The 2001 exhibition, called "Cane and Able" was on the village school, drawing together documents, relics and memories of the years since 1870 when the school was founded. It won first prize that year in the Heritage Competition.

"The Best Days of Our Lives" is a collection of some of the memories of old school days.

"BEST DAYS OF OUR LIVES" 2001

The Teachers

Snelley

During the mid-thirties, the head teacher was a Mrs Snell. A strict disciplinarian, her reputation carried over several generations of Hallaton school children after her retirement. Alas, the tales of her law and order seem to have eclipsed any memories of her teaching skills. The mere threat of being brought before Mrs Snell was enough to subdue the most obdurate of pupils. Nevertheless, as one of a group of six years olds alleged to have been seen spitting. I was called into the presence and sentenced to the cane. The punishment followed swiftly, inflicting pain, swollen palms and a long-term resentment at the injustice.

Miss Hawke

During the 1930’s Miss Kathleen Hawke taught the infant class in what has always been known as the "little" room. Kathleen Hawke was the first of three lady teachers from the Hawke families of Hallaton to make a considerable contribution to the education of children at the village school. During the 1940’s and through to the ‘60’s it was the turn of Clara Eaton (nee Hawke) and also her niece Francis (Topsy) Stamp (nee Hawke).

Mrs Reynold’s of India

A headteacher of the late 1930s, Mrs Reynolds had travelled widely and had family associations with India. Her teaching of geography was inspiring. Alas, Mrs Reynolds had an authoritarian approach to history and current affairs. In consequence, we got

to know how much she hated the Congress Party in India but learned nothing whatever of the point and the pain of the struggle for independence. In those days, views were imposed and not to be questioned. In retrospect it seems we were being taught what to think rather than how to think.

Mrs Clara Eaton (Moggy)

Clara Eaton, headteacher in the ‘40’s/50’s taught at Weston by Welland and Cranoe before joining Hallaton School. With a reputation for discipline, and known as "Moggy", she was an awesome presence in the school and stories about her strictness filtered through into the infant class so that moving into the "big" room filled pupils with dread.

Ted Read remembers her as a distant relative who made it quite clear from the outset that he would have no choice other than to succeed in her ultimate goal of getting him, together with Margaret Cotton and Mary Seaman, through the dreaded 11 plus. Quite an undertaking as both he and John Collyer had their own ideas about discipline which usually meant they spent long periods standing in the corner at the bottom of the room. On one such occasion, Mrs Eaton, no doubt exasperated beyond control, grasped Ted by the hair to manhandle him back to his desk. During the ensuing scuffle she was thrown to the floor revealing pink ‘bloomers’ which was cause for much comment and giggling for days!

In contrast Ted’s sister Pauline remembers "A tiny women with grey streaked hair, roughly scrambled into a bun at the back which was always falling out. I can see her now always fidgeting with hairpins trying to keep it tidy."

"She was absolutely fearless, not only with pupils, but also with their parents. On one occasion she was confronted with a well known aggressive mother of some stature, who charged into the classroom with a complaint regarding her offspring. Although being bombarded with obscenities and raised fists, Moggy stood toe to toe with the aggressor in front of the whole class and saw her off the premises. She then readjusted her hairpins and carried on as if nothing had happened".

Committed to getting her pupils to the Grammar School, she worked tirelessly to that end and no doubt records will show that in that endeavour she was successful. Certainly on arrival at Harborough Grammar School or Church Langton Secondary Modern, Hallaton C of E School pupils could more than hold their own following their years under Clara Eaton’s tutelage.

Mrs Frances Stamp (Topsy) (nee Hawke)

Frances Mary Hawke, whose mother died when she was a few days old, was brought up by Clara and Florence Hawke.

After Hallaton school she attended the Market Harborough County Grammar School of King Edward VII where she received prizes in mathematics, English literature, Intermediate arts, English History and Proficiency. She then studied at University College Leicester and in 1926-7 received a further two prizes for Latin and two for English. She achieved her BA with second class honours and almost certainly became the first woman (and maybe the first pupil) from Hallaton to win a University Degree.

After teaching in Nottingham she took a secretarial course at Keene College, Leicester and worked for Wolsey’s.

Mrs Stamp became infant teacher at Hallaton School in 1948 and remained there until 1967.

Born in the village, she lived in a thatched house on the Green with her husband George and children Heather, Mark, Jean, George (Picky) and Margaret. Known by most children in the village via one or other of her five children, she was the perfect teacher to see you through your first days at school. Kind but firm, and always fair, she nurtured the little ones towards the 3 R’s whilst at the same time mopping up sick and dealing with wet pants and everything else that goes with a class of 5/7 yr olds.

Despite all the responsibilities and considerable effort involved in caring for her own family, Mrs Stamp brought to the classroom a calm and efficient nature that helped young children to quietly gain in confidence.

The Blades

By the 1940s the Schoolhouse was occupied by the family Blades. A sensitive and caring lady, Mrs Blades had come from Market Harborough to Hallaton as infant teacher. The young widow of a policeman, she brought to the village school a gentle way with teaching children and the added bonus of two sons. Michael and Keith were to spend their childhood as popular boys in the village. They passed through Hallaton school and during the war moved on the "Grammar School" at Market Harborough.

Florence Hawke

Clara Hawke’s sister Florence did not teach at the school but gave private tuition to students at Horninghold and Blaston. Five afternoons each week she rode her bicycle to give two hour sessions.

For many years she took the Sunday School class in Hallaton Church.

The 1930’s

National Pride

Memories of the Great War were still fresh in the 1930s with many still mourning the loss of family members or friends. This reinforced the sense of nationhood and patriotism then evident, that was an ever-present issue of school life. Each November 11th we trooped from the school to The Cross to stand in silence before the War Memorial. In a like manor of loyalty, at school we all celebrated St George’s Day. Flags, banners and patriotic songs were part of being British. The jubilee of the king, George V and the coronation of George V1 were national celebrations in which the school children were very much involved with organised games, races and teas. We acquired the spirit of nationhood at school and grew up to take it to the pubs and clubs and into World War II. This patriotism is now less openly expressed but it should not be doubted: Its form is quite different today and not so readily recognisable to the older generations.

Times Tables and All That

Frank Neale, as well as remembering the names of most of his classmates when he entered infant school at the age of four years, also tells of learning the rudiments of drawing and writing on, first of all sand trays, then chalk and slate before moving on to pencil and paper and finally pen and ink.

Once in the "Big" room learning began in earnest. Pupils, sitting at desks in pairs, all facing the teacher and the blackboard. "We learned our tables by heart, up to 12 x 12, from a little book which actually went up to 20 x 12".

But there were lighter moments.

