I was at the school 1952-59. I think I was probably a misfit, but have fond memories of many things which have remained with me. Monday morning "recital" hosted by Albert Chapman opened the world of classical music to me. I never learned to play an instrument, but now at 65 am going to try to learn to play the piano! After leaving BGS I never kept up any regular contact with the school, but was really pleased when on graduating as a mature student at LSE in 1971 I had a little congratulatory note from Harry Brogden!

I was a pupil from 1963-68 and can still remember the names of some of the masters, many of whom must be 80 plus or passed on. "Don" Anderson was the junior school senior master then, a real gent. I recall I was in Chichester House (those of the yellow shirts and the best footballers at the time). Jack Smithies taught me English from form 3 on. I remember he read us ghost stories by M R James and was always the most popular of the masters due to his laid back anti authority attitude. "Killer" Reeve, the art master, scared the hell out of all the young boys. He used to walk behind us when we were learning to apply a watercolour "wash" screaming "Where is your blob boy?" a reference to the required blob of water that should be present at the base of all washes. He was also a great shot with a blackboad rubber and could hit a boy from 30 feet with a well aimed throw. Then here was "Benji" Buckman the geogaphy teacher, Middleditch, the ageing Maths master (pet hate -anyone talking when he was), Patterson the equally old Chemistry teacher who we used to torture by turning on and igniting the gas so as to shoot a flame across the desk when he wasn't looking. Does anyone remember spinning a penny around the inside of the circular windows on the stairs? That could be a capital offence if Mr Brogden found out. Games could be fun or torture under the watchful eye of the 2 Mikes. Mike Smith used to put me out on the right wing and send impossibly long, fast, passes to chase on the old first eleven pitch during soccer practise. As for the worst torture of all, that was being sent out for the ever popular cross-country run in the driving rain around the sports field, out onto the old Shoreham Road and up the Upper Drive for ever, before returning to the field for the final lap of death and as you staggered, soaking wet, caked in mud, the final few hundred yards there was Mike Smith urging you into a sprint finish. Does anyone remember queuing at the tuck shop for iced or cream buns at two and a half pence each? I can still hear the sound of steel tipped boots sliding on the concrete floors on a Friday afternoon as we junior CCF trained killers went about our day dressed as extras from a John Mills wartime movie. Those are days long gone.

Good to hear from some of my contemporaries. Graham Butler I remember carried the big bass drum in the Cadet Force Band when we marched up and down the school field. We had some fun at school, it's good to hear from you. The ink episode caused a stir, as I seem to think that I tried it out on Jack Smithies as well! It was all the rage, a trick ink, but to some they didn't see the joke. We also went through phases of getting the latest fads, like staplers, or scoobedoo. John Darcy was with me all through my school life from infants, and I believe he became a doctor in Australia. Pity I didn't know where you were when I was in Melbourne in March. The tuck shop always was popular, and we eagerly awaited the big wooden trays of buns that were carried in every morning break. Some students that I know from BHASVIC tell me about the hall and its paintings, and it was a pleasant surprise to see these paintings again on an edition of BBC Question Time held in the school hall. I have recently been in touch with the "Old Boys" association for some research and they can be contacted at 35 Half Moon Lane in Worthing. Maybe we can get a website for the friends of BHSGS!

I was sorry to hear of the death of 'Jack' Smithies. I remember particularly his performances in the Corps concerts in the late fifties, and his purported hobby of making rubbings of manhole covers. The story goes that he was invited to talk about the latter on the BBC, Panorama, I think, but declined because he thought their interest was less than serious.

Interesting to see the comments, all way past my time. Any comments from earlier, say from 1938 to 1946? I had some moments in the 40s.

I would like to hear from anyone who had relatives working in the VAD or at the Grammar school in WW1, as I have been doing some research into the hospital at the Grammar School through St John Ambulance for our Division's 90th anniversary.

I was at BHSG from 61 to 67 or 68 (memory fades) in the Marshall boarding house. I still remember that the borders were the poor relations and nearly always got a hammering at sport. Jack Smithies, well what a gentleman, it was an honour to know the man. I still remember my first sail with him when he took 4 of us naval cadets out on Piddinghoe lake. I still sail to this day. As for his sense of humour,- in one English class one of us said, Sir, can you close that window, the sun is shining in my eyes! He dutifully closed it, before realising he had been had when a beautiful smile crossed his face and he spent the rest of the lesson chuckling to himself. Patterson the Physics master - do yo remember climbing the long stairs to reach the high ceiling physics lab to have a double period with the old fellow"pay attention boys, you will note this machine is turned by a crank." or " Today we will do a titration.. this has nothing to do with tits." When he turned back to the blackboard, my classmate Jeremy Bushell would hold a one meter rule tight over the edge of the bench whilst I pulled down and launched a stick of chalk high into the atmosphere to strike the ceiling grids. Next second we were intently back at work while old Patterson would have tirned round with the noise to be slowly covered by a falling cloud of snow chalk.... grand days. 'Killer' Reeeves may have been a dab shot with the chalk duster, but he certainly missed when he threw my just finished clay pot at me (for poor work) and hit the adjacent aquarium). Anybody remember the Annual school photos hanging in the lower corridor - where are they now? Can we get copies. John D`Arcy and Russell Ward, the names ring a bell. Didn't Russell Ward organise the first Motor Show to be held on the school playing fields? I certainly remember asking how he got Rolls Royce to turn up and display. Reply:" I told them Jaguar was coming" Q. "How then did you get Jaguar to come? Reply " I told them Rolls Royce was coming!!"
My contempories in the Boarding House, were Jeremy Bushell, Andrew Dixon, Alan Furnace, ? Cowan, the Warburton brothers, Richard Lutchford (who used to do a fantastic rendition at full volume of " when I was a little girl I had a rag doll... at 1 am in the dormitory" Where are they now? Oh I could go on. Does anyone remember the terric explosion that occured behind the gym? We stopped the traffic on Shoreham Road. with a homemade device. (thankfully I still have 10 digits) I, Alan Furness, and Richard Lutchford had to see Harry Brogden next day (We needed some fast talking there) . Then there was Mr McClaine the Housemaster of Marshall house (another gentleman and very fair) Can anybody remember the teacher Rodney Stone and then spending time looking on the old school photos to see him as a pupil in early years? Mr Randall - the English teacher - (loved English, hated schoolboys - or at least live ones) Mr Harris the Biology teacher - most chagrined to find the water coming out of his bunsen burners. Have loads more if anyone interested, great days, Robin Finch (now living in NSW Australia )

