GOLDINGS REVISITED

For some time I had intended to return to Goldings and in August 2002 the opportunity arose whilst visiting my daughter who lives in Tottenham. Accompanied by my wife Kim and daughter Vanessa, we set off along the A10 heading for Hertford Town. A few minutes into the journey we passed some municipal tennis courts and I recalled seeing those same courts some fifty years earlier when we travelled to and from Wimbledon as Ball Boys. Having just been in the company of the finest players in the world, I remember how we ridiculed the efforts of the municipal players.

The approaches into Hertford Town had changed since my last visit but I began to get my bearings as we passed the Hertford North Railway Station. From this point on my travelling companions were to be subjected to a relentless recitation which was to last for the next two hours. "There's the footpath we used to take when walking into town... look there on the left is a short cut along by the river... see that house up there, I used to look after the garden... and just up here we turn left into Goldings... hello, what's this gate doing here?"

What used to be an open entrance into the grounds was now barred by a huge security gate and I began to wonder if our venture had come to a premature end. I then noticed someone in the garden of the Gate House and when I explained the purpose of our visit he kindly let us in. He warned us that extensive building construction was taking place and it was doubtful if we would gain access to the site. Undeterred we drove in and on approaching the second bridge I could see that the swimming pool was no longer there.

 We took the left fork heading for what used to be the gym. Huge changes had taken place as can be seen in the photograph on the right. The gym had been converted into houses, and what used to be the Carpenters Shop was now offices for the Developers. The building complex at the top of the road, which was previously occupied by the Printing and Boot Making departments, had also been converted into very desirable houses. Along with Wytch Elm Cottage, all of these premises appeared to have been completed and had people living in them.

We parked the car in a new car park opposite the entrance of the old "Boot Making Shop" and on rounding the corner we got our first view of the main building.

The left side of the house was completely covered with scaffolding and the surrounding area was as we had been warned - a building site. In the foreground of the above picture can be seen preparations for the reconstruction of a formal flower bed that previously occupied this site.

The old picture above shows this bed and it also shows the canopy on the top of the spiral staircase, just to the right of the central tree. This canopy was in bad need of repair and was taken down during my time in Goldings. It would greatly add to the splendour of the building if the Developers could restore it as it was a very attractive architectural feature.

Where the flower bed is being constructed there used to be tennis courts. Having won a tennis tournament on those courts, I remember being presented with a new tennis racquet by one of the Wimbledon television commentators.

Behind us, where there used to be a first class cricket pitch with a pavilion, there was now a neglected field of knee high grass.

Nearby a gardener was sorting plants for the formal garden and after chatting with him about old times, he suggested that perhaps the Director of the development might like to talk to us. It very soon became apparent that the Director was well informed of the history of Goldings and after a short discussion he gave us permission to look around the site.

The small entrance through the wall leading to the lower part of the parade ground had been bricked-up, we therefore approached the main house through the gardens to the rear of Wytch Elm Cottage. The avenue of cordoned fruit trees that used to lead to the walled garden was now buried below a number of new houses. We entered the top of the parade ground with the ablution block on our right. The wooden structured recreation block, which also housed the barbers shop, had been demolished.

We walked across the parade ground and I was amazed to see that old Holly Bush was still there. I have a little story later on concerning that particular horticultural relic. Passing the tower I pointed out where my bed space used to be in the bay window of Cairns House.

We made our way to the rear entrance of the Headmaster's quarters and found two workmen having lunch on the steps. They said that work had ceased for the lunch hour and if we were quick we could look inside the house. And so a whistle stop tour commenced at break neck speed.

We entered the reception area with its beautiful oak panelling and magnificent staircase which was wrapped in polythene for protection. We exited through the right hand door with the tiny balcony above and into the corridor which formerly housed the staff room and prefect's room. Up the spiral stair case into Cairns dormitory and over to my old bed space in the bay window. I tried to open the secret panel in the bay where I used to hide food. To my dismay the panel had been secured but I guess the food would have passed its sell-by date anyway.

