THE BARTONIAN
www.bartonians.uni4m.co.uk
Barton Peveril 1918 Barton Peveril Grammar School 1957 (College from 1973) Eastleigh County High School 1932
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Issue No. 59 Winter 2017
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The Magazine for ex-pupils of Eastleigh County High School & Barton Peveril
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Editorial Comment:
As we approach Christmas and think of those who are no longer with us and the big gap they have left in our lives, all we can do is cherish the memories
they have left us and give them a toast. So let us raise our glasses to them - gone but not forgotten.
Barton Peveril College Today
There were more good results this summer for Barton Peveril students and more students wanting to start here than ever before: 3,400 of them! This year
and next are demographically the low point for the number of 16 year olds in the region, but this doesn’t seem to have affected the popularity of Barton Peveril.
We are one of only three sixth form colleges in Hampshire currently growing. In this day and age growth is a good thing because if you are not growing your
resources are shrinking and students can suffer.
In anticipation of the growth, we performed a minor miracle and entirely refurbished the kitchens and student social centre. Most of the fabric and equipment was
installed in the 1950s and, not surprisingly, at end of life and we removed it, replacing it with the highest quality 21st century kit – ovens capable of steaming
vegetables on a timer then cleaning themselves after use, and a dishwasher on a conveyor belt: I wish I had both of them in my kitchen! We have removed
a large number of offices and expanded the social centre by 40%, as well as adding another café in the Rose building opposite the theatre. I look forward to
showing you around at the AGM next year.
In the curriculum, students arrived at college from schools with numbers for their grades in English and Maths GCSE rather than letters, so a C is 4/5, B is 5/6, and
A is 7, A* 8 and 9. Confused? Well so are most of the public and employers but I’m sure we will all catch on! Next September nearly all GCSEs will have been
‘reformed’ and will have number grades.
A levels, too, have been changing, but here the grading system remains the same A* to E. Students starting this year are studying ‘new’ A levels in all subjects
and these are studied over two years with little or any coursework and examined at the end of two years. If that reminds you of something you would be quite right:
in almost all respects they are like the A levels developed in the 1950s to be studied in the wonderful new school on Cedar Road! As Shakespeare said
“The wheel is come full circle”.
Jonathan Prest
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Walking the Dog
The ability of nature to bounce back from everything we throw at her never ceases to amaze me. Take the field where I walk Earl most days. Until relatively recently
it was a landfill site. Its topography is unnatural looking and every now and again you will come across a piece of plastic, or builders’ rubble, sticking up from the
ground. There are several ponies kept in the field by their gypsy owners. They are tethered to chains, perhaps twenty feet in length, which are attached to steel
spikes and are moved about the field every two or three days. They certainly help to keep the grass down.
There are plenty of wild flowers and shrubs to be found but my favourite is the northern marsh orchid, which thrives in an area of the field which is often waterlogged.
There are many rabbits, which I see on a daily basis, foxes, and grey squirrels. There are also plenty of moles, if the number of molehills is anything to go by.
Recently a stoat came bounding across our path - I expect it was chasing a rabbit. There is also a resident green woodpecker.
Next to the field is a disused quarry and a wood which leads down to a large pond, home to a pair of swans who produced seven cygnets this year. There are
also mallards, coots, moorhens and a variety of seagulls. One small, busy, duck which would win any beauty contest is the tufted duck. It is black with white flanks
and belly and is a joy to watch. Occasionally a heron will make an appearance.
A few years ago there were thousands of tiny black “froglets”, each one no bigger than your thumbnail, covering the floor of the wood, like a swarm of soldier ants,
inching their way inexorably in the direction of the pond. They were everywhere; it was very difficult not to step on one. I have seen them since but never again in
such large numbers.
Once I saw, what I think was a dormouse hanging onto a leafless twig in a hedgerow by the pond.
Earl, however, seems to be oblivious to the wildlife. A rabbit could be sitting on the path in front of us and he would probably walk straight by without giving it a
second glance. Well he might give it a sniff….JCB
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Pamela Hart (neé Geary) 1947-54
It was with some shock and sadness when I turned the page in the latest Newsletter to see the photo of the Coronation Pageant, for there in the front was my beloved
sister Monica who died earlier this year in May. This photo brought back many memories – I too was supposed to be dancing with this group but my partner, Neil Hart,
could not attend on the day as he had to attend a family wedding. I was rather cross with him at the time, but I did forgive him eventually because I married him seven
years later!
