Congratulations to Matt Dawson (1985-1991) for all that he did as a member of the outstanding England Rugby Team that won the World Cup! Have you got any favourite stories of your days playing with him, that you could share with us?

Hi Mr Clark,

I read the newsletter on the RGS OB website and I felt compelled to jot down a few of my memories.

I remember my first day at RGS High Wycombe - my stepmother took me in her car. I remember sitting there, most distraught and worried, as I'd heard what they did to 'wombugs' and wasn't at all happy about it. Stories of 'bog-washing' and suchlike were rife at primary school... I was also nervous about encountering all these strange teachers I'd seen roaming around in their sinister Batman gowns. BATMAN Before I felt brave enough to get out of her car, she leaned over to me and said 'don't worry about the teachers - they all fart just like everyone else".

Junior school was fun. I was an instant misfit. Neither clever enough to fit in with the brainy scientists nor strong enough to mix it with the harder boys in the single-language forms, I soon found myself doing 3 languages in the last form ever to do so (or so I was told) with a bunch of other alleged outcasts. I enjoyed being tall enough not to bother with, and since I had a predilection for fencing and other violent pastimes (a frankly questionable form of karate called mou-gen-do), people tended to give me a wide berth. KARATE Hair was a problem. I must have experimented with several 'styles' in my first few years of school and managed only one thing consistently - to look ridiculous. I'm secretly glad about being unable to find any of my old school photos...

Subject-wise, I hated maths with a vengeance. I liked the teachers who tried their best with me, though - Mr Lovell with his OHP teaching style and permanently ink-stained wrist, Mrs Nicholls who patiently put up with my pathetic ability to ensure I worked hard to get a respectable GCSE grade and Mr Wheeler, who, being my first ever schoolmaster, gave us all a lot of support and then left. I still wonder what we did to the poor man...

I grew to love Latin and all things classical. Mr Cooper was a unique teacher, beginning our first class entirely in Latin and showing us that, despite not knowing what the master was on about, we could like Pavlov's dogs, learn how to respond to cues to sit, stand and open windows. If only Mr Cooper were an employer. His exhortations to 'take a bonus' would have come in very handy! I realised that the azimuth of my Latin career came and went after winning the RGS' much-vaunted Latin speaking competition. I'm still quite surprised by that achievement. I wouldn't recommend the revelation of that hidden talent as an opening gambit when trying to break the ice at parties. I'll come clean - I only did it to get out of maths. My love affair with the classics ended abruptly when Mr Crease tried in vain to teach me ancient Greek in an extra-curricular session. I came away puzzled and deflated. My entire knowledge of that language now is how to praise a cook, which is sadly of limited use in the usually more modern Greek restaurant...

Fencing was fun. It was regarded by my peers as one of those weird 'trad' sports at the RGS, like fives. I remember a much-older Adrian Griffin inspecting my 'en garde' and saying "This one's a natural". (I take that back: Adrian cannot really be much older than I. I suppose I can rationalise it by saying that, when one's a wombie, everyone's 'much-older'. The teachers seem practically ancient.) Anyhow, I beamed. It was something I was good at. It encouraged me to take up the sport and, given that I was instantly 'a natural', pay little attention to the lessons. I remember Messrs Roebuck and Skipp patiently trying to train me in classic fencing. I did my best but found that entering competitions and adopting a more pragmatic style was the way to go. Besides, I thought it looked a bit too camp, all that sticking your arm up in the air business... I soon developed a messy, eclectic style (not too Errol Flynn's) and after getting nowhere, got bored.

I gave up in the fourth year, having won my half-colours and then ran off to join the Combined Cadet Force (CCF). In truth I owe the fencing masters a lot, in that I revisited the sport later at university and gained a national ranking. I love the sport so much now that I teach it at a local club. It's amazing how something you learn at school sticks with you all these years. I even came 4th in a county league last year, which either means I haven't lost it or local coaches have really got to pull their socks up...

