I 'graduated' from Holton Road Boys School in 1949 via the 11+ exam., and came 46th in the district. Though I would have been able to sit the exam again the next year and probably gain a higher pass level, the Headmaster, LJ Todd, advised my mother to let me go to the Grammar School that year and I went into the B stream.
The first form (or 1s) were accommodated in a new block just completed alongside Barry Road with 1A nearest the main block, 1B in the middle and 1C at the west end. I think we were the first pupils to use this block. The floors were hard and the desks and seats had metal feet so there was a continual screeching of metal on hard surface as boys moved round, which got on everyone's nerves, especially certain masters.
We had heard the usual scare-mongering stories of what it was like in the Grammar School as opposed to the junior school, and I was rather quaking when I found that our form-master would be Tojo, nicknamed after the Japanese general in the War. But I could not believe my eyes when I found that his name was Sidney Jones, the most well-mannered and pleasant of persons who lived just down the road from me.
Indeed I soon found myself travelling on the bus from Barry Dock Station to School with him. He taught several subjects and soon became a firm favourite of mine. I felt quite sorry for him though, as he was poor at discipline and there was always an undercurrent of noise in his classes.
1A had French master "Chunky" Avery (far left) as form-master and 1C had Gwyn Thomas (centre), who taught Spanish and some French. I had heard of "Killer" Thomas alongside Tojo, and soon my eyes were opened to what sort of person he too was.
Register time each day would be accompanied by loud roars of laughter from his class, the reason for which often quickly became known. As he walked by outside after register, he always had a couple of books in one hand while the other grasped the lapel of his gown, and there was often a wry smile on his face, probably still there from the last joke he had told.
At the exams at the end of the first term, I came 2nd (I would have come 1st but for a total inability at art) and went up to the As, where I was to remain thereafter. We now had a different group of teachers for most subjects and it was then that I first experienced Cubee, or JJ Jones, his nickname stemming from the three Js. He taught us Geography and Elementary Science. He was big bully of a man, well advanced in years who had been at the school since 1928, a very neat writer on the board, and one always making threats against talkers that he never kept. At the end of that term, I came 7th, again with art letting me down.
One of the masters I liked very much was a quietly-spoken man called GG Hamnett, who lived in Harbour Road. He was the neatest handwriter on a blackboard I ever came across - he would have won a gold at the Olympics for handwriting and drawing on a blackboard with ease. He took biology and some other subjects I don't remember, and was one of those members of staff with a master's degree rather than just a BA. I later found he was also an expert photographer and in every way I thought he was great! Such expertise in such a quiet individual.
Wednesday afternoon was given over to sport, though it was effectively a half-day to balance having to attend school on Saturday morning. Also a detention was held, so that you were not free to enjoy your sport (or half-day). Wednesday morning Assembly was a name-and-shame day when your name was read out if you were in detention that afternoon. Shame indeed!
A couple of hours of sport was built into the timetable and this during the winter was an indoctrination into rugby, the school sport. This was the first time that most of the newcomers to the school had ever played rugby and really sorted those with a sporting inclination from those without.
Gym and sport was under Gym master Harry Williams, who had only been at the school since 1946. He was only ever interested in those boys with a sporting or gymnastic prowess, and was someone I found it very difficult to form any liking of whatever. He had a strange northern accent, and used to exhort us in the Gym when the School Sports was approaching to "Sit on the flow (floor) and talk about the spowts (sports)". He would hit a whole class on the bottom with a slipper if a boy talking would not own up.
I did get close to him in future years when I became Sports Secretary, marshalling all the applications for events and producing the Sports Day Programme. These arrived on the actual day of the event and caused great consternation when it was discovered that the Venables Cup had been mis-spelt as the Venerables Cup. All programmes had to be altered up by hand and muggins was thought the culprit, but it was the printers error and the practice was not to ask for a proof beforehand.
During my first year, the Headmaster ET Griffiths retired, He always seemed a nice sort of person to me, though I never had any dealings with him. He was only the second headmaster at the school, the first having been the venerated Major Edgar Jones who had remained until 1934.
The new Head was Leslie Matthews, a former Maths master in one of the Cardiff schools. First impressions were of a very quiet man, quite tall, balding, quite devoid of humour, who picked you up on every indiscretion. He always stood at a central point in the corridor when school began at 9am, and woe betide you if you ever ran in the corridor. He showed himself as a very strict disciplinarian, and held his own detention after school which he was quite free at filling up, in addition to the Wednesday afternoon detention.
