Here I am, stumbling around in the Internet world, and for no reason at all I decided to type in Wennington School. I have to tell you, when the site came up I had to be gently helped back onto my perch. I am totally amazed that someone has taken the time and effort to create a site (and not a bad one at that either) for such an obscure den of learning.
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| Pete Ashmore |
Let me tell you a little about myself. My name is Pete Ashmore and I was there from the autumn term of 1956 until summer 1962, from the age of 12 until 18. I was still there when I had my first ever legal beer when, on a weekend camp up on Denmoor Lodge (you may have had to have been there to understand that one) I jogged 4 miles across the moors above Pately Bridge to the Miners Arms Hotel up on top of Greenhough Hill, drained a pint and silently dared the publican to ask me how old I was. I remember the beer was good and he didn't ask. This, you understand was after several years of sneaking into Wetherby pubs dressed in green cord shorts and grey shirt and asking for an ‘alf in the deepest voice I could master. Ah, the things you remember - like my first true and real love (hell I was 16 after all) God she was lovely. It's a real shame that 16 year old boys back in the early 60's all had the intellectual maturity of a 3 day old flea - which is another way of saying I really didn't have the slightest idea of what I was doing. You notice I am not making too much of the educational benefits of the place. It was a lovely simple peaceful place (benefits of 20/20 rose coloured hindsight) but I don't recall ever being severely forced to actually take my schoolwork very seriously. This was under Kenneth (never called Ken) Barnes. What it was like under Brian Hill I have no knowledge but knowing Brian as I did I suspect the whole school turned into a hotbed of radical extremists just like he was. This is not to say that he wasn't a really lovely guy and an interesting and talented teacher but his points of view on nearly everything were to say the least unique.
Let me tell you my memories of the teachers and staff at Wennington whilst I was there between 1956 and 1962. Some of them I remember with great affection, If not downright lust. Others I don't remember quite so fondly and I suspect some of them I have forgotten completely.
My first memory is a chilly October morning when I was introduced to the sublime pleasures of the squad system for cleaning the school. There I was quietly minding my own business when I rudely had a brush thrust into my hand and was told to go and sweep the 2nd form classroom. WTF I thought (or at the least a 12 year old version of the same) okay, I'll play your silly game and after losing my way at least twice trying to find the place there I was sweeping away and wondering what kind of package holiday I had signed up for when into the classroom bursts my very first experience of Wennington teachers. A Yorkshire accent so broad you could have built on it announced, “hello, I am your 2nd form teacher, FRANK LEAFHEAD, and not leafy either.” There are no prizes offered for guessing what his nickname was for the rest of his time there. Having said that, he was a nice guy – I think; that broad Yorkshire accent sounded very similar to Martian to a south London kid but I do remember him well.
Just across from the 2nd form room there were the woodwork and metalwork shops. The woodwork was overseen by a rather distant persona called FRANK BURGESS and when I say distant I really mean distant. Frank seemed to live in a world that was around thirty feet above the rest of us and when, from time to time he had some reason to talk to us it was like a brand new discovery each time. Like, good lord, where did you lot come from!
His partner in juvenile manufacturing was MARTIN EDEN (who lived in the small hut at the end of the swimming pool) who presided over the metalwork class. Whenever you made a major rickett and screwed something on backwards he used to bellow “YOU HAVE BOTCHED IT UP” The nickname that stuck to him was BOTCH, but to his credit he normally answered to it in public without any rancour. Not a bad bloke was Martin.
Moving back into the courtyard where most of the rest of the classrooms were lets start on the right hand side. This is where the “Junior School” was, inhabited by kids aged around 8 to 12 killing time until they could be let loose into the real world of the big kids in 2nd form and Leafy the Martian. It was presided over by a lady named usually known by her nickname VY. VY seemed to have a few unique ideas about recreation. I don't know what it was like after I left in 1962 but prior to that it was common for mixed nude bathing to take place for kids of all ages. Whilst that sounds deliciously salacious anybody who has ever thrown themselves into an outdoor swimming pool in northern England in winter will immediately understand that salacious doesn't really have a major part to play. What we are really talking about is major shrinkage. I mean, nobody but nobody can maintain an interest in looking at naked girls for very long when your mind is fully occupied with the desire to find out the answer to the question “Bloody hell, where has it gone !!!!!” Anyway, back to VY. Her version of this was to swim naked on a warm summer afternoon with one of the junior school kids laying on top of her stomach whilst she backstroked her way up and down the pool. I never actually got to see this sight but people who did tell me that it had all the appearance of a single masted ship with the figurehead screwed on upside down. The mind truly boggles.
Next to the Junior school was the French class run by a very cool dude named ROGER GEARHARDT. My memories of Roger are that he was a very very good teacher even if he did lose it from time to time. The phrase “BLOODY HELL LA SECONDE, PAY ATTENTION” was set in stone in my head and has never been erased or overwritten. Another nice guy and for me, a good friend.
Moving right along. Next was the history class. When I started at Wennington the history master was JOHN WOODS, a rather well dressed and prim and proper man. I remember he knew heaps but I don't remember ever learning much of what he taught. This probably didn't auger very well for the lady who replaced John who I only remember by her nickname which was BLOODY MARY. The only thing I do remember about her was hearing of her walking down the school drive in the direction of Wetherby with a suitcase in each hand and muttering dark sounding curses to herself. For the life of me I can't imagine why. I mean kids are supposed to fly blazing paper aeroplanes around the classroom – they're built that way. I should feel ashamed of that now but at the time the only thing that we all felt was slightly bemused. A case of like, next !