As to the CCF - I joined the Naval section. SAILOR It had the fewest members, despite being the 'senior service'. I believe it was a general unease about potentially wearing starched flared trousers that put boys off. In actuality, We had great fun mucking about on boats at the RAF yachting club at Danesfield on the Thames just upstream from Marlow. Occasionally we went on courses and trips, which were all great fun. I remember writing an article for the Wycombiensian on the Fleet Tender trip we made out of Helensburgh. The trip taught me the colour of seasickness. The CCF inspired me to try to join up, but having almost got there, a nice Medical Officer informed my that I had astigmatism and that a life on the ocean wave, or even below it, was not for me. The cadet bug stayed with me a few years beyond university, however, as I became a volunteer instructor with the Sea Cadet Corps for a few years until work got in the way. I've been an inveterate water-rat ever since my CCF years, which has led latterly to kayaking and now, more recently, to enter into the rather murky world of wreck diving.

My sixth form years were different. Despite the responsibility of being a prefect in the junior block (or having tea and biscuits with Matron), the sweets and bridge games in the sixth form common room and being older and wiser than the majority of the school, I didn't enjoy school that much. I kept German and had the wonderful Messrs Crease and White-Taylor. The former's insight into what each boy needed to succeed, merged with his dowdy appearance, made him a memorable teacher. The latter's comedy university scarf, his bouncing manner and the fact he coached us, pretty much, for the exams, made for an easy 2 years in that subject. I loved English Lit. I was encouraged by Mr Gibson to start writing poetry. I could produce an obscure haiku or villanelle in no seconds flat but I slowly realised that I hadn't the patience to polish the resultant doggerel. I was additionally taught by Mr Goldthorpe, who was inspirational, but who told me I was predicted a D. I disagreed and got a B, to the detriment of Geography, where I was predicted a 'safe A'. As complacency was my downfall, it is no surprise I stuffed up my Geography grade as a result.

What was my most memorable day of school? I definitely say it was when Mr Mainwaring decided to promote his Flair art magazine with a few unsuspecting 'wombies', of which I was one. Looking back I feel duped and used; I was made to think that dressing up in a ridiculous outfit was going to help sell his publication. The outfit comprised a wide-brimmed hat and flared trousers. I looked a sight. I was made to ring an oversized hand-bell, proclaiming, in front of the entire school at assembly: "Flair! Flair! Who'll buy my Flair?" Fortunately there was no rehearsal. I've never fully recovered from the emotional scarring. Thankfully, being only a few weeks old in the school, I was able to retreat into comfortable anonymity and nurse my already burgeoning hatred of all things arty.

I look back on my school years with a sense of pride. I'm glad the RGS is expanding and doing well. I learned a great deal - Mr Ratcliffe showed that Christianity and hippopotamuses can peacefully coexist, Dr Smith proved that no presentation is complete without copious drawings of matchstick-men, Mr Cowburn taught me the word 'pusillanimous' and showed me, during rehearsals for 'The Scottish Play' how to ward off evil using Psalm 91. I also learned how the power of one's voice could be used to freeze people on the spot. I believe the sorely-missed 'Big D' was responsible for that. The school left me with a strong sense of what is right and wrong. I think some psychiatrists refer to it as 'morals'.

It's ended up with my joining the police, after all. I'm just glad the whole experience hasn't left me with an insane urge to push detainees' heads down loos...LOO

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I have writing it!

Regards,

Simon North-Keeling ('84-'90)

If you were at the RGS in the eighties or nineties, how many of the ‘old rogues’ can you name? Do you know if any are still teaching at RGS?

Congratulations to Tim Watts for being awarded the OBE for peace-keeping efforts in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Col. Watts was in the African country from August 2002 to April 2003 while he was on temporary secondment to the United Nations from the British Army. He was at the RGS from1972-1979 and then entered the Royal Military College. He served as a major in the 1^st Iraqi war and was made colonel, aged 40.

Wishing everyone a very peaceful New Year from all ‘the team’