He quickly developed the nickname "Creep", on account of wearing crepe-soled shoes so he could not be heard coming. He soon became universally disliked and I cannot remember ever knowing any pupil who claimed to like the man; there was just nothing about him to like. I often felt he must have been the most disliked person in Barry!
Soon the first year was over and I moved up to 2A, a change of form room, now in the main block, a new form-master Eric Jones (Maths), known as Pussy probably due to his rather feline-looking face not helped by whistling due to loose false teeth, and a new set of subject masters. Soon there were more changes; Friday mornings had been a very pleasurable time so far, as for about an hour we had a sing-song led by Leslie Tusler, the music and junior French master.
All the school, the headmaster, and many of the staff attended and we had a great time singing favourite songs with Tusler at the piano, the favourite always being "The Golden Vanity". But then he became headmaster of Romilly School and their gain was very much the Grammar School's loss as he was replaced by a man who became as unpopular with the boys as Tusler was popular, Alan Brinn, the most rigid disciplinarian it has ever been my misfortune to know.
First we had to dodge being press-ganged into his choir (no choice - if your voice hadn't broken, you were in!). Then no more Friday sing-songs but classical records and newly introduced morning hymns which required you to almost be a cathedral chorister such was the range of notes you were expected to reach. The staff members who attended daily assembly certainly knew what the boys thought of this, as they were affected as much as anyone. Surprisingly, Brinn never got a nickname, but soon became the most hated member of staff.
There were several very senior members of staff at this time and it was common for one or more to retire at the end of each school year. The Commercial master JW (Pop) Lennox, someone I had had no dealings with, and who had been at the school since 1912, retired and George Young Smith, head of Maths, from 1915 died and the whole school lined up along Barry Road as his funeral went past. Eric Jones, our form-master, now became senior Maths master. Soon Glyn Davies who had taught me elementary science in 1B retired. He was best known for his solo at the annual carol service at Christmas and for his rendering of Good King Wenseslas. A lovely man, very kind and a true teacher.
Now in 2A, we started to be taught mostly by heads of department, notably in French when Peter (Chunky) Avery was replaced by the deputy head GC (Griffith Caradoc) Hughes (not many knew his christian names, though of course known as Griff to the staff). Here was man with a list of achievements as long as his arm. He had joined the staff in 1917 and his past pupils had scooped the lot in terms of academic qualifications in French.
And it was a pleasure to be taught by him; here was a master of his trade, and carrying out the role of deputy head at the same time. Brinn could have taken many a lesson from him on discipline, which he had no problem with just because you didn't misbehave with him in front of the class. His nickname was "Scratcher", but to this day I have never been able to find out the reason. It was so much nicer when assembly was taken by him rather than the boss.
There were just some subjects I could not do and these could be bracketed together as "handicraft". At art I was useless. The art master was Mousey Mills, who owned the art shop in Broad Street. In the first lesson I remember him saying in his high-pitched voice: "Boys, two things you must remember: water is wet and water runs downhill." Strange I didn't realise that before. But what use it was to me in trying to learn how to draw, I don't know. My hours spent in the art room were totally wasted and the same can be said of the woodwork shop where most of my efforts ended up in the furnace.
I could never thank either Mills nor GI Williams, the woodwork master, for anything at all, except wasting my time; they never taught me a thing! However, though my marks at the end of term were rock bottom in these subjects, I still always managed to come 2nd or 3rd in class. Without these subjects I would have walked it to 1st each time.
Our class of 30 had a bad reputation for noise; the number of times I heard "2A (and then 3A) you are the noisiest class I have taught". Mind you, I would say that came from the mouth of a poor teacher. We had two giants in the class, both over 6ft when they were only 12 or 13, Philip Freeman and Peter Hughes-Williams, a gentle giant who was a wonderful artist and could draw Disney characters in a flash. We were nearly all good friends in the class; there was no bullying except on one lad, a bit of a mummy's boy.
There was healthy rivalry for coming top of the class but we often felt that the son of a history and religious education master, who joined the school from the valleys, had too much preferential treatment. While everyone else was called by their surname, he was always called by his christian name. His father took us for RI (Religious Instruction), and all he needed was a pulpit. How we all kept a straight face at his "Repent ye!" I really don't know.
Whether the son told him of all the ridicule he suffered after he had left the lesson, I don't know. Tusler's son, Robert, was also in the class but he got no special treatment at all. We had 7 Johns all one after the other on the register, all sitting one behind the other in alphabetical order. Other members of the class I can remember were Alan Durbin (a constant competitor for 1st or 2nd), Bleddyn Davies, John Incledon, John Evans (now organist at St. Mary's Church, Barry), John Gear, Brian James, Barrie Sanders, John Langdon, Roger Drew, Clive Harkus, Billy Macdonald, Peter Robinson (killed in an accident at Barry station), and John Thadwald (who also died very young).
