In 1948 I was lucky enough to pass the 11-plus and win a place at Burton Boys’ Grammar School, becoming a “Grammar Grub” as such achievers were called. When I left Newhall School I still lived in Wood Lane but during the summer holidays we moved to High Street, Newhall. So new house, new school coincided. My parents were faced with a large bill to finance the purchase of all the accoutrements demanded by the school. I never did acquire all that was listed on the instruction sheet.

After the first year all my school needs were met by Harry Burnton, who had a stall on Swadlincote Market. My father bought my satchel from Mr Snow of Woodville. It was so well made that, when I left, it was still in perfect condition and was sold to another child starting secondary education.

My Grandfather Haywood presented me with a revolutionary new pen as a reward for passing the 11-plus. It was a ballpoint known as a Biro and was very expensive. In those days it cost £2 or £3. It was advertised as the pen that would write under water. Who would want this, a literary diver? I used it in the juniors but the grammar school refused to let boys use them as it was claimed that they would ruin handwriting.

Walking to school was now a thing of the past and so the Newhall boys made their way to Burton on the Midland Red, using a bus pass for free travel.

I remember being self conscious when I first put on the uniform. My cap was a bit too big. It lasted for five years! I had to walk with my head well down so that it perched on the back of my head without falling off.

The school building in Bond Street was opened in 1877 to accommodate 120 boys. In 1948 there were about 550 attending. The headmaster’s house and garden were taken over in 1929, the house being converted to a library and classrooms, and the garden filled with prefabricated buildings. The school has been demolished and is now a car park. When I visit Burton and pass Bond Street now, I am amazed that this small car park on the corner of Lichfield Street was the site of Burton Grammar School. Not only that, but the sports field that was to the west of Peel Croft has disappeared, swallowed up in road re-development and the Safeways supermarket complex.

It was from the pavilion on the sports field that my most disliked sporting activity, cross country running, started. Contemporaries will recall that after only about 50 yards the first obstacle was encountered. On the path to the main road the athletes had to pass close to a paint factory. Usually on our raceday the atmospheric conditions were such that we received the full blast of tremendously acrid fumes given off by the process. The health giving properties of the athletic activity were completely negated in the initial stage, the danger of choking being a more likely outcome.

I and a few more malingerers would proceed with the rest of the field to Stapenhill Pleasure Gardens where we would stop and wait for the competitors to return from the course which took them to Brizlincote, Winshill Water Tower, Elms Road and back to the Pleasure Gardens. We then rejoined the field ensuring that we finished low enough in the order to eliminate any chance of selection for a representative run on a Saturday morning. That would have been a disaster as I had my morning paper round to do, in addition to evening delivery of the Burton Mail. For these two rounds I was paid £2 5s (£2.25p) , a lot of money in those days, but both were large rounds.

I was very surprised on my initial entry to the school playground to notice that the surrounding walls were topped by an entanglement of barbed wire. Having suffered a few physics lessons from a certain Welsh master I realised the necessity for such an action.

It took me about three years to settle into this new environment and then I quite enjoyed myself. What could be more exciting than delving into the mysteries of quadratic equations or learning a geometric theorem. And what about that pre-calculator aid to mathematical logarithms. Remember your characteristics and mantissas?

School dinners were substantial and cheap but certainly not the delight of gourmets among us. My mother was quite shocked when the price per day was increased from 5d to 7d making the weekly cost almost 15p in present money.

The school hall was used for almost everything. It was a gymnasium, assembly room and, occasionally, a theatre. Most significantly for me though, it was used for dining purposes and there would be about 20 tables each seating 10 or 12 boys. It was the responsibility of two boys from each table to make sure that everything was in place for their fellow diners, such as the erection of the tables and placement of forms and chairs.

