 The
year was 1957, and it was winter, a very cold one with Christmas
only a few days away. This was my last Christmas attending
Merle Common School (a Merle is a female blackbird) and
for once it was going to be a white one, which only happens
with snow about every five years, although others are often
white with hoar frost, which gives almost the same effect.
1957, struth! Come December that will half a century ago
As it was the last day of term, there was much happening.
During the day the last of the decorations had to be put
in place. The tree and most decorations (all hand made -
no not the tree) had been up for two weeks, Today the garlands
of holly, ivy and mistletoe, were to be hoisted around the
walls and coloured, lanterns (candle power) placed in every
niche and on every corner of the main hall, which was also
the gym, a classroom and at times extra dining area.
However, today it was a theatre as that
night there was to be a play for parents. This year it was
rather an ambitious production for a primary school, usually
they did the nativity but this year it was to be ‘A Christmas
Carol’. This shift in production complexity had been instigated
by the new English teacher, a chap by the name of Fosh,
who, with a name like that, we all thought was a German
spy. He was also the music and theatre teacher and mad about
the stage. Even then I hoped that it did better than the
Easter play. We put on a production of Noah but not all
went well. Noah fell through the deck of the arc and the
unexpected arrival of about ten genuine white mice (guess
who) sent the girls screaming from the stage.
One classroom had been turned into a dining
room, and over at the school canteen a herd of bison
ladies were preparing sufficient food to feed half the nation.
Bob Prior the janitor was desperately trying to destroy
all the ice slides we had constructed in the playground
but we could make them faster than he could salt them. Plus,
he ran out of salt and tried straw which didn’t do anything
but make a huge mess, which he then had to clean up ...
The local bus company was going to run a bus as a means
of transport for those parents (about 85%) who didn’t own
a car. The school was about five miles into the countryside
and the closest civilization was a forge about half a mile
down the road one way and the Royal Oak pub about a mile
the other way. My parents were driving to the school and
picking up a few other parents on the way. There had been
three cottages between the school and the forge but these
were now nothing more than a few grey low walls, courtesy
of a German bomber that had been hit and offloaded its bombs
before heading home. Many of these old cottages were never
repaired but simply left to dissolve back into the ground.
The play was to start at 4pm it had to
be early as this was a primary school and let’s face it,
at that time of year it was dark by 3.30pm anyway. However,
this year was again to be different. The party was to follow
the production (which went for an hour and a half) rather
than before as was usually the case. This meant that people
wouldn’t be leaving until about 8.00pm, and it was intended
for all to leave as a sort of group exodus as the night
would be dark and cold and nobody should be out alone. Looking
back now I think the later finish was to allow parents,
‘sink a few’ before going home.
Merle Common School sat next to a very
minor, twisting country road that was edged with beech,
ash, chestnut and pine trees. The playing field for sports
(of all kind) was across the road and so was one extra demountable
classroom that had been installed during the war when the
number of kids instantly almost doubled due to the arrival
of evacuee kids from London, escaping the Blitz. The road
actually sank into a cutting to allow the railway line cross
it via an ancient bridge (Caution Low Headroom). This line
then ran down the back of the school and the sound of steam
trains thundering between London and the coast was the musical
background that uplifted our dull lessons. However I digress.
About 9am the final refitted costumes had
arrived back at the school. These were no, amateur kiddies
outfits, these had been made by a team for professional
seamstresses working in the village of Hurst Green, they
were very accurate (but smaller) copies of the actual clothes
worn by both sexes during the 1840s. Scenery was courtesy
of the prop department of the BBC. Surrey in those days
was the home of many famous actors and so the school had
‘connections’. I believe the costumes were to be kept at
the school as it was intended for the play to become something
of a Christmas tradition. Naturally part of the scenery
we had put together and painted ourselves. For kids, ours
stood up quite well alongside the BBC professional stuff.
So, the scene is set, it was Friday 20
December 1957 and the last day of my last term. The temperature
was just under freezing and a light snow was drifting down
from the low laying grey heavens. Muffled in extremely heavy
clothing we were all going about our allotted tasks, laughter
was everywhere, along with rosy cheeks and red noses (Struth
that sounded corny). Mrs. Tidy, the school’s head cook even
had chestnuts roasting over a brazier in the playground,
with gloved hands you could grab a few and then spend agonizing
minutes getting them out of their hot skins. Everything
was well organized and the operation was proceeding to plan
... until.
It must have been about 2pm when the furnace
burst, it wasn’t an explosion, just a cracking sound and
all the burning coal and coke mixture fell out of one side.
You have to remember, this was quite an old school and to
make matters worse, during the war the fire had been fueled
with anything they could lay their hands on. Coal was more
valuable than gold so anthracite, wood and even pressed
cloth took its place. The furnace heated a boiler which
pumped hot water through the school radiators, so, no furnace
equals no hot water which equals no heating ... that’s not
good when the evening temperature was to fall to about minus
15. On the face of it, the festivities had ended before
they began.
I would like to say that at this stage
I stepped in with some great idea to save the day, but being
an 11 year old with no great ideas except for how to get
my hands on Carol Vickers now that the play probably had
to be cancelled. I played the nephew and Carol my wife -
I had being trying to get more closely ‘acquainted’ since
I first saw her years before at the age of 5. We had become
the closest of friends yet, apart from some harmless stuff,
it hadn’t gone any further - this was my last ‘big chance’.
All adults vanished to the Head’s study for a conflab, leaving
us to pass the time making new slides on the playground
and seeing if you could get girls hair to break if dipped
in water and then stood the said female out in the cold
to freeze (you can't, it still just bends).