Out through the other end of the dormitory we went up the stairs of the tower. Gee this was just like the old days, we were not allowed up the tower then and no doubt we shouldn't have been there now. On the roof of the tower we paused to take in the breath-taking scenery. I noted that the crystal-set aerials that formerly festooned the roofs had all been removed. I remembered how I used to go to bed listening to Saturday Night Theatre through my headset. They were brilliant programmes; guaranteed to send you to sleep within ten minutes.

No time to waste though, so back down to the ground floor and into the old kitchen. The kitchen was completely bare but in an adjacent room I recalled how we had to peel potatoes for two hundred hungry boys. There were usually two or three of us engaged in this irksome task and whenever we encountered a potato with too many eyes, it was thrown through a trap-door in the ceiling. I dread to think how many tons of rotting potatoes were lying in that roof space.

Leaving the kitchen we walked up the long stone floored corridor formerly the home of millions of cockroaches that lived in the nooks and crannies. It was a perfect environment for them with food from the kitchen and heat provided from the boilers below. At the other end of the corridor there used to be a telephone cubicle. High up in the cubicle was a shelf which I used as my second hiding place for food. Having returned late one night from the pictures I went to my store of gastronomic delights - namely two pieces of dry bread, and decided to devourer them without turning the light on. Thoroughly enjoying this little feast, I was alarmed to feel a nip on the end of my tongue. I turned the light on to find the bread swarming with ants. Delicious!

We went back up the spiral staircase and visited other dormitories which I occupied when I first arrived in Goldings. Some of the memories there were not so pleasant but for the time being we will continue with the tour.

Having raced around just about every room in the house we finally ended up in what was known as the Guest Room. This was formerly a reasonably small dormitory with enough space for about eight beds and lockers. The best thing about this dormitory was when the shutters were closed, the interior became pitch black and formed an incredible battle ground for pillow fights. Usually about half a dozen boys armed with pillows would take positions prior to the lights being turned off. Everyone would keep quiet for a while straining to pickup sounds of movement. The wait and anticipation was excruciating but when the action started all hell would break loose. When you received a blow around the head under those circumstances, you really did see stars.

Leaving the Guest Room we went down the oak staircase and out through the main entrance. Going under the archway we passed the sick bay on the right and then went up to where the football pitches used to be. This area had been taken over by a different Developer and the church was included in this particular development. We got permission to visit the church and the changes here were probably the most radical that we had encountered all day. I am sure the changes will upset many old Goldonians but I have to say I was most impressed by the innovative design of this new residence.I suppose all of us would have liked Goldings to remain as it was, but unless some extremely rich person was prepared to pour money into its upkeep, it was inevitable that changes had to be made. At least this way the buildings and surrounding areas will be maintained and not allowed to fall into disrepair and eventual decay.

And so our visit ended but the resurrection of so many memories left me wanting to explore further into my time at Goldings. On returning home I searched the Web and happened upon the goldonian.org site. By coincidence the very next weekend there was to be the 2002 Old Boys Reunion. I immediately contacted the organisers and made arrangements to attended with my wife and daughter. We had a very enjoyable day talking to the old boys and viewing the hundreds of photographs on display.

The only person I knew was Mr Farnham, my woodwork instructor. I recognized him immediately for he had hardly changed, a little greyer perhaps, but in excellent health. I wanted to spend more time with him but I got involved with Frank and his computer setup and before I knew it the day was over.  

I have had contact with Frank since the Reunion and he stressed the need for material for the goldonian.org site and that is the reason for this contribution. It was also interesting to hear his, and other old boys accounts of their time in Goldings, for although we all basically went through the same experiences, there were some fundamental differences. Frank for example said there was not a lot of bullying during his time, and yet when I first arrived, I thought that bullying was rife. It was also surprising to hear how different our views were on some of the masters. Ones that I though were great, were disliked intensely by some of the other boys. With these differences in mind, I hope the following account of my time in Goldings is not a repartition of what has been written before.