The food was provided by the School Meals Service and was delivered in metal canisters to the caretaker’s house some distance from the School Hall. Meals cost 5d a day when I first started but had shot up to 7d by the time I left. In current money this is 10p to 15p per week. You could, if you wished, take your own cold collation. At morning break a bun and a jam doughnut were on offer at the tuck shop on the opposite side of Bond Street. This was run by the Rawlings sisters, Lily and Gertie. The cost was 3d for two buns, 1d and 2d respectively; to buy them singly was a halypenny more each. The sisters were also unofficial school nurses, tending to minor injuries.

Boys staying for hot dinners had to take their turn to put up tables, take them down. The canisters had to be carried to the dining area and this was done in rotation by the occupants of each table. Taking the canisters to the hall was no problem as they were all clean. It was the return journey that was the nightmare. In dispensing the food, in particular custard and gravy, the outside of the canisters would be covered in drips and pieces of food which I always seemed to get on my blazer. I would sit in class during the afternoon with a crust developing on my clothing. Not a pretty sight.

A happier memory is of the Rawlings sisters dispensing buns and doughnuts to a long queue of boys at mid-morning break at the tuckshop across the way. They were also called on occasionally to minister to boys who had suffered minor abrasions.

It was on a school trip to the Town Hall that I was introduced to the delights of serious music, a lifelong pleasure, when we were taken to hear a concert by the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra specially for children. The programme contained Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf and Tchaikovski’s Nutcracker Suite, a very suitable selection for young people.

The same venue was used to hold the annual Speech Day, not the most popular day with most boys. One year a master came to our form and hoped that we would not be too disappointed.

There was insufficient room for the entire school and parents, so would we mind not attending. The same thing happened the next year and we got a day off and an apology and thanks for our selflessness!

My father transported me to school on one occasion. The bus failed to turn up and I was waiting at the stop when my father passed driving a Tunnicliffe’s bread van. He picked me up and I was transported to Bond Street in a commercial vehicle. Dear, oh dear!

Incidentally, Tunnicliffe’s of Newhall had a large grocery shop and baked their own bread The bread was delivered to each household by driving in a yellow battery powered van of which Tunnicliffe’s had a considerable fleet. They were a common sight on the streets of South Derbyshire and, to a lesser extent, Burton.

A month before the school photograph was taken the death occurred of King George VI, the present monarch’s father. Mr Pitchford, the headmaster, interrupted a double period of physics taken by Mr Smith and we all assemble in the hall. Mr Pitchford made an announcement that the King had died, ending with “The King is dead, long live the Queen”, and we were the sent home for a week’s mourning.

Mr Smith was popularly known as Brab because his ears protruded a little. Older people will recall that at the time Britain was developing a hugh aircraft called the Braberzon which had a considerable wing span. The plane was an expensive failure.

Mr Pitchford had been appointed two years previously in the most tragic of circumstances. Mr Moodey the previous Headmaster, had gone off sick just before Christmas, 1949, and was reported to be seriously ill. One morning in May, 1950, he went to Burton Railway Station and committed suicide by jumping in front of a moving train. When the police visited his Stapenhill home, they discovered the true extent of the tragedy. His wife and teenage son and daughter were all found dead as the resuly of head injuries.

Aside from being announced, strangely, this was never, ever mentioned at school. There was certainly no counselling as there would be today.

Notes on Masters

Mr Illingworth
‘Ronnie’ Illingworth was senior Geography master. He was known for being strict and no-one played him up. I used to marvel at his ability to write on the blackboard without leaving his chair. With his back to the board he could write complicated names such as Venezuela by reaching backwards over his head. He never failed.

Mr Wain
Mr Wain was a French teacher who joined the staff around 1950. In his first lesson he introduced our form to his “black book”. Anyone who misbehaved was noted in this book. He then distributed a short test paper so that he could judge who knew what. I was very bad at French and so I gave the paper a cursory glance before daydreaming. I was awoken from my reverie by a voice demanding “What’s your name boy?”. “Haywood, sir”, I replied. “You are the first person in my black book, Haywood”, he informed me “I caught you copying”. “But I have not written anything down yet sir”. “Don’t argue boy”. And that was that.

