Chapter 4
ST TRINIANS WITH BOVVER BOOTS
Isaiah 53:6
“All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.”
The St Trinian’s films of the 1950s tell the story of a girls’ school that was completely out of control and caused mayhem wherever it went.
Skerton School looked fine from the outside. The drive had beautiful apple blossom trees on either side, and there were hundreds of little cherubs running about. But scratch below the surface and you would scream.
The teachers were legends. These included Charlie Emmett — boys were sent to him if they had done wrong, and he would bring their backsides into close proximity with a T-square. Our music teacher, “Sweaty Betty” Wilson, used our lesson time to lecture us on the state of the world. There was Ms Pallister, our young French teacher, and Mr Curnow, our RE teacher, who met and married at the school. Mr Waterhouse, my history teacher, did train impressions. My form teachers were Mrs Warrington and Mr Scott.
School uniform was often augmented by bovver boots and associated items — indeed, anything that could cause grievous bodily harm. This was the 1970s. You could not imagine students changing gender or openly calling themselves homosexual at Skerton; they would have been torn to pieces. Some of the girls did look a bit like men — no names mentioned, but your name begins with S.
All those teachers did their very best under the most trying circumstances. We were a right bunch. But Keith was the school clown. He drove teachers and schoolmates mad with his antics. He was an attention seeker, desperately trying to be noticed.
Some stories about school trips are the stuff of legend — from fire extinguishers being set off on the Mersey ferry to buses getting stuck on Formby Sands.
On other trips, small swords were stolen in Keswick and items taken from a shop in Grasmere. The shop owner came onto the bus to identify the culprit but couldn’t, as most boys had their heads under coats or seats. But we all knew who it was. You know who you are!
Grasmere was also where a group of students staying at the youth hostel got locked out, so the smallest boy was ordered to shimmy up a drainpipe, climb through an open window, and unlock the door.
Keith was placed in the lowest stream in fourth year. He ended up doing woodwork, metalwork, and PE, with no academic studies. My father fought to get me into an academic class. Finally, after missing two terms, I was moved into Class 4S — but I still continued acting the clown.
We had to leave our bags outside the classroom at lunchtime. Ours was the art room, and there was a small ledge just above the door. Someone took great pleasure in throwing my satchel onto that ledge. At 1 p.m., everyone was kept waiting while Keith ran around retrieving his bag. Again, we all knew the culprit. He still lives in Morecambe… doesn’t he?
The school had many landmarks, including the toilets near our classroom — the only toilets with a chimney. This was the place for smoking. You know how white smoke comes out of the chimney when a new pope is elected? It was like that. White smoke streamed from the windows as students tried to “have a drag.”
The school was not PC or “woke.” It was a throwback to a bygone age, but for us, it truly was the best days of our lives.
Not only was there a place for smoking, there were places for snogging too — behind the bike sheds and near the brass band room. So I am reliably informed by someone who spent plenty of time in both places. In fact, the bike sheds have probably been moved to Altrincham town centre as a memorial — or a souvenir. I’m not sure which.
Lunchtime meant football in the playground, but it was never long before you heard the shout of “FIGHT!” followed by teachers running over and saying, “You two clowns, get to Mr Emmett!”
Skerton is now demolished. It has become a housing complex. But for us, it remains a deep memory imprinted on our minds. Life revolved around school. Next time I return to the UK, we will have a reunion with Russ, Wilf, Bruno, Gary, and of course, the legendary Sheri.
Other memorable occasions include sports day, when Keith attempted the hurdles and fell at the first one, causing the biggest laugh ever.
We played sports where teams had to be chosen. In football, I was never chosen first — always last. The choice often came down to me or a lamppost. The lamppost was usually chosen first.
Eventually, Keith did buckle down. He achieved Grade 1 in both History and Geography, and Grade 3 in English Language and Literature. He won the prize for History — well, they had to give someone else a prize. The rest went to a certain genius from Mount Avenue, including the “snogging prize.”
Lifelong friendships were formed at school. My dear friend David Hobbs is still a great friend to me, as is my dearly beloved Andrew, whom I can never thank enough.
Years later, Mr Waterhouse and Mr and Mrs Curnow came to my church. What a joy to know we will meet again.
One last story. Our head girl in Year 5 was Diane Stephenson. She was vivacious and had a very quiet friend called Deborah Ormerod. They were inseparable and in my class. Diane often came to talk to me; she was a lovely person.