Will Francis sat behind me in LV and UVA and Neil sat next to him. John Veck was also in our form and he and Neil played football together in the 1st XI and
also travelled to school together. David Lowton was another member of the 1st XI, and more especially personal to us, he played the organ at our wedding in
All Saints Church (on the other side of Desborough Road to the school).
I feel sure that the photo was taken by Mr. Sansbury as indeed almost all photos recording school life were taken by him. I have a collection of several dozen, of YFC
events, Geography Field Trips and school teams. Many of ours are of Sports Days, mostly I have to say of Neil (I was the original refusenik when it came to Games –
to Miss Tripp’s annoyance). He was very good at taking action shots and one of my granddaughters borrowed a photo of Neil bowling (with what appears to be both
feet off the ground) and had it reproduced on a cover for her mother’s mobile phone!
Now to other memories – when I was in 4HA there was a request for someone with a very reliable watch to undertake the role of school bell ringer. I had to leave
my watch with, I believe, Mr. Salter, along with several other applicants, for him to ascertain whose watch was the best timekeeper. Mine was. The ritual was always
the same. I had to sit as close as possible to the door, with the bell prominently displayed on my desk. I had to get up as quietly and unobtrusively as possible and
take the same route through the school each time. If on the upper floor I had to run to the Boys staircase and open the door and ring the bell so that those in the
annexe could hear it, then through the lower hall and up the Girls staircase and back to where I started to pick up my belongings. On one occasion we were being
taught by Mr. Habbits – he demanded to know where I thought I was going – I told him I was going to ring the bell and he told me sit down as he hadn’t finished. I
apologised and carried on! I’m happy to say that by the time I returned he had left the room.
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Tony Hayter 1954-61
Remembering my Barton Peveril school days this morning I looked up the website and studying the 1958 school photo was amazed how many faces I still
recognised!
Using your key I think the following are correct and no doubt others will come back to me:
440 Ian Vaughan ) , 437 Keith Buckland ) my best friends , 435 Rodney? Plummer ), 399 Denise Edmonds -lived near me, 266 Terry Dewey, 283 Peter Tyrell,
297 Derek Gale - football captain ,301 Mark Crowley, 178 Margery Hines, I am 312 Anthony (Tony) Hayter.
I studied A levels in 1959 and 1960, taking Botany Zoology and Chemistry successfully. Went on to BSc Hons Agrculture, Newcastle 61-65, PhD Emanuel College,
Cambridge 65-68, (graduating in 1970) and worked in Plant Breeding and Biotechnology until 1998. Retired in 2007 and still happily retired.
I hope this is helpful
Tony Hayter
In a further email, Tony went on to add:
I owe a great deal to H N R Moore because I actually failed the 11 plus and only got accepted on interview!
I had a great time at Newcastle, and an even better one in Edinburgh when I started work there in 1968.
I enjoyed my time at BPGS, playing for the school football and cricket teams, and only just scraping the O levels, but then knuckled down.
I remembered that Zoology was taught by Miss Grey, Botany by Mr Salter and I also remember Mr Patterson in Physics because I tried to catch up, we were not
allowed to do 4 science subjects at O level then, but I was too far behind.
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Michael Arnold 1946-53
National Service?
Having left school in July 1953 one of the first things I had to do was to register for National Service. A year or so earlier and enthused by memories of Spitfires
and the Battle of Britain I had applied for an RAF flying commission and had attended a several days examination for this at RAF Hornchurch through which I passed
with
‘flying’ colours – IQ, level of education, physical fitness, speed of reactions, etc. - all that is, except eye-sight and being short-sighted it put an end to that idea.
National Service registration took place at the old Great Western Hotel near the docks in Southampton and I tried, once again, for the RAF. However one of their first
procedures was an IQ test – a test that was so very basic that a simpleton would have had difficulty in failing - or so I thought.
I completed this ‘test’ and shortly afterwards a Flight Sergeant came up to me and said ‘You got a possible chum. I’m sorry but we haven’t got any room for
intellectuals like you right now – you’ll have to go downstairs to the army’. I later discovered that a ‘possible’ was 100%.