"Miss Snell was an expert pianist and taught us to sing ­ everything from tonic sol-fa scales and arpeggios to songs such as ‘Tiptoe through the Tulips’ and ‘The Vicar of Bray’. Once she put on a school play at the Stenning Hall ­ ‘Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves’, so some recirculation of the cast became necessary to make up the numbers".

Occasionally in the summer a team of Hallaton boys would be fielded for a game of cricket against a team from Medbourne or Slawston. The Marlow’s of Slawston were particularly fast bowlers and were held in some fear as the Home team could only run to one pad per batsman.

During the winter it was the turn of the boys from the "Approved School" occupying Hallaton Hall at the time, to soundly thrash the Hallaton schoolboys on the football field.

Awayday Exams

In the 1930’s the children from Hallaton School had to sit their examinations at the Medbourne School. For the small group it was a bit like an outing. "Early in the morning of exam-days" we are told, "the kids used to gather at Spriggies corner at the bottom end of Hunt’s Lane. After a while Mr (Bill) Garner would come along with Mr (Fred ) Hawke’s taxi to take us to Medbourne and later bring us back" In those days of few cars and rare opportunity for most children to ride in one, the day out was an excitement in its own right, whatever the seriousness of the examination.

Rebellion at Hallaton C of E.

It was during the headship of Mrs Reynolds in the 1930s that the pupils went on strike. That summer, the children broke from their traditional respect for authority and en masse deserted the classrooms. There would be a cry "Let’s go up Rec’". Led by a few of the bigger boys, every child in the schoolroom would down-pens and take to the road to an afternoon in the playing field. Despite orders, threats and eventual pleading from the head teacher, the mass-truancy was repeated on several afternoons in a week.

For whatever reasons the school atmosphere was already tense but clearly there was a ring-leader to the rebellion, identified as one Charlie Matthews of Stockerston. He had been punished for kicking out at the teacher and was obviously a strong influence on the other children. When at last the authorities stepped in, Mathews was removed, Mrs Reynolds left and a new head was appointed to restore order. No recriminations can be recalled but the incidents were never repeated.

Family tiff

Cis Payne (nee Sewell) recalls a tale of an upset school friend. It had been one of those dry summers and the tubs of soft water were running low. It has been known for children to take neighbours water when they were out rather than use the hard water from the pump. Her friend Pat had wanted soft water to wash her hair and was furious to find that her little brother had used it all and duly beat him. The family battle ended in reprimands and tears. Sharing her troubles next day, with Cis, poor Pat told how she had lost out again, as her horrid brother, one Peter Daisley, had retaliated by giving her meat pie supper to the dog.

The 1940’s

Lessons of War

Children at school during the Second World War were well charged with the daily geographical references in wartime news. For those of us at Hallaton who took an interest in world affairs, the war news was an important contributor to our education. At Hallaton on any schoolday you would have been likely to find nine and ten-year-olds not talking sport but discussing and arguing about the conduct of the war! The playground parliament was likely to include regular debaters like John Eaton, Michael Blades, Jim Neal and Peter Daisley.

Evacuees

The London kids arrived early in the war. They came by train and were marshalled in the school playground, by their own teachers and the local Volunteer ladies. Local kids watched in awe as these well turned out youngsters with funny accents were allocated to village families. Mutual suspicion took a while to break down. It may well have been sustained by the separate teaching, with local children in the main school and evacuees, with their own teachers, using the church hall, the tin-tab. As the children mixed, the differences in culture became evident. The Londoners were street-wise, sharper in reactions and more knowing than the village children. They were sadly ignorant about the countryside and the food chain. Milk came from bottles on the doorstep not scooped from churns. Some kids refused to drink milk when they learned of its origin. Mutual learning did develop. Playing and living together soon taught them all to share and it took very little time for the townies to learn scrumping and the yokels to learn shoplifting!

A little cockney boy was billeted with an ageing man and his sister. After a poor autumn the man regretted that the apples on his only tree had stayed green. The boy must have overheard. Using his host’s ladder and red paint, he set about painting the apples but was caught by his astonished guardian. Many may have heard this tale about evacuees and assumed it was a folk-yarn. It was actually a true event here in Hallaton. Harry and Flo’ Hawke lived next to Eaton’s Farm Hallaton.

Railings

The iron railings that graced the front of many houses in the village were forfeited for "the war effort". We know now that these were never used but the ploy was aimed at concentrating minds on the necessity of sacrifice. The school railings were reprieved as a practical requirement. No such excuse existed for the railings and chains that survived in front of the houses of some of the more influential householders in the village!

School Dentist

The dentist came to the school periodically and set up his surgery in the passageway between the classrooms. We were all examined and usually treated on the spot. The portable, pedal-drill then used was a horror for most kids, including Bumper Ghent. Waiting his turn, he sat next to Fred Payne who was a recognised tough-guy and was reassured by Fred’s confidence in going to the chair first. Nervously listening to the whining of the drill, Eric then heard Fred give out a terrifying shout of pain.

Out of his seat, through the classroom, out of the school in a flash, Eric made straight for home and duly forfeited his examination and treatment for that year.

Medicals

A visiting doctor, not usually the local GP, would visit the school to check on pupils’ health. This may have been an annual event but for the children, it was a welcome diversion from routine. An extra bath and special change of clothes were the impositions we had to suffer when mother knew the doctor was going to examine her little horrors. With a fast turnover, limited space for examination and waiting children, there was little concern for privacy in this activity.

The "Dick-Nurse" (or Nit Nurse)

Periodic examination for lice was part of school life. We took it in turn to sit on a high stool while the nurse prodded though our locks with a pencil, searching for signs of creepy crawlies. How unfortunate children caught harbouring lice were treated would make an interesting social study. We all dreaded being checked and the possibility of being found guilty.

The Playground

The front playground was strictly for older boys who participated in games handed down from previous generations; football, cricket, conkers, marbles and the girls and younger children used the back playground. Skipping ropes both long and short were always part of playtime for the girls as were ball games. Most girls were extremely competent both at skipping and two and three ball. Marbles, snobs and hopscotch came and went in phases, as did "Changing Stations" and "The Farmers in his Den".

The White brothers had a reputation as tough guys that extended way beyond Hallaton School.. Charlie the eldest was a rough character who took the lead in whatever fracas was going, readily followed by his brother. Always ready for a scrap and often in trouble, Charlie established his notoriety at an early age. One day in the playground, he stuck out his foot to trip Joe Rowe, who fell and broke his leg. It can be related that Charlie White grew up to fulfil his early promise and became a respected stalwart of Hallaton’s team in the Bottle Kicking!

Playtime Risks

• Rarely did any children break the un-stated rule of "staying in the playground". There were exceptions. Dinnertime at Hallaton School was for adventure in the 1940s..All the local kids went home to eat but came back early to play. "Bumper" was up to most things and one day got hold of an old bicycle. Riding down the hill past the big‘uns playground, his front wheel stuck in the drain cover outside the tin-tab. Eric went headlong over the handlebars. He survived greater hazards in his Langton days however, when he and three other boys risked life and limb driving an ancient motor-cycle up and down Hunt’s Lane.