Arriving at a new school is a very daunting prospect for any young child whether it is a private, public, or a Dr Barnardo's school. I was filled with apprehension and fear as I stood on the empty parade ground looking up at this huge building. All around was deathly quiet as I contemplated my fate but suddenly bedlam erupted when the workshops and school empted out. Of all days, I had to arrive on "linen change" day! The ritual of changing bed sheets, towels etc. could not take place until every member of a dormitory was present. Woe betide any late comer, for they would have to run the gauntlet up the spiral staircase under a hail of abuse and flailing towels. Although no body really got hurt, the screaming and shouting convinced me I had come to a mad house.

Things were to get no better when I was allocated my dormitory. I do not remember the House name but it was on the second floor on the left. I do remember only too well the House Captain, a surly fellow about six feet tall and reputed to be an Amateur Boxing Association champion. On the first night I did not sleep well and was already awake when the bugle sounded reveille at seven am. From his bed the House Captain ordered us to the ablution block and to get back quick. On our return we had to clean the dormitory. We moved the beds from one side of the dormitory thereby leaving a clear space to clean the floor. With cloth rubbers we got on our hands and knees in a line, and positioned ourselves on the first floor board. The House Captain, still in his bed, barked out: "rubbers to the left - fifty on a board - rub". We shouted out the number of rubs as we progressed backwards across the floor: - "47, 48, 49, 50, change boards, 1, 2, 3, 4..." and so on. Having cleaned that side of the dormitory, we would then move all the beds from the other side which included the House Captain's bed, and yes, he was still in it. When the dormitory was completely clean we would fold our bed covers in military fashion and prepare to parade for breakfast. At this time the House Captain would arise. His 'bed-boy' would arrive with his clothes and would virtually dress him.

We paraded on the square before proceeding into the dining room. Having queued up for my breakfast I sat down to eat it when the House Captain said "You don't want your bacon, do you King?" Well yes I said, which must have been something of a surprise to those around the table. However, I skirted around the bacon and eventually gave it to the House Captain. "About time too" he said. I believe it was some time before I was allowed to eat my bacon but like many of the other boys, I developed a great liking for what I shall call the "Goldings doughnut". This was fried bread, of which there was always a plentiful supply, covered with marmalade. Yes it really did taste like doughnuts.

I am aware the picture I am painting of the House Captain is not a good one but this is how it was. House Captains and their prefects appeared to have total autonomy. The thought of going to a Master with complaints was completely out of the question and in any case they appeared to be remote to the younger boys. At the time I thought that some of the Masters were just as scared of the older House Captains and Prefects as we were. The following incident was typical of rough justice metered out by them.

We were in the process of cleaning the dormitory one morning when we discovered a pool of water under one of the beds. The occupant of the bed was on 'Verney duties', which meant he left early in the morning to assist with cooking and cleaning in the Verney, and did not return until late at night. I knew things were serious when the House Captain actually got out of bed unaided to investigate. It was quite obvious that the occupant had wet his bed and covered it up instead of taking the wet bed linen to the drying room. The House Captain was furious and ordered all cleaning to cease. After lights out that evening I could hear the House Captain and his prefects whispering in the corner. My bed was immediately opposite the half glazed dormitory door and I could see the light from the passage through the frosted glass. I heard someone say "here he comes" and there was a shuffle. As the boy was about to enter, the door was suddenly opened from the inside and the boy received a vicious punch in the face. He staggered down the corridor screaming. Later a Master appeared but all of the participants claimed to have been asleep and the incident was forgotten. The boy was obviously in the wrong and deserved some sort of punishment but the shock of this surprise attack, and the severity of the blow, was completely unwarranted.