So down to the army I went. Although not having a clue about any of the regiments, corps, and so on I was asked if I had any preference and off the top of my head
wrote down ‘RPC’ – thinking this was the Pay Corps – Engineers, and Artillery; (I later discovered that ‘RPC’ was the Pioneer Corps and not the Pay Corps so it was
fortunate that I did not end up digging ditches, etc.). Anyway then came a medical which I seemed to pass, except that I was short- sighted, and then a wait of a few
months when I was summoned to the Royal Artillery at Oswestry in Shropshire in January 1954.
For the first couple of weeks I might just as well have been in a foreign country for I was surrounded by lads from Northumberland, Yorkshire and Lancashire and
frequently hadn’t a clue what they were saying; this was a new world.
It was during one of these first days that I was walking back to our hut from the cookhouse and passed a couple of guys wearing peaked caps. I didn’t take much
notice but a voice with a distinctly fruity accent called out ‘You there, why didn’t you salute’. I was startled at this but then one of ‘caps’, who turned out to be a
Warrant Officer, said to the other ‘I don’t suppose they’ve been taught to salute yet Sir, have you son?’ I said I hadn’t, at which point the other ‘cap’ became
frightfully apologetic and said ‘Oh I do apologize, do carry on’. It turned out that the apologetic ‘cap’ was a Colonel Bowes-Lyon and a relative of the then Queen
Mother. The same sort of thing was to happen again in a few months’ time in Germany.
Then came the usual mindless square-bashing and a couple of curious lectures – one about the history and culture of the Royal Artillery given by some officer
who was exactly like Terry Thomas (if anyone remembers him) a comical character who was difficult to take seriously, and then another religious one by a
Chaplain who warned us about army language and the fact that it was not possible to have sex with your boots!
Next came a more select group from whom those who might be commissioned were to be chosen. Along with a couple of other lads I went down to Barton Stacey
for my War Office Selection Board examination – which I failed because they felt – or so they said – that I had ‘no sense of humour and none of the sensitive qualities
that were desirable in an officer’. I later discovered of course that the first hurdle I’d failed was not to have been to the right sort of school. This was really my first
exposure to the British ‘Class’ system – but more of that later.
Next came a couple of weeks at Woolwich and then I found myself posted to what was then West Germany and along with three other lads we were sent by rail to
Harwich and thence by sea to the Hook of Holland, where we joined one of four BAOR – British Army on the Rhine – trains that left daily to either Berlin, Hamburg,
Hannover or Vienna. God knows what all this cost the British government – and a country that was virtually bankrupt.
We were all on the Hannover train and heading for a town called Hildesheim, where I was lucky in that I’d been selected for a technical unit, 157 Divisional Location
Battery, which was concerned with finding enemy mortars. It was a small independent entity within a large camp mostly occupied by the 3rd Regiment Royal Horse
Artillery. By most army standards discipline was very relaxed and the CO, a grey haired Major, was a very easy-going sort of chap, but even in Germany I once again,
and quite innocently, committed the grave solecism of not saluting.
I’d been there maybe two weeks and one Saturday afternoon was walking from the HQ building back to my room and passed some man in civilian clothes. I’d never
seen him before and had no idea who he was, but we’d hardly passed each other when, just as at Oswestry an indignant voice shouted out ‘You there – why didn’'t
you salute me?’
Baffled by this, I turned and said
‘I’m sorry – Sir – but I didn’t know you were an officer’, to which came the contemptuous reply ‘Well you don’t see anyone elsedressed like this – don’t let it happen again’. He wore an ordinary sports jacket and trousers, with a white shirt and tie; he could have been anyone and I never
saw him again. I walked on thinking ‘the sooner I get out of this madhouse the better – just 19 months to go’.
Those of us at the technical edge of tracing and identifying mortar sites lived in what had been Luftwaffe officer
’s quarters, just two of us to a sizeable room withour own wash-basin, so at least the accommodation was very comfortable.
Mortar location was achieved either through the use of radar sets or microphones which had been surveyed in with precision. My own Troop used radar,
whose area of search was guided by reports from two ‘listening posts’. These ‘posts’ were placed a mile or so behind some theoretical ‘frontline’ and about
five miles apart.
.
Each post was a hole in the ground with a series of compass marked pegs in front and manned by two men. When the bang of a mortar was detected – we
were instructed in the distinct sound they made – the direction was noted from the compass bearing pegs and this was passed down by ‘phone together with
the time.
