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I received a bicycle for gaining a scholarship which seemed an encouraging start. This and the school bus, became means of transport and as Gina Smith, I joined our pristine new school in 1938 in form 1A, clutching a large collection of shoes. The latter required for indoor, outdoor gym, games and tennis. All necessary to help preserve the magnificent oak blocked floors and special gymnasium floor. They were housed in a shoe bag which eventually evolved from the needlework class, made in navy material and emblazoned with name embroidered in red, and hung along with coats and hats in strict numbered rotation in the cloakroom.
Air raid drill, gas masks, dried egg, tennis on the lawn, hockey team, sewing outsize bloomers, homework record and Miss Whitt’s House plays performed on the stage, spring to mind with uncanny clarity. As does the wrath of Miss Welbank when her rigid path was not pursued.
I soon learned that house points were not easily gained. Two consecutive good marks equalling one point. This involved queuing outside Miss Welbank’s office door in fear and trepidation to gain her signature thus proving it valid. Whereas losing same proved comparatively easy i.e. pushing cycle up centre drive (banned to pupils), not wearing hat firmly on one’s head, running or straying from the right hand side of the corridors and coughing in Miss Yate’s French lesson. The latter usually ensued in writing large amounts of French prose.
Painting with Miss Adnams in the superb bright new art room was a joy indeed, and a reminder of colours gained for Arts and Crafts. These were distributed on annual Prize day when parents of recipients were allowed a seat in the main hall gallery. We would all be resplendent in strict crisp uniform and our graduate unmarried mistresses duly robed.
Each new term saw strict rules adhered to. We obediently knelt on the floor whilst the hem of our tunic was measured, ensuring it was the regulation length of five inches above the knee. A truly astonishing sight as we all flourished and grew taller, and in some cases wider, pushing our tunic pleats to their limits. Add navy knickers, with pocket, lisle stockings and suspenders, striped tie with white blouse, and royal blue girdle for hockey team. We were a great advert for the famous St Trinian girls.
At the onset of war in 1939 we carried a gas mask at all times and inspections were required. This involved each of us wearing our mask whilst the form mistress tested the front breathing nozzle with a piece of card; as we breathed in, the card remaining in place confirmed we were still breathing.
Air raid drill was another essential. We sat on planks of wood in large Anderson shelters hastily dug in the playing fields. A small partition at one end was curtained off and contained a bucket. A pupil’s hand was raised, the form mistress nodded, and the girl went behind the curtain. The mistress then raised her hands as in conducting mode, head poised, and said, ‘Now girls, ready, one, two, three’ and we all burst forth with ‘O Lass of Richmond Hill’ with hearty gusto.
On one occasion, an apparition appeared at the entrance to our shelter draped from head to foot in gas protective gear, complete with long breathing pipe coiling from the face mask, a truly amazing sight. Even more so when Miss Welbank’s voice echoed from its depths; instructing her Gels to sit up straight and keep minds focused on the next lesson.
Bombs demolished some houses nearby resulting in our school water supply becoming disconnected, resulting in a day’s holiday, with homework of course.
We laboriously sewed enormous bloomers in the needlework class, not sure why. We designed our own pincushion, needlecase, shoe bag, cookery apron, and sewing apron. Learned how to hem, darn and pattern make. We also learned how to carefully iron the hem of a delicate handkerchief and cook with dried egg in the Domestic Science room above the large dining area in the old house across the quadrangle and covered walk from the school.
Homework, of which there was a great deal, had to be recorded in a special book which in turn was checked and signed by a staff. Only certain time was allowed for each subject, needless to say the records were seldom an accurate account of time spent. From the fourth year girls were allowed, on occasions, the peaceful sanctuary of the library for extra special study.
Throughout the school, exams were taken each term and progress carefully monitored with appropriate up and down gradings. The emphasis was always to work harder. In retrospect the curriculum was excellent. At 10 and a ½ to 11 years of age it probably appeared daunting.
Fitness was a prime factor. Daily physical education and shower, hockey, netball, rounders, and tennis on the lawn proved enjoyable for the energetic type, the less keen would be in awe of ‘Hilda’. All this plus food rationing dispelled any ideas of overweight, and Miss Hilda Land ruled her gymnasium and games empire with a rod of iron. Swimming, also part of her domain, we repaired to Reginald Street Baths where it was advisable to keep afloat at all times and appear to be swimming.
Science could be fun; perched high on stools in the well equipped laboratory, surrounded by Bunsen burners, busily dissecting worms, stretched out and pinned to a bed of wax, and wondering what might happen next as Miss Steel waved a pair of lungs about with great flourish.
Music and dancing lessons were taken. The latter included country and ballroom. An annual ball was arranged in the main hall and each pupil made a programme to be filled by potential partners, all members of the school. The opposite sex, were never allowed over the threshold, so tall girls were required to learn lead steps.
It was a fascinating learning curve, one I am sure we all look back upon with great nostalgia.

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