• One wonders if Mrs Colston was ever aware of just how much her garden and farmyard were secretly visited during playtimes over the years. Certainly at apple picking time Heather Stamp remembers a few excursions through a hole in the zinc fencing with a view to supplementing the breaktime snack, until "rumbled" by Mrs Colston.

Heather obviously became much braver over the years as "The Call of the Wild" became too much for her one day when the Fernie Hunt rode past. In pursuit of the hounds she followed the Hunt up to the Goadby road but ran back down again before the end of playtime ­ and was never missed!

• In later years Pauline Read and Susan Holmes did however manage to avoid detection when climbing through a trapdoor between the toilets, which led to the Colston dairy, where, with the help of ladles they helped themselves to milk from the churns waiting to be collected. This all came to an abrupt end when Pauline cut her leg quite badly on barbed wire on one such trip and not only had to hide the injury from Mrs Eaton, but also make up a plausible excuse for her parents. They were only to find out the true origin of the injury recently.

Smelly

It was difficult for me to understand why I had to sit a long way away from the rest of the children in the infant class. "It was my dad’s fault" Peter Daisley notes. A wounded soldier, failed grocer and an outsider, his father had taken on the agency for a fresh fish merchant. This enterprise was no more successful than his others but resulted for a while in his family bearing a persistent aroma of fish. Others people preferred not to share it. Though quite understandable in the interest of other children, the resulting isolation in the classroom was a bit hard to take for a little boy of five.

School and Church

Into the 20th century there was still a deep division between Church and Chapel that influenced the schoolroom. The Church School observed the C of E rules while by law it was obliged to accommodate non-conformists. A compromise was adopted, permitting Chapel children to be excused the prayers taken by the local vicar once a week. In the 1900-1920 period Chapel children including the families Broadwell and Baines were not allowed to please themselves. Their parents could elect for them to read the bible in another area while the rectors conducted prayers. Get-outs were not encouraged! By the 1920’s the differences of outlook were softening. By then the chapel children were joining in the prayers but were excused from saying the (C of E) creed.

The Rev Farley-Clarke who was rector in the ‘30s. He came to school to give religious instruction every Monday. Teachers and children showed due respect. to this remote and rather superior being. Whatever his message, he is more likely to be remembered as the local dignitary than for his teaching.

In the 1940s, the tall gaunt figure of the Rev Heath came to pass on the Christian message to the schoolchildren. All the children knew and respected him. More approachable than his predecessor, he was intense in his clerical duties. Rev Heath was active in every aspect of village life. He gave four services on Sundays, as well as Bible classes two evenings a week, one for young men and one for young women. He also hosted evenings at the rectory where children could play all kinds of games. However, this informal early youth-club excluded the sinful playing of cards. Even chapel kids listened to this popular rector who had the advantage of children of his own.

Lottie Buxton

Children came from Horninghold and Stockerston and other villages and from the outlying farms to Hallaton School. In the 1940s Roy Coombes and sister Beryl joined with the Newman and Payne children and other away-kids to eat their sandwich lunches at bottom end of the big room. There Mrs Buxton supervised. An oversized and formidable lady, she exercised severe discipline. With her cottage facing onto the playground, Lottie Buxton was liable to appear at her door at playtime at the faintest suggestion of trespassing or misbehaviour. Her reproving stare was sufficient to clear her boundary of children.

The School Play

Everyone remembers the School Play. From Frank Neale in the early 30’s with Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves and "a cast of recirculated thousands", through to "Elsa and the Fairies" with Heather Stamp as Elsa, being carried across the stage seated on a piano stool in the Stenning Hall.

Although meticulously rehearsed with the most talented pupils chosen for the lead parts, some form of catastrophe was always part of the performance. And it is the catastrophes that live forever in the memory.

On one such occasion in the late 40’s it was the turn of Ted Read to undermine all previous rehearsals. His story goes as follows:

"I was chosen for the part of the Princess’s cat in the school play which was to be performed at the Blaston village fete. Jean Stamp/Muriel Montague was the princess. We all dutifully learned our lines and practised for weeks before the event. I had just one speech which was at the climax of the play when I turned from the cat into the princess’s long lost brother. The dress rehearsal took place the day before when I was swathed in a wonderful black fur coat with a pair of long black stockings and this passed without problem.

We all turned up at the fete and on the lawn of the Manor in front of a large crowd on a beautiful sunny day the play commenced with "Moggy" standing guard. All passed uneventfully until my change when I leapt to my feet and threw off the black fur coat and stood there in all my glory in a pair of black stockings and my normal school clothes. "Moggy" in her wisdom had forgotten that I was supposed to be revealed as an ancient prince. The complete absurdity of my appearance caused an embarrassed giggle from Jean and a full two minutes of complete hysterics from me before I managed to regain control and complete my speech."

Nearer to God

Teaching in a Church of England school in the ‘40’s was a far cry from the multi-faith curriculum favoured today and both discipline and reward were frequently "borrowed" from the pages of either the Bible or the Book of Common Prayer.

The first lesson of every morning was scripture, which was the ideal setting for the recital of the commandment relating to "loving thy neighbours" following an indiscretion. A punishment, which left a certain recalcitrant pupil excruciatingly, embarrassed.

To win the annual handwriting competition Mrs Eaton’s pupils were required to complete "The Lords Prayer" from memory, which was then judged by Dr Dennis.

MEMORIES OF HALLATON SCHOOL IN THE WAR

Iris Parsons (nee Smith)

These are some of my memories of Hallaton during my evacuation period there from September 1st, 1939 until summer 1941.

Four of my family, and four children named Trevett were billeted at the Manor House with Mrs Edwards Dent.

When we had to go to the village Mrs E.D. would form us up at the gate in pairs and send us off marching with "left, right, left, right," until we were out of sight round the bend ­ then we could relax!

On Sunday mornings before going to Church we had prayers, with the staff (in their sitting room, I think) which was conducted by Mrs Edwards Dent. I remember having an iced birthday cake for my eleventh birthday on September 28th., which was made by the cook.

On Sunday Sept. 3rd after leaving the church we stood near Mr Stamp’s open door and heard Mr Chamberlain’s broadcast when we were told we were now at war. When I hear that recorded speech it still brings tears to my eyes.

Early in 1940 we had to leave the Manor House and were all split up. I went, with my younger sister Maureen, to live with Mr & Mrs Norman at the Station Cottages. We had a very severe winter, and walked to school up the hill through paths cut in the snow which was higher than me! Maureen, who was only five years old developed bad chilblains. Somebody in the village told me to get a bowl of snow and plunge her feet in it. After several treatments of this her feet improved ­ but how awful I felt to have to do that to such a lovely little girl.