What a fantastic collection of memories! Schools cannot be as much fun now can they? I spoke to Steyning History Society last summer and 'Benjie'Buckman was there lean and fit and riding his bike!
I was put on a CCF charge one Friday afternoon when I was spotted leaning over the upper corridor balustrade taking pot shots at Albert Chapman's music class in the hall. The rifle was of course unloaded!. I was marched off to the Officer of the Day[Jack Smithies in full Naval rig] who told me however much I did not like Mr Chapman's choice of music I was not to attempt assasination. The dreaded cross country training....in Smith house we were sent all the way up Dyke Road to Woodruff Avenue! But it did ensure I got my Smith House Colours for Cross Country, I still have them and occasionally wear them! I was stopped in Brighton by an even older boy when last they were trotted out. There is a display in Brighton Museum that contains a junior school cap which is a sobering thought...I lost many a cap by having it whizzed over the Dyke Road Drive railway bridge by a chum who was a Dorothy Stringer oik! No one has mentioned the woodwork master 'Joe' Woolven as deaf as a post, or Mr Crabtree who taught me pottery, Killer Reeve[still alive] used to fill in for him and it always made for exciting classes. I think someone told me Killer was in Yugoslavia with the partisans in WWII and it would make sense as his accuracy with board rubber or chair was unrealistically accurate.
In the winter of 62/63 there was very heavy snow and the field was perfect for [forbidden] snow ball fights,these of course migrated to the bastion of the bike sheds in the lower playground with warring parties skirmishing across The Twitten. Some hapless local 'civilians' were caught up in this and reported it to Harry Brogden, next morning assembly,silence all round, Harry came out with the immortal words " boys from THIS school, THIS SCHOOL I say, were involved in an incident with local residents... etc etc". Sniggers all round, prefects prowling, boys made to stand on chairs, more sniggering, McLean bellowing,general mayhem ensuing.
The tuck shop's 2d iced buns..wow what a size, they came from Perry's the bakers and were amazing, the trick was to see who could stick a whole bun in the mouth without biting it, dangerous though, as fellow scholars would wait until you had a mouthfull and clap you hard on the back! Our German classes were with 'Henry' Smith a tall Scotsman whose class was over the heads study in the Chequered Corridor. While waiting for Henry to arrive one day we all broke into 'Glad All Over' by the Dave Clarke Five, this involved a huge amount of stamping at crucial parts of the song, Harry came flying upstairs as he thought his ceiling was about to cave in..lots of detentions that day.

I was at the "Grammar" from 1960 to 1967 - I served the whole seven years, no remission - and graduated with modest A-Levels in Maths and Physics, eventually going on to university in Bath where I still live. My classmates will probably remember me as a rather small and squeaky late developer with little aptitude for sport (partly as the result of an earlier childhood disability) but a voracious appetite for all academic subjects and, perhaps surprisingly, for the Combined Cadet Force whose RAF Section activities I enjoyed immensely.
I can't match the hilarious stories of classroom misdemeanours recounted by earlier contributors, I'm afraid. I lived in perpetual awe - nay, terror - of the masters (the title was wholly appropriate in those days) and only amassed three detentions in my entire career, and one of those was for forgetting the proof to Pythagoras's Theorem (thanks, Mr James). Did you guys really get up to all that Greyfriars-type stuff?
Many memories, of course, but one that continues to amuse me is the nicknames of the masters - a tradition that no longer pertains in schools nowadays, perhaps oddly given the notable decline of discipline and respect. I recall "Spud" Murphy (Latin), "Desperate Dan" Randall (English, and liable to bounce the collected works of Shakespeare off your cranium if you appeared not to be concentrating - yes, it happened to me), "Noilly" Pratt (History), "Dim Jim" James (Maths), "Dizzy" Mills (Physics: all six foot four of him), "Toady" Hall (Geography), "Gleg" (sic) Holmes (Physics - why?) and of course "Killer" Reeves (Art, and genuinely the most fearsome and feared character in the school), and that's only the ones I can remember at the time of writing. Most of the others were usually referred to by familiar versions of their forenames, which seemed to imply that they might have been somewhat better respected.
Everything written earlier about Jack Smithies is absolutely spot-on. I recall how he would hold the class enthralled with impromptu condensed accounts of HG Wells novels, and would laughingly swipe at dilatory pupils with the knot at the end of the sleeve of his gown. He often had us in fits of laughter and was universally loved, but we always knew that beneath his jolly exterior beat the heart of a traditional disciplinarian, and nobody ever pushed their luck with him. A brilliant teacher and a role model for practitioners of pedagogy everywhere and everywhen.
The other master I remember with affection is Iain MacLean (Geography), who was a caring pastoral teacher and form master to me in the Fourth Form and who generously helped my mother at a time of family breakdown. I know that he continued, unlike most of the other masters, to serve the "Grammar" for many years after it became BHASVIC. Another fine teacher and role model for those in the profession today.
If any of my former classmates, or indeed teachers, at the "Grammar" should happen to read this, I'd be dleighted to hear from them with any reminiscences or updates. Drop me an e-mail to lenliechti@hotmail.com.

Interesting reading contemporary reminiscences and realising how differently we remember the past. I seem to be alone in not finding Jack Smithies particularly pleasant, though he did have a sense of humour. However, I liked and appreciated Killer Reeve who I remember doing more for sailing than the more obviously CCF masters. I also liked 'Windy' Blows History and 'Alfie' Bass, Maths. I was impressed by the musical skills of Mr Akers (History) but never learnt a thing about music at the school. A music lesson seemed to consist of trying to follow a piece of classical music by looking at the score - I never even knew which page I was supposed to be on. I remember Mike Yaxley reading MR James - in what I assume was a Lincolnshire accent. I liked xc running - it was the only sport I was any good at. I still run now, occasionally competing in the Blaydon race on Tyneside. Who can forget rolling coins round the windows, the buns, but also the little milk bottles - frozen in winter, half sour cream in summer, the old cut down Morris 1000(?) in the armoury, the occasional aerial runway at the far end of the field, almost having one's leg blown off when someone accidently fired a blank right behind you, the 4 herons - Betty, Wichitti, Poldina & Joanna, the walk from the station to school, buying 5 Park Drive at a shop by the 7 dials, "watch the board while I go through it", "everytime I open my mouth, some fool speaks", Doris the canteen lady, Toady's Triumph spitfire, Mr Spivey, turqoise ink, Gilbert & Sullivan, BCG day and being so thankful your surname didn't start with an 'A', kazoos in 1961/2, North Road baths and the long plunge, speech day at the Dome, EB or was it EBB Harris for German and the French master whose name I think began with T, the annual football/ running visit to Sandhurst - which had the biggest gym I'd ever seen; and just making the train for home then realising you were on the fast to London; pressing your CCF uniform and trying to get rid of the dimples on your boots without really knowing why, playing frisbee with your naval hat before frisbees were invented; hot & cold rice on the school field; sliding the bolt home on a 303, playing chess & bridge (both badly); evening dance classes with the high school, those chunky maths textbooks one each for geometry, arithmetic & alegbra, the general knowledge quiz competition. Sorry I'd better stop now!

