My admitting to Ashford Residential School was in 1947 staying until 1950.The day masters in charge were Mr Walton and Mr Hammond. Walton was a strict disciplinarian, old sea dog, and looked it. Hammond was firm and kind with it, his wife was an angel. Mr Gibbs, along with two ladies, were the nighttime carers who tucked us up at night. They had rooms close to ours, we all knew that Mr Gibbs was courting one of the ladies, because when needed, he was always to be found in her room, and she blushed uncontrollably. They were all very kind caring people.
My day school education teacher was a Mr Buckle, he was an old ex pugilist fighter, and it showed all over his face and cauliflower ears.He had a long hook pole used to open the top ventilation windows, which he could wield with one hand, to bring down on you, without rising from his seat, if he noticed your attention had strayed. A good man we all liked. Our Metalwork teacher was Mr Lloydd, who took to repeating, "Always leave a little bit to play with". Welsh, and lovely with it, he emigrated to New Zealand, choosing to travel overland, all the way on his motorbike and side car. he made it safely after many detours and adventures, breakdowns and hikes, all recorded briefly on his many postcards.
The school paid me two shillings and sixpence weekly pocket money, and a return train ticket home any and every weekend I wished to go home. I sang in our church choir, and we performed in the schools competitions at Festival Hall, London.
Looking back they were among the best days of my life, my age is now ninety, a long way from the slums of London where I was born. My thanks and prayers to all those who contributed to my well being during those early years, especially for the Magistrate who booked me in to Ashford Residential School.