Because one of Mrs Norman’s children was very ill, later on we were moved to a new billet. This time we lived with a Mr & Mrs Marlow (Stenning cottage I think). We weren’t there very long as our parents moved my brother Ted and us two younger girls to relatives in Hertfordshire. I still remember the tune, and words, played by the church bells, and on Easter Monday I’ll always sing the Bottle Kicking song!

Roger Frith

I was three when the last war broke out: an only child, living with my parents in Wanstead, on the outskirts of London. One Saturday morning in the August of 1939, my father, a member of the local rugby club, was approached by a fellow-member, a headmaster of a school in Islington, George Fisher by name. ‘There’s a war coming, Arthur (my father’s name) and no doubt you’re concerned about the safety of your wife and little boy. My school will be evacuated and if your wife is prepared to act as a helper, they can come with us.’ So, on the 1st of September, mother and I joined the schoolchildren and their teachers in Islington and walked in ‘a crocodile’ (we kids had labels tied to our buttonholes, as well as the statutory gasmasks slung around our necks) to the local underground station. Mother told me later (as I was really too young to take it all in) that she was sure we went out to Watford Junction, for the authorities had removed all the station nameplates, she said. There, we were told to board a steam train. None of us knew where we were going. I suppose it was like ‘a magical mystery tour’ for us children; only the adults knew the grim reality that lay behind it. Mother said the first big town we arrived at was Northampton ­ but it was at the next town that we were all told to alight. This, we discovered, was Market Harborough. We all progressed to the market square where we found a committee of WVS ladies awaiting our arrival. There were trestle tables with tea and buns laid out on them. Then an official said, pointing to a fleet of Midland Red buses: ‘Get on any one of those’, which we did.

Eventually, our bus descended into a village on a beautiful, late summer’s afternoon. Mother said afterwards: ‘It was like going down into paradise.’ We had arrived in Hallaton, which was to be our home for the next five years. In the local school playgound we were welcomed by another committee of ladies, with more tea and buns, after which we were told we would be collected by those villagers prepared to billet us. I was lucky, I had my mother with me, but most of the children had travelled alone, though some with brothers and sisters. It must have been a terrible wrench for the majority, leaving their families behind in London. The wife of a retired veterinary surgeon, Amy Eaton, took us. My mother said later, that as we left the playground, she noticed two dark-haired brothers alone on a form, waiting to be taken. She could not know then that the following morning the younger of the two would be dead. They were eventually taken by the local postman and his wife. What happened was this. The two brothers awoke early the following morning in their new home, and got up to explore their new environment. They tiptoed downstairs and went out into the garden where there was a shed which they found unlocked. In side, the postman kept his rabbiting gun. The elder brother took it down and pointed it at his younger brother. The postman always kept a cartridge in the breech for convenience. The trigger was squeezed. That little boy, newly arrived in the depth of a peaceful countryside to escape Hitler’s bombs, was one of the war’s first casualtiesÉ.

Mother and I, after the Battle of Britain, moved to a terrace house in Eastgates, just a few houses up from the vet’s. We lived next door to the District Nurse, a wonderful woman called May Cotton. As soon as we’d moved in, May would appear at our window, immediately after lunch, with her teapot. ‘Get your cups ready!’ she’d say. She did that every day for the rest of the war. It was she who gave me my first bath in Mum Hawkes’ shed at the bottom of the garden ­ the shed where my Granny, who had joined us after the Blitz, would pluck the neighbours’ poultry for Christmas. But a few doors up from us, lived ‘Chum’ and his parents. He and I soon became bosom friends. We learnt our ABC together at the Infants School and sang in the church choir (we actually ate candle-ends on practice nights in the vestry!) We built a camp in summer in a spinney on Medbourne road; met with a few other pals in Vic Laundon’s unused pig sty where we would recite rude rhymes and sing such topical parodies as:-

Whistle while you work,

Hitler made a shirt,

Mussolini wore it,

Himmler tore it,

Wasn’t he a twerp?

There, we would also plan our campaigns (Robin Hood and His Merry Men versus The Sheriff of Nottingham, throughout a hot and dusty summer’s day, whilst the Allied forces were overrunning Sicily: I’ll never ever forget that!) But we went bird’s nesting (the local policeman’s son had the largest collection of eggs in the village!); whittled sticks for bows and arrows; made pea-shooters and whistles from elder wands (we removed the pith with our mums’ meat-skewers.)

We inserted screwed up cigarette packets in the back wheels of our bikes for the sound that they made (like a stick being drawn along iron railings); went on treks beyond the parish boundaries; flew our tissue paper kites from Castle Hill; fished with bent pins and worms (and caught nothing) at Three Streams; and flew like the wind down Sledging Hill on tea trays in winter when there was snow. It was marvellous, the childhood we had.

In the summer of 1944, the sky to the south, over the Welland Valley, was filled with coloured parachutes, dropped by Dakotas. This was in preparation for the Battle of Arnhem. We boys would often find a parachute with canister attached over at Slawston. My late uncle Jim told me, near the end of his life, he’d once caught me with my pockets bulging. He demanded that I turn them out. I’d got about twenty detonators in them, he reminded me. I had forgotten. ‘You could have been blown up,’ he said, adding: ‘You have me to thank for saving your life!’ I must have raided one of those canistersÉ..

When victory was declared, we boys formed a ‘tin band’. We marched through the village crashing and blowing our home-made instruments. Turning on to the Medbourne road, just as we approached Station Hill, a car (I think a Rover) pulled up. It was Simmo, as we knew him ­ a wealthy man from the next village, Horninghold. He listened for a bit, then handed one of us a ten-bob note. We gave up our crashing and hooting, there and then, and sped down to the Bewicke arms, where Mrs Hercock brought out a couple of trays of Vimto. During the afternoon, most of us would appear on the stage at the Stenning Hall for a Victory concert. There we sang ‘The Grand old Duke of York’ Dear Little Hen’ and a song that went like this:

When can I have a banana again,

Tell me mother do.

When can I have a banana again,

Like I used to do.

I like them for breakfast,

I like them for lunch,

I don’t mind them single

Or all in a bunch,

When can I have a banana A-GAIN,

Tell me mother DO!

It was a wonderful day, though tinged with sadness for my mother and me, because we knew that soon we would have to return to London.

On a hot, June afternoon, just after lunch, my dear friend ‘Chum’ accompanied my mother and me down to the little station. ‘Chum’ had a wheelbarrow with one of our suitcases on it. The three of us were the only people on the up-platform that afternoon, full of summer scents. Heart-breaking. My mother never really got over it, though after we’d lived in London for about a year she and my father went into service with aristocratic families who lived in the country. When I asked her why she’d done this, she said, "I did it for you. I knew you loved and missed the countryside of Hallaton, so I was determined that you would grow up in similar surroundings.’

