History- CLS immediately after WW2

Those of us who joined in the autumn of
1945 saw a tired and somewhat jaded
school building, which was to remain so
for quite some time – naturally enough,
considering the country’s other priorities
at that time of rationing, etc.
For example, the fives courts were in
use as fuel bunkers (I assume we still
warmed the place using coal, natural gas
not having been ‘discovered’ yet). They
were certainly not the proud places for
sport seen later, but rather dirty with
coal dust! And then again, the
swimming pool: I seem to recollect that
the windows had been boarded up, and
the actual pool was full of rubbish, even
rubble. What a great day it was when
once again we could use this so valuable
facility within the school grounds, and
the swimming period was most popular.
Less popular was the gym opposite.
The two PT instructors (one small, one
tall, but names escape me) certainly
made one sweat, and that meant
replacing clothes – no showers – so that
the next lesson was somewhat
uncomfortable . . . Then there was the
famous day when contractors treated the
wood floor, but with the wrong stuff, so
that for weeks it was a sticky experience
until it eventually dried out.
Boys entered the school via a small
side door in John Carpenter Street, and
could leave their coats etc in adjacent
cloakrooms, but arrive late and that door
was closed, and you then had to suffer
the indignity of using the (very
impressive) front entrance, but of having
to give a convincing explanation to a
duty master – not always with success (it
did depend who was on duty!)
Games on Wednesday afternoons
were at Grove Park, and strange-looking
(today), thick cardboard rail tickets were
issued at the porter’s lodge. I recall my
father insisting I go down there on my
first Wednesday, more or less on the off
chance of becoming involved in a game,
he not realising that such participation
was arranged in advance. Possibly, new
boys should have been allocated a
‘guide’ to show them the ropes for the
first week or so; perhaps it happens
now? It was inevitable that, with less
than perfect eyesight and an appropriate
surname, I should take up shooting,
earning colours eventually. We could not
afford the rather splendid colours jacket,
only the tie! I recall splendid days down
at Bisley, shooting for the Ashburton
Cup (or shield?) etc., but I doubt
whether the rather long walk across the
heath from the station would be possible
today, with a .303 slung over one
shoulder . . . The atmosphere at Bisley
was quite unique, and for a 14 year old a
stark indicator of the world awaiting us
– of adult men, of responsibilities, of
drink-ing, etc. – once we had left the
‘shelter’ of school! Shooting was the
only sport that embraced me, and it
stood me in good stead once in National
Service, where the 40th Field Regiment
Royal Artillery quickly claimed me for
the team, which helped me to avoid
certain duties!
Recalling classroom discipline
makes me almost ashamed to mention
what we often used to get up to, and it
was always connected with those
masters who were not so successful at
maintaining order. This is not the place
for names, but on one famous occasion
we were making such a din that, when
the door suddenly burst open and ‘he
who taught us German’ strode in, all he
could say was ‘I did not realise there
was a master in charge’. Most
embarrassing…
Another time, whenever this
particular master turned to write on the
blackboard, some of us would move to
other desks, so that when he turned to
ask Jones Minor a question, said Jones
was not in his usual place, but once
located then he moved again at the next
opportunity, so totally confusing the
poor master. (I think I remember who it
was, but had better not guess.) Even
more daring, with the windows wide
open, some boys slipped outside to
crouch for a while on a convenient
ledge, thus adding to the total confusion
(and providing more empty desks to
move to, solitaire fashion).
Of course we grew up as we
ascended the school ladder, and the
occasional dose of slipper (painful) or
cane (also painful) helped – impossible
punishments today! Grand slam sessions
were characterised by quite a queue
outside the Headmaster’s study and, of
course, a suitable note on the end of
term report. I don’t think that any of this,
during those difficult years just after the
war, made us worse scholars, or in later
life less successful in business or the
professions. Would my con-temporaries
agree?
Colin Trigger CLS 45–51 (M3A,
M4A, M5A)