>>>>gt;>>t;>>>>>>>>Four years seems like a long time when you're eleven years old, but in the blink of an eye it was gone. This is all that's left.

Friday, 30 November 2012

Early 1967

Mister Potts was an accomplished teacher and a well respected man, but behind the smiles and humorous quips was a hothead with a nasty streak.


His next victim was a freckle faced kid called Patterson, a boy in 2A1. From the opening words of condemnation I knew what was coming, and so did Patterson, who bravely spoke up for himself. Not that it did him any good. For his insolence Patterson was pushed once, twice, three times in the chest, shouted down and bullied into submission. I saw his frustration and recognised his despair and when he broke down, I felt for him. His caning disturbed me more than most and troubled me for some time later.


What looked like rabbit hutch and flagpole on the field, near the top of the lower school playground was a mystery to me and many others. I had no idea what it was until the day Mister Potts took us to it in a Geography lesson, and opened a gate in the wooden fence that surrounded it. Some kind of meteorological monitoring station, I learned, but exactly what it did, I’m not sure. In the first place I wasn't that interested and in the second place, even though Mister Potts had us gather round, it wasn’t so much a demonstration as an invitation to watch him play with his own personal toy. (If anyone out there remembers exactly what it did, you’re welcome to keep it to yourself.)


Saturday February 4th was a momentous day. A first visit to Priestfield Stadium for John and Kevin, and only a second visit for me. The match was nothing special, ending in a 0-0 draw, but I enjoyed the camaraderie and it was fun to follow the lead of other kids and climb on the wall at the Redfern Avenue/Rainham End corner of the ground. For a few minutes we had the best of views, until a stadium announcement requesting us to get off the wall was backed up by the arrival of a policeman.


‘Who’s that copper with the helmet on? Dixon, Dixon,’ sang the Rainham End to the tune of Camptown Races.

Kevin and John’s first match turned out to be their last but I was back again three weeks later, with Paul, to watch Gillingham play out another goalless draw with Torquay United. Just my luck; four and a half hours of professional football and I’d yet to see a goal.









2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Loving your posts. I was there between 1971 - 76 and I remember Mr Potts. I got the cane from him no less than 7 times during my stay. I was no angel but even now, I still believe I didn't deserve them all. Yes, Mr Potts was a one off. Liking this blog. Please keep the posts coming.

Gerard said...

Hello Andy. Welcome aboard. You too, eh? Yes, Mr. Potts was a strange one. My brother and his mates thought it a good idea one morning to walk round the back of the school and come in through the gate on the lines. When they found the gate locked they climbed over. Mr Potts caned them for it. The charge? 'Breaking and entering.'