Lydney Grammar School Magazine 1966.
THE MAGAZINE OF LYDNEY GRAMMAR SCHOOL
SCHOOL YEAR, 1965-66
SCHOOL '(sk-),n,& v.t.lnstitution for educating children or giving instruction
We find it difficult to link this rather bald definition with our experience and we chose the photograph on the opposite page (above) as frontispiece because it characterises so much better our impressions of school. Lounging on the steps, crowding the library, scrumming in the tuck-shop are memories that only mean anything to those who have funnelled-in through the entrance every schoolday. There are many things that we didn't like but these tend to be forgotten because the mind rejects the unpleasant. Yet our dominant impression that the school is a happy one is, we think, true and we hope that the magazine will reflect this. Our magazine has little in common with the "glossies" found in dentists' waiting rooms. In fact we think the word magazine may be rather misleading. You will not find a problem page or your horoscope. The slightly different format does, however, include some advertisments and a less conservative cover and again we have tried to introduce more drawings and photographs. In the making of any magazine such as ours there are "back-room boys" whose work is both tedious and unrecognized. Over the past years a succession of editors have had the invaluable guidance of Mr Northam who, due to the pressure of other work, is no longer able to supervise the magazine. He has always been patient and tactful of eccentricities and has always turned the task of editing into an excellent experience for those who have done it. Indeed, the magazine, as it is now, is largely his creation.
We congratulate Mr and Mrs John Morris on the birth of a son, Richard John.
There have been three staff marriages this year. On Easter Monday Mr Collins
was married to Miss Jane Nannestad. In August Mr Ogden was married to Miss
Jennifer Mitchell and Miss Croton married Mr F. Baber. They all receive our
congratulations and best wishes for the future.
For most of the autumn and spring term Mlle. Janine Dauvin helped with French conversation; her charm and vivacity were much appreciated.
The school heard with regret of the death of Mr C. Phelps last April. Mr Phelps had for some years been one of the representatives of the Gloucestershire County Council on the Governing Body of the School. In this capacity, he displayed the conscientious interest which he applied to all of his numerous local activities. We are grateful for the service he rendered so willingly and generously. There is encouraging news of Mr Culton's progress towards recovery after his operation and serious illness of last winter. No one who saw Mr Culton during his long period in hospital could fail to wonder at the amazing courage and cheerfulness he invariably showed. He has our best wishes for his complete recovery.
During the year, four members of the club, Michael Walker. David Kelsey, Jonathan Dunsdon and I, together with Mr Riddy built a canoe from a kit provided by the Gloucester Education Committee. On its completion, towards the end of the summer term we decided to use it on a short expedition down the Wye. We obtained such camping equipment as we could and as soon as the weight of '0' levels was lifted we started on our trip. Mr Riddy and Mr Lindsay-Smith took us and our equipment to a camping site just downstream from Hereford and when Mr Riddy returned from umpiring a cricket match he was met by a more or less orderly camp and what was optimistically called hot soup. That night we slept (at least some of us claim to have) under canvas and the next day set out to canoe to another camp site just above Ross. We had three canoes, our home-built one, Mr Riddy's fibreglass double-seater and another double-seater borrowed from the County centre at Cannop. The weather was excellent and we were all "done to a turn" though I objected to my partner using river water as gravy. In the evening we set up camp again and woke up the following day eager (eager?) for another day's paddling. On this second stage of our trip we went on down river but this day proved a little more eventful since we had to shoot two fairly serious rapids at Lydbrook and Symond's Yat. Indeed, two of the party, who demand to remain anonymous, succeeded in grounding the cumbersome County canoe at Lydbrook. However, the small hole was patched and we arrived safely, if a little wet, at the Biblins where we ended our trip which had been, despite the blisters, extremely enjoyable. Our canoe, which we named 'Dean Forester' is now at the Cannop centre where it is used by schools and clubs from all over the area. P. SELBY, 5 alpha.
For yet another year the book club ran smoothly with the help of Mr Lindsay-Smith and the form secretaries. There was great enthusiasm about the new books which were offered in the quarterly magazines and several orders for more than twenty books were sent to Scholastic Publications. The books were delivered very quickly and everyone was pleased with the glossy-covered paper-backs and discovered that they had more enjoyment from the books by exchanging them among themselves. In the middle of July we were offered thirteen books from the 1965-66 selections and five previous favourites at greatly reduced prices in a Summer Sale and these bargains proved very popular . ANNETTE CHARLES (Club Secretary).
THE RECORD CLUB
This year the Record Club moved to the music room where we had the benefit
of the new stereophonic equipment. Unfortunately this did not seem to induce
a larger audience; the same staunch half-dozen or so adherents supported
the club each Friday. The programme included the old favourites, symphonies
by Beethoven and Tchaikovsky, which did succeed in attracting a larger number
of Sixth Formers than some of the more modern works like Stravinsky's "Rite
of Spring". Let us hope that the number of enthusiasts will be swelled
in the coming year by music lovers from the present Fifth Form.
D. WILLETTS, 6 Sc A.
Does a violin class create the right atmosphere on a Monday morning ?
THE FILM SOCIETY
When this year's committee took over the Film Society in September, we inherited an already well drilled organisation but we decided to try to improve conditions somewhat. The equipment was augmented by a larger screen and a trolley for the projector. By the gentle art of persuasion we procured a trolley together with a pot of paint which was soon to cover up the cracks and bald patches on the screen. Most of the complaints about the quality of sound were quelled when we began using amplifying equipment belonging to the music department. Following the maxim that " Advertising pays" we bought a new notice board which was placed in an excellent position near the more essential notices like dates of holidays. We continued the season-ticket system used in previous years, although sales were a little slow at first. In theory, we are a non-profit-making organisation but if, as has occasionally happened, we have made a slight profit it has been banked in the hope of obtaining a new projector sometime in the future. Finally I must offer both the committee's and my own sincere thanks to Mr Lindsay-Smith who gave a great deal of his time and limitless energy to assisting and guiding us. J. THOMAS, 6 Arts A.