I remember our last lesson on a Friday afternoon was Geography. One Friday, I looked across at Diane’s table. The boys were gathered around, hanging on her every word. She had her whole future ahead of her.
On the following Monday morning, the headmaster and senior teachers came into our classroom.
On that Friday night, Diane and Deborah had gone out with their seventeen- to eighteen-year-old boyfriends. As they came down a hill in their village, the car lost control and crashed into a wall. Diane, who was not wearing a seatbelt, was killed instantly. Deborah was seriously injured.
I will always remember seeing them that Friday afternoon. Hours later, Diane was gone.
Life is so fragile. That has always stayed with me.
In Keith’s last term at Skerton, something happened to him — but more of that in the next chapter.
Devotional Thought
As youngsters, we go on our merry way. We laugh and cry together. For us, school was not about academics; it was about survival.
I remember Mr Curnow saying in RE class, “Jesus is the answer.” I mocked him. I wish I had listened, because He truly is the answer.
I did not want to go to Skerton, but it was the place where God had placed Andrew. Mr Scott once said to him, “You’re wasting your time with Keith — he’s beyond hope.”
But there are two wonderful words at the start of Ephesians 2:
BUT GOD
“But God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ (by grace ye are saved).”
No one is beyond the grace and mercy of God. I am living testimony to that fact.
Chapter 4A
SILENT KILLER
Proverbs 15:3
“The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good.”
I write this for those who have suffered bullying, both at home and at school.
Bullying can scar a person for life. It is like an itch you cannot scratch.
My story began at a friend’s school, where I met a boy a year older than me who took it upon himself to bully me — verbally and physically.
I will say this: I did irritate people, and perhaps I brought some of it on myself. But that does not make bullying acceptable.
Later, at Skerton, the bullying worsened. The more I was bullied, the angrier I became. Years later, I met a girl from our class online. The first thing she said was, “You were the one they bullied.” That was her lasting impression of me.
Into adult life, and even into my first marriage, this pattern continued. Some of it may have been my fault — but not all of it.
So how do you deal with it?
Devotional Thought
A deep relationship with God is the first step toward healing. Bullying often happens in the shadows, unseen by others — but not by God.
When you come to Him, you come as a child and become His son or daughter, loved and accepted.
You can pray and forgive those who bullied you, whether in the past or even now.
The verse above gives great hope. The Lord sees everything. He has heard every word spoken against you, and He will hold people accountable.
You must not repay evil with evil. The cycle must be broken. One way to do this is to tell someone you trust — a pastor, close friend, parent, or family member.
Yes, I may have deserved some correction in life, but never the uncontrolled anger of another person. That is never right and never acceptable.
I write this to give hope. I have been where you are. Now I rest secure in God’s love, knowing that no verbal or physical abuse can define me.
I finish with Romans 8:
“If God be for us, who can be against us? … Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
ST TRINIANS WITH BOVVER BOOTS
Isaiah 53:6
“All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.”
The St Trinian’s films of the 1950s tell the story of a girls’ school that was completely out of control and caused mayhem wherever it went.
Skerton School looked fine from the outside. The drive had beautiful apple blossom trees on either side, and there were hundreds of little cherubs running about. But scratch below the surface and you would scream.
The teachers were legends. These included Charlie Emmett — boys were sent to him if they had done wrong, and he would bring their backsides into close proximity with a T-square. Our music teacher, “Sweaty Betty” Wilson, used our lesson time to lecture us on the state of the world. There was Ms Pallister, our young French teacher, and Mr Curnow, our RE teacher, who met and married at the school. Mr Waterhouse, my history teacher, did train impressions. My form teachers were Mrs Warrington and Mr Scott.
School uniform was often augmented by bovver boots and associated items — indeed, anything that could cause grievous bodily harm. This was the 1970s. You could not imagine students changing gender or openly calling themselves homosexual at Skerton; they would have been torn to pieces. Some of the girls did look a bit like men — no names mentioned, but your name begins with S.
All those teachers did their very best under the most trying circumstances. We were a right bunch. But Keith was the school clown. He drove teachers and schoolmates mad with his antics. He was an attention seeker, desperately trying to be noticed.
Some stories about school trips are the stuff of legend — from fire extinguishers being set off on the Mersey ferry to buses getting stuck on Formby Sands.