How surprising to come across this "blog" when looking for something totally different. Too many memories to jot down just now. You may be interested that there is now a friendly corner of the BHASVIC website devoted to Past & Present at http://www.bhasvic.ac.uk/student_life/past/past.htm 

I'm still trying to track down copies of the annual school photographs, 61 to 67. Any of you guys out there got any ideas? Many thanks.

I served from 1959 - 1966. I'm over from Australia at the moment and last night attended a mini-reunion at the home of Patrick Cornish in Sole Street, Kent. Also present, Paul Costello and Bill Catchpole, the latter still a Sussex resident. I'd just like to convey to David Shelton that I was by no means clever enough to have become a Doctor. Instead, the fledgling I.T. industry of the late sixties set me on my way. My most vivid memory of poor David was his receiving a caning on his hands at the infamous Ellen Street primary school for the unforgiveable crime of talking during lunch. How times have changed.

I was at the Grammar School from 1965-1972. Have not been in touch with anyone from those days since going off to university. A couple of answers to questions above. The French teacher was 'Toby' Turl, not sure whether the spelling is correct. On the subject of old school photographs, I actually got out my copies (1966 and 1971) last night to show my son who had just had taken part in his school photo. Was there ever any truth of the same person appearing on both ends?

James K, if you are so inclined and can get a scanned image of your 1966 photo emailed to me at begacomputers@dragnet.com.au I will be more than happy to cover your expenses. Same for anyone else that can email a copy of '62`,'63', `64', '65,, '66' or `67' photos. Many thanks, Robin Finch.

I was at the BHSGS from 1959 to 1966 and I stumbled over this page the other evening when for some inexplicable reason I came to think of Harry Brogden. To be honest, he was not a person who made any favourable impression on me during my years at the school. But a man who really did make a very profound impression on me was Jack Smithies and judging by the comments of some of my contemporaries here I see that I am not alone in having been influenced by him. Directly or indirectly I have him to thank for a good many things in my life. He kindled my interest in English literature and in the English language, particularly its more archaic forms. So much so that I applied to do a degree in Anglo-Saxon but (fortunately as it turned out) my grades were not good enough for that. But they were good enough for me to get into a course in Scandinavian studies (Modern Swedish, Old Icelandic, Scandinavian history and that kind of thing) and I ended up doing post-graduate research into Swedish literature in Sweden. I tried my hand at teaching for a couple of years but realised that I was never going to reach the Smithies standard, so I went into medicine and am now Consultant in Respiratory medicine at one of the big hospitals in Stockholm. A long way from Chaucer perhaps, but there is a definite Smithies link. I am also indebted to him for a lifelong interest in architecture. During one of my years in the sixth form he held lessons in the history of architecture as part of an effort to broaden our minds. I have a feeling that the course was really supposed to be about Church architecture and was an alternative to more formal lessons in RI for those of us who were less religiously inclined? He illustrated these fascinating lessons with slides that he had taken himself and I remember particularly one picture he had taken of the interior of a very dark church. When asked about the technical details of how he had taken the photo he said he attributed the successful result to prayer and supplication.

My great grandmother Emma Pope was a nurse at the Military Hospital at the Brighton, Hove and Sussex Grammar School during WWI. I have a couple of photos of her. Her nephew Frederick Owen Pope died on 5 August 1916 in Thiepval , France, and I think there is a memorial plaque to those who died on the current BHASVIC site- can anyone clarify this? I have a photo of this plaque too.

I am thinking of writing about my early life and that of my Mother. An important part of that story will be my years at BHS Grammar from 1948 to 1953. Although I was an abject failure at the school, the values and basic knowledge I learned there have served me well. I became an engineer and joined the IT industry when 4 kilo-bytes was a "a big memory". Even the hated Latin has served me well learning French and still helps with my Spanish classes. Killer Reeves was always my favourite, maybe because our team of Tony Gibbons, Brian Clasby, myself and another whom I forget, won the interhouse swimming cup for Ireland, Killer's outfit, in 1952. My contemporaries included Adrian Thorne (a legendary 5 goals for BHA), Pete Walker (TV with Nicholas Parsons), but at 70, the names are long- faded.
My memories include playing the violin on the stage in front of 500 odd boys, when my music stand fell apart, the CCF army camps at Fingrinhoe, the freezing North Road baths, and Tony Hollis caught shouting racing odds during an unexpected silence in the hymn at morning assembly. I live in Spain now, so research is not so easy, but I'd like to know if the super murals in the hall still exist.
Peter Courtney

I attended BHSGS from 1948 until 1953 and was in the 'B' forms throughout. I was in Willett House when we had all the good athletes, Adrian Thorne was in my class and my soccer teams, Derek Marchand was in the 'A' stream during my years and both played for Brighton Boys. I was in Jack Smithies first English class when he started teaching at the school, also I was in the naval cadets when he ran it. Peter Courtney must have been a contemporary but I don't remember. Everyone's comments have brought back many memories for me.

I was at the school from1946 to 1953.
Does anyone else remember the trenches and the broken down observatory. I have the sheet music to the old school song should anybody be interested. Scout camp near Bolney crossroads - CCf camp at Pirbright- the CCf fife and drum band the first time that Major Randall allowed it to lead the entire force. Ah well I guess these memories are to much in the past for many. 'Twas a good School

I joined the School in 1959 after four very happy years at Ellen Street, and didn't thrive at the Grammar School. I largely wasted my five years there to the despair of my father, who had left school at fourteen. But what a place it was in retrospect! I enjoyed CCF enormously and eventually shot for the School Shooting Eight at Bisley. Another obsession from that time was electric guitars. Does anyone remember the Beat Competition, held in the School Hall one evening in Spring 1964? The School was well represented, by classmate and friend Chris Aylmer's Nighthawks amongst others. Chris showed me the chords to 'House Of The Rising Sun', and from then on academic studies took a back seat and I made a very poor showing at 'O' Level that Summer, ending up in The Shell, the special class run by Crabtree for academic no-hopers with less than five passes at 'O' Level.
Talking of the Shooting Eight, a Master whom I have not seen mentioned in these pages but who was as likeable and unflappable as Jack Smithies, was J.B. Williams, who ran the Shooting Eight and who took us on memorable Easter Camps at Bisley in the years of the early 'Sixties. His patience was sorely tested at times, such as the occasion on which, at Bisley, Partridge (I think), joy-riding a fellow pupil's sidecar combination (with me in the sidecar), somehow managed to drive smack in to the side of the Mess President's parked car, causing considerable damage, which must have taken some explaining on J.B.'s part. Oh well, happy days! I'm sorry to hear that Marshall House is apparently to be bulldozed. I never entered it during my years at the School but the Upper Playground will never be the same.

