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I started there in 1970 and the first years were somewhat un-pc-like referred to as "fags" - it was an intimidating place for an 11 year old, particularly as most of my mates hadn't passed their 11+, so I only knew a few other kids at the start. The teachers I remember were "Jed" Strutt who was the headmaster and a guy called Driscoll, who was a very angry looking deputy - they both used to where scholarly gowns and waft around the corridors like Batman and Robin. I also remember Bonsall, a sickly looking music teacher (amusingly called Mr Sharpe). My geography master was called Hutchinson - his nickname was "Pig". I also had that lunatic, Mr Bottom, for maths - he used to refer to us as "apes" and for the real dimwits, "ape-apes". He must have been about a hundred years old back then even.

The PE teacher was called Sutherland and he was a sadistic bald git - he smoked like a fiend and we used to nick his cigarettes when he was in the showers.

There were constant head-lice outbreaks when I was there and quite a lot of bullying of the younger kids (usually by the year above them). We all learned to smoke there (in the air-raid shelters) and there was a unique playground game called hand-pill that we used to play - though I've never encountered this game anywhere else. The last year I was there, my form teacher was a lovely young guy called Mr Henry, who was drafted in as a relief teacher (we gave him hell when he first worked there) - but they kept him on and he turned into a really good English teacher.

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Ha! I'm sure I did deserve most of the horrible things that happened to me at that school. I remember being terrified of the last day before school broke up for the summer holidays when I was in the first year, because the rumor was that the second-years 'bog-washed' and then threw all the fags in the gorse bushes. As it turned out, no such torture occurred when I was there, so my fears were unfounded.

Thinking back, I also remember the school had a really good tuckshop and there was some kind of military cadet thing too - I remember staring out of the window during latin class (we were actually taught latin! How ridiculous and pointless was that?) at all these kids marching up and down the playground - some in military uniform others in the school garb - very bizarre.

The first year boys had to wear caps I think - I remember mine getting thrown under a bus in the melee that was 'going-home-time' - we were lined-up on the pavement outside, waiting for the green buses to take us into town (Huntington Street Bus Station) just a huge throng of little arse-holes all squabbling and fighting and farting about - and then a mad surge when the bus pulled up and a fight to get up the stairs, so we could light up our blagged Players No 6.

I won the school public speaking competition in 1973 (even beating some of the 6th formers, which I was well-chuffed about) with a speech about a pet wasp that followed me home from school one day. That was thanks to Mr Henry, so if you're somehow reading this Sir - you set me on a good path with your encouragement and enthusiasm. I can't say that much for any of the other teachers I had before or after.

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You forgot the overhanging threat of the Prefects........overall a nightmare place to be, ....where discipline was drummed into you from every angle.......Yet we survived.

True - though I never felt threatened much by them - they seemed to spend most of the school day in that big wooden hut in the quad, presumably sleeping or perusing jazz mags.

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Only just come back to this thread after long time away - good post Matt.

Yes - Driscoll was nicknamed Schultz as he looked like a Nazi skinhead and had a Germanic accent although he taught French. Pig Hutchinson was so called because he was constantly clearing his throat, coughing and picking his nose. Sutherland was nicknamed Sooty cos of his compulsive nicotine habit and 'Pete' Henry as you say was universally liked as one of the more 'liberal' teachers although he failed to instil in me any understanding of the metaphysical poets. He left some time in 75 but touchingly sent us all a good-luck card prior to the A-level English exam.

Latin was taught by Vic Gladwin who was only about 5 foot tall yet played rugby for Mellish Old Boys and delighted in the nickname of Mini-Man. The other Latin teacher was Hurst who had the nickname of Labby - possibly after Roman General Labienus and our delight in stressing the last 2 syllables of that name when translating aloud.

I'm afraid I was of the peculiar mind set which quite liked Latin and remember Labby saying it was a qualification which was highly sought after by employers in the computer industry. Of course back in 1973 we knew nothing of computers but remembering this little snippet of info I applied to be a trainee computer programmer some 10 years later and I'm still at it today.

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Any of you Mellish boys remember an Irishman called Mr Murrell (or Morrell) who taught English in the early 60's? He left Mellish around 1967 to teach at Carlton-le-Willows Grammar. He lives close to me and I see him virtually every day striding along the road carrying bags of paraphernalia that he's usually picked up in charity shops. What's amazing is that he's now 95 or 96 and is still very upright, active and alert.

Yes I remember him well. Spud Morrell. I can't believe he is still alive. I am 66 and retired and I thought he was in his 40's when he taught me English. If you see him please remember me to him (Roger Gaspar). I left in 1964 and just before I did I remember him coming to me and asking if I needed help as he had some connections with people in the profession I was entering. I was sorted so didn't need his help but his kindness was typical of many of the teachers (out of the classroom). I remember the Latin master nicknamed Labienus becuas he had this theory that Gaius Labienus was the military genius and not Julius Caesar. If you could get him talking on the subject, it could waste half a dreaded Latin lesson. Hand-pill - don't recall that as its name but many a time I played it - not particularly successfully and once got detained outside the Deputy Head's study for climbing on one of the flat roofs to reclaim the ball.

