St Paul’s School (1967-71)

I always enjoy reading my old school magazine called Pauline. In my day it was a light blue and A3 in format. It was little more than a formal record with Salvete welcoming new teachers and Valete an appreciation of those departing. There were sections on the sports teams, societies, play reviews – all written by the masters for the common room.

The Pauline I receive is a glossy mag like an upmarket art one with the cover a bright red abstract. It is written mainly by the pupils. In that way mimicked by Private Eye perhaps reflecting the public school background of its contributors many of whom were at Shrewsbury School, there were esoteric terms: the headmaster was a Highmaster, the deputy a surmaster and half term called remedy.

I always turn to the obits first. One has passed on normally from my generation. I vaguely recall one Peter Wisher and found his obit touching. On his first day he sat next to Bruce Junkin who asked if he could borrow his pen. This began a lifelong friendship, so much so that when Peter Wisher lost both parents when he was aged 15, he moved in with the Junkins. A successful career followed in the army and banking.

This year heralds the 50th anniversary of the move from West Kensington to Barnes. The West Kensington school, now a boutique hotel, was a red brick imposing edifice whose architect was Alfred Waterhouse.

The Barnes school looked like a biscuit factory, very much in the style of the functional architecture of the sixties.

One article in the mag recalled picking stones from the top soil before we could play rugby, a carpet that generated an electric shock, and – worst of all – the replacement of an assembly with a tannoy from which the rather terrifying deputy headmaster would broadcast his daily messages 1984-style. “Jones, Smith, Tickler – report to my office in 10 minutes without fail” was the one you feared.

In a word the place lacked soul. The only meeting was a house assembly on Friday afternoon at which there was an unpopular hair inspection by the house master to root out long hair. One pupil observed that long hair is a matter of taste and fashion as the long locks of John Milton in his portrait in the school library attests.

Another 50 years ago memoir recalled Eurosoc ,a society of which I was a member. One teacher Paul Maddison, a modern linguist from Bolton and passionate socialist, argued the case against the Common Market.

I was indebted to him for introducing us to Albert Camus and “La Peste” and I still recall his insightful appreciation.

There was a pupil magazine called Folio. Its editor is still a great friend and had a distinguished career at Reuters. The business section of it was headed by one of the success stories, a businessman recently knighted who built up from one bureau de change in Holborn a global financial and money service organisation.

Number two became successful in property both remaining close friends and Bob Tickler was number three. A previous editor of Folio, a South African liberal called Jon Blair wrote an article on the wonderful facilities and amenities of St Paul’s compared to the other local schools. This was censored and the editorial team resigned. Now in the spirit of the age I imagine the community work comprises the use of the school’s facilities.

St Paul’s has always majored on Oxbridge admissions. In the old Pauline your departure was only recorded if you went onto Oxbridge not other universities. Some of the more radical pupils went to more modern fashionable universities like Sussex, Warwick and York. In the recent mag all are recorded whatever the university.

I cannot recall any of the sexually abusive behaviour by teachers that has permeated the press. This might be because most of these took place in the feeder prep school Colet Court which I would say 50% of the admissions, like me in 1967, did not attend.

I still see my first tutor and miss the best teacher (Peter Thomson) I ever had who was so popular that 1500 attended his memorial service with a queue outside the church in Hammersmith extending for at least 250 yards.

I have no wish to attend any reunions. My late cousin committed suicide and a member of our family thought his problems were enhanced by a feeling of inadequacy after a school reunion of Highgate School. I did note from the contributors, two of which were Dan Snow and Robin Walker – son of Peter – there was a tendency to promote one’s own achievements.