Just a further comment: I see above that Robin Finch is seeking copies of the 'annual' School Photo. My recollection is that the photos were only taken once every four years. Can anyone confirm? I have a copy of the photo for 1962, although in lots of different bits - I only have that because I happened to visit Jack Smithies at the School just before the entire collection of school photos was carted off to some external archive, and thanks to Jack I was able to photograph the 1962 photo (in which I appear) with a hand-held camera, close-up, in about six different sections. This was quite some years ago; I've recently scanned the negs as jpegs, and if anyone wants copies on a disc (they're large files to email, as I've cleaned them up on Photoshop), let me know on nosewarne@aol.com

I am writing my memoirs and the grammar school is one chapter. Reading the postings here and also other research has jogged some memories that I would like to share with those who attended from 1948-1953. Boys that I remember are: Adrian Thorne, Ticknor, Fleming, Gibbons, Collins, Palmer, Whitbourne, Halliday, Kirby, Kelly, Brown, Fungus Forbes, Derek Marchand and from the year ahead of me, Clive Yeates, Alan Heaps and Chesty Symmonds. I believe John Latter also attended but I forget which year. I now think I remember Peter Courtney and Tony Hollis. My nickname at school was Charlie, maybe that will jog some peoples memories. There are some teachers names that I can't remember, maybe someone can help fill theses gaps. I had a French teacher whose name was Mills and also there was a Frenchman who would take the class whose name I can't remember, his son played in goal for the Brighton Old Grammarians when I played. I don't remember the name of the chemistry teacher, he was housemaster for Willett and had bifocals. The physics teacher I don't remember, he was an older man that I remember talked about steering into the skid when driving a car and somehow brought it into a physics lecture. When I played for the colts, a teacher accompanied us, I think he was a gym teacher, can anyone remember his name? I was on the rifle team at school, who was in charge of that?
I am sure that many of you remember 'prefects drills', I managed to be awarded one on my first day in assembly. I also had one for not wearing my cap on the way to school and also for eating a cream bun in the street and thus disgracing the school uniform. A number of times I received the cane from Harry Brogden, talking during assembly and being called out to stand in front of the school in disgrace. Harry would make you bend over and hold the arms of his chair, lift your blazer to remove as much padding as possible, then walk around swishing the cane until finally landing six blows on your behind. I would have six lines of bruises that I dare not let my parents see because I would then receive more punishment. In spite of all that it was a great school and I received a valuable education there.

I was at BHGS from 1957 (I started in the 3rd year as I came from Kendal GS - more about that later) and left after a third term in the Sixth in 1962. I had a terrible time when I arrived. I spoke with a strong northern accent so that I was treated as a half-wit - very unfair. My best friend was Chris Wellings and I was pally with Andrew Feast and Terry Wilton - known as 'Ko Ko' from his Mikado performance (as a girl). There was a day when Harry Brogden called all the prefects, or it could have been all sixth formers, into the library and warned them about unnatural affections between senior and "pretty" juniors - especially during the rehearsals for the Shakespeare play or G & S. I hated Randall who humiliated me several times, Arnold Berry was a strange man and my form master for several years. I had a brother 2 years below me who went to Cambridge to read History. I was in the CCF band - played the big drum - I loved the CCF especially on arduous training in Wales. I remember Jack Smithies getting legless one night on camp near Aldershot. Monty took the salute at Rushmoor Arena. Oddly enough, I ended up living 5 miles from there for 30 years and visited what is now a derelict stadium and comp site. I taught PE, being inspired by Jelfs, for 8 years then took a couple of degrees in educational topics and research. I ended up in Guildford at AEB (now AQA) as an (international and national) business development manager. I got a doctorate in my last few years at work and I am now retired. I re-married a co-worker - we met in Poland during a major reform project of the Polish education system. I can be contacted on ajfrancis@wp.pl

To Jackie Wickham: I have two photos of my great grandfather in hospital in Hove during World War I. I think it is very likely they were taken at the military hospital which is now BHASVIC. If you are interested in seeing the pictures, and I am very intested in verifying them, then please answer this comment.

I remember John Manton as a fellow classmate at BH&SGS and would love to hear from him at melmjar@aol.com.  I remember all of the names he listed and would add that John Latter was the same year as us but was in the A stream while we were B.  Johnny Rovere was the eccentric French teacher.  I am in touch with several other Old Grammarians and am still a member of the Past & Present Association.

In response to John/Charlie Manton's requests:-
H. R. Mills (Masher) was the French master who was approaching retirement age and not averse to a lunchtime sherry. He also was Second Master and the writer of the words of the school song - Absque Labore Nihil. A very respected man.
A bit more on Mike Robbie's mention of Johnny Rover. He was an energetic man in his seventies who smelled of Iodex and used desks to propel himself up the aisle between the desks. He had no problem with discipline. It was rumoured that he, holding one boy by the ankles, shook him outside the window that overlooked the southside bus stop. That wasn't you, Charlie?
On a more serious note, Jack Smithies told us that Mr. Rover was awarded the Croix de Guerre (3 times?) in the First World War and that his discharge papers stated that he would make the perfect revolutionary. His son, Dennis Palmer, did play for the Old Grams.
T.S. Alexander was the Head Chemistry Master. He ruled the laboratory areas with extreme authority by voice alone and very military bearing. I often wondered why he wasn't in the corps.
'Stooge' Williams was Head Physics Master but I am not sure how he acquired this nickname. He could be temperamental on occasions and kept a set of children's wooden building blocks to vent his frustration if confronted by what he perceived as idiocy. Standing on the Menai Bridge spitting was one of his stories.
The equable (Capt.) J.B. Williams, Latin Master, was the coach of the CCF shooting team. Incidentally, he was a colonel and saw active service during the war.
My comment, we owe a lot to these dedicated teachers.
Hopefully my memory hasn't been playing tricks.
Good luck with your memoirs.