Some five miles away the second listening post did the same thing, and where the two reported compass bearings intersected was, in theory, where the radars
should search. Their findings were sent down to 25 pounder artillery somewhere else, who again in theory, demolished the mortars. It all seemed so cumbersome
and I could never help wondering how such a ponderous system could be effective in fluid combat conditions.
During one of these army manoeuvres I had been sitting in one of these holes with a signaller for some hours, and not a beep from anywhere and so we decided we’d see what the surrounding terrain around offered in the way of interest. We were about a hundred yards away when we spotted a jeep approaching in the valley below. Fearful of being caught away from our post, we crawled frantically back, covering ourselves in mud and muck in the process.
We’d just about got back into our hole when the jeep arrived and out popped the figure of a red-faced Brigadier with a small grey moustache wearing jodhpurs
and highly polished boots; we stood to attention – and saluted - as far as we could in our hole. He gazed down at our mud covered clothing in amazement and
exclaimed ‘I say, you chaps don’t need to go that far in camouflaging you know – but well done. Well done!’ Having delivered this encouragement he got back
into his jeep and was driven off.
On another occasion, we’d been in our ‘post’ for several hours with no ‘bangs’ or anything else to report, so instead of standing at the front and just staring at
compass bearings I swapped places with the signaller at the rear where I could at least listen to whatever air traffic was going on.
As luck would have it, no sooner had we change places than mortar noises started popping up all over the place. The reporting protocol was ‘Charley’ which was
the time, and then ‘Dog’ which was the compass bearing, eg. Charley 1452, Dog 135.
‘
On air’ for the first time in my life, I imagined myself as some sort of John Snagge, a famous BBC voice at that time, and so for about five minutes and withcarefully clipped enunciation I read out the Charleys and Dogs
.
For a few minutes there was complete silence but then a voice came over the waves – ‘Helleu, helleu is that you Peta?’ Total silence, and then, same voice
‘Listening post Able (we were listening post Baker), is Mr Stock with you?’ To which a North Country voice said they hadn’t seen Mr Stock. The ‘voice’ then said
‘Listening Post Baker, who has been reading out those recent co-ordinates? ‘Gunner Arnold’ I replied – to which came the repost ‘Well, what do you mean
speaking like an officer – you had me confused’.
The speaker was our Troop Commander, a captain with a double-barrelled name, tortoiseshell glasses and a small ginger moustache, a little man and the complete
epitome of Captain Mannering of
“Dad’s Army” fame. They did exist, and there were a number of times when I wondered just how we’d managed to win the war.I might add that in all of my time in Germany we were never shown a mortar or knew what one looked like.
My mother pleaded with me to re-apply for a commission – ‘It would be so nice for you’, etc. But having seen some of the commissioned types and having found
myself a very comfortable posting I decided to stay where I was. After all it was then less than two years to go. One of the guys I knew in Hildesheim was the battery
clerk. Quite a nice chap – he’d had two or three futile attempts at a commission, but being ex Harrow he was worried that without it he would be regarded as a social
failure. I didn't know what a 'social failure' was!
And there was a brighter and more logical side to life there – the Battery cricket team. The standard was reasonably high and was captained by one of the few
officers with no affectation. Permanent matting surfaced nets were in place in summer and any of us could collect cricket gear from the Battery stores and spend
summer evenings or afternoons there. We played army teams in various parts of the British Zone, the standard of cricket was fairly high and this provided an
opportunity to see other parts of the country.
Outside of army life the local town of Hildesheim was about a mile away. A pretty place Hildesheim is one of the oldest cities in northern Germany dating from
about AD 800. It had been badly damaged during the closing stages of the war and rebuilding was to be seen everywhere and in the company of various other
lads who were also in the technical grade we gradually explored the town.
Soon after arriving I bought a Pentax 35mm camera from a fellow who was being posted elsewhere, and then discovered that the local Church of Scotland club
had a photographic dark room run by a German lady of about fifty who spoke very good English. She provided a wonderful escape from the boredom of army
routine and taught me how to develop and enlarge photographs and this opened up a whole new world for me
.
It also provided an avenue for augmenting my meagre Nation Service pay. It seemed that hardly anyone else in the battery owned a camera and so I offered to
take individual or group postcard sized photos at sixpence each. This seemed cheap enough to many who took up the offer and worked well for me since each
postcard sized photo actually cost me only about a farthing – quite a nice profit margin.
