[Henry Mellish]

Yes, Geoffrey. Well spotted. I was hit that day on the Playing Field. I’d forgotten about that little runt.

Otherwise I managed to avoid problems every day for seven years in the classrooms, corridors, yards, buses, trolley buses, Nottingham City Centre, Highbury Vale, toilets, canteen, City Ground, Trent Bridge, Beeston Square, local recs, cross country route, barbers, gym, vestibule and hall.

At least problem avoidance gave me an interest to focus on. It was a full time hobby!

[Henry Mellish]

Hi.

I’m interested in who Centaur actually is!

If he wants to tell me, I’m on consultingjm@virginmedia.com

Stan

[Henry Mellish]

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 submission name is Stan The Jockey, you can find out who I really am by looking on Amazon Books. My comedy cricket book is entitled ‘The Season That Was’. I’m 70 soon.

[Henry Mellish]

　

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 90^th 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 normally catch up with him at this time of year.

 

Oh dear.

[Henry Mellish]

 

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 at full volume around the school. A’s plan worked, and the highest level he achieved was Prefect. Nice move! I still keep in touch with A.

 

B was good at sport. Very, very good. But he was rather broad in the beam. He loved Mars bars, crisps, and frozen Jubblies. So I wasn’t surprised when he got a job serving in the Tuck Shop! For a few years B was my best mate. He later went on to get an MBE, or a CBE, or some sort of BE. I don’t think it was BSE!

 

C was mad keen on soul music. Otis Redding was his hero. It was Otis this, Otis that, and Otis the bloody other. Until it drove me bonkers. C was a Mod. He wore a Parka, and when old enough, rode a scooter. C was a really great bloke.

 

D was a bit off-beat. But, even taking this into account, I was still slightly surprised when he started masturbating during a history lesson. At least I think it was history. We were in the New Building. Anyway, he was sitting next to me, and putting his heart and soul into his efforts. And no one took the slightest bit of notice! Despite all the moaning and groaning. I tried to take shelter, fearing a Vesuvius type end result. But I needn’t have worried, as it all ended rather anti-climactically. With a whimper probably best sums it up. I don’t suppose girls’ schools had similar problems.

 

E was also a close friend. He lost his Mum to cancer when he was only 13. So it was very traumatic for him. I’ll always remember the day he told me. It is like it was yesterday. We were on the Back Corridor of the Old Building. As with A, I still keep in touch with E.

　

Is this sort of thing any better? Or am I still in the naughty chair?

 

[Henry Mellish]

 

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.

 

What the school should have realised was that, if a teaching method works for 75% of the pupils, then, as an obvious statement of fact, it doesn’t for the other 25%. They seemed to forget that! And none of them, Spud and Dannimac included, showed any inclination to try to do anything about it.

 

My next door neighbour is currently lounging around at his Norfolk pad. So I can’t quiz him. But I guess that his anti-Mellish sentiments are more ‘smoking based’ than mine!

 

Cheers.

[Henry Mellish]

 

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 jobsworths. Most of my colleagues chose to put their lives into their jobs. They were permanently trying to make things better. They wouldn’t admit it now, but they were. And I’m damned sure that if any of them worked as a teacher at Henry Mellish, they would have done the same there. So they wouldn’t have been taking lunch breaks whilst there were fights outside the staff room window. And they wouldn’t be driving home past a melee of boys being dragged along Highbury Vale by a trolleybus. They’d have put their whole Mellish careers into trying to make a difference. And my wife’s school staff would have done likewise. This is what I’ve been rattling on about in previous posts!

 

I know Dannimac and Spud were lovely blokes, but that’s not been my point. I’ve only used their names because people knew them. And I was by no means the softest weakest kid on our year – there were a lot who received much more aggro than I did. And surely knuckledusters brought in from Hucknall shouldn’t have been allowed in a classroom?

 

We were supposed to be a school. Not a youth detention centre. Or an army training camp. The school ethos of "let them sort themselves out, it’ll make men of them" seemed totally wrong to me.

 

Coincidentally I have a next door neighbour who also attended Stinky Henry. I guess he would have started in 57 or 58. I know he hated the place, but I don’t know why. I’m now going to ask him!

 

Thanks for reading my garbage.

 

[Henry Mellish]

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 looked like a West Indian bluetit. Luckily my parents never found out. But where were Dannimac and Spud when that was going on? Probably having a nice cup of tea in the staff room, whilst talking about cars.

 

My wife became a head teacher. She lifted her school up to Ofsted ‘outstanding’. And I’m sure she wouldn’t have let her pupils run riot like the staff did at Smelly Henry.

 

As a side issue, I wanted to learn how to play cricket. But no-one at Mellish ever taught me. Despite the school running several teams. So I was about 20 when I started to play. And I later became reasonably good.

 

I didn’t smile for several years. But I do now!

[Henry Mellish]

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 things. So I’ll not post anything else! Cheers!

[Henry Mellish]

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!

[Henry Mellish]

 

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 Bramcote Hills Grammar School, with all my junior school mates.

 

Within five years of leaving Mellish, I was playing first team hockey for Beeston and county hockey for Notts. And cricket for Bramcote. Yes, I did say Bramcote – I played between about 1972 and 1977. I was also playing tennis, golf, squash, football, etc., etc., etc. And loving it. And I’d got a good job with a company car.