I took her back to Hallaton just before she died. When we got back home, she was very quiet, I remember. ‘What are you thinking, mum?" I asked her. ‘I couldn’t get over the silence as I sat in the car, outside the church. I missed the sound of the children ­ evacuee children and village children ­ that I rememberedÉ..’

Because of the war, she and I came to Hallaton, and the five years spent there, were the best years of our lives.

Heather Livermore (nee Stamp) - Thoughts on Hallaton Schooldays

Iron railings on street side of playground escaped collection for the war effort. No gate at entrance.

Parish Room used for additional class ­ remember being taught in there by Miss Ford, who was herself evacuated from London.

Older boys used the front playground, all younger class and the girls used the back playground. For most of my time in the Juniors there were only two classes ­ Mrs Eaton’s and Mrs Blades.

PE took place in the front playground, in lines, facing the wall which was the boundary of the rectory drive. The teacher set the example and we copied ­ much the same exercises that go under "aerobics" today. I don’t remember ever changing our clothes to do this but at some stage I did acquire a pair of plimsolls. We used to go up to the recreation ground for races in summer and we had a "Sports Day". In the back playground, during break, we played with long and normal length skipping ropes, two or three balls at a time, marbles and snobs. Hopscotch came and went in phases, as did "Changing Stations" and another game involving the farmer and his family but I can’t remember how it went! The farmer’s in his den etc. When a hole appeared in the zinc fencing there were a few excursions into the neighbouring garden, after apples, until rumbled by Mrs Colston.

The Union Jack was flown from the front railings on Empire Day. We used to go across to the church for a service on Ascension Day. Each day we had a short assembly in the western end of the large school room and on Wednesday the Rector would take part. On occasions he would come to discuss matters with Mrs Eaton and on one such occasion I remember leaning back on the edge of the desk deliberately until it almost overbalanced, upsetting the water and the paints we were using at the time. For that heinous crime I had to stay late and my main worry was that I might not be home before father.

The infants must have gone into these assemblies because I remember when I first started school I felt dizzy, standing fairly close together and with my eyes closed. After collapsing on the floor one day I was given special dispensation to keep my eyes open ­ but not to look around. (For years I thought it was "Our Father, wi’ chart in Heaven".)

The older pupils took their lessons in the eastern end of the large room. As I recall, we had an open fire in front of us and the Tortoise stove about half way along the room ­ beyond the piano. It was not very warm in winter and, as I always went home for lunch, I would run along to Jim Brown, the blacksmith, and have a session blowing the fire up with the bellows. Now, this may not appear to have anything to do with education, but I would defy anyone to add to Jim’s vocabulary of adjectives describing a "difficult’ horse who didn’t like its shoes being changed!

The stove also came in very useful to warm our allocation of ‘school milk’, delivered in crates containing one-third-of-a-pint bottles. Delivered from the local dairy, there was ice on the top of the bottles when they arrived before school began. Wet hats and gloves were hung to dry on the guard rail, particularly those garments belonging to the pupils who came to school on the bus. Pupils living at Belcher’s Lodge had to walk down into Horninghold to catch the bus. Those living outside Hallaton had to bring a cold lunch. The trestle tables were set up in the large room and the lunch-time supervisor was Mrs Buxton. She would boil the kettle for hot drinks but ingredients were brought by the pupils. Someone had been misbehaving and in desperation she uttered "Come, come, Alwyn!". To which he replied "Go, go Mrs Buxton!". Very appropriate, as at the time she was chasing him round the table and not making any headway.

In 1945 I sat for the Eleven Plus examination. Usually Mrs Eaton and Mrs Daws from Tugby would exchange schools to invigilate but that year they didn’t. I’m not certain of the reason ­ sometimes bad road conditions were influential ­ but I do recall there had been an outbreak of measles at Hallaton, just prior to the exam. Weeks later we were called individually into the other classroom for the oral part of the exam.

During maths lessons I recall working from an unillustrated, small print, text book, on problems concerning time, distance and speed. I’m sure I found this difficult as I can still remember one question requiring to know how long it took two trains to pass each other.

If we’d worked well and behaved, the teacher would read us a story at the end of the day. I enjoyed this and still feel it was an encouragement to read the children’s classics myself. On those afternoons we were introduced to King Arthur and the Knights of the round Table, The Water Babies, Jungle Book and Grimm’s Fairy Tales. During singing lessons we learnt "Morning has Broken", which I never heard anywhere else until recorded by artists in the 1970s. We also had instruments for a percussion band; cymbals (which we all wanted to play), triangles, tambourines, a dulcimer and a drum. "Practice makes perfect" we’re told but while I was involved we didn’t rise to giving a performance with an audience. Good fun though! To my shame I spent quite a lot of music and singing time standing behind the piano.

We did present a play in the Stenning Hall ­ I think it was called ‘Elsa and the Fairies’ and I know I played the part of Elsa, having to be carried across the stage, seated on a piano stool! We also enacted a pageant in the grounds of The Grange. The rector had done a lot of research into the origins of the Bottle Kicking and the Hare Pie distribution; he used the information to script and produce the performance.

It’s time I finished ­ too many errors creeping in! However, two other thoughts: When the traditional school clock stopped or wasn’t keeping good time there was strong competition to be chosen for going out to check the correct time from the church clock.

The other thought is about when the Fernie hunt went by during mid-morning break. We were making our way to the playground via the path through Mrs Blades’ garden. The "Call of the Wild" was too strong and I nipped out of her gate and followed the hounds up to the Goadby Road but ran back down again before the end of playtime ­ and was never missed!.

Clara Hawke

Taught at Weston by Welland and Cranoe before going to Hallaton. I have no idea what education she had.

Florence (Flo) Hawke

Gave private tuition to students at Horninghold and Blaston. Five afternoons each week she rode her bicycle to give two hour sessions. I know she attended Hallaton School when she was eleven years old ­ she received an attendance prize. She also took the Sunday School class in Hallaton church on a Sunday afternoon.

Frances Mary Hawke

Her mother died when she was a few days old and, with help from friends and relatives, Clara and Flo were largely responsible for her upbringing. After Hallaton school she attended the Market Harborough County Grammar School of King Edward VII where she received eight prizes, including the Fifth Form prize in 1923 under Headmaster F. Hammond and further prizes for Latin, Mathematics, English Literature, Intermediate Arts, English History and Proficiency, all with A. J. Bright as Headmaster. She then studied at University college, Leicester and in 1926-7 received a further two prizes for Latin and two for English. She achieved her BA with second class Honours but I haven’t got the certificate, although I have read it myself. She sat the examination set by London University. She did teach in Nottingham for a year and didn’t enjoy it so she took a Secretarial course at Keen College, Leicester then went to work for Wolsey’s.