On other trips, small swords were stolen in Keswick and items taken from a shop in Grasmere. The shop owner came onto the bus to identify the culprit but couldn’t, as most boys had their heads under coats or seats. But we all knew who it was. You know who you are!
Grasmere was also where a group of students staying at the youth hostel got locked out, so the smallest boy was ordered to shimmy up a drainpipe, climb through an open window, and unlock the door.
Keith was placed in the lowest stream in fourth year. He ended up doing woodwork, metalwork, and PE, with no academic studies. My father fought to get me into an academic class. Finally, after missing two terms, I was moved into Class 4S — but I still continued acting the clown.
We had to leave our bags outside the classroom at lunchtime. Ours was the art room, and there was a small ledge just above the door. Someone took great pleasure in throwing my satchel onto that ledge. At 1 p.m., everyone was kept waiting while Keith ran around retrieving his bag. Again, we all knew the culprit. He still lives in Morecambe… doesn’t he?
The school had many landmarks, including the toilets near our classroom — the only toilets with a chimney. This was the place for smoking. You know how white smoke comes out of the chimney when a new pope is elected? It was like that. White smoke streamed from the windows as students tried to “have a drag.”
The school was not PC or “woke.” It was a throwback to a bygone age, but for us, it truly was the best days of our lives.
Not only was there a place for smoking, there were places for snogging too — behind the bike sheds and near the brass band room. So I am reliably informed by someone who spent plenty of time in both places. In fact, the bike sheds have probably been moved to Altrincham town centre as a memorial — or a souvenir. I’m not sure which.
Lunchtime meant football in the playground, but it was never long before you heard the shout of “FIGHT!” followed by teachers running over and saying, “You two clowns, get to Mr Emmett!”
Skerton is now demolished. It has become a housing complex. But for us, it remains a deep memory imprinted on our minds. Life revolved around school. Next time I return to the UK, we will have a reunion with Russ, Wilf, Bruno, Gary, and of course, the legendary Sheri.
Other memorable occasions include sports day, when Keith attempted the hurdles and fell at the first one, causing the biggest laugh ever.
We played sports where teams had to be chosen. In football, I was never chosen first — always last. The choice often came down to me or a lamppost. The lamppost was usually chosen first.
Eventually, Keith did buckle down. He achieved Grade 1 in both History and Geography, and Grade 3 in English Language and Literature. He won the prize for History — well, they had to give someone else a prize. The rest went to a certain genius from Mount Avenue, including the “snogging prize.”
Lifelong friendships were formed at school. My dear friend David Hobbs is still a great friend to me, as is my dearly beloved Andrew, whom I can never thank enough.
Years later, Mr Waterhouse and Mr and Mrs Curnow came to my church. What a joy to know we will meet again.
One last story. Our head girl in Year 5 was Diane Stephenson. She was vivacious and had a very quiet friend called Deborah Ormerod. They were inseparable and in my class. Diane often came to talk to me; she was a lovely person.
I remember our last lesson on a Friday afternoon was Geography. One Friday, I looked across at Diane’s table. The boys were gathered around, hanging on her every word. She had her whole future ahead of her.
On the following Monday morning, the headmaster and senior teachers came into our classroom.
On that Friday night, Diane and Deborah had gone out with their seventeen- to eighteen-year-old boyfriends. As they came down a hill in their village, the car lost control and crashed into a wall. Diane, who was not wearing a seatbelt, was killed instantly. Deborah was seriously injured.
I will always remember seeing them that Friday afternoon. Hours later, Diane was gone.
Life is so fragile. That has always stayed with me.
In Keith’s last term at Skerton, something happened to him — but more of that in the next chapter.
Devotional Thought
As youngsters, we go on our merry way. We laugh and cry together. For us, school was not about academics; it was about survival.
I remember Mr Curnow saying in RE class, “Jesus is the answer.” I mocked him. I wish I had listened, because He truly is the answer.
I did not want to go to Skerton, but it was the place where God had placed Andrew. Mr Scott once said to him, “You’re wasting your time with Keith — he’s beyond hope.”
But there are two wonderful words at the start of Ephesians 2:
BUT GOD
“But God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ (by grace ye are saved).”
No one is beyond the grace and mercy of God. I am living testimony to that fact.
Chapter 4A
SILENT KILLER
Proverbs 15:3
“The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good.”
I write this for those who have suffered bullying, both at home and at school.