The result of the 1966 collection for the blind was a tie between IL and IS: each form collected £6 7s. 3 alpha came next with £4 14s. The total collected was £53 6s. 6d. A cheque for £6 was forwarded to Dr. Bamardo's Homes after the individual collecting-boxes had been opened. The collection was organised by Sheila Milner . The collection of milk bottle tops and other aluminium foil is continuing and a second consignment will be sent to the Guide Dogs for the Blind Society next term. Used postage stamps are still required for the Cancer Relief Fund, and should be put in the box which is now inside the Commerce Room. The profits from the school concert will be sent to the Marie Curie Memorial Foundation, which maintains hospitals for cancer sufferers and finances research. M.M.
THE SCHOOL CONCERT
It was decided to have a school concert again this year, realising that the tradition begun four years ago should be maintained. Once again over a third of the school took part, either as soloists or in the two choirs; great enthusiasm was especially shown by the lower forms in supporting the junior choir . The first half of the concert was devoted to the solo performers and the junior choir. Hilary Leach played the oboe, Peter Weavers the horn, and there were piano solos by Susan Ridler, Pat Vedmore, Stephen Thomas, Julian D' Aubyn and Martin Rice, Unfortunately Stephen Thomas arrived at school three minutes after his solo had been announced in the hall, which gave the perspiring compere some very anxious moments. The guest artist was Derek Hyde, a former Head Boy of the school, who played two contrasting solos by Chopin and Gershwin. After the interval the junior and senior instrumental ensembles performed. The juniors had been learning the violin for only ten months, and everyone was impressed by their competent performance. The senior choir rounded off the evening with the main work, Schubert's Mass in G. We had had remarkably few rehearsals for this, for the choir had been disorganised by '0' and' A ' level exams. Choir practices after school are always hampered by other activities and the difficulties of getting home, so we were forced to have last- minute practices during school hours. Nevertheless we managed to learn the Mass relatively easily and our efforts possibly produced a higher standard than ever before. We certainly enjoyed singing it. For our success all credit goes to Mr Phillips who inspired us with his boundless enthusiasm and who remained confident, in spite of the very unmusical noises which we at first produced. KATHRYN LLOYD, 6 Sc. A.
At five to four on Fridays, school ends for the week and the usual race for
the school buses takes on an additional fervour . Through this satchel-swinging
rush we, five Sixth Formers, used to stroll to Mr G. Jones' workshop clad in
laboratory coats liberally annointed with multicoloured chemicals and various
slogans (slanderous to the Milk Marketing Board), and trailing spatulas, splints
and test-tube holders. A few minutes later we would re-appear from the workshop,
moving at an even slower pace and staggering under the weight of large flats.
These flats were taken to the hall and, once there, put on the stage and erected
into what we hoped was a reasonable scene ready for that evening's performance.
How we actually held many of the flats in place was very kindly left to us
but we managed to over- come the difficulties by visits to the metalwork shop
for bolts and angle-iron, and to the school office for drawing-pins. Not all
the flats were complete for the rehearsals however; some were held up by little
more than string and will-power! One member of the cast seemed intent on testing
each new piece of scenery as it arrived on the stage and was justly rewarded
one evening when the arch he was leaning on fell over . During the early days
of the production we stage-hands were forced to wage a ceaseless battle with
the lighting department. We would clear a space on the stage and go down to
the workshop to get a flat. When we returned, our previously vacant space would
be cluttered up with coils of cable, spot-lamps and someone working up a ladder.
Vigorous shaking of the ladder usually resulted, one way or another, in the
electrician returning to ground level, there to be shown the error of his ways
by Sid brandishing Mr G. Jones' big screw-driver. As the school performance
drew near the pressure of our job eased a little in that while an act was being
performed we were rather at a loose end. An enterprising member of the team
produced a pack of cards and we settled down back-stage. Then it was all over.
The flats which once we had guarded against all predators were lowered into
a damp grave in the Pavilion. Perhaps they will be re-incarnated for future
productions by those to whom the sentiments, etched on their backs, of "Tapper
wuz 'ere" and other profundities will mean nothing. Thinking back, it
is our unanimous opinion that we wouldn't have missed our job for anything,
and, despite the work, it was a stimulating distraction from the miseries of'
A' level. M. WALKER, 6 Sc. B.
Have you ever tried making-up a worm ? You should. But really the cast was quite co-operative. when you consider how they must have been feeling. For several months beforehand the make-up team, under Mr Barlow's instruction, practised in readiness for the play. When we think back we often wonder how he managed to stay calm at the sight of some of our efforts! Then on the first evening we rounded up our victims. They were either climbing into their elaborate costumes with flapping coat tails, floppy hats and boot-laces, or leaving the trial of being made-up as late as possible. The fun we had playing noughts and crosses with greasepaint on an irate Spettigue's back distracted us from our butterflies. At the same time we were trying to adjust the cast's appearances to fit the parts. To complete the make-up we passed them on to be powdered by Mr Barlow, the only person capable of controlling them at that stage of the evening. Under the glare of stage lights the make-up didn't last long. This was where the "powder monkeys" came in, armed with powder and puff to repair any damaged make-up. Helping with "Charley's Aunt" was a memorable occasion and we are sure we can speak for everyone in saying what good fun it was. CAROLE RICHARDS, NICOLA REISSNER, 4 alpha
A conventional account of the recent L.G.S. production would give little idea of the atmosphere of rehearsals or the wonderful time we had. So after thanking Messrs. Northam, Ogden, Barlow, Stevens, Jones, Perkins, Winspear and Miss Lancastle, Miss Davies and Miss Powell, I shall simply relate the following incidents, which still stick in my mind. The sight to be seen on many Friday evenings in the Sixth Form room might have given any stranger some serious misgivings. Four outstretched bodies on the tables were chanting mysterious words in monotonous tones-but all doubts would have been dispelled when the chant was heard to be nothing more harmful than, "It's a sweet evening" and " All's well, sweet bells, all's well". Absence from the stage of one of these groups or total absence of one member of the cast (fortunately rare) involved the necessity for substitute actors. Once Donna Lucia was thrown into convulsions by the spectacle of Ela Delahay (alias Mr Stevens) tripping lightly (sic) across the stage with Auntie's wrap and trilling sweet nothings about moonlight. And when Molly had to rush for the Aylburton bus, Mr Jack Chesney found himself pouring forth romantic sentiments and a proposal to a different young lady every week. The unrealised talent of these noble substitutes was praised to such a high degree that it was suggested that the most able pair should perform for the audience during the interval. However due to their modesty the benefit of their brilliant performance was confined to the celebration on the last night. This produced such instant witticisms as : "Who was that lady I saw you with last night ?" "That was no lady, that was Donna Lucia d' Alvadorez", and even impromptu efforts in rhyme ;
"Oh Mister Spettigue, Why do you look so grotteskew With your hat askew ?"
