With the magazine are details of the sporting reunions on the afternoon of April 12^th and the Annual Dinner to be held that evening.

If you are not a member of the OW club, you can find details of the Sports Reunions and the Dinner, and you are very warmly invited to both events.

It would be great, if lots of Old Wycombiensians, members and non-members alike, turned up to participate in or watch the games, and come to the Dinner. Please send your reply-slips in as soon as possible.

Dear Sir

To the question "Have you been inside the clock tower?" the answer, I must confess, is "Yes". The year was c.1945, and I was accompanied by my good friend, John Dennis (a wonderful Macbeth). The method of our gaining entry was necessarily of the utmost secrecy, and has remained so, but after all these years can now be revealed. I managed to "borrow" a key from one of the janitors, Neville by name), from which I made a replica. This gained us admission to the broom-cupboard under the stairway at the southern end of the corridor. Inside was a vertical ladder which, with a succession of others, finally gave access to the roof space and thence to a final ascent to the clock tower itself. To mark our visit we placed a rubber band around the "works", and then descended.

Next morning at assembly E.R.T. requested the identity of the person(s) responsible for making the clock stop at 1.50pm the previous day. I regret that nobody answered his call, and my co-conspirator and I have, until now, always preserved their anonymity. Confession is good for the soul.

Yours

Ed. Does anyone else have any memories of the "Boss"?

Dear Sir

I am writing this at 22000ft above the Med on my way back from the Middle East where I have been on Active Service with the Coalition Forces enforcing the Northern No-Fly Zone in Northern Iraq.

My last missive for the Wycombiensian was some years ago when I reported that I was stationed at RAF Brize Norton flying VC10 jet transports. I still am! However, I retired in October 2000, but missed the fun and almost immediately joined the Reserves doing my old job; something I had done since leaving the RGS in 1964.

Now you may well think that all this is hardly very newsworthy. However, when I tell you that out of the eight Flight Deck aircrew flying VC10 out of Turkey no less than three of us are RGS Old Boys, you will realise the significance. The odds of that occurring must be in excess of a million to one! Besides myself, Mark Ponting (1981-87) is also serving as a VC10 Captain together with Graham A Hannam (1972-77), a Navigator. I have enclosed a photograph of us in action!

I recently paid a trip to the Republic of Iran, where the people of the Iranian Snooker Federation were tremendously warm-hearted and welcoming. A few days of tournaments, exhibitions and training demonstrations saw hundreds of people crammed into the various clubs of Teheran. After the 23-year ban on the game being lifted eighteen months ago, 850 clubs have been registered in Iran in 18 months!

Hope that all is well and that the New Year brings health and prosperity!

Ed. Nic is the Dubai Snooker coach

Dear Ian

Re. the 4^th XV Photograph published in the last newsletter, I am fairly certain that back row second from the left is Martin Neild. He was in the S stream in the early 60s and, I think, went to work for ICI in Welwyn Garden City in his twenties. He was a boarder at Uplyme under the splendid Mervyn Davies.

The extreme right hand of the back row is possibly someone with the surname Backhouse who was in the A stream. The problem with that idea is I remember him as being very unlikely to take part in organised games! So I might be mistaken. One or two other faces are familiar but sadly the short-term memory is starting to go, and as a contemporary of those two, I am at the point when the 60s comes under the heading "short-term".

It is very sad to record the sudden death of Stephen Jones (1986-1992), and the death of Air Marshall Sir Ian Pedder. (1936-1943)

The following are extracts from the obituary of Sir Ian Pedder published in the Times:

When he left the RGS, he went to Queen’s College, Oxford. Only nine months into his degree he undertook flying training with the RAF and was commissioned in 1944. He did not return to Oxford in 1945. Instead he went on to an action-packed career on operations in many international post-war flashpoints, as Britain and other nations withdrew from their colonial empires.

Ian Pedder flew sorties against nationalist insurgents in Indonesia in 1945, communist rebels during the Malayan Emergency in 1948, where he won the DFC, Laotian incursions into Thailand in 1962 and again against Indonesian troops during the Sukarno regime’s confrontation with Malaysia in Borneo in 1964.

Injuries suffered when he ejected from a ground attack training aircraft at low level in the early 1970s put an end to his flying days. But he successfully switched to air traffic management, becoming successively deputy controller and controller of National Air Traffic Services, managing all military and civil flying in this country at a time of dramatic expansion in commercial air traffic.