As you can guess this story would have
stopped here if somebody hadn’t come up with a plan. However,
a plan there was, a bit tricky but the circumstances required
‘tricky’ to be accepted.
At around 2.30pm us male big kids (10-11 year olds) were
gathered together and given ‘The Plan’. We were told to
walk to The Forge where six braziers would be awaiting collection.
These we were to bring back to the school and handed over
to Bob Prior. I think there were about 15 of us in all,
eight to the forge and the remainder to the Royal Oak for
‘pallets’ (at that time I had no idea what they were). I
was in the forge party and off we set. By now the snow was
falling quite thick but there was little or no wind so it
wasn’t a big problem; the trouble was that, in places, the
snow was deceptively deep and it took us about 30 minutes
to walk the half mile to the forge. I don’t know how many
of you had an encounter with a 1930s built brazier but let
me tell you, they are heavy and I mean heavy. There was
no way we could carry them back to the school and even when
strapped to flat boards they were too heavy to pull.
Then, as if by magic, Mr. Pepper one of the local farmers
drove past on his tractor, he was on his way to pull a car
out of a ditch near the Royal Oak. I can tell you that it
saved the day as he dragged the braziers back to the school
with us kids getting the sleigh ride of our young lives.
On arrival back at the school we were pretty much frozen
but even then there was much to do. First we were sent back
as far as the bombed out cottages to gather 2 dozen house
bricks and return them to the school (3 bricks to a kid).
By this time the pallets had been dragged back from the
Royal Oak and placed in a row in the window side of the
hall. We then had to put a house brick under the corner
of each pallet (not big pallets, each would have been about
4ftx4ft). Then on top of the pallets was placed some old
corrugated iron, and on top of these the braziers.
A fire was laid in one of the water troughs in the playground
(left over from a past era) and once under way coal was
added. Even though some old canvas dodgers had been rigged
high up towards the top of the windows to guide it towards
the one open window, lighting fires in the hall would have
simply filled the place with smoke. So the coal got fired
to a glowing stage out side and then brought in using scuttles,
to the braziers. There was still a bit of smoke but nothing
that couldn’t be handled.
Naturally we couldn’t heat the whole school but the hall
got a ‘cheery’ warmth about it. The canteen was fine as
the stoves and ovens were gas fired and this kept the women
more than warm while they worked. Everything seemed to working
out just fine ... that is until the electricity went out.
It was the weight of the snow in the pine
trees; eventually a major branch broke and brought down
the power lines. It had to happen, the whole power system
had been jury rigged following war damage and, as it worked,
it just never got properly fixed again; I guess there were
just too many other priorities. By this time we were all
getting a bit jaded plus cold, exhausted, hungry and generally
fed up ... but we weren’t yet beaten. At around 3.30pm (it
was now dark) Mr. Jenner the bus driver turned up with the
first small batch of parents - these were the ones who had
volunteered to actually do something, serve food, drinks
and help with props etc, brother did they get a shock. The
bus was sent first to the forge and then the pub to pick
up as many oil lanterns as possible, luckily the school
sat in the countryside and there were a lot of these around.
On return these were slung/hung/stood/placed around the
hall, with a few to the canteen. These, coupled with the
colourful candle lanterns, would give us sufficient light.
Ten were hung above and just in front of the stage so that
people would see the play, after all,
Out of my weakness and my melancholy,--
As he is very potent with such spirits,--
Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds
More relative than this.--the play's the thing
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.
Hamlet Scene 11 Act 11
Actually the lanterns gave it gave rather a good effect,
more in keeping with the era of the play. Not all were lit
at once as there was a shortage of oil and some wicks were
getting down a bit, plus they were needed for a long time
so you didn’t want them all running out at the same time.
So, afternoon passed into evening and we
all pulled ourselves together to face the night. Parents
arrived and were much impressed with all that had been done.
As to the play, well let’s just say, with very little modesty,
that it was the best ever and I believe is still remembered
to this day (actually this little missive was prompted by
a remark to this effect from an old school mate only a month
or so ago). The costumes were grand, and the scenery became
reality, it ended up not being a play but the story itself
(if you know what I mean). I don’t think one prompt was
ever required, which is unusual for such a long play with
such young performers and when it ended there was a stunned
silence for about six seconds before thunderous applause
that went on for a good 5 minutes.
The food and drinks that followed the play
seemed inexhaustible, and went on much later than had been
planned, I guess it was just one of those things that turned
out even better than hoped, such a rarity. Carole and I
did manage to creep away for a bit of innocent kissy stuff
but it was more giggles than anything. I must say she did
look smashing in that costume.
It was after 9.00pm when we left the school, the bus pulled
away crowded to the gunnels, as cars timidly crept back
onto the road. As if to say goodbye the Brighton to London
Express screamed past the school, it’s massive engine shrieking
and the cab lit from the open furnace door, it was the last
train I ever saw pass. My one huge regret is that I have
no ability in drawing and painting; I have all these wonderful
images in my mind but am unable to put them onto paper.
A lot ended that night; it was my last
time ever at Merle Common School, to this day I have never
looked on the place again. It was also the last time I ever
saw Carole, I don’t know why but we just never got together
again. This, I confess is very strange as we were very close
for six wonderful years. Her boarding school was not the
one close to where I went, it was a much grander affair
on the other side of London, Carole, you see, as well as
being the best looking girl for miles around (and starting
to get a smashing figure) was very, very intelligent. No
more blankets of bluebells in the spring, no more, playground
follies, no more cricket for the fun of it, life was to
take a more serious note from this time on.
Yes, a lot ended that night and probably the greatest loss
was the time of innocence; that book was now firmly closed.
From that night on we learned to become ‘adults’ and the
world became ... different.
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