Southbourne Preparatory School was what would now be called
my primary school.
It was housed in a
rambling building, probably a former grand residence of some sort, up on the
north side of Southbourne Road, just opposite Stourwood Road (where I would be
moved to a few years later). The plan
was that I’d stay there until I was fourteen, when I would go to a ‘public
school’ (I put the term in quotes, because they hadn’t been public since the
seventeenth century). The choice was
between Canford or Bryanstone. If I’d
gone to either, my future would have evolved very differently, but it wasn’t to
be. The reasons for that were never
spelt out, but I like to think that it was due to my own timid willpower.
I was terrified at the idea of being a
boarder. I was actually taken to Bryanstone to be interviewed by the head, who
was very kind and solicitous; but I made it quite clear afterwards that I was
incapable of surviving that regime.
Canford was the runner-up option, which wasn’t seriously pursued, so I
ended up going to the local grammar school, of which more later.
I have scattered memories of Southbourne Prep. The headmaster, Mr Morgan, was too decent to
be the disciplinarian the role demanded. When I and another boy were caught bullying
Shaun Kilkoyne, we were given the choice of being caned or apologising to
Shaun. We chose the latter, much to
everyone’s relief, especially Mr Morgan’s.
(Shaun and I later became friends, to the extent of trying to play
chess.) I remember the music lessons,
which consisted of everyone being issued with a tambourine, some castanets or a
triangle and having to bang along to the teacher’s piano accompaniment. And we were required to do sports. Throwing the cricket ball was the only one I was
any good at – except when I was required to do it accurately in an actual cricket
match, when I’d usually fail dismally.
I obviously learnt a lot more at Southbourne Prep – some
vestiges still surface and will probably do so as this narrative proceeds – but
the only enduring lesson is Latin.
Five years behind you at Southbourne Prep. They demolished that one too.
ReplyDeleteI remember Mr Morgan as an elderly (I was only 4 when I joined, he was probably 50) square faced, white haired, kindly gentleman. I liked him, I guess you did too. Did he have a Welsh accent, I wonder.
I don't remember much, I was bullied a little bit but it was all OK really. Latin and French as well. Sports Day on the lawn was daunting. But they also had a sports field down the hill at the end of Leigham Vale Road (also long gone to housing).
You were there for my first year I think. Certainly you were Large Major and I was Large Minor. Amazingly, in my final year (which was a year early because it closed down so I went to St James' Primary at Pokesdown for my 11 plus) another Large arrived and I was dead chuffed to become, for a little time, Large Major.