Hi Degs again,
Just been away on the south coast for a few days, but now back to the grind stone. It reminds me of Mirfield, mucking out pigs, collecting hens’ eggs and even killing chickens for feast days.
Who can remember preparations for Parents’ Day? All the corridors had to be cleaned, polished with big concrete bumpers, even hanging out three stories up with rag in one pocket and bottle of windowlene in the other!
Speaking of Parents’ Days, there was always that sense of excitement when families would come to visit, but also on some occasions a sense of disappointment when boys whose parents couldn’t make it would have to serve high tea to the lads with their families, as I did on several occasions. Then there was always the joy of helping father Wade with the vegetable garden, or when he was made bursar and, on his return from one of his several shopping trips, helping him unload his little van full of either food supplies or such strange, miscellaneous pieces of equipment as ex- MOD boxing gloves, javelins, medicine balls and gymnastics horses etc! The following few weeks would then be taken up with groups of boys practicing boxing, but not quite with the marquis of Queensbury rules, resulting in several epic bouts! One that sticks in my mind would be me and Brian Gardner.
The javelins were surplus to requirement as I can remember manufacturing spears out of kitchen knives and broom shanks, which resulted in Nicki Wilson getting a six inch carving knife through his leg! A trip to the infirmary followed with Nicki screaming, “He’s hit an artery, I’m going to die!”
Hope this stirs a few memories, I will write a bit more when I get a bit of time.
For many years I had a recurring dream; it was not a nightmare and it caused me little or no stress at all but I had considered seeking professional help to have it interpreted. The dream featured a boy being frog marched at high speed by two other boys on either side of him. With each step of his left foot blood would splash with some force upwards and over his wellington boot, leaving a coagulating trail of foot prints behind the fleeing boys. Could this be the source of my dream, as I remember little else of the incident?
hi tony yep this is the source of your dream/ flashback
how about this one
Two young lads making petrol bombs[as you do!] accidently set fire to their bucket of petrol,panic,kick the bucket over,hide and wait until the firebrigade have arrived and left after damping down the burnt out remains of one very large,unoccupied chicken shed.
That was a nightmare!!!!