Recollections of an Old (but young at heart) Oswestrian, circa 1952 - EPISODE 26, OBSERVATIONS FROM THE HEADMASTER'S TABLE

Mr Ralph Williamson had eyes like a hawk, and from his position beneath the painting of Dr Donne he had a commanding view of his dining room and nothing escaped his attention.

The Head's Table

He had a bee in his bonnet about clean plates, and woe betide any table having the temerity to send food back towards the hatch, as the old man would be out of his seat in a flash, returning the uneaten food for equal redistribution on the table of origin.

Boys missing the bell, trying to sidle unobtrusively into their seats, would be pounced on by this agile old timer and made to stand alongside the parcel and mail distribution point until he decided to release them with a curt nod of the head.

It was around this time that I brought up the subject of Mrs Tudor's stodgy pudding which, whilst being rather tasty, was very heavy and not conducive to bringing out the best of us all on the Maes-y-Llan on Wednesday or Saturday afternoons, and I asked if he would pursuade the cook to keep it off her lunch schedule on those days. He agreed, and said he would talk to her about it, but it still occasionally turned up like the 'proverbial' on match days.

Cricket on the Maes-y-Llan in 1957

The Headmaster was affectionately known as 'Woof ', and if anyone can tell me why I would be very grateful, as nobody seems able to tell me how this nickname originated. A kindly, and rather quiet person, there was an aura of authority whenever this tall man entered a room, and we were all a little in awe of him. He was a man of few words who did not engage us much in conversation at mealtimes, and I can picture him now, in my mind's eye, winding up his watch, for what seemed an eternity, every morning during breakfast.

I was extremely puzzled by this daily ritual which lasted five to ten minutes before he seemed satisfied that his timepiece was fully wound up, and he could then get on with his breakfast.

Eventually, having only been on the Head's table for a few days, consumed with curiosity, I was emboldened to ask him why it took so long. He smiled, and explained that his fingers and thumb were so big, and the winder so small, that he had difficulty getting hold of it. My offer to be his official winder upper was greeted by an amused grin, but he never took me up on it. 

Nor did it get me any brownie points (can boys get brownie points?). I was summoned to his study the next day and given a ticking off for almost missing the start of my week of reading the lesson at morning service.

Allow me to explain.

One Monday morning, as the chapel was beginning to fill up prior to the start of the daily service, I went and sat next to Jack Greves in our usual place, which is just out of shot at the bottom left-hand side of the photo. He immediately reminded me that it was my week to read the daily lesson, and that I ought to be in position at the back of the chapel, just across the aisle from the Headmaster. It had completely slipped my mind, and moreover, I had not been to see the Head for instructions as to what sections of the bible he wanted me to read during my duty week. I was in trouble, but at this late hour there was little I could do about it, except bluff it out. When the time came to read the lesson I walked confidently down the aisle to the lectern, opened up the large, leather-backed bible at random, and proceeded to read out several paragraphs before ending the lesson and returning to my seat.

As I walked back to my place I could feel Mr Williamson's eyes burning into me, and I avoided any eye contact with him. 

Chapel doors

At the end of service he immediately dashed off through the magnificent arched doorway on some pressing engagement, and our inevitable meeting was temporarily deferred. At lunchtime he invited me to join him in his study later, where he gave me a dressing down for failing to contact him about the readings for the week. He said to me, "Whilst I commend your initiative, what you read out was completely inappropriate for the time of the year. See that it does not happen again". With that he gave me the readings for the remainder of the week and I was summarily dismissed with the wave of a hand.

Inwardly I wondered why he had not pointed out to me at breakfast time that I had not been to see him about the readings, but I bottled it, and did not broach the matter, discretion being the better part of valour.

I did not really enjoy sitting at the top table because there was a somewhat inhibiting, artificial atmosphere about it, particularly in the rather difficult Frankland era, and I was always glad when mealtimes were over. Perhaps more to the point, the fact that we were always sat opposite the Headmaster and the portrait of one of our benefactors, was a little irritating, as we were unable to see the rest of the dining room where the real action was taking place.

The Headmaster and 'Bumble' join the 1st XI against Old Boys, 1960

(Back L-R) A E Stevens, G S Moffat, Mr Frankland, H Morris, T P Moore-Bridger, M Harvey
(Front L-R) E D Goff, B Pickup, D Pickup, T Ashworth, J B Greves

The day the above photograph appeared on the notice board outside the Masters' common room for all to see, with a drawing pin covering the face of the Headmaster, is a day I will never forget! Mr Frankland thought that Jack Greves, Bernard, and myself were behind this defacement, and I was hauled up to explain who was responsible. He threatened all kinds of sanctions for the school as a whole if I did not bring the culprit to him, but I genuinely did not, and to this day still do not know who stuck the pin through his right eye.

To put it mildly, the atmosphere on his table became rather frosty, and we sent him to Coventry for a week. The reign of Mr Frankland would not last long, and he resigned the following year in 1961.