Before moving on to lighter topics I would like to mention the kangaroo courts that the prefects used to hold in the old wooden recreation hut. I believe at the time their club was also located in the hut. The courts were still a form of bullying but were only meant to be a bit of fun. Fun that is for the prefects, but not so funny for the victims. I was a victim on one occasion having been waylaid by a "snatch squad" as I crossed the parade ground. I joined another unfortunate soul who had be caught the same way. We faced the court which consisted of a judge, guess who? my House Captain, a  jury, and a defence lawyer. I forget what the charge was but it didn't matter because the accused were always found guilty. I suppose the only funny thing about the process, was when the defence lawyer was asked if he had any defensive evidence or mitigating circumstances to offer. With his head buried in a newspaper, which it had been from the outset, he said he had none to offer. And so the dreaded sentences would be read out. My fellow prisoner was bent over the billiard table and given strokes across his bottom with a billiard cue, not too many and not too severe. I was sentenced to be thrown in the holly bush, so it was off with my shirt and in I went. I told you I had a story about that horrible holly bush.

Towards the end of my first year at Goldings some radical changes took place to the Housing structure and I am sure it had something to do with the bullying that went on. It was decided that the school would be split in two, with separate junior and senior living accommodation. Boys below fifteen years old would occupy dormitories on the top floor and the lower floors would be occupied by the older boys, some of which could be as old as seventeen. For some unknown reason I was given the position of House Captain of one of these junior houses. I suppose it was because I was the captain of the junior football team and beginning to feature in other sporting activities. I do however remember one Master saying to me "King, you are a natural leader. The only question is; in which direction will you lead?" What could he mean?

The preceding paragraphs might suggest that I was unhappy in Goldings and I suppose for the first six months or so that was the case. But as time passed I got involved with the excellent sporting facilities that were available and began to settle down. I hesitate to say I actually enjoyed it but life became bearable. The sporting year started off with boxing and in that first year I was "persuaded" to enter by my House Captain. Even with the excellent tuition of Joe Patch, I didn't think I was prepared for my debut in the ring. Sitting down in my corner at the beginning of the bout, I thought about keeping my right up and feinting with my left. Yes things would be OK! The bell went and I remember getting off my stool and didn't remember a thing until I sat down again completely out of breath. The bell went for the second round, I got up and then ... nothing. Next thing I remember is being held up by Snowy White outside the gym, I had been knocked-out cold.

The following year things were slightly different. I was now the Captain of a junior house and had to persuade my colleagues to enter the boxing tournament. I would like to think my persuasion was different to that used in the previous year. I was lucky in one respect, those in my house who did not want to enter said it was because of the size of their opponents. Well I had the answer to that, for I had to face Wiesenburg. Wiesenburg was a black boy with muscles bulging from everywhere and the last thing I wanted to do was to get in the ring with him. But I was the House Captain and had to "lead from the front" - whoever thought of that ridiculous saying? Anyway it worked and we all entered. Once again I was seated in my corner wondering who will be supporting me outside the gym this year. The bell went and I began to dance around the ring keeping a fair distance from this man-mountain in front of me. I started to feint with my left and this made Wiesenburg blink furiously. Gaining in confident I began to follow through with my right, and surprise surprise, I won.

The following year I was approaching sixteen and quite a big boy for my age. I remember taking size nine shoes and was worried about what size they would be by the time I was twenty one. I need not have worried because I stopped growing there and then. However, boxing time was here again and this time I am one of the three heaviest boys in the school. The other two were my mates and we were in the 11.7 to 12.0 stone weight range. There was no way we wanted to box each other so we evolved a cunning plan for two of us to be outside of this weight range. We drew lots as to who would starve, who would stay as they were, and who would eat like a horse. I drew the latter option and for about a month ate everything I could get my hands on. By the time of the weigh-in I was well over 12 stones, and Williams was under 11.7. I can't remember the third boy's name but we had all reached our respective targets and felt secure. Imagine our frustration when the PT Master decreed that we would fight each other regardless on our weight differences. My first bout was with the boy who had retained his normal weight. You will recall that this was now my third year in the ring, so you would have thought I was getting the hang of it. No such luck. I remember nothing until my hand was held aloft after winning the bout. I then went on to beat Williams after he head butted me in the second round. I told you he was a mate of mine.

