Chapter 4: Normanton Grammar School: Lost and lonely, then fall in love!
Colin’s school for six, lonely,
yet unbelievable, years.
You will recall he wrote a
coincidental story about a boat trip from Bridlington to London in the last
chapter, for his 11+ resit. That was
early December 1965, and nothing heard by the end of term, all hopes of another
life had been lost. Then, clunk went the
letterbox Friday 31st December 1965 and Colin joined the road less travelled
with no turning back.
Normanton Grammar School. Brick
built, slate roof, Dutch gables, stone mullions plus a grand entrance with bell
tower. Architectural folly funded by ‘where there’s muck, there’s brass’ built
circa 1910. Teachers in gowns, Hamilton, the headmaster often appeared on stage
with red bits of loo paper stuck to his chin. He hated the PE department, even
though they brought his school nationwide fame.
High ceilings, parquet wood flooring, austere and scary. Yet, every wannabee
anything needed to be there.
Colin was there, one year, one
term late, with no school uniform for a start.
Woolworths Pontefract, some grey trousers, a blazer and lots of red
braid around his forearms and pockets. Oh, and his socks were the wrong colour. He
felt, lost, alone, lonely yet in possession of a second chance.
Instead of the two-minute walk to
the dreaded (remember the babysitter) Secondary Modern, his dad banged on his
door at 0715; cornflakes, sugar, tea, half mile walk to Station Lane and the
0755 bus to Normanton. He joined the
first year although second year age – and size - missed out on the friendship
groups formed during ‘freshers’ term, stood out like a sore thumb on the sports
field and then had to play in the school team with the year above. Poor lad I
really do feel for him.
You will also be aware of the
emergence of his alter ego; who went to the headmaster, demanded a second chance,
came second in the exams, wrote some ridiculous story about taking a boat from
Bridlington to London and was affectionately known as Slam Jr, after his dad
Slam Lambert captain of Featherstone Rovers, the giant killing Rugby League legends.
Colin is the quiet, shy, lonely
lad who felt like a fish out of water everywhere [even today if truth be told] whereas Slam Jr was not bad at Rugby, loves leaping about to Norther Soul music,
get beaten up and now has a whole new world to explore.
They did make one friend, John Dyson, he also started late but the local secondary in his case. He was tall, athletic with flowing blond hair. Slam Jr would captain, and he would be the star player, ‘Dyson the fleet-footed brave’ [Daily Telegraph], when they won the National school rugby 7’s, beating Millfield in the final. But that’s all for later
Their first term a steep learning
curve in many ways, why folk came into morning assembly, at the end, puzzled them,
that Jewish was a religion and not someone stingy with money, another.
And then I fell in love...
Elisabeth was regal, red hair in
a bun, bright, cow-like eyes that sparkled. Catching a glimpse of stocking and
suspender under her knee length skirt sent me into the heavens. Only problem
was, Lizzie, as she was known, was way out of my league; came top in the Latin,
French and English exams and stood no nonsense from anyone. Lived in a posh
semi on the edge of town. Nevertheless, my belly felt like jelly every time I
saw her. I can feel it now.
July 1965, school trip to Blue
John Cavern Derbyshire. It is steeped in history and old mining equipment on
view inside the cavern. Guided tours are
conducted throughout the cave system at short, regular intervals. Each tour lasts approximately 45 minutes to 1
hour during which time a series of magnificent natural water-worn caverns are
seen.
I go to heaven. sitting on a long, yet narrow, boat, in a
long, also narrow, tunnel, total darkness but, sat next to Lizzie. High on her
perfume, Este Laude, I turned my head towards her, she turned toward me, we
were kissing, proper snogging stuff and it seemed to last for ever. I fell head over heels in love with Lizzie.
[still am but let’s keep it a secret] We chatted in the breaks, my belly went wobbly,
still does, then, just before Xmas, she was hit by a car, crossing the road, on
route to school and spent the next six weeks in hospital. I was mortified. Who
could I tell and whose shoulder to cry on? I had no idea how to send her a card
or how to go and see her. I eventually plucked up the courage to ask my dad if
he would take me. By the time he agreed she was home and back at school. It
took four long years before kissing her again. at a wild sixth form party with
lots of LSD, but that’s for later.
Slam Jr made the U13 rugby team
but alien rules (Rugby, League to Union). He came third in the 100yds on sports
day and reserve for the school relay team.
Colin struggled in every subject,
how does one catch up in Latin and French when starting a term behind? He enjoyed physics and biology but by the end
of his first year in the bottom form.
Meanwhile, Slam Jr discovered lots
of leftover, free, milk outside the portable classrooms between the senior
school (above) and the old girls’ school (now junior 11-15) alongside the
hockey pitch. He would drink up-to six bottes most days and had to be quick as
often sour by mid-afternoon in summer. Let’s say he was drinking two to four
pints of full fat milk, five days per week, for seven months. Say 300 pints of milk. What happens next was
scary, very scary.
Saturday 27th August 1966
Barmston [OS: TA163591] Humberside
It’s a warm and sunny day, Slam
Jr cycles to Barmston and our lives will change forever…
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