In the essentially masculine society of Goldings, failure to take part in the inter-house boxing tournaments could lead to being branded a coward. Eric David Rollins, (Goldings 1944-47) gives this humorous account of his experience of being volunteered" to represent Somerset House some 50 years ago.

For some six weeks before the appointed time of the tournament, at the twice-weekly gym sessions, instructions were given in Rudiments of the noble art. They consisted of each class forming four lines of equal length, and then turning inwards to face each other. Then respond to shouted instructions to 'lead with the left'. 'deflect with the right'. 'Feint with this' or 'counter with that'. Joe Patch was the gym master's name. An ex-army physically P. T. instructor, it was his habit to be pulled to the gym on his bicycle by an enormous Alsatian called Wolf more consistent with the dog's temperament than its pedigree, as the ankles of more than one boy who was slow to climb the wall bars will testify. Joe was unfailing in detecting any boy conducting the movements he taught with anything other than the utmost commitment and vigor. A sharp rap on the back of the head with a short stick would follow. The same implement was used to control Wolf the dog.

By the end of six weeks the whole school would have learned to lead, deflect, feint, counter (or combinations of the same) along with the rudiments of footwork. A ring was then set up in the gymnasium, with chairs taking up the rest of the floor space for the boys and masters to observe the gladiatorial spectacle. More often than not, Joe's training failed to produce the balletic exchange of his imagination. What took place was more akin to the onset of colliding windmills.

My first bout was against a lad from Cairns House, whose name has long since slipped from my memory. For the first round, I kept my gloves 'well up' and circled, slipping in the occasional token left lead. The second round had scarcely begun when I received a stunning blow to the side of my head. The effect on me was so painful, both and mentally, it caused me to forget all tactics and through a red mist of rage, seek only to gain some measure of revenge. For the rest of the round I mounted a blind and ferocious assault on my opponent. Sufficient to disincline him from coming out for the third round. My satisfaction in seeing Joe 's barely perceptible nod of approval as he held up my hand, as victor was somewhat short-lived I realised I must engage in at least one further bout! This, against another lad from Cairns House, named Perry resulted in further points for Somerset House at a cost to myself. I am reminded, each morning as I shave, of the modification to my features brought about by the application of Perry's left lead to my nose. And so to a third bout, Against a boy from Buxton House, Carson I think. He possessed a natural skill, and as I watched Joe raise Carson's arm in victory I felt relief and gratitude. Carson had at last converted my status to that of disinterested spectator.

© BARNARDO GUILD MESSENGER Winter 1997