In 3A we had the first of several subject choices and I chose to take Latin, probably then dropping art and woodwork (thank God!). This still left English, Maths, Welsh, French, History, Geography, Physics and Chemistry. For Latin we had a new master BD (Bryn) Ashton, a quite humourless man, but a very good and thorough teacher - you had to be to teach Latin! He had taken over from Chris Whitehead, of 1922 vintage at the school, and taken on the Latin yoke, with Greek on offer but not a subject taught at the school.
There were other staff changes too about this time. DG Evans the Welsh Master (of 1928 vintage) retired and was replaced by Iorwerth Harries (nicknamed Ianto) who had the roughest ride I have ever seen given to a young inexperienced master. He was his own worst enemy. He used to wear heavy black boots and when walking in or out of the room was accompanied by an undercurrent chorus of "Boots, Boots, Boots...." Poor chap must have relished the end of a lesson with us, though there was then the next one to face. I don't think he stayed for more than a couple of years.
Welsh was not a popular subject at the school, and was not well taught, though a few masters, especially the older ones, were Welsh speaking as a second language.
Also on his way out at this time was SP (Flash) Perkins, who had taught us Chemistry as head of department after his junior C Giles had attempted to. Giles was a strange guy, and wanted to show off, which might have been his downfall. "Never throw a jar of sulphur in the air", he once advised the class, then did so and dropped it, leaving a yellow stain all over the floor of the chemistry lab for weeks. He was replaced by a Mr Smithum who loved explosions, carried out one that went a bit too well and produced Creep bursting in demanding to know what was going on. He didn't stay long either. He was succeeded by the young Emrys Gwynne who I know has stayed for many years and made a lasting contribution to the school.
For Physics we had Digby Lloyd, for the 2nd and 3rd years, always (jokingly) taking moments about O - a very dedicated teacher who had a constant habit of letting the class finish off his sentences for him, thus ensuring they were paying attention. In the first exam of the 3rd year, we had a load of theorems to learn and an example to do of each. I learnt all the theorems off by heart and got all the examples correct. I got 96%, the highest mark ever achieved in Physics apparently and was put to work on my own next term - a budding Einstein for sure.
But it was Fred Einstein as the following exam I had 54%, and I'm sure Lloyd thought I had cheated before, but it was all legit, I can assure him. Unfortunately Digby Lloyd broke his leg badly while playing rugby for the staff against the school team in their annual fixture and had to walk thereafter with a stick. Teifion Phillips and Digby Lloyd were in charge of the respective Arts and Science sixth forms, so were highly important members of staff.
JH (Nobby) Francis, head of English, retired and Percy (Bud) Fisher took over until he too retired a few years later. He was a lovely man, admired by everyone and had a wonderful manner in teaching. He was a big man of athletic build and had heard all the excuses many times before. Anyone who had forgotten (to bring) his homework was met with "Ah yes ... put it on the mantelpiece and the wind blew it up the chimney." A constant trouble-maker in the class Billy Macdonald was asked every lesson "When are you leaving, Macdonald?"
A master I had never relished being taught by was DJP (Dippy) Richards, a former long-distance runner who taught geography. He was a wild-looking character and was reputed once to have thrown a knife to the back of a class to split up two boys who were talking. Of 1929 vintage, he retired about this time and was replaced by Major Arnold James, who would also be assisting with gym.
We were all rather petrified at a former military man taking us for gym, but our fears were totally unfounded as we at last started to enjoy gym after years of Harry Williams, and we were fortunate to get Mr James for rugby as well. Everyone now started enjoying geography too and he became a highly prized member of staff. He was the toughest of markers in exams, though, and I remember getting only 54/100 but being credited as Very Good, which normally meant a mark of at least 75/100.
In the fourth form we had further choices of subject to make and being language orientated, I chose to take up Spanish, in addition to French, Welsh and Latin. Spanish was the province of Gwyn Thomas, nicknamed Killer due to his appearance as he pulled his hat down over one eye and thrust his hands in his mack pockets as he walked to and from school, resembling an Al Capone character. I had never been taught before by him, and from the start I could see why everyone loved having him in front of them.
His rich voice, his flashing wit and general good humour were in a class of their own among masters at the school. I was to be blessed with lessons from him for the next 5 years, through to the 3rd Year Sixth. Gradually I was now getting rid of all the subjects that were a drawback to ever achieving first place in the class, but as everyone was now taking their own choice of subject aimed at their further career, the end of term position in the class became meaningless.