I was at the school from 1944 to 1952 in  Chichester House under Stan Cave. I remember many names from the past: Mike Till (he was Friar Tuck), Warwick Whitaker was Little John, Mike Jordan was Will Scarlett and needless to say I was Robin Hood. The woods around Withdean reverberated to our calls to arms. Mike Robbie, Dudley Seifert, Don Tidey, Eric Gill, Roy Sinclair some of these I was at Kindergarten and Prep School with. The list is endless. Many memorable memories. I was the school captain the year we won the Inter School Chess Championships beating Varndean in the finals. I remember Les Zurich and Newman being in the team - 2 great players. Being asked to leave the VIth form conference at Roedean in the summer of '52 with Derek Gardner (conduct unbecoming). The inevitable confrontation with Harry Brogden the next day. I was involved in a melee in the school refectory: Six of the Best from Barron, the giant Headmaster whose swing plane was longer than Tiger Woods - it was painful.
Using the telescope in the Chemistry lab to spy on my favourite 'friends', the girls of Winstons at PT. You guessed it, caught by Williams and another visit to the torture chamber dark and grim. In between, I got through the academic curriculum, and as a Sea Cadet learned to sail at Shoreham Harbour under Smithies' excellent guidance. Finally had many exciting times representing the school at tennis (Woolven was my coach), soccer and athletics.  Met Di Burnett from Varndean (great tennis player) the one of my dreams, at a VIth Form dance at Brighton and Hove High School for Girls, Montpelier Road in December, 1951. At the end of the day I never wanted to leave the school. My instinct told me my happy but irresponsible life would end.  Always follow your instincts. The moving finger writes and having writ moves on etc - how true.

Having recently discovered this site, your jottings have brought back many memories. I was at BHSGS between 59 - 66 - a contemporary of Dudley Seifert. DS was a friend outside school and I remember he and I exploring the grounds of Sylvan Hall near his home. Three masters who haven't been mentioned were Charlie Toll, Doc Harris and Pewtress. Charlie taught me maths up to the fifth form, but his ability to maintain order in class was zero, how we ever learnt anything I shall never understand - but I did get my O level. Doc was the biology master & sometime soccer referee. I came across him a couple of times when playing for the OG's in the County League. He taught me A level biology, carrying out practical classes in a broom-cupboard masquerading as a lab. The sink was always filled with formalin and dog-fish - no fume-cupboards (or H and S) in those days. Deep breaths required before you went in. Pewtress ruled the gym area with an iron-hand (I think he played cricket for Lancs), although being relatively proficient at football and cricket got on well with him. That is, until I ventured onto the tennis court. He hurtled across the top quad and ordered me off the court on the grounds it would ruin my cricket. "If you want to play in my cricket team, keep off that court". I never played tennis again! I've got two photos of the 1 XI, one from 55(?) - Geoff Downs was captain. The other is from 56(?) and because all signed that photo I can name the other ten: Fane, Fisher, Hanley, Langridge (now deceased), Swadling, Pountain, Igglesden, Harding, Gillingham and Warner. Besides the two school photos of 50 and 54, I've a rather sepia photo from the Sussex Daily News dated 13.11.1951 of Speech Day. Some receiving their prizes were (I think); Cranfield, Hunt, Tomsett, Lawrence, Beal (a fine swimmer), Shaw (musician), Hoare (centre-half in the 1 XI) and Dove (the younger). Ah, where are they now?

Charlie didn't do a good job for you, Alan. You were at the school 1949 to 1956.  You were very modest about your football skills. I remember you from your days at the Downs School (?) when you and Standing were considered a formidable pair. I hope Pharmacology did you proud.  Feel free to contact me at sfexplor@msn.com

This is in response to Peter Courtney's query as to whether the School Hall murals still exist. They certainly do Peter. I attended the Past & Present annual reunion luncheon in 2006 and am pleased to report that the murals and the war memorial stained glass windows are still there. The only change that I could detect was that the platform at the Dyke Road end of the hall on which Harry Brogden held court is no longer there. Incidentally Peter, you and I were classmates and I do remember your unfortunate accident during your performance at the music competition but also recollect that you recovered with aplomb and received a hearty applause. If you do remember me feel free to contact me at melmjar@aol.com.

What a great blog. Many thanks to Nick Rosewarne who has supplied me with copies of the `62 school photo. Still trying to track down a copy of the `66 photo you guys. And to Jeremy Bushell who recently contacted me via email, please do so again - (my computer crashed before I backed up your email address).

Have just rediscovered this site 2 years after writing my earlier contribution in April 2006. Fabulous to read names of some 1959-1966 contemporaries like Richard Nightingale, Nick Rosewarne and David Shelton. I can vividly recall Richard Nightingale being "the boy who threw the tomato" in Bill Bone's French class one day. Later on Richard developed his improbable "bad boy" reputation to cult hero status by bringing bogus "notes from the headmaster" to Horatio Middleditch's Saturday morning Maths classes. Poor old Middleditch, well past normal retiring age, always accepted these as the genuine article and would unhesitatingly read aloud the "headmaster's message" to class. Content was always BBC comedy script writer standard!  Great too to hear from Dudley Seifert and Alan English, both classmates of my brother Godfrey Butler who sadly passed away in May 2006. They and others will remember Godfrey as "the boy who broke the bridge" that is the black-painted, steel pedestrian bridge in the vicinity of the "old" gymnasium and "old" science labs. Dudley Seifert is quite correct in describing my brother as a large, hefty chap with big feet. Whether the young Godfrey's falling through the floor of the bridge was a result of sub-standard construction or some destructive intent will remain a mystery. I do know that he was very proud of the achievement which he chortled about throughout his life and was mentioned by his eldest daughter in her eulogy at his funeral service.
To Robin Finch, I have a framed copy of the 1966 school photograph on our bedroom wall. Seeing that you live in New South Wales, I'll try contacting your email address in next few days or contact me ghbutler@tpg.com.au.   Happy memories indeed!

Thank you, Michael Robbie, for showing me this site. I have certainly enjoyed reading all the "blogs" from Old Boys posted on it so far and can particularly relate to the interesting snippets on Marshall House and Jack Smithies. I was at the school from 1952 to 1959 and well remember "big boys" like Seifert, Fane, Henderson and Blundell, to name but a few. I was known as "Moran" whilst at school for reasons I will not explain here. Suffice to say, such family anomalies were by no means the norm in those days! My nickname was "Sprune" because of my apparent liking for prunes. Like many other contributors, I too look back on my days at the school with a great deal of pride and affection, though my academic achievement could have been better. It is true that Harry Brogden was quite a strict Headmaster but my perception is that he and Wendy were like surrogate parents to many of us boarders in Marshall House. Neither did I excel in sport, with the possible exception of cross-country running, which I came to enjoy. I was also privileged to be the official scorer for the Cricket 1st XI for a couple of years and well remember those names mentioned by Alan English in his piece: Langridge, Pountain (also deceased), Henderson, Igglesden, Harding, Gillingham (Mark's brother, J.B.), Powell-Jackson and Warner. A couple of memories that I have, not mentioned by others, are: Rodney Stone - he was ill with TB and isolated for a time in a sanatorium at Robertsbridge. Alistair Tapsell and I (both keen scouts) cycled to Robertsbridge and back one Sunday to visit him. Rodney, who was an Old Boy himself, sadly passed away in 2006 at the age of 72. His obituary was in the 2006 issue of Past & Present magazine. Scout camps near Bolney Crossroads were mentioned by Geoffrey Smith - I also recall those camps and also that Hendry Bruce (another notable French Master of the time) used to live in a cottage near there. The 1st XI cricket team were invited to his house when playing the Old Grammarians on the Bolney village green. Hammer and Sickle on the weather vane: I recall one Sunday morning waking to find that some daring souls (I'm not sure we ever knew who!) had hoisted the red Soviet flag on the bell tower. Does anybody else remember this? Lynch Law: a number of prefects, myself included, were kept behind at the end of term by Brogden and told to write an essay on lynch law. This followed an incident when a group of senior boys took the law into their own hands and shaved the head of an anti-social pupil who we saw getting away with unacceptable behaviour (no ASBOs in those days!). My younger brothers, Keith and Clive, also attended the school.
I am currently the Membership Secretary of the Past & Present Association, which succeeded the Old Boys' Association (OBA) when the school changed to BHASVIC, and I have posted a page on this site relating to our activities.  Please take a look and join us!

