggy's instructions though. (I know Beesman got even more grief than I did on this subject.)

I've mentioned it before, but the story is worth repeating, of when we were in the fuzzers, Piggy called out a fifth or sixth former, a big fat bespectacled lad, who had shoulder length blond hair, and blue-biro-marked the side of his face, indicating the maximum hair length allowed, then sent him to the barbers, calling him "the boy with the tea-cosy hair style"! In front of the whole school too, no doubt deliberate to add to his embarrassment. I remember his red face, and the thunderous laughter form everyone else in the hall.

My tenure was later than the above, and I missed out on knowing Mr. Shore altogether. By the time I was in 6th form, I was allowed to have longer hair - either that or I had succeeded in wearing them down to the point where they avoided further conflict with me (I was at the end of my time anyway). It wasn't universal, though, because in my first year at Manchester University, I was the only longhair in the intake, and I was asked if I'd been allowed long hair at school (implying that others wouldn't have been). I recall the last long school holiday; we were told not to return with any form of facial hair. One of my contemporaries ignored this edict, and we assured him that he would be instructed to shave on his first day back. We waited a week or so, and he hadn't shaved (which was taken as a sign that he had some sort of 'protected' status). A very special type of revenge was then exacted upon him (or rather, on half of him). Clothing was a different matter, though. After assembly (on occasion) there would be a lockdown, and all inmates were inspected on exiting. The limit for 'flares' (this was the '70s, remember) was set at 11"; platforms were checked also, and badges were hidden (on pain of confiscation). The scarves thing worked for us also - we could have badges on scarves, because they were taken off on arrival at school and put back on afterwards.

I never had a problem with facial hair at school, because I never had any! I was a late developer in all departments. When I was 18, someone once said, as banter, "Marmeduke has been shaving for 6 months now, and he's cut himself both times". Badges were not allowed, but in the final year sixth, I was late starting back at school by a couple of days. My father had blagged me a trip to Germany whilst he and a couple of colleagues were there on business. Although he'd told the school, I still had to report to Herbie on my return. This was one of only two such occasions throughout my sentence. Herbie was pleased that I had had a chance to practise my German, which he was teaching us, but I'd forgotten to remove the small German badge given me by the Hannover exhibition. His eyes focussed on it disapprovingly, but he somewhat surprisingly never said a word about it. So I kept it on for quite a while.

PS Of course, prefects' badges were allowed. I'm still amazed that I was never asked to be a prefect. Maybe it was a clerical error by Miss French's office, omitting my name form the list! Well it does happen - a few of my mates were missed off Jeff Vent's "Class of 65" re-union invitations.

...and in the Junior school, a small white badge identified someone as 'librarian'.