One of my favourite subjects all through school and one we were constrained to take right up to O level was history, for which we had the services of Teifion T Phillips, an absolutely excellent history master, with whom I struck up a close rapport, especially on the Industrial Revolution. He took a great interest in individual pupils and was also careers master for the sixth form. Teivi, as we called him, had an endearing personality, a quite individual pronunciation of some words that we would wait for in his speel, and his lessons were always enjoyed by all.
After registration, there was Assembly, or prayers as some call it. The school had no hall so the lower school used the Gym, where the deputy head officiated, and the senior school used form rooms 3A and 4A which were joined by a large wooden partition which was drawn back.
The headmaster took this, but always looked and sounded uncomfortable, could never be heard singing any hymn, and bore his usual hound-dog expression throughout. There were always half a dozen members of staff seated behind him, always the same little group, sometimes added to for some reason. A prefect read the lesson and then dispersal back to classrooms was under the control of the gym master, Harry Williams. No one moved until he gave the order, and this used to get up the prefects' noses. Why should they be treated like third formers?
One day, the prefects just walked out after assembly and ignored Williams' shouts to come back and await permission. Incensed by their refusal, he stormed off to see the headmaster and between them they agreed to sack the whole of that years's prefects and appoint a new set from the lower sixth. Whether any discussion with the other staff took place is not clear but it seemed a most draconian move to satisfy the ego of one of their number who was widely despised anyway.
Whether he was the butt of Gwyn Thomas's assertion that "someone" was lower than a snake's jaw, seems to tie in with the occasion, but it was all kept very quiet and I never ever learnt the final outcome. Williams, who I think was a strong union man, left shortly afterwards to become a headmaster somewhere in the north, I think Halifax. I never reckon he got that on ability or acclamation.
And so I progressed into the sixth form, taking French with Scratcher Hughes, Spanish with Gwyn Thomas and Latin with Bryn Ashton. The first year was non eventful, though quite enjoyable. With Gwyn Thomas we were often treated to prose he made up and wrote on the blackboard for us to translate into Spanish. As his fertile mind got carried away, we were treated to some real humdingers to try to translate and often had to ask for his help.
I remember one phrase "bottomless pits of social misfits", and that took him a few minutes to get round himself.
For the second year we all became Prefects and life became quite different. We had our own room located above the lower staff room, where the non-smokers went, the top staff room being a constant fug, as smoking was then very common. Cubee occupied the lower staff room between lessons and there was constant friction between him and the prefects above. The door to the prefects room was often kept locked or with a chair wedged under the handle as solo and bridge were much played and unwanted guests were not welcome. Even Creep did not try to venture in; perhaps he had learnt his lesson from the previous experience. Some years the prefects sent Cubee a Christmas card addressed to "The Man in the Flat below", wishing him a peaceful Christmas.
As prefects, we had two basic duties, the first Late Duty where we had to stand at the school gates and report boys arriving late. We normally looked the other way, though some times we were forced to put a name or two in the book as no one actually believed there was no lateness every day. The other duty was to read the lesson at the senior and junior assemblies each day.
As I was a good reader with a strong voice, Alun John, the English master who had replaced Nobby Francis, used to engage me for the senior assembly (every other week it seemed, but probably less frequent). Creep would never acknowledge you afterwards, but Gwyn Thomas always gave me a nod, smile or a wink. The prefects formed the nucleus of the school rugby team and used to hold pre-match discussions in the room. This rather put me off rugby for many years when I heard their discussions!
Each year there was a school play, a joint venture with the Girls School. It attracted those people with a penchant for acting, and some with a penchant for other things; it never attracted me. Teifion Phillips gave much time to organising the event from the Boys School with similar representation from the girls' School. There was also an Inter School dance. There were abundant societies to attract those who were interested - The Urdd, Literary and Debating Societies, record Club, Christian fellowship to name a few. There was rugby and cricket (but no soccer) and athletics. The school had a large rugby pitch with a well maintained cricket pitch beyond. We also had a tuck shop, where the cream donuts were to die for - and probably did cause many early deaths in later years!
I stayed for a third year in the sixth form, giving me two years as a prefect, before I finally passed each of my three subjects, having failed Latin the first time round, much to the disbelief of Bryn Ashton. I went on to University College Cardiff and there started my final exploits in the academic world before graduating in modern languages and obtaining a teaching qualification. But my love in life was railways and I worked for 31 years for British Rail in the field of operations management, a long way from the academic life I had sampled for so many years.
