Memories of Wennington
by
Chris Perks
1962 - 1967

Good grief.. where to start? I suppose the beginning is the traditional place, so I'll try that.

My first memory is of watching my parents driving away down that long drive, leaving me, a very frightened 12 year old, in this God forsaken place nearly 200 miles from home. That was at the start of the Summer term in 1962 (coincidentally Pete Ashmore's last term). Since passing the 11 plus (remember that?) I had spent two terms attending the local Grammar School, actually more often, NOT attending the local Grammar School! So the child psychologist recommended boarding school, and in particular, Wennington. As the local authority was paying, my parents thought it was a great idea. So there I was, watching their Hillman Minx disappear into the sunset. Don't read into this that I blame my parents, in fact in retrospect, it was the best thing they ever did for me, but at the time……

It was such a strange place. There was a weird uniform of maroon blazers and green corduroy shorts. It had bedrooms with lots of beds and bathrooms with two baths. For an 'only child' in the early sixties, it was a bit of a culture shock. Calling teachers by their Christian names took a lot of getting used to, and there were far too many obscure customs and procedures for a 'new boy' to take in, all at once. And, there were GIRLS!

I used to write letters home almost daily, pleading to be 'rescued'. My mother kept all these, and in later years we used to re-read them together, with mixed emotions. Then one day she got a letter from me that said "I have a new freind. His name is Auther." (I couldn't spell either! That is exactly as I wrote it.) and from that moment my pleading letters reduced, and I started to settle in, to become a Wenningtonian. Unfortunately, and despite the undoubted effect he had on my life, I cannot remember anything else about Auther, sorry, Arthur, not even his surname.

Once the initial shock had worn off, I must have settled into the routine, as I have very few memories of my first two or three years at Wennington. I remember that the wrenching away from home at the beginning of term got less painful. I remember that actually the school holidays were a bit strange, because I had no friends at home, they were all at school, and consequently disappeared all over the country in the holidays. We didn't have e-mail in those days! I remember the cold winters; the totally inadequate boiler which consumed tons of coke, and produced about a kilowatt from the radiators of the boys dorms, with their 10ft ceilings and draughty windows.

By the time I was 15, life had changed. I had been given the job of 'Workshop Aide' by Frank Burgess (more later), which meant that I was entrusted with a key to the 'Temple', as I viewed the wood and metal workshops. I was also put in charge of the swimming pool chlorination and filtration plant. I'm not quite sure why this was, but it did wonders for my understanding of 'ph values' and 'star/delta motor starting'! I was also a bit of a photographer and I remember that we had a dark-room in one of the old outbuildings, where water ran down the walls, and there was a constant battle against mould. The light was kept out by strips of old carpet nailed to the edges of the door. Later still, I remember the construction of the new Science block, and Theatre and again I was let loose in the Theatre control room, with its array of plugs, sockets and Variac transformers, (see inside back cover of 1966/67 school magazine, and, I've just realised, page 130 of 'Energy Unbound'. Yes, that's me!). This was obviously the start of what was to become my profession as an electrical engineer. Another example of this comes to mind. You remember those little study cubicles in the sixth form room, well I decided that I wanted to run a kettle in mine. In the absence of a power circuit, and with what I thought at the time to be remarkable initiative for one so young, I plumbed a 13amp socket into the 5amp lighting system. Needless to say, every time I fancied a cup of coffee, the fuse blew and all the lights went out. Easy, I thought, and replaced the fuse with a nail. It wasn't until the wiring started to smoulder that my deed was found out. Kenneth was, to say the least, not best pleased with my actions. Well, I suppose it was a wooden building!

Continued...