Lilian Smith

MANOR HOUSE

It must have been quite a shock for the elderly Mrs Edwards-Dent to have her quiet country-house invaded by eight London schoolchildren, and it was something of a culture shock for us too. Having come from more modest, but livelier homes we were over-awed by this hushed, meticulously run house and its childless incumbent, who, though kind and thoughtful by her standards, looked as formidable to us as the aged Queen Victoria might have done.

Her resident staff were Mrs Baker, the cook-housekeeper, Dora West, housemaid (whose parents lived in the village) and Constance the parlour-maid, who being only 6 years older than me became a welcome friend. Mr Kitchen and his wife lived in the cottage at the end of the drive, he being the head gardener, and the under gardener, Walter Peberdy lived with his parents in the village. (The following summer Mr and Mrs Kitchen retired to a cottage in the High Street ­ near the pump ­ and Constance and Walter were married and took over the Kitchens’ place at the Manor, Walter now being head-gardener). Mr and Mrs Elmer lived with their two children (the boy was called David) in a flat over the garage and other buildings behind the Manor House. Mr Elmer was chauffeur and handyman and Mrs Elmer did the laundry for the Big House and other jobs as required.

We children were allocated the "Cats’ Room" for our living quarters and slept upstairs, all except Ted, who had to brave the dark shrubbery and tree-lined drive every night to sleep at the Kitchens’ house. A very frightening experience for so young a person, unused to the blackness of country nights, but he never once complained. The "Cats’ Room" wasn’t as bad as it might sound. It was not very large for eight of us but it was clean and warm and we made it our home from home as best we could. Being the eldest I sometimes felt duty-bound to organise some activities and I remember one particular evening in December when I had us all singing Christmas carols. We must have sung lustily and reasonably well because I later learned that the staff in the kitchen had thought we’d had a wireless set on. Praise indeed!

LIFE IN THE VILLAGE

In January 1940 we were all moved from the Manor. No explanation was given for this and we knew better than to ask questions. The Trevett family left before we did and we think they went to Kibworth, and our family was split up between three homes. Iris and Maureen went to stay with Mr & Mrs Norman, Ted with Mrs White and I with Mr and Mrs Perkins who had two sons, Bert and Timmy, and ran the general shop at the top of the High Street. In the summer Gladys joined us, but after a time the clash of personalities became too much, and we were moved across the road to live with Daisy Whitehead and her three young sons, who’d recently been bombed out of their home in London. Mrs Whitehead had made a splendid job of converting a "condemned"cottage into a comfortable and spotless home, and here we lived happily until I went off to teacher-training college in 1942. In the meantime Iris and Maureen had been moved on to stay with Mrs Marlow before eventually being taken back, with Ted, to stay with relatives in Hertfordshire. Gladys had left school at 14 in 1941 and gone to work in the office of the dressmaking firm called Hershall (or Herschell?) Models, from London, who’d taken over a large country house in Horninghold. Was it Horninghold Hall? She was there for about 18 months before returning to London. So that was the end of our stay in Hallaton.

THE CHURCH

Naturally we were all sent to church from the Manor House and for the first few weeks were conscious of being the focus of attention from the young bell-ringers as we passed the open door of the bell-towers on our way in. Very soon some of the evacuee boys were recruited into the choir, and Ted was one of them to his great delight, as he’d been a chorister back home for over a year and had missed it. He remembers how, after Evensong one Sunday, a copy of a piece of music that was sung every week after the Blessing was missing, and it was generally agreed that one of the newcomers must have taken it. That was indeed so, but for the best of reasons. Next Friday evening, at choir-practice, one of the boys, a Jewish lad by the name of Hiram Salem, returned the piece, together with a dozen or so more. He’d sent the "missing" item to his father in London who’d had the copies made to replace the originals which had become rather dilapidated after many years of use. It would be nice to think that he was warmly praised for such thoughtfulness and initiative.

Later on I was invited to join the choir, along with Margery Horsley (who, with her husband, lived further down the High Street from the Perkins). There were other ladies too, I think. We were not allowed to process and neither did we wear choir-robes. We took our places at the back of the choir-stalls before the service and left with the congregation. Gladys was particularly fond of a hymn that was sung frequently. The first verse goes as follows:-

"For all who watch tonight

By land or sea or air,

O Father, may they know that Thou

Art with them, even there".

One of my favourite pieces was a harvest anthem, "O Lord, how manifold are Thy Works", and I wish I could remember the name of the composer. I wonder if either of them is sung at any time now in Hallaton church.

Things were stricter in those days and I well remember being upbraided quite severely by Mrs Heath, the Rector’s wife, for not wearing a hat while I was helping to decorate the church for Harvest Festival. "And you a confirmed member of the Church. What sort of an example is that?" (I was confirmed at Hallaton in March 1941 with, happily our three older sisters present in the congregation).

RANDOM MEMORIES

Being part of a country-loving family and having always enjoyed our own fairly large garden and the nearby parks and open spaces, we were taught to appreciate the natural world. Nevertheless, actually living in the heart of such beautiful countryside brought us many pleasant experiences. Maureen still remembers the forget-me-nots growing in profusion along the hedgerow on the road from the Manor House, approaching the rectory gardens, and "violetting" on the railway embankment. It was in Hallaton that we first heard of Mothering Sunday (its observance having died out in the cities, but now revived) and I remember making posies on that day of any wild flowers that we could find.

There were winter pleasures, too, such as tobogganing down a field on church Hill, and carol-singing round the village on a star-lit frosty evening. That was the first time I’d heard "Silent Night" and what a joy it was to hear the pure treble voice of Frank Neal and his father’s equally dulcet lower register. Even now, hearing that carol, one of my favourites, always takes me back to Hallaton.

Something that intrigued us was the custom of people taking their Sunday joints of meat to be cooked by the local baker’s wife, Mrs Barnet. We later learned, of course, that it was quite common-place even in towns where people hadn’t ovens of their own, and such a facility was certainly a boon to Mrs Whitehead, who cooked for six of us on two calor-gas rings, with no such luxury as an oven.

It was Daisy Whitehead who used to help to organise dances and the occasional concert in the Steyning Hall, at which she herself played the piano very competently. Frank Neal used to sing such favourites as "Bless this House" and Passing By", which sound so old-fashioned now but were warmly received then. Gladys Frith, evacuated from London with her little son roger, was a professional singer and a wonderful character, who sang musical numbers from the theatre, if I recall correctly, and accompanied herself on the piano. Always a highlight of the occasion.

PEOPLE WE REMEMBER

Two families who were particularly hospitable to us were the Neals and the Daisleys. Mr and Mrs Fred Neal, Frank, Edna and Jim lived at the top end of the High Street and Gladys and I spent many a happy afternoon or evening there, sometimes singing round the piano to Mrs Neal’s accompaniment. Gladys is still in touch with Edna.