John Hodge, Haywards Heath, West Sussex - April 2008
John has also sent the words of the school song:
To our Town
Where mighty Severn opens to the Ocean blue
Come the ships of every nation
Bringing treasures old and new
Proudly sing the praise of Barry
Spread her squares and stretch her streets
Busy port where outbound sailor
Sailor coming homeward greets
Boys of Barry, this your watchword
Be ye faithful, trustful, true
Welcome ever light of duty
Bravely bear and nobly do
John adds: "It was interesting that in teaching history at the Grammar School, no mention was ever made of the development of the Docks or of the Barry Docks and Railway Company. Indeed I never knew of its existence until many years after I left school."
your comments
Alun Evans, Cowbridge
Fascinating to read memories of the 50's and 60's,and indeed accurate for the most part! I have often wondered what happened to Robert Pierce who was my best friend for many years until he went off to Australia. In The Barrian of 1958 there is an article by him, giving his early impressions of Australia. Well, Robert, wonder no more! I went to Cardiff Medical School in 1958, and ended up as a General Surgeon in the Princess of Wales Hospital in Bridgend, retiring in 2000, since when the death rate in Bridgend has gone down dramatically!! Great to hear from you.
Nigel Ritchie - Bridgend, s.Wales
I, too, have to thank John for his memory jogging. I would have been a couple of years after him in the school, but do remember with great affection "Bud" Fisher, who retired in my 2nd year there, along with the happy memories of Scratcher Hughes - a true gentleman and excellent disciplinarian who taught with great love of his subject. As for Harry Williams, he only took our class for PE just the one year, and I remember him saying we would be out on the field in all weathers, sun, wind, rain, snow.... the first drop of raian and we were inside reading. Our PE master was Hayden Morris - Welsh cap - a great guy as far as I can recall, but really no idea of how to teach. As for Brinn - he was, indeed, a conrol freak as mentioned, but worse than that, and would not get away with it these days. Tojo - as he was affectionally known, certainly had little idea of class discipline - we had him for RE, with our PE lesson directly after, and would use his lesson to don o! ur kit. I regret deeply the way I, along with all the others, behaved for him. Several years after leaving the school, I was with my young daughters in the Knap Lido, when he spoke to me in passing - "What are you doing now, Ritchie?" I was really amazed he remembered me after so many years! Digby Lloyd taught me to enjoy Physics, whereas Emrys Gwynne "tried" to teach me Chemistry but failed miserably - not his fault I hasten to add! I have mentioned elsewhere on this site about my memories of "Killer" Thomas - a superb writer, but dire teacher, because of his uncontrollable humour! I got to know him quite well after leaving school, and could fill many pages with anecdotes - all his. One in particular that springs to mind was pre Christmas one year in his local pub, with his friends and family, where the inevitable background musak was blaring away. His polite remark to the landlord was "If you keep that on, we shall undoubtedly succumb to carol corrosion..." A lovely man, and the epitomy of my happy recollections of Barry Grammar School for Boys.
Phillip M Hartle, Southampton
I was there from 1959 to 1965 and enjoyed all the characters, staff and pupils, very much. It would be great to hear from old friends and also to find if there is a similar link for the Barry Girls grammar School which my mother wants to search for history.
Robert Peirce (was White), Sydney, Australia
I am amazed that, at the age of 69, John Hodge's amazingly detailed picture of life at Barry Grammar School brought so many memories flooding back. I lived in Park Crescent and walked up Jenner Road daily to the Grammar from 1950 to 1956. We emigrated as a family to Australia in mid 1957. I still have my copies of the 'Barrian" from those years that show me as a forward in several of the Rugby teams. Not long after arriving in Australia, I was lucky to play for the Victorian State under 18's. Being taller and larger than other boys of my age, I was given the unfortunate nickname of "Dobbin" by one of the teachers - but that size helped in the forward pack. My stepfather, Bill Peirce, knew several of the teachers socially via the "RAF" club - Chick Davies and Gwyn Thomas amongst others. So he would get some feedback - mainly "would do better if he tried harder". I often wonder what happened to a classmate of mine, Alun Evans. Alun effortlessly topped our class year after year and could answerexam questions in English or Welsh. I was the subject of many disciplinary wacks on the bottom by Alan Brinn and can now understand the comment noted in Don Geraldos by his mother "I'll tell you when your older". Can any one enlighten me with a translation of the school motto?