The second event in the sporting calendar was the annual cross country race. I hated long distance running but was always competitive in all sports and tried my best. The whole school would assemble on one of the football pitches and at the starting signal would race like a pack of greyhounds to an exit at the top left hand corner of the field. Rounding the corner the boys were out of sight of the masters and this was the point where half of them would come to a stop, light up their fags, and continue the rest of the course at a walking pace. I must admit that I felt like joining them but I never did and in my first year I finished in about thirtieth position. As the years progressed I gradually improved and in my final year I came second, that Graham Ferris was always in front of me in distance events.

I believe athletics followed the cross country and in my first year I was asked if I wanted to enter the boat race. I volunteered immediately and visualised myself sculling down the river that meandered through the school grounds. I should have known better. Their version of a boat race was to have about eight boys, carrying a football goal post between their legs, through an obstacle course. It was bad enough not getting into a boat, but when you have short legs like mine, this activity could be very painful! Apart from that bit of fun? and throwing the cricket ball, all the other activities were recognised athletic events. In my first year I picked up a few points for my House but in subsequent years I did very well winning the Victorludorum twice. This award was given the the boy who accrued the most points in all the events. I remember one year that Goldings sent an athletics team to compete against a private boarding school, I think the school was called The Royal Masonic School. We were completely outclassed in all events and we put it down to the excellent coaching our opponents had received. This was particularly evident in the high jump, where we were still doing the scissors whilst they were doing the Fossby Flop - or something like that.

There was a tennis tournament each year but I cannot recall it being a major event. It consisted of a number of knockout rounds played over a week or so. The only real interest came on finals day and I recall beating a boy called Munson one year to win the tournament. We were privileged that year to have one of the Wimbledon Tennis commentators to present the prizes. He was a very well known personality and quite famous. So famous that I have forgotten his name!

Lastly was the swimming gala. Someone else has made reference to this event and I can support his description of the colour of the water. It was so cloudy that it appeared one could walk on it. One of the swimming events was to see who could swim the furthest under water. We all dived in at the deep end and most of us emerged at the distant end of the pool. However, there was one boy missing, his name was Dawson. We all looked back down the pool waiting for him to come up. We waited, and waited, and then Masters began to get off their chairs and peer into the murky depths. Eventually he came up claiming to have swam two and half lengths. Nobody could dispute this but I have a sneaky suspicion he had been hanging onto the ladder in the deep end all the time. Whether he did or he didn't, he had remained submerged for an exceptionally long time. Seeing as I seem to be blowing my own trumpet in the other sporting activities, I should add that I was a very mediocre swimmer, so we'll drop this subject.

The two main sporting activities were cricket during the summer and football during the winter. We had two excellent cricket pitches in idyllic surroundings. I played cricket but agree with the old adage that it is ninety nine percent boredom and one percent terror. As far as I was concerned the terror came when facing the bowling of Alan Blackburn. He was primarily a footballer but was also an accomplished all-round sportsman. When he was bowling he took about a thirty yard run-up and when you faced him he seemed to disappear behind the umpire. You could hear him thundering in before you actually saw him and he would then hurl that little red ball at you at about a hundred miles an hour, or so it seemed. Mind you he didn't scare me, no I had the perfect tactics, close your eyes and swipe - and hope you're out first ball.

Of all the sports, football was my favourite. Apart from getting a great deal of satisfaction playing the game, it also cushioned my existence in Goldings, especially during the early days. There were three school teams, the juniors, the intermediates and the seniors. In my first year I was captain of the junior team and began to get a name as a reasonable footballer. In my second year when I was fourteen, all of the three school teams reached the finals of their respective leagues. I was picked to play in each of the finals. I was very proud of this especially playing in the seniors alongside Alan Blackburn who was later to become a professional footballer with West Ham. At the time he was playing county football and a year or so later I was to follow in his footsteps. I also played for West Ham colts but didn't make professional. On Alan Blackburn's seventeenth birthday he signed pro forms for West Ham. The West Ham team came to Goldings on that day and we played them cricket. They beat us quite easily but I had the privilege of being caught on the boundary by Bond.

