2642 days ago
It was the last week of my last term at Warwick School and my friend J and I decided we should have a whisky drinking contest. My A levels were finished and I only needed 2 Es to get into Oxford. J was an idle sod anyway and a year younger than me so his A levels were an eternity away. There was nothing else to do other than drink, smoke and chase girls- we were young and were going to live forever.
2668 days ago
The glossy magazine sent out to those who attended Warwick School arrived yesterday. For no particular reason I thumbed through page after page of the Old Warwickian reflecting on how the place had changed since my day ( 1976-86). I have written before of how I was physically (not sexually) assaulted by one master, Mr Eve and how I believe the school turned a blind eye to his activities against a number of boys over many years. Warwick has, to its credit, apologised and assured me that times have changed. I believe that they have. But I spent a sleepless night thinking of a photo from the current issue of the old outdoor pool which is where we swam when I attended.
There is a photo of a boy sitting in the pool reading a magazine in 1985. You can't make out the boy or the mag but I almost think it might be me. But it is not 1985 that I think of. As I lie in bed at night, especially in the cold, my right ankle stiffens. I twitch it and it clicks, a click that is sometimes loud enough for my wife to hear it. The pain is very minor but always there.
2842 days ago
The route from Shipston to the hospice in Myton takes you past Warwick School which I attended between eight and eighteen. As I headed back to my father yesterday, having picked up the effects of my step mother and a death certificate, curiosity got the better of me and I swung left into the Car Park of the Junior School which cares for you between 7 and 11.
The place has changed beyond all recognition. It is far smarter and more developed than in my day when three of the classrooms (those of Miss Jagger, Mr Wilkins and Mrs Birt) were portacabins. Some things remain. There are wickets painted in white on the wall of what was "the New Gym" but is now the Sports Centre which faces on the junior school playground. Or what is now the playground, we used to have two. The second, where the violent game of British Bulldog, now I am sure banned, was played is now a car park.
As I looked at the video display on the wall of another new building, I saw pictures of boys on ski trips and school trips to Russia and India. In my day it was Telford Gorge or the Museums in London or maybe just a short walk up to Warwick Castle.
The old outdoor pool has gone, replaced by an indoor facility. Political correctness