And talking about next. The art class presided over by LOUIS JONES . What can I possibly say about Louis, especially after he caught me having a quiet smoke in the bike sheds one morning and earned me a couple of weeks extra holiday, not a lot !!!!! One thing I do remember is that my end of term school reports from him used to say “Peter continues to paint well” about a year after I stopped going to his classes. NOT my favourite person. Say no more.
Next to this was the math’s class with DENNIS BLACKLOCK in charge. When I knew him Dennis was definitely one of the good guys but with a few interesting quirks. One of them was to say the word “then” about one in every three that he spoke and sometimes more. It got to the point where one of the kids was delegated the task of making a pencil mark every time Dennis said the word “then” and after class add up all the marks and enter the total on a graph we kept in our form room. Amazingly about once a week or so Dennis would take a look in and check his average for the week. Another cool guy. Another of his claims to fame was the weekend camping trips on what we called “Denmoor” up above Pately Bridge that he started (completely out of his own pocket I think). He would throw around 8 or 10 of us into his van complete with tinned food and sleeping bags and off we would go for a weekend of complete escape. There were no real rules on these camps and not a lot of misbehaving either, just a lot of fun and relaxation Wennington style and yes, I do mean slap and tickle. Well I enjoyed it anyway. A thoroughly good guy although they told me that after I left he married one of the ladies on the staff, PAM, and he became not quite so nice to know from then on. A pity if it's true.
Next to this was the chemistry lab where Kenneth Barnes aka KCB would sometimes put in an appearance. My recollections are that running the school and teaching science took up more hours than there were in the day and it was the teaching that lost out. Indeed for a couple of terms me and another kid named MARTIN had to ride motor scooters into York 3 days a week to attend science classes at the Bootham school. Our main claim to fame there was that Martin and I ran a letter service from the Bootham boys school to the Mount girls school. I sometimes wonder how many of the Mount school girls lost their cherries as a result of the mail we delivered to them. Martin and I would walk straight into the girls changing room and go into our “mail call” routine and nobody ever batted an eye. Some of them were very cute too…….
Right above the science lab was the biology lab where a slightly strange lady named KATHERINE did her stuff. I never really understood why Katy took up biology as she always seemed to be totally embarrassed by the topic especially the bits that moved. Whilst she always seemed to be very shy I'm told she was actually an interesting person to know. Its probably a shame that us kids never really had a chance to do the knowing. When Katy left she was replaced by the lovely and luscious MAGGIE REESE. Maggie often used to wear flounced skirts and dresses and was promptly christened FROU FROU and used to answer to it amongst her friends. Biology always was one of my favourite classes and Maggie really knew her stuff. This was something us good mannered and sweet natured kids often used to play on. One of us would be delegated to sit at the back of the class with a dictionary of biology and whenever there was a pause in the proceedings would ask out loud, “Maggie what does blah blah mean?” Maggie could never resist it and we would often spend half a class mentally goofing off whilst Maggie answered the question. When we finally told her what we were up to she called us a very rude word. A top lady.
The only other two I have any decent recollection of were both music teachers. The first one was GWYNFOR DAVIES, a slightly nutty Welshman who used to wear something that smelt suspiciously like perfume and the other was DOROTHY GASKELL a small petite and rather nicely put together lady who went off and married a man with a bald head (at least I think it was Dorothy) which probably tells you quite a lot about my music career at Wennington
The others that I remember were all school employees who took care of the running of the place.
A very nice old lady called KATHLEEN who worked in the kitchen and was a stunner when she was a girl.
JESUS AND MARY (okay, hayzoos y maria), Maria I don't really recall and all I recall of Jesus was that he seemed to permanently welded to a 3 gang motor mower and spent all his life going round and round in ever decreasing circles on the playing fields at the front of the school. It was like painting the Forth Bridge. As soon as he got to the middle he had to start all over again as the green stuff always seemed to get away from him.
There was another man who used to live in the cottage at the end of the school drive on the York Road. I think his name was JOHN HARKER and I've no idea what he did but I do remember his Yorkshire accent was so heavy it made Frank Leafhead sound like a BBC announcer.
And finally. My two best mates of all there. Laurie and Vera Pease. Laurie was the gardener who looked after the fruit and the veggie fields at the back of the school. Vera was a sort of housekeeper and when we got to know her turned into our mother and friend and confessor. Once we had all got to know each other around when I was 16 years old or so, their house was our house. We could come and go as and when and at whatever time we liked. The kettle was always on and the company was always warm and friendly even if Laurie did let me smoke his pipe once and nearly wet himself laughing when I had to go outside for a huge technicolour yawn. They were quiet and simple Yorkshire country folk from up Darlington way but they were 2 of the most special people you would ever meet in your whole life. I am so happy to have known them.
One thing I do remember though. Around 1975 or so my wife and I visited the place only to find that the school no longer existed and was in the process of being turned into a boys home. The only people left there that I remembered were Laurie and Vera Pease and whilst I spent a while with Laurie sadly I didn't get to see Vera. Reading through another site I see a mention of Peter Lawrence and I remember him leaving and going on to Cambridge and doing very well. Looking through his C.V. it looks like he did far better than that. I remember him being a nice guy and popular.
A brief history of Pete Ashmore. Left Wennington in 1962 and briefly worked in a government communication centre before moving on and spending the next 35 years working in the airline industry. Got married in 1972, moved to Australia, got unmarried in 1981, stayed in Australia. Turned 55 in 1999 and sort of retired, I think, I'm still working on it.
Well. The good, the bad and the ugly. I am sure I have forgotten some and badly maligned some but 38 years later this is what I remember about what is a big part in anybody's life. If I'm out of line here forgive me – but this is what Pete wrote.
Pete Ashmore
Sydney Australia.