Recollections of an Old (but young at heart) Oswestrian, circa 1952 - EPISODE 8, THE CHARGE OF THE BREAKFAST BRIGADE
As the last echoes of the morning 8 o'clock bell faded into the background Danny and Parker (the identical twins), as ever at the forefront of events, led the charge through the dining room door for breakfast, initiating the daily mealtime fight for the shiny new spoons.
Allow me to paint a picture, not entirely dissimilar from the depiction below, of an all male gathering breaking bread together, except that this was a spectacle of unruly boys, young and old, squabbling over cutlery. The spoons, in particular, looked like they had been rescued from a dusty archaeological dig. Battered, bruised and badly bent, the yellowing implements had seen much better days and the sudden arrival of a small batch of brand new shiny silver ones sent everyone into an acquisitive frenzy.
Cries of "I've licked mine!" rang out, reminiscent of a scene from the film Spartacus, as boys successful in grabbing a new spoon tried to dissuade others from snatching their prize. When the short-lived Battle for Shiny Spoons was over, attention turned to saddling 'Stoker' Lewis with the most brutally misshapen spoon we could find.
One of the Senior Masters in the school, Mr Lewis sat at the head of the senior table and was sometimes late for his morning porridge after paying a visit, the night before, to The Welsh Harp (a pub that was located half way along Upper Brook Street, and has now, sadly, been converted to houses). He had been spotted the previous evening by an eagle-eyed boy whose bed was positioned under a window overlooking the quadrangle, pausing for an unscheduled 'pit stop' as he made his way back to School House after closing time. 'Stoker' was a well respected Master who taught English and Latin, organising school theatrical events, and other activities into the bargain. In our early years we were all afraid of this strict disciplinarian
Several minutes later, as the whole of School House were tucking in to breakfast, the dining room door opened quietly and in slipped the unshaven Dai Lewis to take his seat at the head of the table. Glowering silently at us in a grump, as though daring us to say something, he would proceed to transfer his porridge from bowl to mouth in a continuous orbital movement of hand and monster spoon until the bowl was empty.
I sat next to him observing the process and cringed when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught Jimmy Sharples, the joker of the pack, trying to gain 'Stoker's' attention. "Sir", said Jimmy, "does Mr Williamson ever tell YOU off for missing the bell?" (missing the mealtime bell meant repercussions for the culprit concerned). Not for the first time had 'Sharps' incurred the wrath of Messers Lewis, Williamson, and 'Fattie' Felton following an incautious remark, after which he had been invited to visit the Masters' common room after breakfast.
One of Jimmy's many faux pas was saying to Dai Lewis, as he uncoiled a length of rope in the bike shed, "What are you going to do with that Sir, hang yourself?", and shortly afterwards, when the Headmaster wandered onto the playground sporting a new white summer jacket, Jimmy very unwisely wisecracked "I like your ice cream jacket Sir!" Mr Williamson reached into his left pocket, pulled out the infamous boiler house key, and it made a noise like a tuning fork as it landed squarely on poor old Jimmy's skull (he would live to tell the tale).
Above is a library full of shirkers! A regular day at the office, and all these boys would have been on the aforementioned senior table witnessing the Sharples incident.
Old Oswestrian Colonel Frederick Gustavus Burnaby was, by all accounts, a brave and fearless cavalry officer and a crazy character to boot, with a somewhat tenuous link between him and a donkey.
Killed during fierce hand-to-hand fighting in his early forties at the Battle of Abu Klea in Egypt in 1884, Burnaby was a much celebrated personality back in England, and was much liked by his fellow cavalry officers. During one campaign, some of his officers decided to play a prank on him by putting two small donkeys in his quarters as he was sleeping off a drinking session. No doubt they too had downed a few too many that night in the officers' mess. On waking, the 6 ft 4 inch, 20 stone plus giant, reputed to be the strongest man in the British army, supposedly took a donkey under each arm and walked back to the officers' mess to the amusement of all. More drinks all round no doubt!
As a cavalry officer of fierce repute he would have spearheaded the 'Charge of the Breakfast Brigade' in the 1950's, had this been his era, and the 'Battle of the Spoons' would have seen him in the thick of it.
