Stan The Jockey

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About Stan The Jockey

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    Male
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    Kegworth
  • Interests
    Beer, sport, beer, holidays, beer, trains, beer.

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  1. Hi. I’m interested in who Centaur actually is! If he wants to tell me, I’m on consultingjm@virginmedia.com Stan
  2. Hi. Im a 1961 to 1968 er. As I’ve said before, Mellish didn’t do me much good. I never felt safe there. I was always looking over my shoulder. But I was quick on my toes, so I never did actually get hit! I don’t think that any of the masters helped to prevent bullying. Not even the ‘nice’ ones, like Spud and Danny Mac. In fact, in some ways, they were probably worse! The reason that I didn’t leave aged 16 was because, by that age, I had completely lost confidence to do anything much at all. But things got much better later in life. All’s well that ends well! Although my
  3.   Sad news. One of the ex-Mellish boys listed in my earlier posting died in the summer. Aged 66. But I’ve only just found out. He was a friend of our family, so my Mum, brother and wife are very upset. The last time we were all together was at my Mum’s 90th party in April. I think that the reason that we weren’t informed earlier was because he lived alone, and so one group of friends and contacts didn’t know any other group. In the last few days I’ve had lovely chats with his neighbours and with his brother. That’s taken the shine off Christmas. We norm
  4. Without trying to wind anyone up yet again, I’ll now talk about one or two of my friends and acquaintances at Smelly Henry.   A was bright. Whilst I was in the "B" form, he was in "A". His Dad was a head teacher, and I reckon he had designs that A would go on to become Head Boy at Smelly. But, when it got to the fifth form, A seemed to suddenly realise his likely direction of travel. And, for reasons unclear, he must have decided that the Head Boy role wasn’t for him. So he began to shout "Yahweh" at one of the previously aforementioned masters. Over and over again "Yahweh" was heard
  5. A rider! When you are terrified of going to school, you do tend afterwards to look for reasons why. I was frightened all day, every day, for the first few years. And I felt neglected by the staff. I needed an arm round my shoulder, and some gentle reassurance. But I never got it. Hence my current hatred of the place. At one point Scratch Hitchison tried to ‘make me more of a man’ by making me stand up and give a short talk about something or other. God knows what. But this had completely the opposite effect! I then started absconding, cheeking off the staff, etc., etc.
  6. There’s an expression about the bearer of bad news, isn’t there? Anyway, as I’m being attacked from all sides, I’ll try one more time to explain myself. Then I’ll stop posting. I’ve no idea which teachers were supposed to be on playground duty on a certain day 52 years ago. I wouldn’t have known on the day itself, so God knows how I’m supposed to remember now! But, in any case, I cannot see the relevance. I had quite a successful business career, and in doing so worked with hundreds of different people. And I could count on one hand those who were clock-watching jobswor
  7. Of course I don’t think that Dannimac and Spud were any worse than other members of staff. They were just part of the overall problem. I only mentioned their names because they have been heralded from the rooftops in earlier posts. I remember a summer’s day when the lunch break could be taken on the field. And one of the school yobbos decided to make me sit down on the grass, while he hit me every fifteen seconds on my chest. This went on for about ten minutes. I was in complete agony. I’m amazed my ribs didn’t break. I couldn’t even walk properly afterwards. The day after, I looke
  8. Orlando. I had no experience of life outside school. So when I was 16, I just assumed that it would be even worse than being at Mellish. And, as it happened, the last two years at school proved to be the best, in that there weren’t older pupils to bully us. So at 17 I started to relax for the first time. The first three years had been appalling. Loppylugs. I don’t see why we have to look back through rose tinted spectacles. Surely being honest is better than trying to please everyone? But I apologise if you don’t agree. Anyway, everybody just seems to want to hear good
  9. If Dannimac and Spud Morrow were such kind and caring individuals, then why did half the boys spend the first three or four years of their Mellish lives permanently looking over their shoulders? Surely Danni and Spud should have stuck their heads above the parapet, and done the right thing? Rather than just taking the easy way out, and hiding. Were they too scared of such as Houston and Pig? Probably. To be fair, some of the later younger teachers were even worse. They deliberately befriended the school hardcases, in order to protect themselves!
  10. That was an interesting post, Woody. Especially the Bramcote CC and wicketkeeping bit! Before I went to Mellish, I was a typical confident fun loving boy. I had lots of friends and interests. I even did things like going trainspotting to Crewe on my own at the age of 9! Which wouldn’t be allowed to happen today. But Mellish did nothing for me. My confidence disappeared completely. So, although I loved sport, I was never encouraged to participate. I was one of the ‘useless 10%’, who was sent up to the top field to waste their sports afternoons. I wish I’d gone to Bramcot
  11. Since I entered my first post, I’ve been trying to remember boy’s names from my school year. Around about 1964, when we would be in the third or fourth form. There were roughly 90 of us altogether, spread over three classes. And so far I’ve come up with about 55 names. A total which good signify a good memory, or an awful one! Woody appears to have been in the year below me at Mellish. So I reckon that people like Roy Barnes, Paul Davies, Len Ashmore and Brian Dowhan would have been his age. Also one of the Pavis brothers. And cricketer Phil Wilkinson. 196
  12. I’m a 61 to 68er. I didn’t like being at Smelly Henry. I really wanted to be booting a Frido on the rec, or watching Notts get thrashed at Trent Bridge. Or listening to the Beach Boys on my record player. Not to be stuck at Highbury Vale. In fact the best days were when the freezing smog was so bad that the trolley buses gave up the ghost, and the school closed at lunchtime. We could then spend four wonderful hours meandering home, rather than an afternoon listening to boring repetitive waffle about the Amazonian basin, or isosceles triangles. The heads during my time were Houston