Reading all the comments and memories has caused a torrent of happy grammar school memories flooding back. I was at BHSGS from 64 to 71 and from around 67 in the boarding house so I well remember Robin Finch who has contributed a few times also a boarder from those days. I remember Saturday morning school for the first year before that was abolished but caps weren't until the 3rd year. I was a year below Robin Finch (how did you end up in NW Australia?!) with Colin Warburton, Brian Ricketts, John Goodsell, John Coote, Trevor Coe, Stephen Gilmore Ellis, Stephen Chalice, Pollard, Ian Grey, Sam Grace, and others whose names are fading. Memories of 'Prep' in the refectory for the 3rd, 4th and 5th years from 7-8.30pm. What a great 6th form common room we had which held such great folk nights and discos. Dave Acres, the history teacher, often sang at the folk nights, talented giutarist that he was, and an even better pianist, Oxford Blue footballer, just a lousy history teacher! Sorry Dave - you were quite good actually singing your own history songs to us in class! He used to regularly give us an essay test in class. I thought I had the easy answer by pre-writing the essay before hand and switching it in for the blank sheet given out at the start. It worked twice and then he spotted the staple holes didn't match all the other sheets he collected! Whoops - Saturday detention!
Bill Bone was a wonderful entertainer and often lapsed into telling us stories of all kinds which we loved as it got away from the 18 (16?) irregular French verbs he endlessly lectured us on, to no avail. His sleight of hand with a piece of chalk was also worth the price of admission!
Oh the House Music competition days (I was Marshall House Music captain!), swimming at the victorian North Road Baths in the winter and getting 6d worth of chips after and a pickled onion. Bertie Blows, Wickson, PE with the pre Wales national team manager, laughing as Mike Yaxley would attempt a shot at goal to show off and slice it off his foot, Dim Jim, Killer Reeve, Dam Randall, Dogface Patterson, Middleditch who looked like the oldest person in the world but a sweet man I think, and then, in around 1970, the arrival of the first ever female teacher at BHSGS (Maths). I can't remember her name now, a nice woman but she couldn't cope with the fifth year set 4 Maths as we were by then beyond hope.
Music teachers Albert Chapman and then later his succesor John Gardiner, both wonderful dedicated musicians. John Gardiner drove a group of us in the school minibus all the way to Vienna and back for the Mozart Festival! What a trip and dedication from him. Albert Chapman wrote some funny arrangements for piano of popular tunes in the style of classical composers like "whose got a lovely bunch of coconuts" in the style of Beethoven - he would play them now and again. I rescued the manuscript of these after he died which would have otherwise have been thrown away I'm sure and I still have them.
In the boarding house we had the run of the sports facilities after school in the evenings after Prep so 3-a-side football and basketball in the gym went on until lights out. Pocket money in Marshall House was 4 shillings I think and then from the 4th year 8 shillings (40p now!) a week weekly handed out on a Saturday afternoon by Rod Stone. Ian Maclean looked after us with his wife known as Ma Mac (a delightfully posh woman) and their attractive daughter who Marshall House boys secretly (?) lusted after although she was many years our senior!
CCF afternoons as 303s sounded down the end of the field and the Corps of Drums practiced their marching manouvres, Gilbert and Sullivan light operas and playing a fairy in Iolanthe in the first year before your voice had broken. Geology field trips to the Isle of Wight in that minibus again, and thinking back to CCF activities one of which was sending us off in pairs in CCF uniform to hitch hike as far as you could get and back in 24 hours! Somehow Colin Moules and myself got up to Yorkshire and back again. Everyone thought we were in the Army so lifts weren't a problem. A stamped piece of paper from a local police station proved where we had been but somebody else got further and beat us.  Sneaking down to the Good Companions pub at the Seven Dials even though we were only 17.
One memory few would know about was one evening whilst playing football on the school field we couldn't believe our eyes as many of the then Chelsea football team jogged on to the field followed by TV cameras for a pre match (possibly Cup Final) warm up which would have been around 1969'ish.
Yes, that was certainly a well rounded education with some wonderful teachers who scared us and delighted us. Perhaps I'll think of more later.

Having read Paul Preager's entry, I'm sorry but I couldn't resist putting in more of my trivia. Paul, were you in the same dormitory as myself and a poor unfortunate lad called Stephen Hopley? If you're out there, Stephen, I now apologise 40 odd years later. Anway it was about 1 am in the dormitory and a few of us were chatting quietly away when the subject of restless sleep came up. I suggested a good cure would be to balance a glass of water on one's forehead. As we who were discussing it were awake we naturally had to choose a subject who was asleep. Enter stage left, Stephen Hopley. He was snoring so, returning from the washroom, I gently placed a full glass of water on his forhead and we all sat back awaiting the outcome. After some five minutes during which he didn't move a muscle, it was suggested that we call him and wake him up. Stephen, Steve!! HOPLEY... still no response. Deciding that we couldn't wait all night to put the subject to the test (we had to get some sleep), I returned to his bed side and with my mouth no more than an inch from his ear, I took my deepest breath.... fire FIRE! FIRE! This had the required effect of waking him up but I'd overlooked the fact it would also bring the Duty House Master from his room below, a period of about 15 seconds on previous occasions. I was hitting my bed at about the 12 second mark and was under the sheets when all the lights came on to reveal a soundly sleeping dorm except for a poor bewildered Hopley sitting up in bed completely soaked. "What is the meaning of this?" screamed the House Master (the rest of us now apparently just waking and taking in the scene) to be met with Hopley's immortal words: "I don't rightly know.... I think I've had a little accident!" Hopley, if you're out there, I'm sorry mate.
One summer Saturday morning it was deemed a good idea to go canoeing off the beach. This involved the manual transport of two heavy wood-framed canvas-covered canoes from the CCF store to the beach. The usual method was for them to be placed on a two wheel hand cart and, with a group of ten, wheeled down to the shore and afterwards labouriously pulled back up. 35 mins there, 1hr 15 mins back. This morning however we could only round up five participants. No problem - more canoeing time for the rest of us. We set out past the Seven Dials and down to the beach. "Down" was the operative word. It began to dawn on us at this stage why it was usually ten boys that managed the cart. A third of the way down the hill we were in no doubt that, whereas when we started out we were taking the cart, it was clear the cart was now taking us. Feet skidding and hanging on for dear life we managed to keep the cart centred and away from the rapidly accelerating parked cars. Fortunately no traffic along the side road, but rapidly approaching was the crossroads to one of the main Brighton shopping precincts. The cart was now a beast unto itself, snorting wildly from side to side on its downhill mission to the sea, with its cargo of two canoes and five screaming kids.  Between eyes full of tears (it was the wind) I noted that the welcoming Green of the traffic light changed to RED. The thought occurred to me how anybody could think that a RED light was going to stop this monster. I suppose it was the combined hysterical screaming of five kids doing about thirty miles an hour that attracted the attention of the copper on duty at the junction. I'll give him his due, he only went white for a minute before he summed up the situation, stepped out into the road and held up all east/west traffic whilst we thundered across the junction, us taking the time to give him a weak smile and a wave. Thereafter the slope petered out and with hot shoes we finally got our beast under control. A great morning canoeing was had by all.......oh, by the way, the copper was waiting for us on the way back. I remember having to explain to Harry Brogden something about Inertia....