Thus, with the secure knowledge that they could have done much better themselves, staff, stagehands and props all helped us through the performances. Not only moral support was given. On one occasion a young lady made a dash across stage, clutching her low-necked gown rather more tightly than usual. After she had re-emerged from the wings the hand props girl was seen to be clutching the waistband of her skirt more tightly than usual. A vital pin had been transferred and the young lady's composure restored ! Many other incidents come to mind. There was the time when the stately Donna Lucia caught an elegant heel in the matting and produced an unexpected laugh from the audience, and no-one will forget the expression on Brasset's face when he tossed back his glass of imitation whisky on the last night and found it was in fact genuine. But to our delight, the audience did laugh in the right places as well, and "Charley's Aunt" justified its popularity yet again. JANE ROSSER, 6 Arts B.
"We must get to France this year", said Will on one of those dull days
of early spring. "Oh yes ?" I enquired, mildly surprised at this greater
than usual display of eccentricity. In time, however , as the British summer
began to run its usual soggy course, the idea took root and emerged sometime
in the middle of our' A' level exams as a plan for the most ambitious hitch-hike
Raymond Williams and I had yet attempted. We were to see as much of France as
possible, camping on the way. So it was that August 6th saw two hairy-Iegged
Englishmen boarding a cross-channel steamer. They were carrying carefully packed
rucksacks, each sporting an old Coronation Union Jack, unashamedly proclaiming
their nationality. We were ready for anyone except, perhaps, "Le General" himself.
We had expected some hostility towards "les Anglais", but instead we
encountered kindness and hospitality wherever we went. On the second day a woman
picked us up near Orleans during a torrential downpour, dropping us off at Meung-sur-Loire,
where she lived. She would have put us up at her house, but as she did not have
enough room, she directed us to a house she was having built in the town, where
we could sleep out of the rain. We found a house, but to this day we are not
sure whether it was the right one. Further on at Tours, now in brilliant sunshine,
we were suddenly startled by an ambulance screeching to a halt. Out jumped a
superefficient nurse who pushed us inside, shouting at the top of her voice and
ending "Vite! Vite !" It was only when she raced off again that we
realised what she wanted. She was carrying a patient who appeared to be in a
state of delirium, and we were required to tend her and hold her still. We hurtled
along at breakneck speed, often on the wrong side of the road with the siren
sounding to warn other motorists. She took the corners like a Grand Prix driver
and in no time at all we had reached Angers where our nurse put us down, thanked
us hastily but very sweetly, and rushed off up a turning to the hospital. That
night we had to camp in a meadow by the roadside. In the morning we were surprised
to see an old cowman wearing clogs coming towards us. Instead of chasing us off
as trespassers he held out his hand, wished us a polite good morning, and began
a long and interesting conversation. He told us of his experiences in the trenches
in the First World War, asked us what we were going to do for a living, how were
the Beatles, did we like France, and so on. He had the knack of talking in a
French that even we could understand perfectly. We broke our journey at La Baule,
a plushy resort in Southern Brittany which boasts "la plus belle plage de
l'Europe". And certainly with seven miles of sand with a casino in the middle
we were inclined to agree. Life at La Baule was simple. We lay for hours in the
sun, and lived on kilos of fresh fruit and vegetables which we took with us to
the beach. All we had to cook were some freshly caught sardines from the street
market. We occasionally eked these out with mussels picked from the rocks. On
our way south we stayed with a jovial market gardener who had given us a lift
in his old but very reliable Morris Oxford. In the morning we were treated to
gallons of real French coffee and long loaves dipped into an enormous pot of
honey taken from their own hives. Three more lifts and we were near the Spanish
border. It was at this point that we met Henri, a dentist from Bourges, who was
driving towards Barcelona. He took us into Andorra for a day and even stood us
a five course lunch at a restaurant on the way. He seemed to epitomise all the
most likable characteristics of the French, especially generosity. He was full
of a self-confident bon-homie which showed itself most when he indulged in playful
argument, criticizing English girls and English food while we insulted de Gaulle
and cursed France's lack of good pubs. Henry took us to Perpignan on the Mediterranean
before continuing his journey. He even left us an invitation to visit him when
he arrived home again. After two days at Perpignan we raced for Paris, spent
a quick two days and a good many francs in traditional sightseeing, and then
set off for home. The whole fascinating trip of just over three weeks cost us
only nineteen pounds each. Of course we are not stopping here. This year we are
off to Istanbul- N. TAYLOR, 6 Sc. A.
In a crisis, would the Tuck Shop become a second Noah's Ark?