Anyone visiting the camp barber emerged almost scalped, and quite by chance whilst looking around a shop in Hildesheim I spotted some inexpensive hair-clippers
and so began another – under the cover – little venture, and again at sixpence a time. Whereas I had obtained permission to advertise the photo business on the
Battery noticeboard, a little hair cutting had to be kept quiet.
Each winter just about the whole Battery moved to a large army camp at Höhne on the Lüneburg Heath for several weeks where large scale manoeuvres were
conducted involving many of the British army units. Höhne was located about a mile from what had been Belsen Concentration camp and I visited the place whilst
there in February 1955 and went round the many burial mounds. I suppose the full impact of such dreadful places has less emotional effect when you’re young
because I can recall that the reaction of myself and the friend who went with me then was little more than amazement, whereas some years later when going round
the River Kwai War cemetery in Thailand the emotional horror was quite different.
The opportunity to learn German was offered by classes organised by the Battery education officer – who also happened to be the Battery cricket captain – and
these were conducted by an elderly German lady. Very few of us took advantage of these but I did and thoroughly enjoyed them. It was about this time that I made
friends with a German who ran a music shop in Hildesheim, Herr Muller, who spoke good English. I used to pop in to see him from time to time and bought the odd
LP.
However one Saturday afternoon I went in to see him but he was nowhere in sight, only a lady I’d not seen before. So, proudly summoning up my recently learned German, I said “Entschuldigen Sie aber sprechen Sie Englisch’ (Excuse me but do you speak English) to which she replied – in perfect English - ‘No I don’t, but my husband will be back in forty five minutes!
Towards the end of my time in Germany I obtained a long weekend leave and with a friend took a train to Bad Harzburg a ski resort in the Harz mountains were we spent a couple of days sight-seeing. Whilst there we tried our hands at skiing at which we were of course quite hopeless, and frequently embarrassed by local youngsters who seem to take delight in doing loops round us on their own skis.
But my time there was not totally wasted for I made firm friend with a German student, about eighteen months younger than me, who I met in a milk bar and I had Christmas lunch with his family in 1955. Six months later he spent several weeks with my family in Chandlers Ford and I visited him and his then new wife in Frankfurt in 1966. He became a senior executive with the European Investment Bank and in 1978 my family and I visited them again, this time in Rome where he was then posted. We remain in touch and we saw them again in September 2013 by which he had retired in Trier
– just down the autobahn from Luxembourg where he’d worked for so many years.And so, at the beginning of 1956 came the end my two year experience of army service, but shortly before then and to my amazement, the officer who had been my cricket captain said to me one day
‘Arnold, if you were to sign on for three years I could almost guarantee you a commission’. I just said ‘Thank you Sir, I’ll think about it’.The CO
’s comment on my discharge papers said succinctly ‘Gunner Arnold has served in this Battery for twenty months. He is a good cricketer’.The British army and I were not impressed with each other.
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Graham Rogers 1954-59
Both myself and my father are ex Barton Peveril Students.
My father died about 15 years ago at the age of 84 and I
have been researching his early life.
During my research I came across the Bartonians website and
subsequently discovered the school photos.
I can identify myself in the 1958 photo. I’m number 427. I
should be in the 1956 photo but cannot identify myself. May
be I was sick that day! I can also identify 428 Bruce
Englefield and 441 Raymond Bruty. When I Googled Bruce I
found he had been very active in saving wildlife in Tasmania
and was honoured by the Australian Government.
The main purpose of this email is to identify my father,
Philip Marshal Rogers, in the 1926 photo he is number 68 and
he also appears in the 1928 photo number 18. I think he is
also in the 1932 photo number 153.
In researching my father’s background I wondered if there
were any school records retained in an archive which could
be available. I would very interested in following this up
if they exist somewhere.
Look forward to hearing from you,
In a subsequent email, Graham wrote:
Thank you very much for quick response. I can confirm that my father’s birthday was 09/06/1916.
He lived with his uncle, Thomas Rogers, at 67 Desborough Road in Eastleigh.
I have no idea when my father started school at Barton Peveril. I can recall him telling me that the school was in Bishopstoke. He moved from Lowestoft to live with his uncle in Eastleigh, however, I am not sure of his age at the time or when he started at Barton Peveril. Hence, any information which is available from the school records would be of great interest to me.
