INTRODUCTION

Enjoy, if you will, the thoughts and memories of an 11/12/13-year-old (that's me, Charlie Flindt, 1969-1975) as he faithfully (or perhaps not) records eight terms at Marsh Court Preparatory School. A relentless daily routine of pre-breakfast music practice (if he wakes in time), breakfast, chapel, scrip/geog/hist/latin/maths/eng/science, lunch, rest, then 6 days-a-week sport (football/rugger/cricket), the new Broadbent-introduced Thursday alternatives (fencing/clay shooting), supper, mucking about, talking late, getting caught.

Shed a melancholy tear at the homesickness, the illness, the boredom, the stream of golden ducks (perhaps that was just me), the maelstrom of violence when we crossed the Test Valley to play rugger aginst Stockbridge Secondary Modern.

Relish the 'bates', the camps, the canings, the crashes (an inexplicably large number of these), and the constant countdown to the next sweets/half term/ end of term. Who can forget the thrill of crossing-off, then trunks out, then feast'n'films...then going home?

If you have forgotten the nitty gritty of prep school life in the early 1970s, perhaps this blog will remind you.

A bit of background might be useful. If memory serves me well, in 1973 Marsh Court was still in a state of change. Mr Wright's years in charge had come to an end (although I'm sure 'Boris' refers to him in the first term of 1973 - he seems to vanish without any fanfare at all at some stage) and Mr Broadbent was beginning to drag the school out of a 1940s time warp. Daring innovations included wearing 'mufti' for half-holidays (suede shoes!), Saturday leaveouts, alternative sports on Thursdays, plays and musicals, a separate choir for chapel - I think we even had our own bit built up in the rafters at the back. The chapel itself was given a complete makeover - a raised stage, big red curtains, a fancy altar, an electric organ. And when it came to technologcal advances, who could forget the electric shoe-shine machine that was installed to end the tradition of the staff (Portugese?) cleaning our shoes for us. Whatever next? The school seemed to be bursting at the seams: the old kitchens (ground floor, on the left wing as you entered the courtyard) were converted to class rooms (I remember EGB telling me about the cockroaches that poured out from behind the kitchen units as they were pulled out.) Class rooms were built up in the roof space above Swordfish, accessed my a murderously steep wooden staircase. Previously, all that could be found in the attic was Watty's train club (right up the other end) and Mr ffaulkes' air rifle range (above Rhino). The school bought a pavillion (after New Place had shut?) and put it in the moat as a music school. Many happy hours spent down there oiling my trombone with Mrs Stevenson. Mr Broadbent also downgraded the Headmaster's Office, moving it down to where the First Form used to get reduced to tears on a daily basis by Mrs Wright.

I'm sure I remember Mr Watkinson being less than thrilled by all the changes, and the friction being obvious to even the most dim-witted 12-y-old. Watty still had his specialities: the weekly statement of your pocket money (miss your appointment at your peril), the film projector (I tried being projectionist for one night; I got so involved in the film I nearly wrecked the machine - I forgot to keep the arcs at the right length or whetever it was), the old-fashioned train club, the school photograph (no matter how much he said "Keep still", someone always scratched.) I seem to remember the ever-present threat of phenomenal and random violence - but I must surely be mistaken.

Anyway, read on.....

UPDATE: Well. more of query, really. Can anyone shed some light on the 'mysterious events of Spring 1971'? More than one comment I've had through this blog has referred to it - something to so with Messrs Gross, Sudken, Wright and Broadbent and the takeover? All very dark and exciting! I missed the whole thing at the time of course, being an angelic 9 y-old.