It is a strange fact, but true none the less, that some pupils seem to have an innate ability to push their elbows, and in some cases, even knees, through the walls. Of course, cardboard offers very little resistance to sharp extremities. Fortunately this only happens in the "newer, temporary" part of the school built before the war but it does have the effect of making the original building, which is of stone, seem a strong and secure structure-which it isn't. A major failing is that the assembly hall must also serve as a dining room. Honours boards and shields are mixed incongruously with serving-hatches and tables and there is a magnificent view of the dustbins from the pitifully small stage. In between hymn verse~ we may hear cutlery being sorted or sniff the delicate odours of the day's lunch. Then there is that architectural chaos around what was the old assembly hall and is now the Sixth Form room and library. The Sixth Form room itself can easily be compared with a railway station, offering little more protection or warmth in the bad weather and very often a lot more noise. This doesn't help when it is realised that the library is really an alcove of this 'barn' and this makes concentration on literature (should anyone by chance want to concentrate on literature) difficult. Shelving accommodation is completely inadequate and the library is far more of a general rendezvous than a reading-room. An even more popular part of the school is the tuck-shop. This is a tiny room which cannot hope to accomodate all the assistants needed to satisfy the craving of pupils for crisps and chocolate and is therefore congested every lunch and break-time. There is also a sinister rumour that the greenhouse, which has a great many more uses than growing plants, is about to fall from its supports and the possibility of its crushing the tuck-shop to an even smaller size cannot be ignored. Just beyond the tuck-shop, in the darkest depths of the school behind a small blank door is the chemistry lab. This is the only door incidentally and the room would be a death-trap in a fire. Ventilation is ridiculously inadequate and the fume cupboards simply don't work. Anyone who has ever stood in front of a class will surely appreciate what a difficult task teaching becomes when you can't see the back of the form! Of course, new labs are on the way. Indeed, the new Physics block has been in use for over two years but it stands in complete isolation in a far corner of the grounds. If you don't get wet in walking from the main buildings in rainy weather you are very likely to be soaked by the drips seeping through the holes in the roof or get wet feet by stepping in one of the strategically-placed beakers. Admittedly, we have playing fields which are the envy of many urban schools and on a hot summer's afternoon they are the ideal situation for cricket or athletics. However, the buildings are far too close for comfort and the windows are in constant danger of being broken by stray cricket balls. But then, windows aren't the only fitments that get broken. All through the school there are many minor faults: paint is quickly chipped, lamps are cracked, even smashed, door-handles come off in your hand and the wooden steps onto the field are falling apart. Better buildings would probably induce better care. Another fitment with an obscure use is the recently-acquired fire alarm. This is surely a complete waste of money since when the bells were "accidently" switched on no-one even bothered to look up, let alone rush out in panic to fetch the hose-pipes. Besides, the system itself is a hazard with acid-filled batteries set on a low shelf in a notorious part of the school. Perhaps if someone would pluck up enough courage to drop a lighted match, we would be compelled to have new buildings. They could not fail to be an immense improvement on our present ramshackle surroundings. KATHRYN LAYCOCK, 5 alpha.
MY ROCKER-DA Y POP "You are old", said the youth, "and I do think it odd That you dress like a latter-day rocker , At Brighton last year you fought like a mod, Why have you been such a shocker ?" "In my teens", said his pop as he smoothed down his sweater, "My lies were exceedingly quick, My flick-knife as sharp as a black-mailing letter, And authority just made me sick!" A. KNIGHT, 3B.
SCHOOL CAMP 1966
The railway that formerly took us, if somewhat deviously, to Charmouth is no longer open, So it was with a jubilant coach trip that the Twenty-Fifth School Camp began. This year's camp was the smallest since the war but there were also many people from school staying in Charmouth independently and the family atmosphere was even more apparent than in previous years. The contest for the greatest number of swims is a regular feature of Camp life. In the good weather we enjoyed, a few adventurous types nearly attained the maximum number: three swims per day, every day. For some of the girls, a couple of dips were unexpected and much against their will - they had all their clothes on! There were more than the usual number of football matches and a rugby match in which the staff had an extra player, an enthusiastic two- year-old who kept chasing his Daddy. Several members of the Camp went fishing in Lyme Bay and had quite good hauls, sufficient anyway to provide the Staff with an alternative to Mr Barlow's "haute cuisine". One sultry afternoon a freak incident occurred when a shaving mirror, left on the ground at thc entrance of a tent, concentrated the sun's rays. The reflected beam burnt neat, charred holes through the best jackets that were hanging up inside and then reached the open again through the roof of the tent. Only then did the smoke and smell rouse the sleepers. The Camp Social was again a great success and for the first time at Charmouth we hired a local group, "The Undecided", who provided the "music". The evening singing was helped along somewhat by a budding "Donavan" and his guitar. As tents were falling all round us, the coach arrived and drifting across an almost empty camp-site came strains of "They're coming to take us away Ha! Ha! ...". CATHERINE BRAMBELL, 6 Arts B. GEOFFREY BEECH, 6 Sc. B.
This year's was the twenty-fifth school camp. The first was held in 1935 and run by the then headmaster, Mr J. C. Burch. Mr Pitt was at that camp, as was Mr Thomas, who was at that time a University student. The numbers then were 22; the only girls were the Headmaster's daughters. Mr Pitt, who took over the organisation two years later, and Mr Thomas were at all five camps before the war, Mr D' Aubyn at three, and these were held at Seatown, near Bridport. It was 1947 before the next camp could be organised but from then on the succession was unbroken. The site continued to be at Seatown until 1953 and numbers steadily increased. From 1954-62 nine camps were held at Saundersfoot in Pembrokeshire and at one of these there were a hundred and forty people. Some wet summers there prompted a move back to Dorset; it was to Charmouth this time, where the last four camps have been held. Since the war Mr Barlow and Mr D' Aubyn have, we believe, been at every camp. Mr Barlow, as at school, is first to arrive with an advance party and last to leave. His organisation of the cooking and knowledge of those black stoves that are a mystery to others is invaluable. Mr D' Aubyn's good company is an equal asset. Mr Pitt, to use his naval parlance, is Quartermaster and Executive Officer and has been there from the beginning. Most Twenty-Fifth Anniversaries represent an achievement of one kind or another and it is a considerable one to have provided countless successful holidays as these members of staff have done. -ED.
