Reunion 2005 Report

SOSA Reunion, 15–17 July 2005. By Mary Wheeler (née Kopp)

I had been back to school a few times to show my husband and children but this occasion was special, being 40 years since I had left. Diana Lloyd (née Wright), the current President and personal friend, had tracked down some of our year. I wondered just who would turn up and whether we would recognise one another.

The smell of school was sufficient to transport me back in time. A frisson of excitement passed through me as we reached the area where, as children, we had queued up for our break-time drink. The boards on the wall with the names of Head Boys and Head Girls prompted me to look for those of Anthea Cox and Janet Wyeth. These two as well as Di have remained friends of mine ever since school.

I spotted Di surrounded by a group of middle-aged people and realised, with predictable shock, that these were my school friends! Some had to be re-introduced whilst others were instantly recognisable.

In what used to be Year 5A’s classroom, photos and memorabilia of our time at Sibford were displayed and others in our year were congregating. I was reminded of Mr Gilchrist – “Doss” – our Geography teacher, who wore a chalk-covered black university gown and regularly threw the blackboard rubber at the heads of miscreants. Echoes of Welsh Johnny Lucas, who taught Maths, calling out “You stupid cretin!” bounced off the walls. He too – with unerring accuracy – hurled the rubber at students’ heads.

On display in the Sewing Room Janet found an old sepia photo picturing her grandmother as one of the Victorian teachers, and I remembered with a smile the diminutive Miss Le Mare, who also taught us French. She had stood in front of me one day, hands on hips, brow furrowed in frustration, regarding my appalling and totally inept attempt at sewing: “How can you be so good at French and yet so awful at sewing? she asked. There was no answer to that!

At lunch we greeted late arrivals Claire “Molland”, Hilary Wright, Pauline Elsmor and Jenny Tanner, who had come together: another testimony of a longstanding friendship. Two men came towards the group. One was unmistakably Richard Cheney, still looking like the “Cherub” we knew; even the beard did little to hide his still youthful face. The other, his friend Malcolm Longford, was also easy to recognise. While flashing our digital cameras we looked at old photos (taken no doubt with Box Brownies), laughing at the dated looks and hairstyles, wondering what had happened to so-and-so.

Incredibly there are still members of staff from our day, visiting the school. “There’s Frankie!” someone whispered to me, theatrically. “Never?” I gasped as Mr Francis our History teacher walked by. Mr Shields, our Science teacher, was also there with his wife. We laughed as we recalled another branch of science: “Science in the Home with Mrs McColm”. One sunny day we had, with one accord whilst her back was turned, climbed out of the window to hide giggling in the flower beds beneath. Fortunately Mrs McColm had a sense of humour.

Still chuckling we went to find the tractor and trailer brought by Richard Bett and Dennie Checkley, onto which was strapped a picnic table and parasol. Still local farmers, the “boys” plied us with beer and cider. After posing in the gardens for group photos some of us went swimming in the wonderful new indoor pool.

Talks and speeches were being given in the school but we were happy to chat, sitting in the shade of the veranda. We looked out over the vast playing fields where in summer we had hidden in hollows to avoid playing tennis, lying amongst buttercups and daisies and making chains. These same fields in winter had seen us charging up and down, clad in shorts, playing hockey in freezing rain and sleet, determined to win.

Walking down the Hill through the Orchard brought back olfactory memories of wild garlic and the beauty of bluebells nodding in the breeze; or snowdrops, lashed by rain, flattened by gales, buried in snowdrifts or frozen stiff with frost. The Manor, now sold to developers and converted into expensive apartments, looked outwardly the same. We remembered the dorms, the scary stories we told, the midnight feasts, the lumpy bumpy mattresses, and the bullying initiation of first-years: a practice I am proud to have put an end to when we became second-years.

We remembered too the Sunday walks when – in groups of no less than three – we were made to roam the countryside after lunch, returning to a cold salad tea.

In the evening we went up for the barn dance and buffet. There’s something about a barn dance which is inextricably linked with a feeling of belonging. I began to wish that we had booked for the whole weekend. So it was with regret that we exchanged hugs and said goodbye.

Obviously at times we were sad at Sibford but all in all for me Sibford was a happy and fulfilling experience. The friends I made there are very special and will always be so.

See other SOSA Reunions or pictures from 2005.