A Ripping Time.

School went at a pace. I was never on course to be the cleverest of persons but all my reports said “Could do better…” I assume from this that my educators had sensed something within me of which I was unawares. Why make a comment like “Could…” without telling me that they felt I had dormant abilities and giving me the push I needed. It is all about pushing and this should not just be from the teachers. You need a little poke from your Mum and Dad as well (no pun intended). I think the same applies today. I do urge my children to be the best they can at school. The pressures on them are much more than in my day, I can see that. So not only do I push and encourage them I also warn them of their future quality of life if they do not apply themselves now. We cannot just rely on school to educate. We must lead by example and pass on our wisdom. Whether your siblings take note is another matter, at least you tried. It could have been a life changing experience for me if I had been pushed harder. I may have been a Vet or Doctor as I always had a keen interest in animals, not just the pickled variety! I could have become a Musician, Artist, Dramatist, and Writer. The list goes on and on. Only now when I look back can I see that I had a little of all those talents and more. There was very little discussion about further education in our house. My father was hard working and all he wanted was for me to stay at school until 18, pass exams and get a job. So groomed for further education I was not.

Also I suffer from one of those boring life skills that you just have. I am a classic jack of all trades yet master to none. I, and others around me, know that if any interest or hobby takes my fancy I will achieve a level of competence that many will struggle with. Then I get bored when I have to put a bit more effort into moving to the next level or I meander into another alley. Most that know me comment on the ease with which I adapt and achieve. Why? I do not know. I give you one example. A band wanted a songwriter but did not need another singer/guitarist. They were crying out for a keyboard player. So I went shopping, bought a keyboard and some books and dabbled. I quickly realised that playing by ear as I did was an advantage though using ones fingers was better…..I jest….lol!!. I found it so bloody easy to play because I simply looked at the keys and chords as patterns and shapes. I learn`t some songs and off we went gigging. Now I admit that if the rest of the band cocked up or went free style I was in trouble. I either picked up the pattern when I could or went for it vocally (Not in Latin though!) Amazing times and even today I doubt the band were aware of what a buzz I got from just being there and in some cases simply making a noise. That is another story though, for later. Back to school! I did warn you I would wander far from the subject at hand.

In metalwork I had a good time. It was hands on creative environment with just a hint of danger and a balcony seat on the industrial revolution. The teacher was brilliant and from Wales. Say hello to Mr Williams.

He was your archetypal blacksmith. He had really massive hands, white hair and an angry aggressive stance. He had a huge girth and was very strong. Just the stature needed to bash and meld metal around with large hammers, tongs and a forge. Yes….we actually had a forge with bellows and coke all a glory. I really did enjoy these lessons. We used to have to wear aprons and if given the task of working the hot coals you would wear an apron made from a thick brown leather hide, so cool and difficult to walk around in. In point of fact you would waddle in it.
I made an adjustable spanner which I still have somewhere in the shed. The sense of achievement I had making Whitworth bolts and threaded nuts to fit them. Though most of mine turned out wonky, it was the fact that until I performed my magic. They were just pieces of metal without function and now they had a job to do. We experimented in coating hot metal with plastic. The first machine of its type in the school. This was done in an air brick enclosure filled with powdered plastic and powered by a vacuum exhaust. I made some 1960’s style coat hangers, they had very brightly painted round wooden ends and very angular metal fixings. Learning about tempering metal and what the colours meant. Realising that a bastard file had nothing to do with Royalty. Making spike encrusted rings and knuckle dusters just because you could. This was as good as it could ever have been, until Mr William’s wife died unexpectedly and over the coming months he lost the will to live. I am not sure but I think he left the school and at some point committed suicide. I have a whiff of a memory and hope it is wrong.

Sitting here now I have an image of the workshop. It was at the back of the new building on the ground floor. It had a very high ceiling and lots of windows. This was one of the sunniest rooms in the school and had an odourous tang of metal swarf, coal and oil. We may have been young and naive in most other classes but here amongst the lathes, forges and machines we were the builders of ships, bridges and empires. I tell you now reader, there was never a fight in any of these classes and we all worked together as a team. A fantastic time.

The next door workshops were for wood working. You had a choice between the two classes but were not allowed to do both. I got round this by opting to do wood and stone carving as one of my art subjects. I was also a decent potter. My favorite method of making a pot was using slabs and coils. I would start off with a base and a mass of balled clay. Then working from the bottom up, similar to the wheel method, I would flatten the balls into slabs and mould them onto the base. Fixing, joining and smoothing them with slip and water. My pottery simply grew. I let it take me wherever the fancy wanted. I had very little if any preconceived design in mind. All I knew was it had to fit in the kiln. I made some memorable pieces. Like the exploded head.

This was a hollow head, eyes, nose, lips and ears. I would make it complete then imagine a bullet entering the clay somewhere and I would rip and tear the clay to show an exit wound. It was pottery in action. My teacher loved it and after it was fired it was on display for many months until someone complained they thought it grotesque. So I packed it off home where my mate Dino liked it so much I was given my first commission. I made another but it turned out a lot better so good I kept them both. I still have some of my pottery in the garage and may take some pictures and post them here later.

In stone carving we were tasked to produce some pieces that had a mathematical theme. Very odd now I look back. The teacher is a vague memory but I see a small stringy man with glasses. I cannot remember his name and he only took an interest in my work once. As I said maths was the theme, how the hell do you represent maths in stone? Well I chose the triangle. After all the shape had a lot to do with maths and could also be represented as a solid. I drew up the design, etched it into the block of white sandstone with a B2 pencil and started to chip away with chisel. At some point I remember calling the teacher across because I had found a mark in the stone at some depth. He wet the stone, took out a magnifying glass and said that I had found a fossil. He was quite excited about this and tasked me to attempt to chisel it out complete. My stone piece was about to change. I ended up getting the fossil out and giving it to the teacher. I also ended up with a hole dug deep into the stone. So I modified it, smoothed it and turned it into a hollow shape that went completely through the block.

The teacher spent many days cleaning up the fossil. It turned out to be a complete conical shell and he displayed it a glass cabinet along side his stone samples. At some point I gave up stone carving to concentrate on my pottery. However many years later during an open day visit I saw my lump of stone in pride of place on the windowsill outside the head masters office. Someone had fixed it to a piece of polished wood. It did look good but no one believed I had carved it. Still I know I did and I also knew why the hole was there. I wonder if it is still in the school. I have never been back to visit as an adult though I do have an entry on Friends United. Maybe one day an ex pupil will organise a meet! Though I admit I did not have many friends in school the two I remember best were Jim and Iqubal.

Jim was of Greek origin, Iqubal was from Pakistan and my roots were Sicilian. What a mixture. Jim was very strong and looked a little like a short George Michael. Iqubal was the opposite and looked nothing like GM apart from maybe the tan. We had some bloody good times and did lots of things together outside of school. That will be for later though when I jump back to my 12th year. The strongest memories I have of us three in school was when Iqubal bought an Mk1 1600 GT Cortina. It was dark green a little tatty, went like a bat out of hell and he used it as a minicab in the evenings.

Jim was very hairy and decided to shave off his chest hair. On a Monday he showed us his smooth skin and said he would have a better chance of pulling a bird. On Thursday the hair was growing back fast and he came to school with bristles poking through his white shirt. We nicknamed him The Hedgehog. This did not help his pulling skills. They were my best mates and I often think of them.

I have just cooked dinner for the family, fillet steak, mash and mushies. We are going out for a small birthday get together and I need to have a shower of suffer the wrath of “Her indoors” I will sign off now, be good.