If you feel my email would be of interest then I would be quite happy for you to include it in your next news letter or any of the following text if its noteworthy.
I think I must have started at Barton Peveril in 1954 when it was still in Desborough Road. I lived in Twyford Road so had to cycle across town to get to school. I have vague recollections of the bike shed, the school buildings and the assembly hall. I seem to recall doing Latin at the Desborough Road site. I have vivid memories of the Latin master Mr Habbitts who used to patrol the class with a text book in his hand…..I can remember a Maths teacher Mr Woods who had an obvious nickname of ‘Chippy' and a Mr and Mrs Stone who taught Maths and English.
I recall the move to Chestnut Avenue and moving into a brand new school. I guess I must have been in the 3rd or 4th form.
Unfortunately my education was quite disrupted in the 5th year and my family moved to Ringwood. I was finally finished my Grammar School education at Brockenhurst Grammar School travelling by train to school each day. I believe Brockenhurst is now a sixth form college.
I left school and started an engineering apprenticeship which lead to very rewarding career in various aspects of engineering which included spending some of my working life as an engineer in the South Pacific.
Best wishes, Graham Rogers
Hi Graham,
Your father joined Eastleigh County School (its official
name) which was at Barton Peveril in Bishopstoke, on 13th
September 1928 and left on 27th July 1932. Working from
memory, the school moved to Desborough Road in September
1932. His uncle's occupation was recorded as Commercial
Traveller. Your father's first school was Miss Gamlen's
Private School. This was a small preparatory school run by
Miss Gamlen and her niece. The school moved a number of
times over the years within Eastleigh. He then went to
Chamberlayne Road Boys School. He left school without any
qualifications, which was not unusual in those days,
because, I understand, in order to gain the school
certificate you had to pass in every subject. Unfortunately
for the pupils at ECS at the time, I have been told by a
number of ex pupils who attended the school at this time,
their French teacher was not very good and as a consequence
many of them failed their final exams.
According to the records he did not have a job to go to when he left school. Again working from memory, the Peveril Magazine started in 1926 and was usually published twice a year, so there is a chance he was mentioned in one of these. I have an almost complete set of these and shall have a look through them when I am back home next week. Eastleigh library have back editions of the Eastleigh Weekly News on microfilm which might be of interest.
_______________________________________________
Stephen Nicholls 1950-55
Greetings from East Anglia!
I've just spent a happy couple of hours looking through the
school magazine, and the old photo's from 1951 to 1956.
The names bring back so many memories of my years at
Eastleigh County High. Jill Hendley, Oscar Holloway, Pat
Herridge, Edwin Carter ....
Now coming up to my 79th birthday, I have had a wonderful,
happy life, doing so many different things - always the
entrepreneur - in spite of getting no 'A' levels!! I left
the 'A' levels and much higher qualifications to my brother,
Peter Nicholls, who died three years ago.
My best wishes to all who read the magazine ....
Blessings from East Anglia!
PS It would be nice to hear from anyone who remembers me. My website tells anyone what I'm doing at the moment:
__________________________________
Kathleen Lockwood
We have recently been contacted by Roger Lockwood informing us of the recent passing of his mother Kathleen, who taught maths at Barton Peveril between 1969 and 1987. He would be grateful to receive any information about his mother’s time at B.P. that would be appropriate to include in a tribute to her, from pupils and staff who knew her - for example how many of her students won a place at Oxbridge etc………………..Ed
__________________________________
Veterans Hockey in the North East
In September the Pallatics visited Jersey. More about that in the next edition.
At the beginning of November I received a text early one morning from Coops (Paul Cooper), the chairman of Gateshead Hockey Club and fellow Pallatic, and the “conversation” went something like this: “Hi John fancy a game for the over 50s at Kirkby Stephen on 12th November? Sounds good … but only if you are desperate! At the moment we only have 9! OK but I won’t be offended if at the end of the day you don’t need me.”
The over 50s team, called the Gateshead Reivers, was representing the North East in a national plate competition. They had won their first round match and Coops was trying to get a team together to play the Lakelanders in the second round, but a number of his players were unavailable due to injury. If I played, at 67 years of age, I would almost certainly be the oldest player on the pitch by a long way.
Well the day came and we travelled over to the Lake District. It was cold but sunny, a perfect day for hockey. We only had 11 players and I was put in the forward line, which was out of position for me, as I usually play in defence. Most of the opposition looked to be closer to 50 than 60, so we were in for a tough match.