About two years ago I was discussing future engineering projects with the Headmaster, and suggested building a traction-engine. By this I meant a scale model. The Head, for one dreadful moment, imagined ten tons of machinery clanking around the school. Possibly this short misunderstanding led him to wonder if the technical forms could possibly build a petrol-powered field-roller . This idea captured my imagination, and every boy I mentioned it to seemed equally enthusiastic. This enthusiasm lasted until "the roller" was in regular use on the playing-fields. Many people have asked how the various parts were found. It might appear that trying to find a particular component, that may or may not be lying unused in any scrap-yard or rubbish-heap, would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Actually it is far more like looking for a very small quotation in a very large library. It is possible to narrow the search very quickly by knowing where suitable components are used and their rusting-places when discarded. Finding their owners is in fact sometimes the more difficult task. In one case this proved impossible ! It is impossible to describe in detail how the roller was made. I have therefore picked out two problems of the dozens that arose. R.E.J.
CONSTRUCTING THE ENGINE AND GEAR-BOX SUBFRAME
The engine used was intended to drive some stationary machine such as a bench-saw or pump but in the roller it was to drive through a motor-car clutch and gear-box. A frame had to be designed and made to hold the shaft of the gear-box concentric and in line with the shaft of the engine. The makers of the clutch specified that the shafts must not be out of line by more than two thousandths of an inch. The engine and gear-box were stripped so that the problem became one of aligning two long holes. This was to be done by passing a shaft right through, rather like poking a pencil through two cotton-reels. However, the holes were different sizes and so a shaft had to be specially made. This shaft was made one thousandth of an inch smaller than the holes so that it could just be rotated. The frame was then welded up. Here a new problem arose. Although the shaft was over two inches in diameter the heating and cooling of welding would bend both it and the frame. This was overcome by welding first one side and then the other so that the bending stresses cancelled one another out. To prove that this had been successful we turned the shaft. If the frame had bent more than the two thousandths of an inch allowed then the shaft would have jammed because there was only one thousandth clearance in each hole. G. CLEAVER, 6.Sc.B.
I took over the design when all the components had been collected and the problem was to fit them together in the best possible way and then design a suitable frame. This had to be done on a drawing-board because the parts were far too heavy to mock up. Scale drawings were made of each component: front roller, rear roller, engine and gear-box; and of course the driver, his seat and his controls. The detail work had been completed and therefore "rear roller" included its brake, drive-wheel and all associated components. Sketches were used to find the best arrangement. It was rather like packing a suitcase except there were many more considerations than merely getting the lid shut. Scale drawings of the whole machine followed. The difficulty was to make sure the parts did not conflict with one another, and they could do this in the three spatial dimensions. It is for this reason that engineers draw at least three views, looking from the side, the front, and the top, and all three are always considered together . A. DREW, 6 Sc.B.
The shock of suddenly being a member of a teaching staff after so lately being a pupil was rather a pleasant one. I could sit in an easy chair in the staff room (that hitherto awe-inspiring sanctum), drink tea at break-time and help myself to lunch in the least noisy part of the canteen. My school-days were not, however, so far back in the dim and distant past for me not to blush when reprimanding a child for throwing water at the dinner table, passing a note slyly under the desk or especially for talking incessantly. I had decided to leave school at Christmas and try to earn some money before entering college in September. I applied to Shire Hall for a temporary teaching post and after one month's observation at a Lydney primary school I was sent to another local school, replacing a member of the regular staff who was away owing to illness. It was here that I received my first coveted pay cheque and my first never-to-be-forgotten experiences as a teacher. The children at this school were hardly easy to deal with and I learned from bitter experience how to control a class. My Forest accent and my knowledge of certain unprintable expressions also improved but at least I was kept entertained by the children. They were obviously unaware that I was not married and constantly referred to me as Mrs Laycock. When I pointed out this error to one boy he was flabbergasted and asked in horror, "En't 'yer married Miss?" My first weeks as a teacher were extremely useful because I realised, with a sigh of relief, that I had chosen the right career and I also decided which age group appealed to me most. Although some of the infants insisted on kissing me each morning and declaring that they loved me I found I preferred the junior age. After Easter I went to another local school where I was in charge of a class of nine to eleven year-olds. I had to teach subjects in a wide curriculum and my biggest problem was the arithmetic. Not being the world's greatest mathematician, I have found the phrase "see if you can work it out for yourself first" and keeping my fingers crossed very useful when I have been more "stuck" than my pupil. Usually I have been lucky and the bright ones have unintentionally shown me the way out of a problem. My months of teaching have left me with some valuable experience and a layer of academic rust as far as my own education is concerned. However I have found preparing lessons on how we get our milk and what happens when we put a jam-jar over a lighted candle a pleasant change from history essays. I can now look forward to life at college and learning how to do it all properly. VIVIENNE LAYCOCK.
Was the skeleton stolen from the Ghost Train at Barry Island ? Should some of the prefects be put in glass cases ?
Roller duty's an awful bore,
It really makes our hands so sore,
Every break when it is fine,
We must roll along the line.
Up and down, it's nearly done-
But then there's still the other one.
At last the roller's put away;
Alas! There is no time to play,
The buzzer's gone, it's time to go,
Collect your books and Tally Ho !
SUSAN ROGERS, JULIE KYTE, 2A.
Early in the morning, about eleven o'clock
, We set off for Tardebigge(l) for to find a dock-
Full of big botes, and our bote
Was little. (Of us there were six, of berths there were four),
So we filled it up with literature and slept on the floor .
Then we had a cup of tea.
We learnt to start the motor ,
We learnt to turn the rudder ,
The bote set off one way,
So the canal went another(2).
And we had a cup of tea.
Saturday the sky was bleak; it soon began to snow.
We had a cup of tea. ..(k), and to Worcester we did go.
'Twas not the engine weak, but rather the tidal flow,
That on the first day of the week, made our progress very slow
Lento, pianissimo, diminuendo. ..
On Monday we went to Wolverley And loand bespode
The bote broke d o w n.
So we pulled it (and had a cup of tea).
So did we also on Tuesday. ..
And Wednesday. At Kinver
They pulled us from the water and freed
Our screw which was clogged with rag and weed,
And therefore on Thursday we trebled our speed.
And it was cold. And they stuck a nut on( 4).
