Tog/James (now
known as Jim).
I thought I might start off with some memories of my time at school. Yes - I know nostalgia is frowned upon and can be dangerous, but tough! I say; we all revelled in it at the reunion and no-one complained then.
I'm afraid my Bedales career goes right back to when my Mother moved to Steep with us three children, and I went to Dunnanie. I'm not alone is this rather questionable admission, there are other Old Lags who may also remember the milk float and the old tractor we used to muck about on, in black and white I suppose. Significantly more memorable, of course, must be the pinnacle of my acting career, never equalled, when I played The Tin Man in The Wizard Of Oz, my Mum having taken a couple of cans of silver spray-paint to a pair of my pyjamas. Antony and James were in it, though I can't remember the love interest. Henry in drag?
Photo by Jamie O.
and Taffy (William W.).
Photo contributed by Jonny.
In Bedales I started off on a roll, for some reason integrating into the fast set, which was, obviously, untenable, and I soon escaped into a world involving sport, some quiet friendships and solitude. This was not an unhappy time, not at all, but I do remember occasionally being unbearably homesick as I had, by then, begun to board. However, I successfully muddled through my O-Levels, and set about endeavouring to muddle through my A-Levels.
I remember, after a typically impressive display of ignorance, Sarah asking me with unrestrained candour;
"Tog, why do you do English?" I think John Batstone put her up to it.
In spite of these knocks I began to enjoy myself in the Sixth Form, (but where was Gooney?), and I became friends on new terms with more or less everybody. My school life still didn't have much to do with actually learning anything, but extra-curricular activities began to feature and there are several people to whom, if I was man enough, I should really apologise. But I'm not. Picking a few memories from the haze I also recall helping Claire (Nowak) with her Highway Code, pretending to have as deep a voice as Dan in The Sunday Choir, producing an essay about "Eyeless In Gaza" without reading the book (the mark was not significantly dissimilar to the norm), our trip to Kenya, and playing cricket, basketball and all sorts of other sports.
I left with a couple of mediocre A-Levels, an O-Level pass in Poor-Man's Biology and no plans at all; spending the Summer as Mate on board my Stepfather's Thames Sailing Barge working up and down the East Coast. The Autumn and Winter I spent in France, putting my CSE French to the test (which, amazingly, it passed!) working on a vineyard in Beaujolais.
Back in England I spent the next year studying for two more A-Levels, with surprising success; only then discovering that it was quite possible for me to do well at my larnin. Looking back at my time at Bedales it occurs to me that, in my case, it was an expensive way of not really going to school, and I wonder if the staff might have been a bit more pro-active in trying to work the, admittedly small, vein of latent academic aptitude lying dormant in my young frame. On to Plymouth Poly. where I obtained a passably good degree by deploying my new-found tactic of working for it. More importantly; there I met Kay, a Devon farmer's daughter, who, in spite of knowing me for some years eventually married me, and, even more remarkably, still lives with me - claiming to be relatively happy! I certainly am, and we have two boys; Tom (13) who's a bit like me, and Sam (10 (acts 5)) who isn't quite like anybody else I've ever met.
Unsurprisingly our Environmental Science degrees turned out to be entirely useless and I went back to a bit of farm work and did a year writing and producing media for use in schools. Kay, more practically, re-trained as a radiographer and got a job in Weymouth where, notwithstanding the expertise I demonstrated by re-wiring and generally knocking our first house about, I was taken on for my practical skills at The Weymouth Pavilion (read End Of The Pier) Theatre, where I played "Dogsbody" for a couple of seasons. I must have shown some promise in this role for, although I've now moved to a new theatre in Crawley, that is how I still earn my living. I'm sitting on the side of the stage now, as I write, with Richard Thompson over there to my right, reminding me of how I've worked with all The Greats over the years; Sooty, The Krankies, Fred Simmons, Henry Bennett.
Like many, I suspect, I approached our 25 years reunion with some trepidation entirely justified when one of the "girls" obviously failed to recall that I had been openly besotted with her and proceeded to tell me about how much in love she had been with someone else. I had another pint.
Following a welcome cup of good cheer chez (that's CSE for you) Townsend, I walked round the school in the afternoon, deserted by current inmates, and it seemed not at all extraordinary to bump into David Zinkin, John Crossan, Gooney and Diana. Groups of strangely large but nonetheless entirely recognisable Twenty-Fivers were wandering about, laughing and belonging. I wanted to try school again for a week or so; lessons, lounging about, a game of tennis; everything suddenly feeling like eating a slice or five of stodgy toast with unreasonable quantities of Golden Syrup slipping off onto my Hush Puppies. Meandering about I walked into the Lupton Hall, and, sadly, resisted the urge to perform a moony on the stage. So I did one in The Library.
That evening's barbecue is a blur of bright faces that kept popping up, with not enough time to move much beyond the immediate swapping of information. More alcohol and old mannerisms began to reveal who it was lurking behind the balder countenances, or, in the case of the men, the rounder bellies. My thanks go to all those involved in the planning and execution of the event, and to Ryn (and Chuck - ed.) for manning the barbecue all night.
My award, for what it's worth, for the scariest impression of their former selves goes to Caro Godlee, although I think she might have cheated by actually still being 17 years old. My Most Laid Back Award goes to James Mursell, who wasn't there, and my Best Claris award goes to Claris, who along with a significant proportion of our year has found her way into the medical profession. It struck me that a cry of "Is there a Doctor in the house" could have resulted in some nasty trampling injuries, with any subsequent casualties running the additional risk of being treated to death.
We went to Bedales from many backgrounds, and we now function in as many more, but I felt that the reunion was a bit like going home. Looking back it's no surprise that our close and prolonged contact, coupled with our being away from home, meant that Bedales became our second family. This is not necessarily a good thing, (and, though I know the fees are a significant factor in this, am I right in thinking that none of us has offspring at the school?), but it has, I think due to the need for our family unit to work, resulted in our becoming tolerant and forgiving people. Now the reunion's over I wish I'd spent longer with some people who I miss, but I do promise to try a bit harder to keep in touch, which shouldn't be difficult.