Recollections of an Old (but young at heart) Oswestrian, circa 1952 - EPISODE 11, FOOD, GLORIOUS FOOD!
With the above song from the musical Oliver reverberating in my head I feel I could be looking at a scene from a Dickensian novel as I gaze at a photograph of the school dining room as it was in 1957, and a wave of nostalgia washes over me as I remember the camaraderie of those days as a boarder at School House.
From the Battle of the Spoons, which took place on the senior table (top left), to mealtimes with the Headmaster on the top table, there was hardly a dull moment. Every picture tells a story and memories, good, bad, and humorous, come flooding back as I hear echoes of the cacophony of sound from sixty or so boys chattering noisily about that day's events.
The ancient gnarled oak tables were carved full of, by now meaningless, initials and symbols. These were, no doubt, crafted long ago by boys wishing to leave an indelible imprint before exiting this hallowed hall for the last time. Kilroy was Not Here!
Juniors occupied the long table nearest the camera, and I seem to recall Matron sitting at one end. As the years moved on we progressed first to the corner table, top right and not in the picture, then on to the other corner, before finally joining 'Stoker' Lewis with the seniors; he sat at the end, just out of shot. Prefects would sometimes join the Headmaster at his table.
Tables operated the same system, and at the beginning of each week the boys moved two places to the left, and the two at the end became servers for the week, responsible for ferrying food from the hatch, located in the corner of the room just behind where the photographer took this picture.
The food hatch was the hub of mealtime activity and everything destined to be eaten arrived at the dining room via this opening in the wall. A huge, badly dented, pre-war copper tea urn, very similar to the one above, stood on a table adjacent to the serving area and it held a special ingredient. This took the form of a giant tea bag fashioned from one of Mr Williamson's socks containing loose tea leaves, and it produced a brew strong enough to make your hair curl!
The stillness of the dining room was replaced by noisy chaos as the hungry livestock charged through the door after the bell went. Mr Williamson, on the other hand, would arrive more sedately from the right and calmly walk down the few short steps which led from his private quarters into the dining room, before taking his place under the gaze of the Rev Dr James Donne (Headmaster from 1796-1833).
Tea times were perhaps the most hectic as boys arrived hungry, having usually spent the last couple of hours since school playing some kind of sporting activity. In stark contrast to Oliver who meekly requested 'more' in the musical, the words "MORE BRICKS!" were bellowed through the serving hatch, which led downstairs to the cavernous kitchens situated below the dining room in the cellar. Urgent demands for more freshly baked chunks of bread outpaced the supply as hungry boys gobbled down the scrumptious, warm buttered Bricks.
Lunchtimes were a more leisurely affair and despite the lack of quality, by and large most of the food was eaten and the Headmaster tried hard to ensure this. Empty plates would leave via the hatch; full stomachs through the door. On one occasion, however, there was a slight twist to the norm as Mr Williamson, called away to answer the telephone, returned unexpectedly to the dining room only to see a mountain of inedible knotty swedes being surreptitiously ferried back to the kitchens from our corner table.
The swedes were returned to the table, a portion unceremoniously reassigned to each boy, and the Head waited until all plates were empty before allowing them to be taken away. Little did he realise that the knotty problem had been solved by the imaginative school inmates. Instead of ingesting the unappetizing ingredients, the unwanted vegetables exited the dining area secreted in pockets or down socks, finally being sprinkled about the quadrangle in a scene reminiscent of the wartime film The Great Escape! One up to the ingenious boys, necessity having been the mother of invention!!
From the Battle of the Spoons, which took place on the senior table (top left), to mealtimes with the Headmaster on the top table, there was hardly a dull moment. Every picture tells a story and memories, good, bad, and humorous, come flooding back as I hear echoes of the cacophony of sound from sixty or so boys chattering noisily about that day's events.
The ancient gnarled oak tables were carved full of, by now meaningless, initials and symbols. These were, no doubt, crafted long ago by boys wishing to leave an indelible imprint before exiting this hallowed hall for the last time. Kilroy was Not Here!
Juniors occupied the long table nearest the camera, and I seem to recall Matron sitting at one end. As the years moved on we progressed first to the corner table, top right and not in the picture, then on to the other corner, before finally joining 'Stoker' Lewis with the seniors; he sat at the end, just out of shot. Prefects would sometimes join the Headmaster at his table.
Tables operated the same system, and at the beginning of each week the boys moved two places to the left, and the two at the end became servers for the week, responsible for ferrying food from the hatch, located in the corner of the room just behind where the photographer took this picture.
The food hatch was the hub of mealtime activity and everything destined to be eaten arrived at the dining room via this opening in the wall. A huge, badly dented, pre-war copper tea urn, very similar to the one above, stood on a table adjacent to the serving area and it held a special ingredient. This took the form of a giant tea bag fashioned from one of Mr Williamson's socks containing loose tea leaves, and it produced a brew strong enough to make your hair curl!
The stillness of the dining room was replaced by noisy chaos as the hungry livestock charged through the door after the bell went. Mr Williamson, on the other hand, would arrive more sedately from the right and calmly walk down the few short steps which led from his private quarters into the dining room, before taking his place under the gaze of the Rev Dr James Donne (Headmaster from 1796-1833).
Tea times were perhaps the most hectic as boys arrived hungry, having usually spent the last couple of hours since school playing some kind of sporting activity. In stark contrast to Oliver who meekly requested 'more' in the musical, the words "MORE BRICKS!" were bellowed through the serving hatch, which led downstairs to the cavernous kitchens situated below the dining room in the cellar. Urgent demands for more freshly baked chunks of bread outpaced the supply as hungry boys gobbled down the scrumptious, warm buttered Bricks.
Lunchtimes were a more leisurely affair and despite the lack of quality, by and large most of the food was eaten and the Headmaster tried hard to ensure this. Empty plates would leave via the hatch; full stomachs through the door. On one occasion, however, there was a slight twist to the norm as Mr Williamson, called away to answer the telephone, returned unexpectedly to the dining room only to see a mountain of inedible knotty swedes being surreptitiously ferried back to the kitchens from our corner table.
The swedes were returned to the table, a portion unceremoniously reassigned to each boy, and the Head waited until all plates were empty before allowing them to be taken away. Little did he realise that the knotty problem had been solved by the imaginative school inmates. Instead of ingesting the unappetizing ingredients, the unwanted vegetables exited the dining area secreted in pockets or down socks, finally being sprinkled about the quadrangle in a scene reminiscent of the wartime film The Great Escape! One up to the ingenious boys, necessity having been the mother of invention!!
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