Michael Palau

I arrived at Durlston in the Summer Term of 1954. I had left my mother at Waterloo station but that might have been my second term. My parents could well have driven me down. I had better concentrate on those things that I can remember clearly. Within less than 10 minutes of being let loose in the school I fell prey to the 'elbow grease' wheeze. George Bird, as convincing as ever, asked if I had had mine done. There had been so many new things to cope with and this appeared to be just another one. "Oh Pally" as Cox started to call me, "that is just a joke". That was enough to feel a good blush and Bird sniggering in the wings meant that I had been blooded into the Durlston family. Apart from the blush there was in my experience always a warmth in the humour and the experience at Durlston.

I am now racking my brains for something cold and unpleasant but apart from the rice pudding I cannot really think of anything. Was it as magical for everyone else? (not the rice pudding) Well, I believe that although everyone's story is different there are many experiences that are just as good as mine but it clearly wasn't all a bed of roses for everyone. There were stories where boys possibly affected by unhappiness at home decided to run away. We sometimes heard about these at the time but not all of them as possibly not good for morale. We still lived at a time of the 'stiff upper lip'. Where is it? Hancock was asked : "above this loose flabby chin" came the reply. Maybe our memories edit out the 'loose flabby chin' moments.

Talking about loose flabby chins reminds me of the Boxing. Peter Ogden introduced this to us in the 4th form I think. There was a box of outsize gloves that made us all look a bit like Mickey Mouse's ears. We were taught ring craft and I needed that as my arms were short and I was not as tall as David Drayson for example. Gum shields were unheard of so my crooked teeth inevitably cut my lip early on in any bout. I got used to this and usually insisted on fighting on and the blood just added a bit of colour. It meant I never actually won a bout, well not until I had my teeth straightened at about 12, but did win the 'The Best Loser's Cup'. This was meant to reflect my plucky efforts but for years this label seemed to stick a bit. Losers are often popular but it wasn't popularity that I courted. I did win another cup at Durlston and it was for hard work. It was again in the 4th form when Grundy was the lead scholar of the form and I came within a point of unseating him.

I put three terms consecutive work into this effort and this meant, a certificate for the first term, a book, "Treasure Island", for the second term and a cup for the third term. But a miss was as good as a mile, second just wasn't acceptable and I was not sure that I liked all the adulation and prizes. Of course it was meant to be encouraging and to a degree it was but unbeknown to me I had 'peaked' at the age of 9; it was a long time before the same degree of effort was made for anything academic. Probably another 9 years when another school master inspired me. Who was it who inspired me in 1955 in the 4th form? Well apart from John Grundy, it was Miss Dawson, that no nonsense school mistress and as it transpired, the vital third person in the partnership that sustained Durlston at the time. It is only writing this that has dragged this out of me as I had forgotten that she had taught me and only remembered her for her surprise 'desk inspections' and her attractive niece.

Judging by the history, MD was a bit of a dancer in her time as well although we just did not see that side of her. MD gave us a pride in knowing the dates of the Kings and Queens of England: William I 1066 etc. and it was at this time that this was learned. It stood me in very good stead through the years as being a very weak History student, I did at least know which reign I was in - very little else though.

I remember being elevated to the Lower V where PHC taught Latin. I still like Latin. It must have been at this time when because of a July birthday I could stay playing Cricket in the Colts. Trubby tried to encourage this shy little fellow and made him Captain of the Colts cricket. Miss Taylor told me this as I was about to leave and I think Trubby had just died (1958?). I imagine that shy boys and girls, for that matter could be a bit of a challenge for teachers. Although still 'shy' now I really fear very little and put this down to the part these early teachers played. And then there was 'Carpie Goodin' - Captain Goodin, a ruddy faced chap who had been shot up in the war and taught us swimming in sub 60 degree temperatures in the outside pool with water wings. Good memories as I managed to learn reasonably quickly. CG also taught history and would not risk letting his students express their knowledge or otherwise of History; we learned by heart a series of essays that came up time and again for Common Entrance. The seventh Earl of Shaftesbury springs to mind. The sad thing is that by reciting these eloquent 'something I prepared earliers' we displayed an insight into the subject way above our station. We sailed through Common Entrance with fancy high percentages but, and I speak for myself, without really grasping the basics.

This is taking too long but maybe we can treat this as a first instalment. With encouragement I could go on. It is a bit of a surprise to do as there are things lurking around in the memory which would otherwise never emerge and are totally unexpected. I have famously good memories of Durlston and sharing some of them at the recent OD dinner was a laugh. I will give you an example : the motto was/is 'Erectus non Elatus' and true to form Jonathan Newton was able to throw a cricket ball a very long way. I remember an effortless throw of over 75 yards on Sports Day. At the OD dinner I reminded him of it and he said that far from being effortless it wrecked his shoulder which had given him gyp ever since. Even if it did hurt like mad he made it look easy - who knows, he might just be trying to make me feel better - what a charmer!

There is plenty more but I do not carry the same wonderful sense of being on the 'Wanted' list that Alastair Ritchie's stories convey. Each to his own and there must be plenty more to recount. For every one we have heard or experienced there must be ten that we haven't but for the moment it is 'Over and Out',

Kind regards
Michael Palau