Ian was appointed KCB in 1982 and retired from the RAF in 1984. He then became vice-chairman, and later Chairman of Dan –Air before it was taken over by British Airways in 1990.

An OW would like to know the whereabouts of Billy Vestentoft. Please send any information to the Editor please.

It was a real joy to the Editor to show Colin Pendrill (1968-1975) round the school one Saturday morning, and enjoy a lunch and reminiscing at the Beech Tree, before going on to Adams Park to watch Wycombe Wanderers. I am looking forward to showing John Fellows (1946-1954) round the school in March. If anyone else would like a tour round the RGS, please contact the Editor.

It was good to hear that Douglas (1988-1994) was recently before returning to teach in Cairo. Eleven OWs of the same vintage attended the Wedding.

Three brothers, who are all Wycombiensians, all became fathers for the first time in the same month. Alice, wife of Roger Bayly (1982-1988) was first with a girl, Anna, on 7th October. Hattie, wife of Simon Bayly (1986-1992, followed also with a girl, Isabella, on 20^th October. Julia, wife of Andrew Bayly (1980-1986) gave birth to a boy, Ansel, on 27^th October. Congratulations to all three families!

Is this a record?

Congratulations to Roger Hollingworth on being awarded a MBE in the New Year’s Honours list for his services to the CCF. He retired from the RGS in July 2002, and there is a tribute to him towards the end of this newsletter.

Andrew MacTavish continues his story:

Sundays were fairly dire. The best thing was that you had an extra hour in bed. But when you got up, you had to put on your best suit from the cupboard next to Matron's Room in the corridor. After breakfast there was the compulsory letter to be written to the parents, left unsealed for the Housemaster to check. Then by 10.30 a.m. you had to be on your way to Wycombe Parish Church, where the boarders sat on the right hand side. The service was always the traditional Morning Service from the Book of Common Prayer. We knew the fixed canticles off by heart. We made a show of not having to refer to the book when we sang them: the Venite - 'O come, let us sing unto the Lord'; the Te Deum - 'We praise Thee, O God: we acknowledge Thee to be the Lord' (which seemed to go on for hours); and the Benedictus - 'Blessed be the Lord God of Israel'. After all these years, we could all still have a pretty good go at singing them without the book now. We suffered the sermons and, on those occasions when the Headmaster, 'Boss' Tucker, a lay reader, delivered the address, we concentrated our eyes on him even if our minds were far elsewhere. We put our l d. into the collection because we knew it would be a terrible sin not to. At last it all ended and we left to trudge up the hill to lunch, still in our best suits. Nor were we allowed to change until 4 pm. and after we had had a walk. This was possibly the direst event of a dire day. We had to disappear from the boarding house for two hours from 2 o'clock. As we were in our best clothes, we were severely limited in what we could do. Obviously this was part of the Master Plan that ruled our lives. Climbing trees, wrestling in meadows, playing Cowboys and Indians were all somewhat restricted. To muddy your best jacket and trousers was a crime close in gravity to assassinating the King or setting fire to His Majesty's Dockyards. So we wandered around the adjacent roads and streets, and waited desperately until the tardy hand of the clock crawled to 4 pm. At last we could change into out everyday clothes, and we could have tea, and then? Then it was the Boarders' Service in the Hall. Our fellows from the other two boarding houses, Uplyme and Tylers Wood, arrived; we set out the folding hall chairs and awaited the Headmaster. The form of service varied but we had a couple of hymns, a few prayers and another sermon.

It all took about 40 minutes before we were finally released, for supper and getting ready for school on the Monday, and bed. We spent much time praying on Sundays, but the sincerest prayers were the early ones, before 8 am when we pleaded for rain, heavy rain, torrential rain, rain that would stop us having to walk that mile to church and back, rain that would cancel the afternoon walk, rain that would allow us to stay in the Scout Hut and burn holes in pieces of wood.