Here "inspiration" fails us, but on the Friday we approached Wolverhampton from the west and ascended twenty-one locks to reach the city centre. While we ate our dinner a noble bode went back to get the mooring stakes. In the afternoon we drove through Britain's second longest tunnel (six thousand miles(5) ); We arrived at Birmingham in the darkness and started a fruitless search for hot cross buns.
Finally, a sunny(ish) day appeared,
So we scrubbed the bote as.we neared Tardebigge.
"Did you get the message ?", a voice cried ;
"No, what was that?" we replied;
"Well. ..you're doing a Graaand Job".
And we live hoppily everyly afterwards.
The following objects fell in :
A big black dog, a lock key, a foot,
Another lock key and a pair of knees.
Notes to the text:
(1) Just East of Bromsgrove.
(2) It wasn't our fault.
(3) Please accept our humble apologies for the whole verse.
(4) We had a cup of tea/coffee.
(5) For "miles" read "yards".
R. M. DAY, J. M. RICE, 6 Sc. B.
A RESIDENTIAL COURSE AT SANDYWELL PARK
A wave of apprehension suddenly swept through us as the car approached the
imposing entrance to Sandywell Park, near Cheltenham, where Patricia Wilcox,
Annette Charles and I were to spend a week on a residential course. This
feeling was still with us even as we passed through the main hall and up
the stairway to our dormitory, smiling at the unfamiliar faces which peered
inquisitively at us as we laboured under the weight of our cases. We found,
however, that we were in the largest dormitory, sharing it with seven other
equally nervous girls. We thus had the advantage of being able to "break
the ice" and from then on found it quite easy to mix freely with the
thirty girls, from all over Britain, with whom we were to live for the next
week. The course began on Sunday with a very enjoyable session of "poise
through movement", by which we learnt, not without giggles, to express
our emotions through dance. This was followed by a service in the chapel,
and then in the afternoon we all dressed ourselves in slacks and walking
shoes and somewhat reluctantly set off on a "short hike". We trudged
wearily up steep country lanes, clambered over stiles and through hedges,
and ploughed through snow-drifts and deep mud. Needless to say we arrived
back late for tea, wondering why we ever went there. We relaxed a little,
however, when in Gloucester the next day we were thrilled to be given the
opportunity to sit in the grey plush seats of the Council Chambers in Shire
Hall, where we were given a lecture on the British Constitution. This visit
certainly raised the spirits of the local girls, including ourselves, reminding
us that home was not all that far away. At the demonstration of floral decoration
the following morning we were amazed at the magnificent sprays which seemed
to drift into the vases before our eyes. But we were awakened from our haze
of blissful peace when instructed to split into small groups and ordered
to "follow the course on the map". Unfortunately our group lost
its way and trudged an unnecessary two miles all because of one misleading
footpath. We hobbled along the last stretch of road in drizzling rain, only
to be met with cries of "Oh, you're back !" from other girls who
had arrived almost two hours previously. By the evening we had recovered
enough to listen to a lecture given by a beauty consultant which prompted
a rush to the mirrors and a critical analysis of our various faults as we
laboriously massaged our faces according to instructions. On Wednesday we
were eagerly pursuing such new activities as archery, canoeing, golf, fabric-printing
and brass-rubbing. The canoeing fans had the opportunity of visiting the
new sports centre at South Cerney. The next morning the smart and sophisticated
Spa of Cheltenham was roused by a horde of effervescent girls scurrying around
trying to find some Spa Water, and taking rubbings of various objects in
the Promenade. The latter occupation was met with gaping mouths and amused
glances when we asked passers-by to sign our rubbings. Friday, the eve of
our departure, was spent looking on at a cookery demonstration. Many of the
delicacies made that morning were used in the evening when the girls attending
the course held an "At Home" for visitors and the organisers of
the course. Fortunately the "At Home" was carried out splendidly
and the course was rounded off by an unexpected, but optional, midnight hike,
during which we walked about ten miles in the peaceful moonlit countryside.
We returned to Lydney greatly refreshed by this residential course. We had
learnt some of the qualities of community 1ife- co-operation, tolerance,
and good-humour-and we had developed a spirit of adventure, with a deeper
sense of responsibility as a result of the week at Sandywell Park.
JUDITH SEYS, 6 Arts B.
614 SQUADRON A. T .C.
Eastercamp this year was held at R.A.F. Old Sarum near Salisbury. Old Sarum is not an operational station but is known as the "Joint Warefare Establishment" and is run by a staff of officers from all three services and the U .S. and Canadian Armed Forces. Courses deal particularly with air/ground strike operations and paratroop tactics. If the week had gone as planned there would have been a very full programme, but the organisers had reckoned without the British climate. This can be excused however who expects it to snow in April ? The immediate consequence of the snow was the cancellation of all flying and gliding off the airfield but some hope was still held out for our visit to Lyneham the next day. Here we were due for a flight in a Comet 4 of Transport Command, but the snow and slush on the runway, combined with poor visibility, soon put paid to that. Despite the weather we were all suitably impressed by what must be one of the largest and most modern R.A.F. stations. Touring the station we saw the hangers where Comets and Britannias, including one that had been used in the Zambian airlift, were being serviced, the Operations Room where details of Transport Command flights all over the world were tabulated on a huge map and two flight simulators for crew training. Here a sadistic airman repeatedly tormented the frustrated pupils by cutting an "engine" at the crucial moment of take-off. Over the weekend the weather cleared considerably and visits to Bournemouth, Old Sarum Castle, Woodhenge and Stonehenge were able to go ahead as planned. At Stonehenge a member of the party was 'sacrificed' before an audience of astonished tourists as a retribution to the weather gods. We were duly rewarded when it began to pour with rain ! Probably the most successful yisit was to the experimental establishment at Boscombe Downe. We were somewhat surprised at going here because this normally secret establishment is re- sponsible for testing and developing air weapons and evaluating newaircraft. We were all fascinated by the huge variety of aircraft to be found there and in particular by the giant Short Belfast freighter which is just entering squadron service. We were shown over this aeroplane by a Short's engineer who answered all our questions however trivial. Fascinating as all the aircraft were, our attention was constantly drawn to a sleek, white painted plane standing somewhat apart from the others. The sole surviving TSR2, subject of so many political rows, was a sad sight as it stood on the tarmac in a pool of greasy water. There was a forlorn atmosphere of something that had promised so much and fulfilled so little. Now it has found a permanent resting place, as a museum piece, at the College of Aeronautics, Cranfield. Although everything did not go completely as planned everyone enjoyed themselves and the spirit of the camp was maintained even on the journey home when the train broke down ! Cadet Cpl. M. WALKER.