I don’t remember much about Mr Daisley but Mrs Daisley, Philip, "Wibs" and daughter Pat come clearly to mind. Mrs Daisley was cheerful and warm-hearted and the family easy-going so we felt quite at home there. Mrs Daisley cut hair and was an accomplished enough dress-maker to make up clothes to customers’ own designs. Philip joined the RAF and "Wibs" the Navy.

John and Bob Hunt lived with their grandmother in Hog Lane. Two very pleasant lads. Bob joined the Navy but I don’t remember what John did.

We got on well with Lennie Sewell (one of the aforementioned bell-ringers) who had an older brother Frank.

The Lucas family lived in the High Street about half-way between Horn Lane and the Cross. I think Mrs Lucas did some nursing. There were a son and daughter, Nora, who was friendly with Gladys and who became a nurse.

The Upton family kept the thriving village shop facing the Cross and nearby lived the kindly Dr Moore and his wife. They had a handsome son John who stayed there from time to time and set a few girlish hearts fluttering.

Mr & Mrs Colston were farmers, and, having no children of their own, Mrs Colston especially took a motherly interest in us. When some-one was needed to do some "cow tending" at a shilling for two hours, six evenings a week, I was glad of the job. It entailed taking about twelve cows up to a field at the top of Manor Hill to the left of the turn to the Manor. There they grazed while I did revision for exams and then I brought them down again. One evening a bull got in amongst them but somehow I managed to drive him off with a stick.

I wonder if anyone remembers the tragedy that occurred on Saturday September 2nd 1939. Another Mr Neal (I think he was a postman) and his gentle wife, who was the church organist and choir-mistress, took in two boy evacuees. On their first morning there they were excited to find a gun, belonging to Mr Neal, and started to play with it. Their innocent game ended with one boy shooting his brother dead. It is hard to contemplate, even today, the effect on the parents who, 24 hours earlier, had so trustingly sent their sons to the safety of the countryside, and the two kindly people who had so willingly taken in those boys and who, having no children of their own, would have given them so much love. And what about the surviving brother with such an awful burden to carry for the rest of his life? Again, there was no fuss and Mr and Mrs Neal carried on their lives unobtrusively, but we shall never know what that experience cost them.

I remember Mrs Prior and her schoolgirl daughter and Mrs Prior’s sister, whose name I forget, who was the district nurse, and her daughter Helen. Both those girls eventually joined us at the Grammar School.

Vic Simkin ran the bus and he and his wife had a daughter Vida, about a year older than me. There were two lads by the name of "Bumper" Gent and David Duncombe and a man called Mark Stamp who, we think, was a postman or maybe ran the Post Office. We thought his name was appropriate. A young Mr Vendy used to come every Saturday from Cranoe delivering meat to various houses in the village.

The people who ran the Public House in the High Street were called Noble and their shy teen-age daughter Glenna had her own horse. We townies were very impressed to learn that she had ridden to hounds and had actually been "blooded".

We remember several more people of all sorts but, sadly, can’t put names to them. They were, like those already mentioned, part of a very significant stage in our lives, and we thank them all for taking us in and allowing us to be part of theirs. We shall never forget wartime Hallaton, nor the unexpectedly enthusiastic and warm welcome that we received half a century later when we returned to stay for a week-end in September 1989. We were overwhelmed but deeply appreciative, and still are. Long may Hallaton flourish.

HALLATON PARISH MAGAZINES - SCHOOL DETAILS FOR THE YEARS 1895-1897, 1898-1901, 1902-1907

Introduction to the parish magazines

Bob Collyer: "After leaving the village I never gave the Rev. Heath much more thought until I attended an auction at Uppingham in 1974. Amongst the lots I discovered a number of bound volumes of the Hallaton Parish Church Magazine for years 1897 to 1911 or thereabouts. On browsing through them I was fascinated by all the information they held about the village. How the Rector at the time kept the village informed of the Relief of Mafeking ­ the end of the Boer War ­ and the death of Queen Victoria. The Parish Magazine was the local newspaper.

What grabbed my attention most though was the fight that the church put up in 1870 in trying to retain its hold of the Church Schools ­ in the end of course they had to bow to the government and hand over the running of the schools ­ so even though the Church still owned the buildings and the lands ­ the influence of the Church was badly eroded.

Before 1902 under the Trust Deed for Hallaton School, three managers were elected by the votes of villagers who had paid voluntary subscriptions of not less than two shillings and sixpence annually for the preceding three years ­ now under the new act the Rector was ex-officio manager ­ three others were elected as before, and then one Parish Councillor and one County Councillor had to be elected.

The Villagers of Hallaton played very, very craftily and elected as their Parish Councillor representative non other than the Vicar of Horninghold!

Before closing, I would like to quote from the School Attendance bye-laws of 1904, as it shows without doubt the importance of agriculture in those years.

General Rule The parent of every child of not less than five and not more than fourteen years of age shall cause such child to attend school unless there be reasonable excuse:

1. A child between twelve and fourteen years of age shall not be required to attend school if such child has received a certificate from His Majesty’s Inspectors that it has reached the fifth standard.

2. A child between thirteen and fourteen years of age, shown to the satisfaction of the local authority to be beneficially employed, shall not be required to attend school, if such child has obtained a certificate that it has made three hundred and fifty attendances after five years of age for five years.

3. The parent of any child may at any time after such child is eleven years of age, and has passed the Fourth Standard, give notice to the Local Authority that such child is to be employed in Agriculture.

So you took your pick and could leave school at eleven ­ twelve ­ thirteen or fourteen ­ depending upon how many attendances you had chalked up ­ how bright you were, or what employment you intended to take up.

The Church Parish Magazines have now been donated to Hallaton Museum."

AFTER THE WAR

Memories of Hallaton School after the war

Ted Read (Hallaton School 1944 ­ 1951)

I started school in 1944, my first teacher was Miss Blades who I remember as a very kind, warm person. We had a nice desk each and our own slate and chalk. The first lesson every day was scripture and prayers, the infants had their own playground at the back of the school and we used to play with balls, skipping ropes and then all the running games such as stag and touch.

You could get through the infant school building and into the big school who were taught by an awesome teacher who everyone had heard of and secretly lived in fear of. You didn't dare to go through there though you often saw her walking to and from her house to the school, cars were only for the very rich in those days. In the winter there was a lovely coal, coke stove with a heavy iron guard around it. When Miss Blades filled it up with coal in the morning you could feel the warmth emanating from it even when you were in the row of desks furthest away. At it's best it glowed a dull crimson red at the top, if it was raining or frosty it was the focal point of everyone at break time. My only real abiding memory of infant school were the visits by the so called "nit nurse" which necessitated us all going out to play while she individually inspected us. This was a great excuse for the boys all to peek through the windows to see if we could see the girls in their knickers.