Bullying can scar a person for life. It is like an itch you cannot scratch.
My story began at a friend’s school, where I met a boy a year older than me who took it upon himself to bully me — verbally and physically.
I will say this: I did irritate people, and perhaps I brought some of it on myself. But that does not make bullying acceptable.
Later, at Skerton, the bullying worsened. The more I was bullied, the angrier I became. Years later, I met a girl from our class online. The first thing she said was, “You were the one they bullied.” That was her lasting impression of me.
Into adult life, and even into my first marriage, this pattern continued. Some of it may have been my fault — but not all of it.
So how do you deal with it?
Devotional Thought
A deep relationship with God is the first step toward healing. Bullying often happens in the shadows, unseen by others — but not by God.
When you come to Him, you come as a child and become His son or daughter, loved and accepted.
You can pray and forgive those who bullied you, whether in the past or even now.
The verse above gives great hope. The Lord sees everything. He has heard every word spoken against you, and He will hold people accountable.
You must not repay evil with evil. The cycle must be broken. One way to do this is to tell someone you trust — a pastor, close friend, parent, or family member.
Yes, I may have deserved some correction in life, but never the uncontrolled anger of another person. That is never right and never acceptable.
I write this to give hope. I have been where you are. Now I rest secure in God’s love, knowing that no verbal or physical abuse can define me.
I finish with Romans 8:
“If God be for us, who can be against us? … Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Chapter 4
ST TRINIANS WITH BOVVER BOOTS
Isaiah 53:6
“All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the Lord hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.”
The St Trinian’s films of the 1950s tell the story of a girls’ school that was completely out of control and caused mayhem wherever it went.
Skerton School looked fine from the outside. The drive had beautiful apple blossom trees on either side, and there were hundreds of little cherubs running about. But scratch below the surface and you would scream.
The teachers were legends. These included Charlie Emmett — boys were sent to him if they had done wrong, and he would bring their backsides into close proximity with a T-square. Our music teacher, “Sweaty Betty” Wilson, used our lesson time to lecture us on the state of the world. There was Ms Pallister, our young French teacher, and Mr Curnow, our RE teacher, who met and married at the school. Mr Waterhouse, my history teacher, did train impressions. My form teachers were Mrs Warrington and Mr Scott.
School uniform was often augmented by bovver boots and associated items — indeed, anything that could cause grievous bodily harm. This was the 1970s. You could not imagine students changing gender or openly calling themselves homosexual at Skerton; they would have been torn to pieces. Some of the girls did look a bit like men — no names mentioned, but your name begins with S.
All those teachers did their very best under the most trying circumstances. We were a right bunch. But Keith was the school clown. He drove teachers and schoolmates mad with his antics. He was an attention seeker, desperately trying to be noticed.
Some stories about school trips are the stuff of legend — from fire extinguishers being set off on the Mersey ferry to buses getting stuck on Formby Sands.
On other trips, small swords were stolen in Keswick and items taken from a shop in Grasmere. The shop owner came onto the bus to identify the culprit but couldn’t, as most boys had their heads under coats or seats. But we all knew who it was. You know who you are!
Grasmere was also where a group of students staying at the youth hostel got locked out, so the smallest boy was ordered to shimmy up a drainpipe, climb through an open window, and unlock the door.
Keith was placed in the lowest stream in fourth year. He ended up doing woodwork, metalwork, and PE, with no academic studies. My father fought to get me into an academic class. Finally, after missing two terms, I was moved into Class 4S — but I still continued acting the clown.
We had to leave our bags outside the classroom at lunchtime. Ours was the art room, and there was a small ledge just above the door. Someone took great pleasure in throwing my satchel onto that ledge. At 1 p.m., everyone was kept waiting while Keith ran around retrieving his bag. Again, we all knew the culprit. He still lives in Morecambe… doesn’t he?
The school had many landmarks, including the toilets near our classroom — the only toilets with a chimney. This was the place for smoking. You know how white smoke comes out of the chimney when a new pope is elected? It was like that. White smoke streamed from the windows as students tried to “have a drag.”
The school was not PC or “woke.” It was a throwback to a bygone age, but for us, it truly was the best days of our lives.
Not only was there a place for smoking, there were places for snogging too — behind the bike sheds and near the brass band room. So I am reliably informed by someone who spent plenty of time in both places. In fact, the bike sheds have probably been moved to Altrincham town centre as a memorial — or a souvenir. I’m not sure which.