Bonfire Night - November 5th - was a high spot. There was no nonsense about the nearest Saturday to November 5th either. Firework Night was 5th, and no one would think of letting fireworks off a day sooner or laterFor a week or so before, the juniors had rushed off after school to the woods on Green Hill and hauled back all the fallen branches for the bonfire - and any branches that looked as if they might conceivably be about to fall off too. The fire was built about 30 yards from the Fives Courts on the field. It was by no means as huge as modern fires, but it was a fair size. Reg came out when it was dark and gave the prefects the signal to light. Everyone watched to begin with. Then the fireworks were produced. There was no formal display. Everyone produced some fireworks and let them off randomly, usually behind other people. Firework safety was not at the forefront of society's mind in those days. After all, the Second World War had been over for only three years and people were far more casual about accidents. The most popular fireworks were 2d (tuppenny) bangers called ‘Little Demon’s, and the slightly larger 3d 'Cannon's. Then there were 2d squibs, or jumping jacks, that banged irregularly and jumped about. The ideal situation was to light these and drop them unnoticed in a crowd. The squib started its dance without warning; at least the bangers gave five seconds warning with an initial fierce burst of flame that gave people time to bolt. Rockets were quite popular, starting at 2d. A few more extravagant sixth formers would produce a 6d (tanner) rocket, but generally we stuck to the cheaper ones. Coloured fountains and volcanoes were less popular. If someone lit one, there was a even chance that he had laid a banger next to it so that it would explode once everyone was appreciating the colours of the 'pretty' one. Some of us moved a little way away from the crowd and experimented by blowing apart small tins with 'Little Demons'. Fireworks were more powerful then. We rightly guessed that Reg wouldn't be too thrilled at this so we didn't advertise our experiments too much.

Reg kept everything in some sort of order. No one tried to bomb him as he made it clear that, if they did, he would take them inside and 'thrash them within an inch of their life'. Actually he was not particularly strong with the cane, but it was still not an experience we queued up for, so we desisted. After about an hour, when the fire had died down and the fireworks had been finished, we were told to go to bed and to make sure we had a thorough wash. We wandered up to the dormitory, reeking of bonfire and gunpowder, and Matron came out to see if anyone had been burned. It is a sobering thought to remember that, in those days, hospitals would report something like 7,000 accidents from fireworks on that night.

A week of snow in January 1949 brought an exciting new world. Old sledges appeared from secret hiding places, and the Scout Hut suddenly became a centre for building and refurbishing.

The critical components were the runners. A good set of runners was worth its weight in gold. Every chair in the school was wooden and the only conceivable runners were the back struts of school chairs. The very best runners came from the school hall folding chairs. They were slightly longer than others and critically, were more curved. Runners from these chairs were jealously guarded and handed down from generation to generation. But pairs of 'new' runners did appear on sledges, runners that showed no sign of wear nor nail holes from previous constructions, and when juniors asked questions, they were brusquely told to shut up or they would be dealt with, for another chair had disappeared from the Hall.

The basic construction was simple: two runners in parallel, with a cross-piece at the front extending six inches or so to each side to hold on to, and some cross timber at the other end to lie on. For these sledges were ridden head first. Huge riders who travel feet first with helmets have no idea of the exhilaration of hurtling down a hill with the nose leading, two inches off the ground, and smashing into a hawthorn bush at twenty miles an hour. The sledge had to be sturdy as steering involved rocking the weight from one side to another by heaving on the crosspiece. Constructors had no drills or screwdrivers, and nails were at a premium. Boys would lurk around the school looking for odd nails in walls or cycle sheds. Brought back to the Scout Hut, they would be straightened and driven into place with the back of the sledge run at the top of Green Hill. Today's houses are built on that steep slope; it was then a superb sledging hill, dotted with small hawthorn and wild rose bushes. The run was made at the steepest point. It was about a hundred yards long, dropping some seventy-five feet and zigzagging through the bushes.

By the time the snow had partly melted and refrozen, it was a run unsurpassed outside St Moritz. The older, experienced ones would take a running start, throw themselves onto the sledge, steer tightly round the bushes with no speed loss, and arrive at the wire fence at the bottom to execute a single runner skate turn to stop. The less skilful would smash headlong into wild roses, often resulting in savage scratches, or hurtle downhill in uncontrolled courses, to shoot under the lowest strand of barbed wire, coming to rest in the bramble bushes beyond with only their feet visible. Small boys gleefully hauled them out backwards as they had no means of extricating themselves. Sometimes a senior would take a junior down pickaback. The combined weight would add to the speed, though the junior was expected to roll off if things got out of control, and would often end up draped over a hawthorn bush while his partner continued down the hill at speed. No one was ever seriously hurt. There were bruises and scratches and the odd torn muscle, but never any really interesting injury.