Used to get there by No 43 Trolleybus from Trent Bridge having travelled from home on a WBUDC No 21 from Stamfrod Road, West Bridgford. My brother got in the West Bridgford Grammar School; I didn't and had to travel across Nottingham to go to the HM.

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Thanks for the welcome. I'm pretty poor at names. I can only remember one class colleague - Malcom Beardall. But no one else at the the school came from West Bridgford so it was a bit difficult. Not though the school was unfriendly. I recall the Gym teacher Sutherland. Agree that he had a sadistic streak but later expereience suggests to me it is a characteristic of the gendre. The french teacher was pretty good. Can't remember his name but one day in exasperation of one of the lads in the class who was really playing up, he lobbed the wooden board cleaner intending it (I think) to bounce on the desk in front of the lad. Unfortuantely he missed and caught the lad who was turning around at the time on the top of the head. The result was an amusing mixture of humour (it was I'm sorry to say amusing to watch), contrition on the part of the teacher who realised what he had done, shock on the part of the lad and general collapse of the lesson. Everybody was best of friends afterwards and the lad never messed around again (I recall he was a bit of a pain). The carpentry teacher was as mad as a March Hare as I recall. Physics was old Hadwyn. I learnt a useful lesson from him dressing up words in official reports. We were doing some experiment that needed smoke and Hadwyn got out his pipe and puffed away and did whatever it was about. Homework was to write up the experiment and Hadwyn said 'I don't want anyone to write "At this point Hadwyn got out his filty pipe". I want to see "Smoke was induced etc etc"'. Many the time I have stopped in a report and written something a little kinder or obscure. In Chemistry one day, the teacher created some colourless gas in one of those jars and some bright wag suggested there was nothing there. So sitting at the front, I was called out to sniff the gas. The moment I took a breath it shut up my airways and I spluttered for a while and sat out the remainder of the lesson in complete confusion. Next day I had an appalling sore throat and cough that kept me off school for a week. Never did tell my parents why.

Smogs were good in winter. Got on the trolleybus one afternoon after school and it went down the road under the railway bridge and stopped in the thickest smog I experienced. The conductor announced that was it and it was walk home from Basford to West Bridgford. I remember getting lost in the road triangle by Shippos brewery and the stink from the Brewery and the Gas Works opposite was enough to rival Baldrick's trousers. Got home about 8 o clock as I recall.

All in all though, I had a very good education that really stood me in good stead. Happy memories. Oh yes, I used to be a permanent first reserve for one of the Rugby teams - not the first, they were all six formers and I left before then. Then I get picked to play. Whistle goes, we kick off, ball goes nicely in the air and I (determined to be a star) run like, like, like a runner and as one of the other side catches the ball, I tackled him head on. Down we go in a heap, someone says good tackle, jsut as the guy's knee came up under my chin and put a tooth through my bottom lip and addles my brain. Cue much bleeding. I am hauled to my feet and after the first tackle of the game taken off to go to hospital - which I recall was opposite or certainly nearby. I remained as first reserve ever after. Hey ho.

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Lizzie asked whether anyone remembered "Spud" Morrell, and although I was not a Mellish lad I did work with a lad who was, Pete Wingate, who did go to Mellish and was taught by Mr Morrell. At that time he had an Alfa Romeo and I was the one in our office tasked with looking after his insurances, and it was a problem that he wanted his son to be able to learn to drive in this car, but with the performance of the car I was unable to convince our "powers that be" to let this happen. As he seemed pretty old to me at that time, a raw 18 year old, I am pleased to have read that he was still active a couple of years ago.

Lizzie, is he still around or has he at last succumbed to Old Father Tyme ?

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Commo, how interesting that you had dealings with him. As far as I know he's still around but I haven't seen him for several months now. I used to spot him striding up the road with bags of paraphernalia that he'd picked up in charity shops. He's always had 'classic' cars parked in his driveway, more recently his car hasn't moved and is covered in leaves. He and his wife are now late 90's and I do wonder if they're still around but it's no use going knocking on their door, I tried that once when I was lending him a book and he didn't answer ...... I had to wait until I spotted him walking past. Just recently I checked the Post obituaries to see if he was there!

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"Spud" Morrell is the wrong name. He was Mr.R.S Morrow. Irishman - English teacher. Used to drive an old Bentley during my time at Mellish (50s/60s). Not very good at keeping control of a class. Ran the "Radio Club" and was an expert on things electrical. He claimed he invented radar during the war before Robert Watson-Watt. Left to teach at Carlton Le Willows.

Phil

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Welcome to the Forum Phil and thanks for putting us right on his correct name, the passage of time plays havoc with the little grey cells and I blame Lizzie for leading me astray, never known her to be wrong before !! :biggrin:

Now that you've joined in, keep posting and sharing your memories.

PS. Did you know Pete Wingate or would he have been after your time?

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Hello Phil, I take your word for it as to this man's name .......... I asked him his name when I first met him and thought that's what he said. We got chatting several years ago and he told me about his time in the war, having to personally look after King George VI on some occasion etc. He also said that he taught English at Henry Mellish and moved to Carlton-le-Willows GS in 1966 (he thought!) I was at C-le-W but left as he arrived at the school. He's a very interesting chap to talk to but sadly I haven't seen him around for some time. He's lived in the same house for donkeys years, just along the road from me. I believe he has an old Jensen in his garage!

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