Through the A.T.C. at school I applied for a Flying Scholarship and went to R.A.F. Biggin Hill for ability and medical tests. After this I was recommended for further training and at Whitsun the date of the course came through. On June 30th I was packed and off to Wolverhampton, not knowing what was in front of me for the next three weeks. I arrived at the aero club in the morning and after being introduced to the instructors and the aircraft, I was taken up in a Piper Colt for a "joy ride" as the Chief Flying Instructor called it. This ended in half an hour with my taking control and attempting to get both of us down whole. After lunch the work really started. A new exercise was started with a lecture and then we went into the air to put it into practice. After a hard day I was glad to get to bed in the caravan where another cadet and I lived. Each morning started at nine o'clock with breakfast and we' continued flying until dusk if the weather was good. In two days I progressed from taking control to aerobatic manoeuvres,with starting-up procedure, take-off and landing and level flying in between. During the compulsory aerobatics some of the other cadets saw their dinner, which had been very good, more than once. After three hours dual I was ready to go solo but unfortunately my student pilot's Licence hadn't arrived, so I had to start on the second part of the course. This included forced landings with and without power in a field, (actually we passed over at about fifty feet), overshoot procedure on landing, and take-offs and landings- upwind, downwind, and crosswind. The licence still hadn't come, so I started on section three. This contained map reading from the air and cross-country flights to other aerodromes. The first "foreign" aerodrome I visited was Birmingham. We flew in in formation with a Chipmunk and caused quite a stir; it was the first time in years that this had happened. This was followed by a cross-country flight to Kidderminster, Stourport, Oakengates and Wolverhampton, and a second to Stoke-on- Trent, R.A.F. Cosford, Halfpenny Green and back to Wolver- hampton. But there was still rio licence and I was grounded for two days because on a Flying Scholarship course a cadet must go solo in ten hours or discontinue and I had done nine hours forty minutes. There was plenty to do in Wolverhampton at night as the instructors showed us, but no more of that. We were now getting in at one and two o'clock and reluctant to get up. At last the long-awaited licence came and up I went-solo. It was the most exhilarating ten minutes I have ever experienced. I did the first and second cross-countries solo, and prepared for the third. This had to be done solo first time although it was the longest. This took me to Lichfield, Northampton and Leicester. All I had to do now was the final flight test. I still had seven hours left so I did some revision on cloud and instrument flying and a conversion to another aircraft. On the last day but one I took the flying test and exams on aviation law, navigation and meteorology and mechanics. I was pleased when the Chief Instructor told me I had passed and now I could go home with a Private Pilot's Licence and nineteen dual and eleven solo fiying-hours behind me. Cadet Sgt. A. MORGAN.
During the first week of August Cadet Corporal Selby and I, together with twenty-seven other cadets from Gloucestershire and Nottinghamshire, attended Summer Camp at R.A.F. Gutersloh as guests of the 2nd Tactical Air Force in Germany. R.A.F" Gutersloh has quite a history. It is the R.A.F. base nearest the Iron Curtain; the actual 'plane furthest east is a Spitfire spending a peaceful retirement on display by the Main Gate. The Luftwaffe first cut the station out of a forest in 1935 and during the war both bombers and paratroopers were based there. After the war the R.A.F. moved in ard the station played an important part in the Berlin AIrlift of 1948. Among the oddities of the station are its six-hole golf course-the other three were eaten by moles- and the fact that one of its former squadrons boasts the "World's Fastest Tortoise", At present four squadrons are based there : Nos. 2 and 4 sqns. flying Hunters, No.18 squadron with Wessex helicopters and No.19 squadron with Mk. 2 Lightnings. During the week we had the usual visits to the various squadrons, and others to the rifle range, flight simulator, armoury, police-dog compound (where we saw a massive wolf-like creature masquerading as an alsatian) and the swimming pool. These visits were, however , comparatively brief as the organisers had tried to get us off the station to see as much as possible of the German countryside. Accordingly we spent a morning shopping in nearby Bielefield and on the Saturday of our stay a day trip by coach was organised to two German beauty spots and the famous Mohne Dam, scene of the Dambusters' raid. This trip was the highlight of the camp but the day and indeed the whole camp was spoiled by the tragic spectacle that awaited us at Gutersloh. As we approached, a twisting column of black smoke told its own story. As we neared the station crash tenders were still racing to the "burning wreckage at one end of the runway. A Chipmunk had been doing aerobatics over the station when the engine failed during a vertical climb and it plunged into the runway, killing both the pilot and his passenger. Despite the accident the programme continued next day with a crash/fire demonstration. We were told to report for this wearing denims and old clothes and we Soon found out why. After the practice-fire had been extinguished we were given high pressure hoses and the wary fireman retreated behind the fire engine leaving us to get on with it. Everyone got soaking wet and the fun came to an end when a combined charge at the officers, who were hastily retreating in a state of confusion towards a Land Rover, was halted by a prudent fireman turning off the hoses. Our last lecture was about the counter-intelligence systems operating in Germany and was probably the most interesting lecture any of us have heard. This lecture brought home the facts sym- bolised in the town of Giitersloh by a wreath-draped replica of the Berlin Wall. With so much to do and see the week passed a1l too quickly and we left Gutersloh with regret. Thanks are due to the airmen and officers of R.A.F. Gutersloh upon whom the success of the Camp depended. Cadet Cpl. M. WALKER.