The game got underway. Soon we had possession and were attacking, our right winger hit the ball into their D towards the far post, their defenders failed to stop it, and who should be standing behind them, ready to sweep the ball into the net? Yes, me! I had scored my first goal since moving to the North East some 6 years ago.
The game ended 3-3, so it all came down to a penalty-flick shoot-out. Initially 5 penalties each side. Our captain chose the first three penalty takers and asked for volunteers for the other two places. I volunteered and was put in at number 5.
They won the toss and elected to go first. Our keeper made a brilliant save. So it was out turn. Our player flicked the ball hard and low, to the keeper’s right, and scored, so it was 1-0 to us. Their next flick went wide of the right post; ours went virtually in the same place as our first and we scored, so it was 2-0 to us. Both teams scored with their next flicks, so it was 3-1 to us. They scored with their next and we missed, so it was 3-2 to us. They scored with their next and final flick to make it 3-3, so it was all down to me, if I scored we would win the match.
I walked slowly from the 25 to the penalty spot. I took my time cleaning the sand from my stick, picked up the ball, and wiped it clean on my shorts. Replaced the ball on the spot and stared at the keeper, who was leaning slightly to his right, encouraging me to flick it to his left. It so happens I had already decided to flick the ball to his left. I knew if I flicked it as hard as I could, he would not be able to react quickly enough to intercept it. The only problem was, when I flick the ball hard, there is a tendency for it to lift, so there was always the danger that it would go over the bar; so I had to try and keep it low.
So here we go. I took one step and flicked the ball as hard as I could, the keeper had anticipated where I was going to place it and tried to stick out his left hand to intercept it, but the ball was moving too quickly, he couldn’t get to it in time, and it shot up into the roof of the net… I had scored! JCB
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Humour
Medical Advice
I don't understand why prescription medicine is allowed to advertise on tv or why anyone would think of trying one of the medicines after listening to the laundry list of warnings of possible side effects. But this is definitely an exception!
Do you have feelings of inadequacy?
Do you suffer from shyness?
Do you sometimes wish you were more assertive?
Do you sometimes feel stressed?
If you answered yes to any of these questions, ask your doctor or pharmacist about Cabernet Sauvignon.**
**Cabernet Sauvignon is the safe, natural way to feel better and more confident. It can help ease you out of your shyness and let you tell the world that you're ready and willing to do just about anything.
You will notice the benefits of Cabernet Sauvignon almost
immediately and, with a regimen of
regular doses, you'll overcome obstacles that prevent you
from living the life you want. Shyness and awkwardness will
be a thing of the past. You will discover talents you never
knew you had.
Cabernet Sauvignon may not be right for everyone. Women who are pregnant or nursing should not use it but women who wouldn't mind nursing or becoming pregnant are encouraged to try it.
Side effects may include:
Dizziness,nausea, vomiting, incarceration, loss of motor control, loss of clothing, loss of money, delusions of grandeur, table dancing, headache, dehydration, dry mouth, and a desire to sing Karaoke and play all-night Strip Poker, Truth Or Dare, and Naked Twister.
Warnings:
The consumption of Cabernet Sauvignon may make you think you are whispering when you are not.
The consumption of Cabernet Sauvignon may cause you to tell your friends over and over again that you love them.
The consumption of Cabernet Sauvignon may cause you to think you can sing.
The consumption of Cabernet Sauvignon may create the illusion that you are tougher, smarter, faster and better looking than most people.
Please feel free to share this important information!
LIFE IS A CABERNET OLD CHUM!
*******************************
** CHARDONNAY, Scotch, or Bourbon may be substituted for Cabernet Sauvignon, with similar results!
In this Issue my thanks go to Jonathan Prest, Pamela Hart, Tony Hayter, Michael Arnold, Graham Rogers and Stephen Nicholls for their contributions, and to Sue Davenport for choosing the humorous photos and “medical advice“.
Please send your contributions for the next issue to John Barron, 6 Lloyd Street, Ryton, Tyne & Wear, NE40 4DJ or email them to
jbarron6@sky.com
and a Happy New Year 2018
to all Old Bartonians, families and friends
The Committee looks forward to seeing
you during 2018
Friday 11th May - Our Annual Dinner
At Eastleigh College
Saturday 12th May - Reunion & AGM.
Please support us by being there !