John Hodge
In all the comments that have been added about my article, it is very noticeable that so many speak in praise of that excellent teacher and lovely man Percy (Bud) Fisher, one of two English masters of the time, the other being "Nobby" Francis, who when he retired was replaced by another gentleman, Alun John. If you ask old boys which master they remember with affection, Bud Fisher's name comes out tops every time. In his younger years he was apparently associated with the rugby and athletics teams, but we all knew him in his later years. He would descend on a boy not paying attention in the guise of a railway ticket inspector approaching a passenger without a ticket and with ever quietening voice would suddenly emit the most enormous roar "OYYYY" and the lad would jump out of his skin. Bud is long gone now, but I think on behalf of all who have contributed to this article, I should thank him for making learning so enjoyable at the school. So many other teachers could have learnt so much from him.
Richard Incledon from Mackay, Australia
I notice that John mentions my older brother John in his article. I too have fond memories of entering Barry Grammar in 1962 and of its transition to the comprehensive system. One memory that has stayed with me is of being sent out with three other boys to clear ice off puddles on the rugby pitch on a Friday afternoon with our bare hands by the coach of the first XV. We had notes excusing us from doing PE, my reason being I was recovering from the flu. I spent the next three weeks in bed recovering from pneumonia. I wonder where he would have ended up in this era of litigation!! No wonder I now live in tropical Queensland.
Bryan Hollinshead, Brittany, France
A wonderful article which gave me so much pleasure by recalling my days at Barry Grammar School. If I could enlarge on one or two comments made by previous Old Boys I would like to add to the remarks on Les Tusler made by my friend and onetime tennis partner Barri Jones. I well recall Les playing the record Le Fiacre and also the flip side 'Paris tu n'as pas changé' as I bought a copy from Kent's Record Shop in Thompson Street. Living in Brittany and a regular visitor to my favourite city, Paris, I'm reminded of that song every time I arrive at the Gare Montparnasse. Following on with another little anecdote involving Les Tusler. One of my friends Raymond Shkensberg, not known for hard work or academic excellence but a really fine lad knew but three words in French. When asked for his homework which,of course he hadn't done, he invariably replied 'J'étais absent'. Les would smile and leave it at that. I was one of those who made a cannon in 'Mousey' Mills workshop but unlike Roger Diamond loaded it with gunpowder for greater penetrating power. Believe it or not you could by all the ingredients over the counter from Howells chemist shop in Holton Road. We model aircraft enthusiasts used to buy ether and castor oil from the same source to concoct the fuel for our model aero engines. If I had to choose the teacher who had the most influence it would have to be 'Bud' Fisher. It took me quite a few years to realise that he gave to me the joy of reading which has served me well throughout my life. Were there any teachers who I did not like? Yes, Glynn Rees. A very competent teacher of mathematics but not a very nice man. I believe that he emigrated 'down under' on retirement. Six feet under the bowling green at Central Park would have been more appropriate. I haven't visited Barry for some twenty years. I believe that it has changed a great deal over that period. I'd prefer to remember it as itwas in the days of my youth.
Don Geraldos, Northampton
Alan Brinn's 'reputation' never filtered to the outer reaches of Cadoxton until sometime after I, as a ten-year old, had been regularly traipsing up and down Cannon Hill to music lessons. For some reason, my mother abruptly stopped sending me to 'Professor' Brinn's shortly before I joined Barry Grammar School in 1952. My first lunch time, I ran to the dinner queue that stretched behind the house of Mr Moody, the caretaker. As I turned the corner, I encountered Alan Brinn, who was stooped doing up a shoelace. "Hello" I said cheerily. He rose and passed on without even looking at me, not a glimmer of recognition or acknowledgement on his face. That afternoon I was sitting in my usual seat just inside the door of our form room, one of the block of three situated between the metalwork shop and the bike shed. At the end of the first lesson Alan Brinn appeared from the classroom at the opposite end of the block, fixed me with a very mean eye and beckoned me with a slow wiggle of a large index finger. "I may have known you in the past," he said "but 'Good morning, Sir', 'Good afternoon, Sir', but NEVER 'Hello'." I was then dismissed. Perhaps it was later, but he did acquire the alliterative nickname of 'Basher Brinn' for good reason, as you relate. At one point my mother chided me for not taking the opportunity to 'learn the piano'. "But why did you take me away from Professor Brinn" I protested. "I'll tell you when you're older" she replied! Bryn 'Boris' Ashton, the Latin teacher, was my supervisor when I did my Dip Ed in Cardiff. He'd never taught me, I took biology with 'George' instead of Latin, but I found him a charming man of great quiet humour. I met Arnold James a few years back and he, unusually, sang the praises on Les Matthews, saying how he was concerned to appoint people with first-class qualifications. "Look who I had in my department when I was appointed," he said "Cubes and Harry Williams." Having said that, we were, indeed, privileged to be taught mainly by a group of outstanding dedicated teachers of high academic ability. And many of those appointments were down to Matthews.