 

I only finally packed up playing cricket 3 years ago. And I was still keeping wicket!

 

The only help I got from Mellish was after I’d left the horrible place! It was when I applied for my first quantity surveying job. As soon as I told them I’d been to Smelly Henry, the only question was "Can you hold a pen?" The interview was over. I was in!

 

I don’t think I’ve ever really recovered from that first day at Henry Mellish. And at 66 years old, I won’t now. I’ve had a successful career, with my own consultancy business. I’m also happily married, and we’ve taken lots of brilliant holidays together. But I’m still not the most confident person in the world. And that has caused me lots of problems. Thanks Mellish. Thanks very much!

 

Apologies for typos in my previous post.

[Henry Mellish]

 

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.

 

 

1964 Things about Mellish that I remember:

• Cross country. Encompassing the delights of Bulwell. I deliberately started near the back, and left all my energy to the last half mile. Then, when the sports masters were in view, I’d come roaring down the final straight. This way I used to end up perhaps 50^th out of 90. And get a few unwarranted compliments. But I still hated it.
• Small bottles of milk at break time. Frozen solid in winter, with the metal tops an inch or so above the actual bottle. Orange juice was an optional choice, and this also expanded vertically in the winter. Standing to erect attention. Also frozen were the orange Jubbly’s in the tuck shop. But that was intentional. At least I think it was.
• Bedlam reigning at the bus stop outside the school. And my best friend Dave hanging on for dear life to the pole at the back of the trolley bus, and having his arms, face and blazer ripped to pieces as he slid along Highbury Vale at 20mph. He somehow managed to not break his specs. God knows how. Needless to say, he didn’t carry out this exercise every afternoon.
• New shoes generally lasting about 6 weeks. Due to me wanting to be ‘fashionable’, my Mum not being able to afford ‘good ones’, and my illegal use of them as football boots in the playground. Cold wet feet were de rigeur.
• The school photo. I’ve still got it somewhere. With various giggling fifth-formers on both ends of the picture. I missed the later one in 1967, due to a Geography field trip.
• The school film. I think it was shown at Easter, from a very old cine projector. It was the same exciting ‘new release’ every year. About a steam train. Not very racy, unfortunately. Neither was the train.

 

1964 Things about Nottingham that I remember:

• Mount Street bus station. Also the Huntingdon Street one. During the course of my schooldays, I used both of these to get to and from school.
• Victoria railway station. Great for a bit of trainspotting. And for getting to other trainspotting venues.
• Broad Marsh. When I first knew it, there were businesses under the GCR railway arches.
• Shops like Griffin and Spalding, and Burtons of Smithy Row.
• The Kop at the City Ground. 1964 was before my less genteel Trent End days.
• Lyons coffee shop in Slab Square.
• Arkwright Street. Full of little shops, and Forest fans on Saturday afternoons.
• The Central Market. Ideal for buying second hand records, chocolate bars and salted peanuts.
• The Odeon Cinema, on Angel Row. It had a café underneath, which served cheese on toast.

 

I’ll now try to find that school photo ……..

　

 

[Henry Mellish]

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 and Strutt. Staff members that I recall were Froggy Marshall, Spud Morrow, Pig Hutchinson, Jim Spolton, Fred White, Scratch Hitchison, Pedro Dunleavy, Oz Whitworth, Vic Gladwin, Ernie Burnham, Puff Latchford, Labby Hurst, Pablo Atkins, Frank Clarke, Danny Mack McCandless, Ena Bonsall, Charlie Evans, George Dutton, Dave Impey, Flab Hadwin and Sooty Sutherland.

 

Another one was Arthur Bottoms, who drifted round the building on invisible castors, without apparently moving his legs. Presumably he’d had a stroke. But he looked like he was in the early stages of moonwalking innovation. And there was a woodwork teacher, who I think was called Arthur Boddy, who used to be forever telling us that we so useless that we were giving him "the screaming abdabs". And of course there was that French student exchange guy who was a clear forerunner to Rene in Allo Allo. We all took great delight in impersonating him.

 

The caretakers were called Snudge and Harry. Snudge was identical to the character in the TV series Bootsie and Snudge. And Harry was quite deaf, so we mimed when we spoke to him - which got him furtively playing around with his hearing aids. Best not to mention our rhyming nickname for Frank Hunt, the local deliveryman. There was also a rag and bone man, with a decrepit old horse, who kept us entertained when we were on the playground.

 

Being incompetent academically and in sport, and feeling the need for street cred, I took to continuous sarcastic commentary on the abilities or otherwise of students and staff. This led to me becoming the 1964-65 Oz Whitworth Baiting league champion. A success which won me an engraved ‘Oz League’ shield. On the flip side, I had to write "I must not call Spud Spud" ten thousand times. I was also hit so hard by Puff Latchford round the side of the head that it very nearly knocked me out. That actually did keep me quiet for a few minutes.

 

In desperation, I joined the CCF. But the RAF was not a good choice, as I was terrified of being higher than six inches off the ground. I did enjoy the trips out, but not the bits involving aircraft. And I could never even hit the end wall on the rifle range, never mind the target or the actual bull.

 

The good old days? I’m not so sure. As soon as I left, I changed dramatically. I became interested in the world around me, and I started playing masses of sport. No thanks at all to the Henry Mellish Grammar School!