Allow me to paint a picture, not entirely dissimilar from the depiction below, of an all male gathering breaking bread together, except that this was a spectacle of unruly boys, young and old, squabbling over cutlery. The spoons, in particular, looked like they had been rescued from a dusty archaeological dig. Battered, bruised and badly bent, the yellowing implements had seen much better days and the sudden arrival of a small batch of brand new shiny silver ones sent everyone into an acquisitive frenzy.
Cries of "I've licked mine!" rang out, reminiscent of a scene from the film Spartacus, as boys successful in grabbing a new spoon tried to dissuade others from snatching their prize. When the short-lived Battle for Shiny Spoons was over, attention turned to saddling 'Stoker' Lewis with the most brutally misshapen spoon we could find.
One of the Senior Masters in the school, Mr Lewis sat at the head of the senior table and was sometimes late for his morning porridge after paying a visit, the night before, to The Welsh Harp (a pub that was located half way along Upper Brook Street, and has now, sadly, been converted to houses). He had been spotted the previous evening by an eagle-eyed boy whose bed was positioned under a window overlooking the quadrangle, pausing for an unscheduled 'pit stop' as he made his way back to School House after closing time. 'Stoker' was a well respected Master who taught English and Latin, organising school theatrical events, and other activities into the bargain. In our early years we were all afraid of this strict disciplinarian
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| (Left to right) ?, David Pickup, Ken Mottershead, Bernard Pickup (back to camera), Jack Greves, 'Stoker' David Lewis |
I sat next to him observing the process and cringed when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught Jimmy Sharples, the joker of the pack, trying to gain 'Stoker's' attention. "Sir", said Jimmy, "does Mr Williamson ever tell YOU off for missing the bell?" (missing the mealtime bell meant repercussions for the culprit concerned). Not for the first time had 'Sharps' incurred the wrath of Messers Lewis, Williamson, and 'Fattie' Felton following an incautious remark, after which he had been invited to visit the Masters' common room after breakfast.
One of Jimmy's many faux pas was saying to Dai Lewis, as he uncoiled a length of rope in the bike shed, "What are you going to do with that Sir, hang yourself?", and shortly afterwards, when the Headmaster wandered onto the playground sporting a new white summer jacket, Jimmy very unwisely wisecracked "I like your ice cream jacket Sir!" Mr Williamson reached into his left pocket, pulled out the infamous boiler house key, and it made a noise like a tuning fork as it landed squarely on poor old Jimmy's skull (he would live to tell the tale).
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| What a fine body of men, the CCF's finest hour! Jimmy Sharples is second from left. Maybe somebody can fill the gaps for the remaining cadets? |
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| (Left to right) Back: 'Poshy' Parslew, 'Grevo' Greves, 'Wong' Lloyd, and 'Kid' Bernard Pickup. Front: Jimmy 'Sharps' Sharples, David 'Piccie' Pickup, and Roger Morgan |
Above is a library full of shirkers! A regular day at the office, and all these boys would have been on the aforementioned senior table witnessing the Sharples incident.
Old Oswestrian Colonel Frederick Gustavus Burnaby was, by all accounts, a brave and fearless cavalry officer and a crazy character to boot, with a somewhat tenuous link between him and a donkey.
Killed during fierce hand-to-hand fighting in his early forties at the Battle of Abu Klea in Egypt in 1884, Burnaby was a much celebrated personality back in England, and was much liked by his fellow cavalry officers. During one campaign, some of his officers decided to play a prank on him by putting two small donkeys in his quarters as he was sleeping off a drinking session. No doubt they too had downed a few too many that night in the officers' mess. On waking, the 6 ft 4 inch, 20 stone plus giant, reputed to be the strongest man in the British army, supposedly took a donkey under each arm and walked back to the officers' mess to the amusement of all. More drinks all round no doubt!
As a cavalry officer of fierce repute he would have spearheaded the 'Charge of the Breakfast Brigade' in the 1950's, had this been his era, and the 'Battle of the Spoons' would have seen him in the thick of it.
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