Vivian Farthing - Lanark - Scotland
An interesting commentary from a pennyworth of Farthings who all went to the Grammar School - I was there through the war years and left in 1946. Sadly my three brothers are all dead, I am the survivor. I remember such names as Dai Walters, Dai Jones, Geo Youngsmith, Scratcher Hughes, Ma Ellis, Cuby Jones, Dai Rees, etc as well as the names mentioned. Great Memories!
John Hodge, Haywards Heath
I would like to thank all those who have commented on my article about Barry Grammar School. It was good to hear from those former classmates Billy MacDonald, Robert Tusler and John Pycroft. Thanks to Roger Dimond for solving the age-old problem of the origin of 'Scratcher' Hughes - I'm sure he would look down on us with a smile for that memory.
There are many more memories of days at that great bastion of education, and I'm sure there are many more who will continue to comment.
Anyone remember the snowy day when Creep had his hat knocked off by a well aimed snowball? I bet we could write a book between us all of our memories of that place and its masters and pupils.
Eric Robinson, Spain
Percy Fisher was a gent. His favoured mode of punishment was the discipline of 100 lines written on two sides of exercise paper. You had to write small and neat to get it all in. One morning a boy handed in his lines. Percy looked at it and said: 'You've written it in pencil' - 'Yes, Sir' - Pause. 'Well, to save you writing it all out again, just go over it in ink.' An indelible memory.Killer Thomas was the best teacher of English at the school, though it was never on his timetable. His attempts to teach other languages were pathetic, but easily forgiven for the entertainment value. I well remember Digby Lloyd (another gent) breaking his leg in that rugby match, I was roaming the touchline at the time.
John Pycroft Stroud , Glos
I have recently read the very interesting submission by John Hodge and wish to endorse all of the complmentary remarks sent in / published by you , from ex Barrians already.I was in the same " A " stream class as John , but always came very much further down the academic picking order ( sad to say ). In my case, I pursued the unusual route of selecting Commercial Subjects in the fourth year options . " Holy Joe ", who took us all in R E, gave me an excellent start in this field and was probably the main reason I chose not to pursue my studies onto University - as most of the lads in the class decided to do . Instead , I joined the Civil Service - after completing " O " levels , eventually qualifying as an accountant , where I enjoyed a fairly successful career within the Public Sector . It goes without saying , that all of us were very fortunate to have been selected to attend such a fine school . Although there are very few grammar schools left in this country nowadays I am pleased to report that here in Stroud there remains two very succesful single sex schools Marling and Stroud Girls High . This was not achieved without an enormous amount of effort from a small body of dedicated parents and their supporters fighting a number of closure notices issued by the County Council in the 1990's.I make no apologies for the fact that I was one of them . How much longer they will be able to hold out is anybody's guess . Needless to say, I am still in touch with many of my school friends from that era, who are now settled all over the world . Would it not to be an excellent idea ro organise a re union sometime soon - before it could be considered too late ? Any willing volunteers out there ?
Robert Tusler-Surrey Heath
I would like to join in congratulations to John for his article. Nothing to do with school, but I remember that he and I took part in a quiz with the Institute of Transport of students against the top managers in the area. Needless to say, we won by a mile. I think had I stayed in the transport industry my career would not have been improved! John was a friend I was sorry to lose touch with. My story of Teifion Phillips refers to the subject of the unification of Italy. We were discussing Piedmont and Tuscany, and every time Teifion said TUScany, with the emphasis on the first syllable, I used to wake up with a start! In later years he denied remembering this. I think Harry Williams, who was a good friend of my Father, did not move to the North, but to Llanharry. I remember that John was nearly as inept in the gym as I was which was probably a part of his problem. The only time I was ever congratulated for some activity in the gym was when I was hanging upside down from two ropes. When Mr James finally realised something was wrong, it took three people to get me down. Eric Jones told my mother that all the years he taught me maths he never saw anything but the back of my head, but could never catch me out! Eventually I married the Secretary of Mr Matthews, Julie Griffin as was, and we are still together in 2008. I think the Grammar School produced stayers.