Reviewing what I have written so far it may appear strange that I should reflect on bullying and sporting activities first, when there should have been far more important considerations: education and learning a trade for example. Obviously these were important but I know without doubt, that it was through sport that my time in Goldings became infinitely more bearable. Further proof of this was when I reached the age of fifteen and had to move from the junior section back in with the seniors. I am sure there was still an element of bullying going on but because of my foot-balling abilities, Alan Blackburn ensured that I was placed in his house - Cairns. He was the House Captain and respected by everyone in the school. I am sure that being a friend of his cushioned me from some of the more unpleasant experiences that went on. When playing football I could even run rings around that first House Captain of mine, and although he would call me a "Toe tapping b......", the retribution for such an insult was confined to name calling.

And so to education and learning a trade. All my life I have regretted not having had a better education and acquiring some academic qualifications. Certainly the teachers in Goldings tried their best but most of the boys thought they were there to learn a trade and anything outside of that was considered incidental. General behaviour in the classroom was apathetic, if not downright disruptive. I remember Mr Blakemore having a really hard time and Mr Smith fairing slightly better. Mr White the science teacher was an old hand and seemed to know how to handle the boys. We all got on with him but would laugh behind his back at the number of brothers he appeared to have. In every little anecdote he had, and he had plenty, he would drag out another brother. We reckoned he had about fifty brothers. Religious Education was taken by the Reverend Corbett and although attention was varied, there was no misbehaving in his classes.

Before going to Goldings I was advised that I should opt for printing as a profession and it did appear that printing was the premier occupation on offer. I can recall it as though it was yesterday, Mr Wheatley saying to me "And what have you come here to learn?" The word "printing" was halfway out of my mouth when I suddenly had a panic attack - I couldn't spell - how could I be a printer? And so my reply was - "print....carpenter". Now I have never moaned or groaned about not having a normal family upbringing but I really could have done with some parental guidance at that time. I mean, here I am at a major cross roads in my life and I decide to become a carpenter because I couldn't spell!

Never mind, the dye was cast and I entered the carpentry shop. Mr Tempest was in charge and I remember his bushy eyebrows and rather stern face. He was never over-friendly but I liked and respected him. Mr Farnham was my shop floor instructor and I really liked his friendly and easy-going manner. I thought he was excellent instructor and I learned a great deal of the fundamentals of carpentry and joinery from him. A lot of our work was making furniture and fittings for Goldings and other Barnardo related institutions. I recall making tables, bedside lockers and on one occasion making bespoke furniture for invalid children in Woodford Bridge. The most memorable project was making an oak dining table and chairs covered in red leather for Mr Tucker, who I believe was the head of Barnardo's at the time. George Smith was involved with this project and when the suite was finished, George Smith, Mrs Wheatley and myself delivered it to Mr Tucker's house in Tunbridge Wells. By way of a treat we were invited to stay for lunch which ended with fancy pats of butter with the cheese and biscuits. I remember looking at George in amazement when Mr Tucker put a whole pat of butter on one little biscuit. Goodness, that would have covered six pieces of bread back at Goldings.

In addition to the rough and tumble activities, there were attempts to introduce us to the more genteel pursuits in life, this included ballroom dancing. The instructor was married to the Sister in the sick bay but I have forgotten his name. For most of the time the boys had to dance with each other and this was a great source of amusement. Not only did we have to dance with each other, we also had to request a dance in the correct manner: "May I have the pleasure of this dance please?"  You can imagine some of the replies, but regardless of this all our efforts were rewarded with a proper dance once a month in the gym. On these occasions the wives and daughters of the staff would bravely turn up to have their feet and pride trodden on by a hoard of would be Fred Astairs. The twenty or so females would sit on one side of the gym, and about a hundred boys on the other. The dance master would introduce each dance as a waltz, quickstep, foxtrot, samba or tango. The beginning of each introduction was the cue for the boys to get on their marks. If it was a waltz, all of them would tear across the floor, sliding to a halt in front of their prospective partner. We all knew how to waltz but the other dances were progressively more difficult, culminating of course with the tango. For the few boys that could tango, they would casually stroll across the floor and have their pick.