The prospect of the end of term made everyone more and more excited. Day boys went home every evening; we had not been home for weeks. The tension grew more and more. At Christmas we decorated the Common Room with holly - from Green Hill wood, of course.

We even risked putting holly in the Junior Dormitory prefects' beds. Retribution could have been violent, but they too were in high spirits and took it in good part even if they did insist on turning the lights on and clearing their beds noisily.

We had a special Christmas dinner and a Boarders' Carol Service on top of the School Carol Service. We went about singing odd ditties.

The bread in the Boarding House

They say is mighty fine

A piece fell off the table

And killed a pal of mine

I don't want to be a boarder

Mama, I want to go

But they won't let me go

Mama, I want to go home

The beds in the boarding house

They say are mighty fine

But no one ever

Tried to sleep on mine

I don't etc...'

We didn't realise at the time, but the song was rather better known with army" for "boarding house", and "I don't want no more of army life" in the chorus. The last night of term was special. When we went up, we turned our beds round. It was vital to sleep with our feet to the wall and our heads to the middle of the room. Apparently it was traditional. We had bought sweets and crisps, and concealed them in our beds earlier. Once lights were out and after a reasonable time, we gathered together and had our feast. It was not really very secret. Occasionally the shadow of authority would be cast across the doorway. Authority knew what was going on, but authority turned a blind eye.

Tributes were paid in the 2002 edition of the Wycombiensian to teachers who have left. Here are some extracts:

It was Joan who blazed a trail for women’s golf among the RGS staff. She will no doubt continue to play golf and with her part-time lecturing with the Open University, she will have a busy retirement, and, we hope, a rewarding and happy one.

Jenny Holt retired in 2001 after working part-time for 12 years at the RGS. She was a lively member of the department with a sense of humour and always ready to help others, both colleagues and boys. She devoted time at lunchtimes and after school to help those who found the subject difficult. With her cake-baking and her organising of socials, she was the social secretary of the Department. Her lessons were often interrupted by the arrival of Mr Ratcliffe, the school Chaplain, not to offer spiritual advice but to promise the class the imminent arrival of a "proper teacher." She took this in good part and no doubt gave verbally as good as she got.

In addition to the Maths Department, the CCF benefited from her contributions to camps. We all wish her a long, fulfilling and happy time.

After a long and distinguished career in the Defence Research Agency, Roger joined the Physics Department in 1993. He threw himself into his teaching role with characteristic enthusiasm and commitment. Hard working and diligent, he went to great lengths to ensure that he made the subject interesting and rewarding for his pupils. No effort was ever spared on behalf of his students or his colleagues. Roger is a man of high intelligence, great energy, unbounded kindness and generosity of spirit. As a form tutor, his kindness and concern are without equal. Every year his form holds a Christmas party, which he encourages them to organise. Few teachers would have found the time, energy or stamina to do the same. He inspires in his form a real and rare sense of cohesiveness and community.

Roger ran the CCF and did it supremely well. (A tribute to Roger’s work for the CCF by his predecessor, Lt. Colonel Neil Cooper, appears in the CCF Section of the school website.) He also took responsibility for major World Challenge expeditions to far corners of the globe. His fitness and ability to cope under the most taxing physical conditions, are legendary. The pride they took in the work they had done for communities so remote and deprived, gave those boys something which will be with them all their lives.

In each of the three spheres, teaching Physics and Electronics, the CCF, and World challenge, his contributions have been invaluable. He has been a delightful colleague, considerate, courteous and always helpful. We shall miss him.

Alan Lewis, Old Wycombiensian, quickly made his mark as a jazz pianist of consummate ability, and enabled a generation of RGS jazz musicians to reach new heights in the art of improvisation. He relished the task of taking on the considerable commitment of organizing the RGS Jazz Band, with its busy schedule out of school hours. His second great enthusiasm, technology in music, has borne fruit in the establishment of AS Music Technology as a regular subject in Sixth Form Studies. The two areas have come together in the production of various CDs of the Jazz Band.

Alan’s contribution to RGS music reflects the man- understated. His quiet, self-effacing manner belies the determination to achieve and move on. It is this determination that is leading him to pursue further studying technology and music. I have greatly appreciated his quiet, unfussy dedication to the job. I will miss his helpfulness, thoughtfulness and sense of humour. We wish you well, Alan.