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I believe my mum not only has a copy of the book about Pipewood camp , she actually appears in it a couple of times !! I think she sent some photos to the authors and some anecdotes of going there in the 40's

I've just rung her and she's not in at the moment , I've left her a message to get back to me, i shall just have to wait .

I'm actually going to Nottingham to visit her tomorrow so I can find out a bit more then.

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I'm at my mums now, her book is the second one, (Pipewood revisited) compiled by former Notts County footballer, Dave McVay. Mum provided the two pictures on pages 52/53 and the two page spread on 54/55 and the larger of the two on pages 56/7

She is of course Sylvia Sheppard from Carlton, and was one of the first attendees in 1945 and again in 1946.

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I can't put pictures on as mum ain't got a scanner, and I'm at her house with the book not home .

I'll see if I can borrow her copy before I go home.

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  • 2 years later...
  • 10 months later...

I put this post in the wrong place - so here it is again.

I cycled out to Pipewood yesterday. It is totally overgrown and derelict. I managed to get into the site via the car park of the Rugely school that has been built on the Hamstall Ridware end of the site. One dorm has been recently burnt down. It was so derelict and overgrown that it was difficult to get my bearings. I could make out where the central lawn was, in front of the dining hall but could not find the swimming pool. I did stumble across, what I think was the hospital where I spent 3 weeks with two broken wrists (another story), There were many trodden down pathways through the undergrowth. Probably the kids from the school next door play there - or it it haunted by our deceased school pals? It was a very eerie experience.

I was there 49/52 and it was always the last week in July and 3 weeks in Aug.

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I went to Pipewood about 1958.

I remeber that there was a huge amount of water under one end of the boys dorm. and we used to chuck logs in to watch them float.

I have some photos somewhere. i will try and dif them out.

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Story 1.

51 turned out to be a very eventful year for me at Pipewood. We were billeted in Brackenhurst and being a veteran, on arrival I bagged the bottom bunk next to the teachers bedroom. Bottom bunk was best because the springs were intact, whereas the top bunk had the springs kicked out by the guy below. End of dorm beds also felt a bit more private. Anyway, I decided to play a trick on my mate in the top bunk by collecting some grasshoppers and a toad and putting them under his sheets for a surprise. Just as I had completed the task a teacher came in, leading some older lads, I think from Trent Bridge. The teacher allocated beds and told me that I was in the wrong end of the dorm, so another lad took my mates bunk. When he saw the grasshoppers and toad he went spare. Him and his mates grabbed me and threw me into some thorn bushes. Unfortunately there were some hidden rocks and I emerged very bruised and prickled.

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Story 2,

At the end of the first weeks stay in 1951 I practised my flying skills and failed. I was a fearless tree climber (I soon learnt) and was quite high up a tree and made a Tarzan like dive to grab a branch. Unfortunately it was a dead branch and snapped off. So, still clutching the branch I plummeted earthwards and hit the ground branch first. When I was able to breath again I just stared at my right hand which was bent backwards with the palm split open and all of my fingers dislocated and bent back at 90 degrees. I managed to get the little and third finger back OK but the middle finger took a bit of a wrench. The index finger would not go back and by this time it was getting very painful. I ran back to camp and was then taken to hospital by car by one of the two camp nurses. Under GA the finger was set and wrist plaster cast. It was assumed that I would be returned home but I refused and insisted on staying at camp. A few days later it was realised that I could not use my left hand either, painful and swollen. So back to Derby hospital where the X ray revealed that the left wrist was also fractured. So I had two arms in plaster casts. I still refused to go home and stayed in a single room in the camp hospital. My mum and 3 year old sister visited camp on the 3rd Sunday as was usual. I remember my poor mum crying and my little sister being very frightened by here big bro's pot arms. The plaster casts were taken off a day before going home. It vindicated my belief at the time that the country air would heal me quicker. I am still climbing trees to do pruning and preparation fo felling, however I do NOT dive for branches anymore.

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Story 3.

1950 I was billeted in Hartsmere dorm which was closest to the woods where we would play chase. There was also a cesspit there that smelt so bad that a protective fence was deemed unneccesary. Unfortunately one lad who was running fast through the bracken ran straight into it!! He went in waist deep and got out OK but when he got back to camp no one would go near him. A teacher was alerted and said that he was to filthy to go into the shower block. The teacher got a hose pipe and hosed him down before he was allowed into the showers. Poor lad was so ashamed and of course all the other lads were standing around laughing or holding their noses. The cesspit was fenced off following what could have been a lethal accident. The lad was not from Berridge and I did not know him but he was referred to as Pongo after that.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Feeling a bit embarrassed to tell story #4 but here goes...

We were staying in Hartsmere which had a large wooden veranda.

The lads suspected that a certain lady teacher who was dormed at the end of Hartsmere had become suspiciously friendly with a male teacher. So we had the usual boys sort of curiosity about it. The couple sometimes stood on the wooden veranda that faced the woods, leaning on the rail just talking. Another lad and myself dared each other to crawl under the veranda so that we could look up through the gaps in the wooden floor to see up the lady teachers skirt. When we were in position we started giggling and they heard us. The male teacher ran down the steps to catch us. The other lad escaped but the teacher caught me as I was crawling out of a gap in the side planking.

That afternoon I was given a lecture and 6 strokes of the cane in front of the other lads who were staying in Hartsmere. It was worth it for bragging rights though; but in truth I didn't see anything.

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  • 1 year later...
  • 2 weeks later...

Second row from top Mr Pearce in glasses. He was headmaster when I was there. He was also my form master at Berridge before that. A really nice man and great, well respected teacher.

Note - not a single fat kid or teacher in those pics!

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