All this practice on the dance floor was just the prelude to the real thing - romance. There were many romances with the local girls in Hertford town and I bet hundreds of them remember those immortal words spoken by countless Goldings boys - "Meet you in the pictures". Never outside the pictures, or I'll take you to the pictures, it was always meet you inside. The reason was obvious, with an income of about three shillings a week, and half of that going on fags, you could only just about get yourself in the pictures, let alone paying for your girl. I was never comfortable with girls but I did have a girl friend called Sandra Woods. I went out with her for about a year and never kissed her. We used to make up a foursome with a boy call Jones from Goldings and his girl Barbara Smith. We would go up to the corn fields at the back of Goldings and those two would be kissing and cuddling in the hay and Sandra and me would kick our heals looking on. One day Jones asked me why I didn't kiss Sandra and I said I didn't know how. I'll teach you he said. Now don't get excited, we didn't kiss each other. No, he told me to slightly open my lips, kiss the back of my hand and at the same time wiggle my tongue. So there I am, an expert kisser, all geared up for my next date with Sandra. Despite my newly acquired talent, I played it cool and it was not until we were about to part that I made my move. With my arms outstretched I bore down on her and blurted out "Well I might as well kiss you now". A look of shock and horror fell over her face as she backed away and I decided then and there that we had better stick to holding hands.

My torrid love affairs continued with a brief encounter with the daughter of the Head Grounds man at Wimbledon. I think I actually put my arm around her at the back of the centre court. However, all of my previous exploits paled into insignificance when Daphne entered my life. I was now nearly sixteen and Daphne was twenty one. And wait for it, she was married, but separated - so that's alright. This really was love and I remember how she used to smell of Oil of Ulay. Everything in the garden was rosy until the relationship was brought to the attention of Mr Wheatley. I remember during a Religious Education class, when my mind was wandering as usual, probably thinking about our next football match, but more likely about Daphne. When I was rudely awoken from my musing by the increasing volume of the Reverend Corbett's voice. I looked up to see him glaring down on me, expounding the sanctity of marriage and the virtues of chastity before marriage. I was dumbfounded! Me? Did he think that I, we, were doing things like that? At the time I really was taken aback but on reflection I can see why they were so concerned. I believe that someone from Barnardo's went to see Daphne and she moved away. The thing was, Daphne never did take advantage of my youth - worse luck!

That was one of only a few occasions when I did not get on very well with the Reverend Corbett. I was not religious but I respected him. I always thought he was a man's man and he would not be intimidated by anyone. Another Master I respected was Captain Culver but then I believe all the boys were of the same opinion. I remember him coming around in the mornings waking us up with some little jingle along the lines of: "Wakey wakey, rise and shine, the sun's scorching your eyeballs out". Joe Patch was another favourite and I was glad to read someone else's account of how his dog used to chase us up the wall bars. I was worried that was a figment of my imagination. The last person I would like to mention is Mr Whitbread, our football coach and manager. He had a great influence on me and if he's still around I'm sure he would be glad to know that I did give up smoking - eventually.

And so in conclusion how do I sum up my time in Goldings. In all honesty I wish circumstances had been different so that I never had to go there in the first place. I found the experience very wearing, always having to compete and constantly being on your guard for trouble around every corner. I remember getting a rash from a coconut mat in the gym and being isolated in the sick bay. They thought it was chicken pox or something contagious. I didn't tell them because being isolated and waited upon was like heaven, almost like being in a proper home - no pressure. I can see many people laughing at what I think a proper home is like but the fact remains that many children did, and still do enjoy the comforts and support of a normal upbringing. In my case, and all the other Goldonian boys, that was not possible, but I have to say, there were many worse places to be than in Dr Barnardo's Homes.

   Victor King