I was at BHSGH 1953-60, have just come across this website, and thought I would add my pennyworth.
I concur with everything that has been said about Jack Smithies, a supremely civilised and humane man who seemed to be able to inspire without the aid of shouting or detentions. He was my form master in the Third Year, and our paths never crossed again, but once when I was in the sixth form he stopped me in the corridor and said, 'There's something on at the Theatre Royal you might like' so I went and it was Under Milk Wood. My version of the manhole cover story is that he wrote a spoof article for The Times about the weirdest hobby he could think of, and that evening the 'Tonight' programme invited him on. I think he declined. Another teacher whose erudition Jack himself held in high regard was E.B.Harris ('Eb', to distinguish him from 'Doc' Harris), whose subjects were French and German and who allegedly knew the name of every possible type of grass in all three languages, besides Latin. He taught me only for one year, and I can't say it was terrifically inspiring, but one respected him for his low-key delivery and general tolerance of diversity, or perhaps it was simply indifference. A third undoubted 'intellectual' on the staff was Stephen Pratt, otherwise known as Nolly (noilly prat - ho! ho!). I think of all the teachers he had the greatest influence on me, not just in his subject but by generally widening my horizons to include modern English music - he was a great Britten fan - and modern novels. He gave me free run of his collection and I have never lost the habit.
Harry Brogden was a strange man. I believe he was a twin, and like several other twins I have known since was intensely ambitious. People, including boys and I suspect his staff, were assessed as to whether they would 'amount' to anything. I was always puzzled how he reconciled his blatant partisanship of the boarding house with fair treatment for everyone else, but somehow I never doubted he would. He had some weird ideas - he once tried to persuade us in an RI class (RI (instruction) then, not RE) that the escape of the British forces from Dunkirk was an example of a modern miracle. In 1959, at the time of the centenary, he launched an appeal to parents for funds. Fine, but the names of donors and the amount they had signed up for were posted up in the refectory, which I thought rather bad form. Then again, my brother broke his arm in a gym accident, and he sent a letter home which said - and it was so funny that I can remember it pretty well exactly - 'if it is any consolation I can say that at his age I broke my arm in a very similar way. It was due to my own carelessness; I would not dare to suggest that the same was true in his case' Nowadays with anybody suing anybody about the slightest thing, it might have made sense, but in 1959 nobody I knew thought like that. On the other hand I always found him fair-minded and encouraging. And it was in his classes (not physics) that I first came into contact with relativity and quantum theory.
I.S.Maclean I remember with affection. He was a thoroughly decent man in a somewhat Daily Telegraph way, with a capacity to put up with the most arrant youthful nonsense with good humour. We thought he was angling for the deputy headship. I found out years later from a younger ex-pupil that he had taken over the boarding house, and the main thing that came across was that Mrs Maclean had been a bit of a tyrant. I can only suppose she did not have the tolerance her husband had learned on the job. Another easy-going master who found discipline easy was Stan Cave. I mention this because some time later I met someone who had been at the school when Stan had just arrived. He said they gave him 6 months in the job because he could not keep order. Just goes to show it can all come right with experience.
Other staff I look back on fondly include 'Dim Jim', aka P.R.James, a one-time PE teacher who had moved to maths, 'Killer' Reeve, the art master, who once you got to know him was both good fun and erudite, and Robin (?) Jelfs who although I was a very sloppy sportsperson was never less than encouraging and positive. Indeed looking at this list, I think the common capacity of all of them was the ability to find something positive in even the most sloppy pupils, among whom I am now ashamed to say I was one. The contrast was with teachers like 'Rastus' Randall (then the head of the CCF), who never concealed his view of sloppiness (but for him I would have done AL English), Arnold Berry, who seemed unable to manage his classes without heading the detention league, and E.S.Dickinson, in the junior school, who took a dislike to me, probably on very good grounds, and never let me forget it (and he liked to tell the whole class how much better things had been before the war, when parents had had to pay fees and the boys were therefore so much more motivated. With kids they approved of these people were fine, but if not, not. The sad thing is that I have sometimes caught myself behaving in the same way, which only increases my respect for those teachers who managed not to. One man whose name has not come up so far is Captain Wilkins, known to us for some reason as Pug. He ran the CCF armory and was a general factotum - he supervised the school dinners etc. I believe he also ran a highly-regarded boys club over Patcham way. One day travelling home by train I found myself in conversation with a fellow passenger, a vicar as it happened. He saw my school uniform and told me he had been at the school before the war, and indeed had been a contemporary of Jack Smithies. He told me that several staff had been called up, along with the school gardener. When they returned, the gardener had an army rank higher than any of the academic staff, and this was Captain Wilkins. I don't know if there's any truth in this - the chap who told it to me, vicar or no, struck me as someone who might not be able to resist spicing up a good story. Perhaps someone else out there knows more.
Overall I would say that BHSGH did very well for me, and if it did not do better it was my fault for not taking full advantage of everything it offered. There were some daft aspects. We were offered a choice of Chemistry and German in the Third Year, and if ever there was a language useful for Chemists it is surely German. The 'and Sussex' of the title was a joke. Boys who had to come in by train were given no concessions - witness the school on Saturday mornings. Later on they built a new Grammar School at Haywards Heath. And I occasionally thought some members of the Boarding House thought they were at St Dominic's or Tom Brown's Rugby. Looking back it was a different age. The war had ended only a decade earlier. Many of the teachers had been in it and modern nostalgia for service life had not yet set in. Even some of the German teachers openly hated the Germans; French teachers despised the French. Yet anti-semitism was fairly open - the Germans were wicked because they had started two wars, not because they had murdered Jews. Brighton had a large Jewish population; there were a lot of Jewish boys at the school, but in my time at least Harry Brogden never made one of them a prefect. But all in all, while it is a cliché nowadays to speak of the buttoned-up '50s liberated by the free spirits of the '60s, there was certainly as much tolerance of diversity and eccentricity as there is today, if not more. Nobody I came across scorned those who would now be called 'nerds', who were interested in astronomy, or the Third Programme, or even their school work. 'Swot' was an insult, but one tinged with a grudging respect.