About two years later we were given the choice of taking either History or French. I hated French but loved History and so I would have no problem in selecting which one I would take. It was decided though, that the French students would be the boys who finished in the top half of the French exam and the remainder would take history. By some fluke I finished up in the top half in French and so I should have been in that group. However, when we split up into our separate groups for the first time I went with the History boys. No one ever questioned it and consequently, I took History and had some of my best moments in the class of Mr McEwan.

Mr Brown
‘Chasser’ Brown took us for both History and Geography. Often, he was absent minded and not really of this world. One day I was sitting next to Marshall my best friend and I accidentally knocked his pencil onto the floor. “Have you broken that pencil, Marshall”, Mr Brown asked. “Yes Sir”, he replied. “I will put you in detention for that”, Mr Brown said. He obviously noticed the surprise registered on the whole form. He explained, “Do you realise that there are lumberjacks in Canada having to risk life and limb just to produce timber for your pencil? You deserve your punishment”.

At the end of the week our form master Mr Corby reviewed the detention card as was his habit. “Why did Mr Brown put you in detention, Marshall?”, he asked. “Because I broke my pencil”, Marshall replied. “Don’t be silly”, Mr Corby growled, “no one would do that”. “Yes he did”, chorused the form. No more was said of it.

Mr Corby
An old naval man, Mr Corby took us for Maths. As a form master he kept his eye on the weekly ‘Good cause’ collection. When it was discussed where we would like to send the contributions at the end of the year, Mr Corby let us have a free choice as long as it was the Royal Lifeboat Society.

I recall him marking our latest end-of-term examination during a quiet period. He looked up when almost at the end and told us, “Haywood’s flagship at the moment”. He used to cycle to school from his home which I think was on Ashby Road. On wet days he wore waders and it was my job, usually, to pull them off his raised leg. My common ploy was to grasp his leg firmly and pull him, hopping, down the gap between the desks. It usually got a snigger from the rest of the form.

Mr Smith
‘Brab’ Smith had a very powerful voice and, should you provoke his displeasure, his voice would ring round
the school. He was a master who I liked. He took us for Physics and it was during a double period with Mr Smith on Feb 7th 1952 that the headmaster, Mr Pitchford, entered the lab, whispered something to Mr Smith and left. Mr Smith continued the lesson but at the end told us to go to the main hall where the entire school had gathered. Mr Pitchford then announced the death of King George VI and we then went home after a short service.

Mr Pitchford
He was my first form master and History master. It was he who fired my enthusiasm for history, particularly of the locality. I also thoroughly enjoyed a memorable talk given by Mr H J Wain on the history of Bretby. During my time as Mr Pitchford’s pupil I still marvel at the wonderful “Wulfric Spot”

Mr D M Davies T.D.
He was my form master for a year and also took Woodwork and P.T. Although I was useless at Woodwork, I found him an affable man. He was not very affable, however, when I knocked a bowl of stain over his meticulously kept mark book! Fortunately, I could back-pedal round the benches faster than Taffy could go forward.

Mr C F L Read
Mr Read was my Maths master for one year. He had the habit of going to the end of the gangway between the desks and as he walked towards the front of the class he flicked each boy’s ear with his ruler. Not the most endearing habit!

Mrs Lownds
She took Maths and I found her to be a good teacher although some of the boys played her up quite a lot when she became angry and raised her voice. Anyone sat near her would get a little damp with spittle, hence her nickname ‘Spitfire’. Regularly she would say to me when I was in the ‘B’ stream. “I don’t know what you are doing in this form”.

Mr Nicholson
Mr Nicholson was my Chemistry master. For 2 or 3 years, I was “Nick’s favourite”. When he arrived to take the class, he always asked for the detention card and put me in. When I protested, as I always did, his reply to me saying that I had done nothing was, “No, but you WILL”. Nick’s favourite!