The River Severn. I wonder what you think of when this is mentioned ? Perhaps you think of the view from the end of the pier at Lydney docks, or a picnic spent on the bank, or just an expanse of muddy water. Now that I sha1l be leaving it I have thought about our river and I have realised just .how wonderful it is. We only see a part of it, for as our first-form geography lessons remind us, it rises in Plynlimon in west Wales and then travels north to Shrewsbury after which the whole character of the river changes and it becomes a torrent as it rushes through the Severn Gorge. Travelling south in sweeping curves, it wends its way past Lydney and Beachley where it becomes the Bristol Channel. Below Gloucester the river becomes tidal and as the tide flows in, so the sudden narrowing of the river causes the Severn Bore-the rising water is compressed into one wave which actua1ly rides over the top of the water already in the river . When a little girll remember, I lost one of my new wellingtons as the great wave swept over the bank at Newnham. Looking back on it I was lucky perhaps to have lost only a wellington. I can remember getting up in the dark one wintry morning, driving towards Gloucester, and then trudging across the fields. It was very foggy. We had gone to see where the Longley sands lay before the tide came, in order to bring a boat through; the sands there move so often that this is the only way to find the channel. That morning we could hardly see each other, alone by the river, when we heard a faint rumbling and roaring, like the noise of a train. It became louder and louder and suddenly the fog lifted, and a wall of water was racing towards us. Ahead was an expanse of sand and mud, but within a few seconds the bore was on it and it was swallowed up and drowned in a great swirling mass of foaming water. The first wave had crashed along the bank, taking tree-trunks and fencing with it. Even though I had seen the bore before, the ravenous power of this great wave still seemed too awe-inspiring to take in. I could see it every day for a life-time and it would not lose its wonder for me. Since then I have ridden the bore several times but in a very large boat, I'm glad to say. I was told to stand in the front and hold on tight. The same roaring was heard and then I could see it breaking along the bank on the far side of the bend. If it is possible to have your heart in your mouth, that was where mine was then. As it came towards the boat the bows were sucked down into the abyss below the wave and with a terrific jerk I was punched towards the sky. The tide had definitely turned ! As the river widens, great sandbanks become even bigger. At Lydney sands a Mosquito plane, shot down during the war, had remained buried for twenty years, then recently it appeared and has now disappeared just as suddenly. It is true to say that here the river is at its most treacherous and such conditions make sailing at Lydney rather difficult for the new club. An incident with Chepstow Yacht Club brought to my notice the fact that the weather seems to change with the progression of the tide. The club was running a race along a stretch of water below Beachley, where the tide does not run very strongly. They were: doubtful whether to stage it or not because of the strong wind and the squally rain, but one of the older members reassured us that "tide down, wind down". This seemed incomprehensible to me and I wasn't at all keen on venturing out, but nevertheless with everybody reefed down we were blown out to the start. There was great difficulty in keeping behind the starting line, for the boats were like fresh horses ready for the Derby. As the rain trickled down inside my waterproof, I looked at the grey sky, grey sea and grey faces around me and any enthusiasm I might have had ebbed away. My unhappy thoughts were interrupted by the crack of the starter's gun, and thoughts of comfort were whipped away as I frantically tried to hang on to the rough wet rope which had been pushed into my hands. The boat itself seemed to lunge further and further over and I was told to "sit out" and "tighten my jib". So, balancing myself precariously over the leaping waves, I tugged and tugged at the rope. After ten minutes in this agonising posture I had just about decided to ask for mercy when I heard, "Coming about!" and with no further ado I was flung at the other side of the boat. Unfortunately I was not quick enough to catch hold of anything and I slithered down the wet planks back to my original seat which was now being submerged as my weight keeled the boat over even more. An impatient hand was held out to me and with various slips, bumps, and broken fingernails I was hauled into my original sitting out position. I was thankful to the wind just this once for blowing away the sarcastic comments from the other crews. Half way round the second time I was told that it must be high water. I cannot say that this information had any effect upon me, but everyone else seemed happier. Gradually I began to realise that the rope I was holding was becoming easier to hang on to. Within ten minutes the sails were flapping uselessly, and the flotilla of little boats began to drift down with the tide-the wrong side of the rocks! This was what had been discussed before the race. When the tide turns the wind drops. However, this was not going to help us on this occasion. The sails were no longer any use and to row back against the tide for the best part of a milewas impossible. Luckily on this occasion the river and elements were lenient and the wind just blew us round the top of the rocks. Then again it died down, but by this time we were in a position to row back. The Severn is changiJlg now; it is the river of the power-stations, of the smart new tankers and, of course, of the Bridge. But whatever the excitement of these developments, for me it is the memories of the old river that count. ROSEMARY HEAD, 6 Arts A.
The number of applications for admission to first degree and undergraduate diploma courses has doubled since the war. Until 1961, all such applications were made direct to the universities by the prospective candidates but as the number of applicants and thus the competition increased, this system became more and more chaotic. Following prolonged discussions the Universities Central Council on Admissions (U.C.C.A.) was established in June 1961 in an attempt to overcome these difficulties. It is an agency for sorting and controlling the applications to nearly all English uni- versities. Oxford and Cambridge joined the scheme this year and the remainder of the London Colleges and Medical Schools will join next year. The organisation took on a tremendous task. The flood of applications each autumn can be compared with the whole popu- lation of the city of Gloucester applying simultaneously to seventy different firms each with about six hundred vacancies. From this vast administrative tangle, orde( is somehow obtained, but not without the aid of a computer. The number increases alarmingly every year; whereas in 1964 over 58,000 applications were received by U.C.C.A., in 1965 the figure had increased by well over a third to 80,000. To the aspiring student U.C.C.A. is at first a large complex application form and a 200-page explanatory booklet. This is his bible. It tells him exactly what to do and when to do it with para- graphs to cover most of the difficulties and queries that usually crop up. The application form, once completed, is sent to U.C.C.A. who make photostat copies and send one to each of the universities concerned. From this point on, all correspondence between univer- sities and candidates, with the possible exception of interview arrangements, is made through U.C.C.A.
TO BE CONTINUED
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