I was in the same class as Jim Critchley. I remember him as a most talented footballer. Our PE teacher was Brian Jelfs. Ex RAF - and a national basketball player. There was an issue of the "London Illustrated News" which featured the school. Photos of the Cadets Corps band ( I was playing the Bass drum), actions photos in the gym - etc. My parents were very proud of this. Do you remember the graffitti on the School pavillion roof - "Don't forget democracy dictactor!" A J Berry was my form master - what a strange man. I was always in fear of him. I loved the CCF. It was able to free my aspirations. I would like to hear from the Wilton brothers and The St Johns.

I too was in the same year as John Critchley (and Ian St John and John Morgan and Pongo Palmer and...). Correct me if I am wrong John but I think we there from 1955 - 1962. In 1953 I was a young Canadian taken there after the war by my Canadian father who had been here during the war). We returned briefly in 1953 for the coronation and then permanently in 1955 which is when I started in 1c at BHSGS. After a term they decided the Canadian was not quite as thick as they thought and I was promoted to 1b (Mr Milton) and the following year to 2a (Mr Maclean). I coped (just) with a situation where many of my contemporaries had a fair grounding in Latin before they arrived. Thanks to Hoss Ryder I eventually 'got it'. I have fond recollections of many of the names mentioned in the accounts above but my abiding memory is of being in the first intake of Duke of Edinburgh Award candidates. Killer Reeve took us all off to the Brecon Beacons where the harsh realities of wet CCF issue boots made their presence felt. I spent the great majority of my time at BHSGS believing the staff (at least most of them) were closely related to God so it was interesting to read John's insightful recollections of their other sides. I agree with all that has been said of Jack Smithies. He was an inspiration to all of us from reciting the Lords Prayer in Anglo Saxon to producing the Gilbert and Sullivan Christmas operas. Does anyone remember the Smithies entertainments at the Church of the Good Shepherd in Dyke Road? BHSGS gave all that a good school should be asked to provide. Those of us who were privileged to be there owe it much.

I remember whilst in Brighton an Adrian Thorne who then moved to Plymouth I think (football) what happened to Adrian ?

I was at the school from 1959 until 1966. For contemporaries who cannot remember me I was (and still am) vertically challenged in modern jargon. Naturally the double barrelled name was ignored and I was sneeringly referred to as Jones.
Previous contributors have stirred my memory. I will try not to repeat what has already been said but to add my own recollections. Despite the masters nicknames all the masters were respected and to some extent feared for the consequences of misbehaving. I never had the misfortune to be caned by Harry Brogden though I am sure I had many detentions. I only recall one caning and that was for one boy who had his hair too long - over his collar. Much has been said about Killer Reeve and his tendency to throw objects at boys. On one occasion I recall he threw a pair of compasses which speared into a desk between the outstretched fingers of a boy! Dickinson has also been mentioned. I remember him for feeling jacket shoulders when it had been raining - damp shoulders was evidence of playing in the playground in the rain - not allowed. And Killer Reeve was in charge of the weekly trip to North Road swimming baths. I was a non-swimmer and hated these visits, The austere Victorian baths and the overpowering smell of chlorine was too much for me. I recall Killer Reeve throwing me in (the shallow end) one time. By the time I reached the sixth form and attended his art classes all was forgotten. As to Joe Woolvern we always joked that it was no wonder he could not hear properly with something in his ear. Doris has also been mentioned - one of the ladies in the canteen. Unfortunately she had a malformed eye which prompted her to be nicknamed Dead -Eye Doris.
I did not excel at CCF (Army). Indeed I failed the parade at which uniforms were given out. Exercises were quite fun. Firing blanks at cow pats on Ditchling Common. An all-night exercise on Ashdown Forest with the challenge of finding our way back to Ditchling Common ended in failure. My co-soldier and I got lost and had to be recovered at Hartfield by my mother and driven back.
I have both the 1962 and 1966 school photographs which I have scanned. I would be pleased to email to anyone who may be interested. I have probably gone for far too long but perhaps these boyhood recollections will spark some more.

Whoops - I have just realised that I should have been speaking of Jim Critchley and not John. Therefore John's dates are right! Anyone know of Jim's whereabouts?

I have scanned the 1950 school photograph and will be pleased to share it with anyone who requests it. Just e-mail me at melmjar@aol.com

Margret Gant asks about Adrian Thorne. Half a dozen of us from Ellen Street school in Hove (actually) passed the "Scholarship" in 1948 and joined BHASGS. The others included Michael Robbie, Chris (Ciffy) Metcalfe and Mike Philips. For several years, Adrian, Ciffy and I were close friends, and spent our summers together exploring the Downs around Hangleton and the old Dyke Railway line. Adrian joined B&H Albion and made his mark on history by scoring 5 goals, ensuring the club's promotion to Div 2. I married, joined the RAF and started a family and lost touch with my schoolmates. I've been trying to contact Adrian for a couple of years without success. The last time I met his brother Keith (more than 25 years ago), he gave me an address in Twickenham, but it hasn't worked. Take a look at:
http://archive.theargus.co.uk/2001/1/21/183603.html.

I was at BHASGS from 1964 to 1971 in the same form as Paul Praeger, with Roger Wickson as our form master in 1W and 2W. My surname at that time was not Dean but Muggleston; I later changed it for reasons that shouldn't need spelling out! It was one of several factors that gave me rather a hard time, though I survived in the end. I can still remember the form list, or most of it: Anthony, Baker, Brill, Brine, Clifton, Coe, Downton, Durrant, Elliott, Foster, Gilmore-Ellis, Gross, Hunt, Langley, Long, Mist, Morley, Muggleston, Newham, Praeger, Ramsey, Tighe, Walsom, Warburton, Weeks and Wellings. I can remember some trivial things about them --- for instance, Walsom was perpetually covered in ink! Weeks was the son of Alan Weeks the sports commentator. Roger Wickson ended his career as HM of King's School, Chester. He was an immensely kind man who went out of his way to help me when I was hospitalized for a serious operation a