William Forster
Memories
I was at William Forster School in Tottenham from 1969 (when
it was, I suspect, technically still Downhills School; I was taught in the
building by Tottenham Green). I left in
1976 after sixth form, to go to University.
For the second and third school years most of my year’s time
was spent at the lower school site on Downhills Rd, closer to Turnpike Lane,
and across Belmont Rd. From the fourth
year onwards, I was in the modernist brand-new building on Langham Rd.
The new school was built on the site of the old Palace Gates
railway where it crossed under West Green Rd.
There is a lot to be written about the railway, and the echoes of it in
my life, but that is elsewhere.
I remember that new school building was meant to be a
showcase, with a swimming pool, for example, to be built as part of phase two. But the arrival of Margaret Thatcher, as the
new Education Secretary, resulted in the cancellation of all the subsequent
phases.
My mother never forgave her for cancelling the second phase
of the building.
The general cry at the time was ‘Thatcher, Thatcher, milk
snatcher’ because she stopped the supply of school milk, that tried to ensure
underprivileged children had sufficient calcium and vitamins. It was, I think, a hangover from
wartime. I never did like school milk,
but even at a relatively young age I could see it was wrong to stop it
wholesale.
My first form teacher was Mr Kekwick (we were form ‘1KK’). He was a cigarette-smoking French teacher, and
taught well. He was also the first and only person ever to
give me the cane. I can still recall
part of the morning register he would call for the class:
‘Barrowclough, Baxter,
Beckenham, Burke, Davidson, Driver, Head,…’
In that first year, I can remember the school drama society,
where Tony Garwood was the star – playing Scrooge in ‘A Christmas Carol’. I played Ignorance or Want, revealed from
beneath the cloak of the Ghost of Christmas Present.
I tried to learn trumpet, too, in the first year, but struggled. I couldn’t really practice it at home in our council
flat.
Other teachers I remember were Miss Hull, Mr Fisher (the
Head, who seemed never to be around), Mr Francis (the Deputy Head who seemed to
actually to run the school), Ms Frances, Miss Flowers (Music), Mr Titchmarsh
(who made me re-do my UCAS form to make sure I put Durham second after
Cambridge – rather than put Durham last and UEA second, which is what I’d done
initially!), Miss Cherry, Mr Crispin & Mr Oakley (PE), Mr Ayres (History –
and an enthusiast for local history), Mr Timpson (?), Miss Reeves (who taught
me for O Level English Literature – and I really wanted to do it at A level but
the school didn’t offer it), and:-
For Chemistry: Mr Jordan and Mr Messi.
For Physics: Mr Gray and Mr May.
For Maths: Mr Hill, Mr O’Driscoll, Mr Taylor and Mr Joshi.
Others have reminded me online about Mr Learner (Woodwork),
Miss Sharrow (RE) and others.
I remember Richard Stevens – my best friend in the earlier
years, David Kemal, Pauls Davidson, Langridge and Morris, (and others from the
Morris clan, such as Pauline and Maxine), Peter Large, Omar Sattaur, Erdjan,
Ian Morley, Hilary White, Tracy/Terry Rogers, Linda Brownjohn, Jacqui Thompson,
Jackie Clarke, Fred Baxter, Kim Greenham, Robin Barrowclough, Sylvester McKay,
Everton Herbert, Winston Silcott, Jill Stubbs, Gillian Stone, Susan Brown, Nadira Ali, Tony Garwood, Henrik
Castello, Paul Somerville, Violet Rustean, Kenny Poulton, Steve Harold, Anna
Diaz, Jean Zukabitz, Ralston Maas, Andrew Kyriacou, Faizal Hussain, Konje
Hussan, Aldo Oppertelli, Steven Beckenham, Danny Burke, Stephen Driver, June
Anthony, Thelma ?, Steve Whitby, Stephen Young, Gary Avis, Val Walker (Locker),
Stelios Charalambides. And many others
I’ve failed to mention.
While at the school I was bullied – probably from the 2nd
(or maybe the start of the 3rd) year to the 5th
year. This was in the form of teasing, taunts
and occasional punches from boys in my class.
Andrew Kyriacou was the worst offender, by far, while others, such as
the Pauls, Richard and Ian took no part.
This ended when a teacher finally intervened. The bullying hurt a lot emotionally; and I
suspect in some ways I have never quite got over it. But, by the end of 5th year and
into 6th form, it was far better, and we all explored local pubs and
clubs (I fear I still owe Mr O’Driscoll a pint).
(As an aside, in new money, year 3 was current year 9).
I really enjoyed classes.
Maths was always fun, and I particularly loved geometry, calculus
(thanks to Mr Taylor), and the complex plane.
Euler’s formula!
Physics and chemistry of course. I can still remember the struggle to
understand the internal resistance of a cell, but always loved Galileo’s equations
of motion – what my two sons now call SUVAT.
And enthalpies of reaction, electron orbitals, all that carbon
chemistry. But not just STEM subjects. Also
English and English lit in particular.
Austen and Tennyson for ‘O’ Level, I recall.
I remember playing football on Belmont recreation ground in
the mud and rain, the school production of Joseph and the Technicolour
Dreamcoat (Richard Stevens as Joseph), and the annual violence of the pupils versus teachers
hockey match in Downhills Park (with Mr Hill, suitably armoured-up, in goal).
Overall, I’m surely grateful to WF, and the teachers, and
the friends I made there. I certainly
had a different upbringing to many I met at University in the mid-70s. Many of whom had had a very privileged
background by comparison. In some ways, as a result, I suspect I ended
up with a more realistic, or at least a richer, perspective on life.
Finally, a random few pictures gleaned from the InterWeb:
David Hill
School Tie
And an explanation
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