Memories

Thoughts from Cyril Selby

My parents, sister and I moved to Priory Close in the early 1930’s. At the time the War started I was a pupil at Chingford Senior School located in Wellington Avenue. On the day the War actually started the entire school was evacuated. I finished up on a farm near Rochford. Once my parents realised I was nearer to the Germans than if I had stayed in Chingford they took matters into their own hands.

For the first few months after the start of hostilities I was sent to live with my grandparents who had already moved to Bath whilst my parents looked for a more suitable and permanent location for me.

Around Easter 1940 I was installed with a brand new red blazer, etc, at Stainsby Hall. As a 13 years-old who had never been away from home before this was not the happiest time for me. When I realised there were many others in the same situation it helped me to settle in.

The village at the end of the drive was aptly named Smalley. Those of us with sufficient pocket money would make a visit on Wednesdays to the local flea pit cinema in Heanor which was within cycling distance. On special days we would go to Derby by bus.

Some of the staff at the time were Bro.Gabriel (known as Gabby) Head Master, Bro.Raphael (being very tall and slim was obviously the Rake) was in charge of discipline. My form teacher was Bro.Patrick (Pat). My abiding memory of him was a foul smelling pipe and the thick black twist he smoked in it. He would hand a lump of this stuff to anyone who was out of favour and make them cut it up into small bits with a razor blade. Somehow on one occasion bits of vulcanised rubber managed to get mixed up in his pouch. It was almost like watching a Red Indian sending smoke signals! The smell was indescribable!

On one occasion the school challenged the locals to a cricket match. As the majority of the local men worked in the nearby coal mines their team turned up wearing cloth caps and mining boots, collarless shirts and trousers with both belt and braces. If our lot could have turned their noses up any higher they would not have been able to see the ground. Having seen the type of boots worn by the locals we declined the offer of a football match.

I have a very distinct memory of the school being cut off from being cut off from the main road at the end of the drive on many occasions in the winter due to snow. This could cause quite a problem for the catering staff. I was part of a group that had built a sled in an attempt to get to the village. As I was at the rear I was urged to get off and push.As the snow was about 10 feet deep I had to be dug out!

In April 1942 my father died from leukaemia which meant I had to leave school although I did return to sit the Oxford Junior Exam which I passed. At the age of 16 that was the end of my education.

One of the advantages of having been at Stainsby Hall was that when I went into the Army in late 1943 I was used to being away from home which many of those who went into uniform found difficult to cope with. I even managed to reach the dizzy heights of Sergeant and served all over the Far East.

Cyril Selby

Finding Brother Fergus by Mike Fitzgerald

In March I went to Dublin with some friends to see the rugby international between Ireland and England. After a very enjoyable weekend four of us decided to stay on for an extra week and tour Ireland, I thought this would be an excellent time to try to find Bro. Fergus.

We set off for the centre of Ireland, the only address I had was Tyrells Pass, Co. West Meath. I called at the local post office in Tyrells Pass and asked if anybody knew a person called Fergus. After long deliberations with most of the village I was directed towards a small cottage on a hill. I knocked on the door of the cottage and after a few minutes went around the back and there was Bro. Fergus digging away.

After several minutes he recognised me and invited us into his home. Opening a large bottle of sherry we spent the day talking and reminiscing about the school and former pupils, brothers etc. He was very pleased that we had reformed the Old Egbertian Association and said that he missed the school and was now looking forward to meeting up with other old boys.

The day passed quickly and eventually it was time to go. Bro Fergus is still the same character he used to be and the years have not altered him in any way. He comes to England occasionally and he would like to come to one of our re-unions. I obviously said he would be most welcome.

As I drove away I realised that he and the other brothers had given us a lot more than just education and I know that as the old boys association grows we will understand just how much we enjoyed our stay at St. Egberts.