Lunchtime meant football in the playground, but it was never long before you heard the shout of “FIGHT!” followed by teachers running over and saying, “You two clowns, get to Mr Emmett!”
Skerton is now demolished. It has become a housing complex. But for us, it remains a deep memory imprinted on our minds. Life revolved around school. Next time I return to the UK, we will have a reunion with Russ, Wilf, Bruno, Gary, and of course, the legendary Sheri.
Other memorable occasions include sports day, when Keith attempted the hurdles and fell at the first one, causing the biggest laugh ever.
We played sports where teams had to be chosen. In football, I was never chosen first — always last. The choice often came down to me or a lamppost. The lamppost was usually chosen first.
Eventually, Keith did buckle down. He achieved Grade 1 in both History and Geography, and Grade 3 in English Language and Literature. He won the prize for History — well, they had to give someone else a prize. The rest went to a certain genius from Mount Avenue, including the “snogging prize.”
Lifelong friendships were formed at school. My dear friend David Hobbs is still a great friend to me, as is my dearly beloved Andrew, whom I can never thank enough.
Years later, Mr Waterhouse and Mr and Mrs Curnow came to my church. What a joy to know we will meet again.
One last story. Our head girl in Year 5 was Diane Stephenson. She was vivacious and had a very quiet friend called Deborah Ormerod. They were inseparable and in my class. Diane often came to talk to me; she was a lovely person.
I remember our last lesson on a Friday afternoon was Geography. One Friday, I looked across at Diane’s table. The boys were gathered around, hanging on her every word. She had her whole future ahead of her.
On the following Monday morning, the headmaster and senior teachers came into our classroom.
On that Friday night, Diane and Deborah had gone out with their seventeen- to eighteen-year-old boyfriends. As they came down a hill in their village, the car lost control and crashed into a wall. Diane, who was not wearing a seatbelt, was killed instantly. Deborah was seriously injured.
I will always remember seeing them that Friday afternoon. Hours later, Diane was gone.
Life is so fragile. That has always stayed with me.
In Keith’s last term at Skerton, something happened to him — but more of that in the next chapter.
Devotional Thought
As youngsters, we go on our merry way. We laugh and cry together. For us, school was not about academics; it was about survival.
I remember Mr Curnow saying in RE class, “Jesus is the answer.” I mocked him. I wish I had listened, because He truly is the answer.
I did not want to go to Skerton, but it was the place where God had placed Andrew. Mr Scott once said to him, “You’re wasting your time with Keith — he’s beyond hope.”
But there are two wonderful words at the start of Ephesians 2:
BUT GOD
“But God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ (by grace ye are saved).”
No one is beyond the grace and mercy of God. I am living testimony to that fact.
Chapter 4A
SILENT KILLER
Proverbs 15:3
“The eyes of the Lord are in every place, beholding the evil and the good.”
I write this for those who have suffered bullying, both at home and at school.
Bullying can scar a person for life. It is like an itch you cannot scratch.
My story began at a friend’s school, where I met a boy a year older than me who took it upon himself to bully me — verbally and physically.
I will say this: I did irritate people, and perhaps I brought some of it on myself. But that does not make bullying acceptable.
Later, at Skerton, the bullying worsened. The more I was bullied, the angrier I became. Years later, I met a girl from our class online. The first thing she said was, “You were the one they bullied.” That was her lasting impression of me.
Into adult life, and even into my first marriage, this pattern continued. Some of it may have been my fault — but not all of it.
So how do you deal with it?
Devotional Thought
A deep relationship with God is the first step toward healing. Bullying often happens in the shadows, unseen by others — but not by God.
When you come to Him, you come as a child and become His son or daughter, loved and accepted.
You can pray and forgive those who bullied you, whether in the past or even now.
The verse above gives great hope. The Lord sees everything. He has heard every word spoken against you, and He will hold people accountable.
You must not repay evil with evil. The cycle must be broken. One way to do this is to tell someone you trust — a pastor, close friend, parent, or family member.
Yes, I may have deserved some correction in life, but never the uncontrolled anger of another person. That is never right and never acceptable.
I write this to give hope. I have been where you are. Now I rest secure in God’s love, knowing that no verbal or physical abuse can define me.
I finish with Romans 8:
“If God be for us, who can be against us? … Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
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