GRAMMAR SCHOOL MUSINGS
When I arrived at the Grammar School in September 1963, there were many colorful characters at the school one of them was Richard Stephenson (aka. Kinky) In later years we might have referred to him as a bit of a “nutter”. He was full of energy and was more than a little reckless. He was in the 4th Form when I was in the 1st Form. Richard has produced a couple of stories which I will print here unedited, although I may make some editorial comments during the piece.
Illicit Vehicles among the Boarders at MGS.
(by Richard Stephenson)
It was totally forbidden – and I remember the headmaster confirming it openly on at least one occasion – for any boarder to have a mechanically propelled vehicle whilst resident in the boarding house. What we did during the school holidays didn’t matter – one could not bring one’s car, motorbike or scooter back to school.
I knew of at least three scooters and a car which were lodged at the homes of sympathetic day boys … and I had a motorbike which spent most of the Spring and Summer terms of 1967 parked in the car park right opposite the school, leaning against the wall of what is now the garden of Fitzcanes Tea Shop.
What is really surprising looking back is that no one stole it. It had no locks on it and all one had to do was get on and kick-start it. But no – no one did. Maybe the fact that it was a 17 year old Ambassador (older than you were at that time Richard-Ed.) with a 200cc Villiers 6E two-stroke engine had something to do with it – it was not exactly the most sought after of machines. But I was very proud of it – I had built it up from a box of bits I had bought from a neighbour for £1 a couple of years previously and had hand painted it two shades of bright blue. I once got 75 mph out of it going down the hill on the A286 towards Easebourne from Fernhurst.
The existence of my motorbike was known among many of the boarders but not, so far as I have ever found out, among any of the staff. There were a couple of close shaves though. On one occasion, I pulled into the petrol station in Easebourne and found myself beside the easily recognized car of one of the house-masters (Bob Davies.). As I best recall, I bluffed it out and continued to buy petrol right there beside him – Even though I kept my helmet and goggles on throughout to keep my face shielded from view I could not believe he did not recognize me, I assumed he had made a diplomatic decision to turn a blind eye. However, meeting that same House-master again at an Old Boys meeting 30 years later, I asked him outright if he had known, but he said that it was the first he had heard of it.
On another occasion I was riding out of the car park quite late one evening with another boarder riding pillion, the engine blew up with a terrific noise ! Lights went on in the boarding house and faces were seen at windows … but it was dark and we were undiscovered. I later managed to locate spares for the engine and rebuilt it in a local friend’s shed using just the tools I carried on the bike – engines were simpler in those days !
One of my friends (Dave Price) had a Lambretta scooter which was well known as “Sid” – from it’s number plate which was SYD. One day it broke down and needed spares for which he would have to go to Chichester. Fine, Dave Price borrowed another illicit scooter from another boarder (David North-Lewis.) and set off one Saturday for “Chi” with me riding pillion. We got as far as the S-bend in Singleton. We went into the first bend in the road there rather too fast but managed to get round with the boards scraping the ground. We did not fare so well on the second bend – luckily there wasn’t anything coming in the opposite direction because we skidded sideways across the road, both of us falling off in the process. I ended up in the middle of the road bleeding from a few cuts and scratches but rolled up onto my feet and ran over to Dave Price. He had had a very narrow escape – he was lying on the edge of the road and had landed with his head inches from a concrete post which, had he hit it, would have done him serious injury. No, neither of us had crash helmets on. The scooter had hit another concrete post and was damaged but we managed to bend it back into ride-able condition and headed home. The trouble (apart from Dave Price wondering how he was going to pay for the damage to David North-Lewis’s scooter) was that we both had injuries which wouldn’t stop bleeding – how were we going to go into tea that evening and account for them ? We went into the Medical Centre in Lamberts lane and explained all to a friendly nurse who somehow managed to patch us up without too much showing … and promised not to tell !
There is a legend, which one of my day-boy friends who still lives in Midhurst insists is true, that I once rode my machine up the steps into Midhurst Youth Club, rode round the table tennis tables inside and then back out down the steps. I don’t fully recall doing this, but it is just about possible. I wonder if any other locals still remember it – it would have been Spring or Summer 1967. I would love to know for sure. (Yup you were nuts enough to do that Richard but I do not remember it-Ed.)
That was past the time of the mods and rockers
Yes, we had a few near misses ! My ones at Pendean Sandpit could have been serious too – especially since I was alone at the time. Roger Martin, (aka Bruiser–ed) got both ridicule and sympathy because of his weight. He showed me his boot once with a mark on it which he said was made by an adder trying to bite him on Midhurst Common.
Then again there was the challenge of leaping off the radiator in the Cubes (Prefect’s cubicles-ed.) to catch the bar over the ceiling and swing from it. I never managed it because I always kept my feet beneath me to land on and so couldn’t quite reach the bar. Rupert Rosser managed it … but then let go and fell flat on his back from ceiling height and was rushed to hospital. (Rupert Rosser must have had a bed reserved for him at the hospital, 2nd visit there that has been related–ed.)
There was of course also the challenge that I did bottle out of (which is probably why I am still here – common sense took over) – involving the remains of Moorlands Lock on the River Rother.
Richard Stephenson.