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THE
sound of water from the taps, a quick lick and promise, and even
quicker the drying of face and hands, and so the more awake lads
trundled back faster footed to their dormitories, on with their
clothes and proceed to make their beds in uniform fashion “neat and
tidy".
It
is now off to Breakfast, down the winding stairs, plodding along the
cold corridor with the noise of chatting echoing as they make their
way. The huge dining hall, plain coloured walls, the hotplates and
urns spotlessly clean, bowls of "pongy" porridge, white plates, door
step slices of bread, (Jinners) unspreadable chunks of margarine;
filling the nostrils of the empty young bellies was the aroma of
fried bacon, fried bread, beans and tomatoes.
Whilst breakfast was being devoured you would frequently realise
that Joe Patch with his Alsatian dog Wolf would be stalking the rows
of tables not missing a trick or wrong doing. After breakfast it was
back to the dormitory to do the chores supervised by the House
Captain and the prefects. Each boy was allocated a job to do, the
Ronuking, Bumping, Sweeping, Polishing etc. The floors shone like
glass and so as not to spoil the shine of the floor, pieces of rag
were put under the feet so you would shuffle along to your bed
space.
Looking back I would say we were proud of our achievements. All were
relieved, I must say, to hear the five-minute bugle warning for the
chores to end.
"Mount Stephen shone with pride". And so down and out to polish
your shoes. There was always an abundance of polish and brushes and
this task was done communally under a long covered lean - to.
Then came the morning assembly. All boys in their respective houses
formed a neat U shape comprising of
Somerset,
Cairns,
Aberdeen,
Mount Stephen,
Buxton and
McCall, all six houses called to attention by, If I remember
correctly, the School Captain. All was silent until the arrival of
the Headmaster
Mr Wheatley to deliver his daily messages, after which the
school was dismissed for the boys to go to their respective places
of work e.g. Cookhouse,
Gardening,
Tin Bashing,
Printing, Engineering, and my own chosen vocation,
Shoe making and repairing under
Mr "Buck" Randall and
Mr Tordoff, and for those who were not feeling so good, off to
Sick Bay, "not recommended".
On
the way to the workshops in winter, many a bump or graze was
sustained due to the frozen slide from the cookhouse to the band
hut.
At
the end of a hard day at trade training, 4.30 would bring an air of
relief as the stampede was made for a nice wash and brush up to
revitalise yourself for a wide choice of activities, swimming,
footer, cricket or any mischief one could dream of getting up to.
The
sound of the bugle for evening meal was a welcome sound to a crowd
of hungry kids. They were drawn as if by a magnet to join the queue
for their fill of Roast Beef, Yorkshire pudding, and for sweet,
“hard bake" bread pudding.
For
us in the Cadets and Cadet Band it was practice and drill with the
much loved and respected
Skip Culver smelling of his beloved pipe. For the rest of us it was off to
the top field playing conkers etc. or just romping around with one's
friends.
Night is coming in fast. Back into the house to enjoy a hot bath and
join in with the laughter and banter with true friends as will only
be found at a Dr Barnardo's Home. Climb wearily up the stairs to
your Dormitory after a long day's work - out and tired climb into
bed. Last Post was played by Stan Evans or whoever was playing the
bugle that night.
Lights out, goodnights echoing around the Dorms and so to sleep for
most of us, but for a small few it was time to go scrumping!
Les
Cooper
Goldings 1944 -1947
THE BARNARDO GUILD MESSENGER
Winter 1994
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