By the time we graduated to the big school three of us had been sorted out as the prospects most likely to pass the dreaded "11 plus" myself, Margaret Cotton and Mary Seaman. The awesome teacher turned out to be Clara Eaton for some reason nicknamed "Moggy", I never did find out why. She was distantly related to me and made it quite clear from the outset that I would have no choice other than to succeed in her ultimate goal and pass the exam. John Collyer and myself had by now begun to have our own ideas about discipline which usually had very little to do with normal discipline, so we often spent long periods standing in the corner at the bottom of the room. On one awful day in my last year with her when she was, in my opinion, being particularly nasty with me, no doubt for some good reason, she grasped me by the hair to manhandle me back to my desk which I took exception to and in the ensuing scuffle I threw her to the floor and quite a few of us saw her pink bloomers. This was a cause for much comment and giggling for days!

On another occasion I was chosen for the part of the Princess's cat in the school play which was to be performed at the Blaston village fete, Jean Stamp/ Muriel Montague (not sure here) who was probably two years in front of me at school was the princess. We all dutifully learned our lines and practised for weeks before the event, I had just the one speech which was at the climax to the play when I turned from the cat into the princess's long lost brother. The dress rehearsal took place the day before when I was swathed in a wonderful black fur coat with a pair of long black stockings on my legs, this passed without problem. We all turned up at the fete and on the lawn of the Manor in front of a large crowd on a beautiful sunny day the play commenced with "Moggy" standing guard with the script in case of any "dumbs". All passed uneventfully until my change when I leapt to my feet and threw off the black fur coat and stood there in all my glory in a pair of black stockings and my normal school clothes because "Moggy" in her wisdom had forgotten that I was supposed to be revealed as an ancient prince. The complete absurdity of my appearance caused just the slightest embarrassed giggle from Jean which was enough for me to dissolve into complete hysterics for a full two minutes before I managed to regain my control and complete my speech. Needless to say this went down as an indiscretion in "Moggy's" eyes.

On the day after any such indiscretion in the first lesson of the morning which was still scripture she would always make me recite the commandment from the ten commandments relating to "loving thy neighbours" which made me excruciatingly embarrassed and I hated her for it.

Mrs Eaton always seemed terribly old to me but there was no doubting her dedication to teaching those who had the ability while those who had no ability duly graduated to the end of the row at the back of the class. She was very keen on immaculate handwriting and Margaret and I competed fiercely to win the handwriting competition each year, it was always "The Lords Prayer" written from memory and was judged by Dr Dennis the vicar. I walked to and from school from Station Cottages 4 times a day in all weathers all my Hallaton school life. In due course, as expected, I passed the 11 plus thanks to "Muggy", No doubt there were teachers all over the country like her and eventually their practical methods of streaming made their way into main stream education. She gave me a good start to my educational life but such things only become apparent when you are much older.

Pauline Ingham (nee Read) (Hallaton School 1947 ­ 1953)

For some unknown reason my most vivid memories seem to revolve around winter. Donning hand knitted jumper and plaid skirt, FairIsle bonnet and matching mittens (lovingly knitted by either Mum or Gran), wool winter coat, long socks and fur-lined boots and walking from the station up to school, we probably had the longest journey to school in the village. By the time we got there our clothes would be wet through and Mrs Eaton allowed us to put our outdoor clothes on the rails around the large stove. And there they stayed all morning gently steaming, filling the room with the scent of damp wool. We would put them on again at lunch-time to walk home for lunch, still damp but warm, only to get another soaking and go through the same ritual again after lunch.

I remember feet being permanently cold through the winter months, although encased in fur-lined boots, and most of the winter suffering from chilblains (an affliction almost unheard of today). The stove was situated halfway down the room, well away from where we sat and from what I can remember there was an open fire directly in front of us where Mrs Eaton (Moggy to everyone she ever taught), took her stance, back to the fire, to take the lessons. It was the duty of one of the boys to make up the fire, and the stove when necessary.

My memories of summer are of physical education in the playground which mainly consisted of doing all sorts of things with bean-bags - which was purgatory to those of us with any athletic aptitude who only wanted to run about as fast as we could. Controlled physical exertion was obviously necessary with the size of the playground but once a year the whole school walked up to the Rec. for sports day where I could run the legs of everyone and then return to wait another year!

Playtimes in the summer consisted of all the childhood games like tig and stag, which resulted in a long line of children hand in hand being swung around the playground, being the last in and having to dodge them, always resulting in grazed knees, tears and Mrs Stamp cleaning the wounds and applying "acroflavin", or whatever it was called, but it was bright yellow and stung like hell!

The bottom of the playground was bordered by a high corrugated iron fence with a jagged edge along the top and one playtime a boy leapt up and grabbed the top and badly gashed his hand and was taken to hospital.

I spent my infant class days with Mrs Stamp, a much softer version of Clara Eaton.

Once established in Mrs Eaton's class it fell upon me to collect any five year olds to bring them to school on their first day. I remember collecting Vida Rigby's daughter Christine on her first day from the council houses on Medbourne Road, she was very apprehensive and by the time we had reached the jitty leading through to Harry Hawke's, Vida was running down the road after us waving Christine's knickers - in the turmoil of her first day at school

she had forgotten to put them on.

I also collected Ann Palmer every morning for weeks whilst her mother tried in vain to persuade her to go - but she always left in tears.

Clara Eaton was such a presence in the school and stories about her strictness filled you with dread on moving up into her class but I have very happy memories of her. I remember a tiny women with grey streaked hair, roughly scrambled into a bun at the back which was always falling out and I can see her now always fidgeting with hairpins trying to keep it tidy.

I was lucky - she liked me. Following her years of trying to control my brother Ted, I think she found me well-behaved and conscientious. Little did she know that one of my favourite past-times during the morning playtime, I believe no more than 10 minutes long, I used to climb through a small trapdoor high in the wall between the boys and girls toilets, which led into the back of Colston's dairy, where together with my friend Susan Holmes we used to ladle milk out of the churns to drink. I didn't like milk actually; it was the excitement of dodging Brenda Frith the milk lady and getting back before the whistle. This game came to an end on the day I tore a hole in my leg on barbed wire getting through the trapdoor and had to hide the injury until I got home, when I told Mum I had fallen on barbed wire running back through the spinney. She believed me of course - I told her the truth yesterday!!

I suppose my most enduring memories of the school are the sound of the church clock chiming through our day, Dr Dennis coming to take prayers on Monday mornings and most of all the last year, when every day was geared to passing the dreaded 11+. Will any of us ever forget the fear on the day of the exam; the promise of a new bike if you passed; the anxiety on the day the results were announced in front of the whole class; the joy of the congratulations from Mrs Eaton if you had passed, and the sheer misery for those who failed.

I attended Hallaton school from 1947 - 1953.