Barri Hurford-Jones, Alveston, Bristol
John Hodge's article evoked memories of the grammar school on the hill that I attended during the war years. We were mainly taught by those too old for war service (David Walters, Dai Jones et al) so what joy when men of the calibre of Teifion Phillips and Leslie (not Alan) Tusler returned from the Army to fire our enthusiasm. Coming into the classroom for the first time, 'Tus' rejected the standard Whitmarsh textbook and elected instead to play us a record of a racy French song, 'Le Fiacre' by Jean Sablon, pointing out that this was the real purpose of acquiring a second language. Such was his influence that I became a teacher (and headteacher) myself. When Leslie Tusler retired, he proposed me for membership of the Headmasters' Assocn (later Secondary Heads' Assocn) - an act which I found immensely moving. As for that equally wonderful man Teifion Phillips, I followed him as minuting secretary for a political group during a period back in Barry following my own retirement. His references in the minutes to Atilla the Hun and other political giants are preserved for posterity. Because French was my modern language, I saw little of 'Killer' Thomas but became a devotee of his when he spoke to 'Lit and Deb' on the subject of bullfighting in Spain. I still have copies of the school magazine of which he was such a superb editor and to which he frequently contributed in his own inimitable style.
Roger Dimond from Hertford
I enjoyed John Hodge's article very much - there were some real characters teaching at the school at that time. I can answer his question about Griff Hughes' nickname, 'Scratcher.' Griffer is the French for to scratch. In common with Curly Davies (he was bald, naturally), Cuby and Bud Fisher, Scratcher had also taught my father at Barry Grammar School in a previous generation. Mousey Mills taught metalwork, rode a motorbike and was a good ice skater - the Knap lake used to freeze in winter then. In metalwork the lathe exercise was to make a decorative cannon. We weren't supposed to make a touch hole, but this was quickly accomplished with a small drill when Mousey's back was turned. With the right size ball-bearing and the scraped-off heads of several matches we then possessed a lethal weapon, as witnessed by the holes in the work benches in the metalwork room. Sharing the same corrugated iron building was Doug Sutton, the art master, and that is where I painted a picture entitled 'The Bleep' - this was the popular name for the first artificial satellite Sputnik 1, and the year was 1957.Doug's influence saw me to Cardiff Art College and a subsequent career in the applied arts. John's references to Leslie Matthews aka 'Creep', 'Sel' or 'The Boss' are interesting and he was indeed a strict disciplinarian - I can still hear his sonorous voice echoing down the corridor where he acted as a traffic cop in lesson changeovers - 'er boy; see me at 4.15pm.' You were in for it then. Alun Brinn (Music) was the only teacher whose reputation filtered down to primary school (Romilly in my case). He kept a cupboard full of slippers mostly daps or plimsolls), one of which was used on me for not writing my musical notes upright. He was the ultimate control-freak and taught by fear. His methods would quite rightly not be tolerated today. Tojo and Killer were warm and principled human beings whose kindness and influence made their mark - the school was a rich environment for kids who were lucky enough to pass the eleven-plus and go there.
Billy MacDonald, Illinois, USA
John - memories have flooded back on reading your essay. Bud Fisher would have given you an A+. A delight to read and remember of school times past but also saddened to hear of classmates early demise. As to Major James I once aced an exam with his class - in his words "I never give an A+" and thus dropped me to 99%. Ah! But such fame is always fleeting. I also worked for British Rail in the Paddington HQ passenger office(Western Region) before being transferred to the USA, later with Pan American Airways and the final move to where I always wanted to be (Construction/Engineering). As to Bud Fisher and "When are you leaving?" this was in the old wooden building (The Arts and Metal shop area). My desk was on the west side along those cursed windows. Those of us sitting there on Friday afternoon sunny days would fall asleep like overfed somnolent pigeons. From afar would come a chalk missile flung with uncanny accuracy and a mighty thump on the desk lid as he arrived followed by the famous Bud Fisher roar that would put fear into the chosen victim. Then would follow the infamous tongue lashing sarcasm that cheered the rest of the class into hearty guffaws, kind but not cruel, secure in the knowledge that another victim would be chosen and your chance to guffaw would also come.
Charles Winn, now in Abergavennny
My compliments to John Hodge, for his article. I found it written so well, it brought life back to my fading memories at Barry County Grammar School for Boys, as I think I remember it called in my day. I am a few years older than he, but so many of his detailed recollections triggered pleasant twinges for me, I was thrilled.I admire his ability to recall, and write about, details I had forgotten, of so many teachers. His writing also reminded me once more, of the friendships we made in those years, which in my case, became lasting memories, after moving away from Barry as a very young man. Thank you John, for the memories!
By John Hodge
