A.O.S.A. 2000 ANNUAL REPORT

This Magazine
Contents
All Magazines 
Contents
Homepage

Recently receiving the Ayton Meeting House Appeal made me realise, with a shock, that it is seventy-two years since I first led the girls into that august establishment.

For what seemed an eternity at the time, I was the youngest and smallest girl and, as Miss Wells insisted on us entering in size order, this meant I sat at the end of the first bench, nearest to her. She sat at right-angles to the girls so her stern eye was only a couple of feet away from me.....

Miss Wells was very kind to me during my eight years at Ayton, but at first my guardian angel was Mrs. Dennis, who had the sweetest smile I have ever seen. She used to invite me to tea in her daughter, Mary’s, nursery, where there was an abundance of toys and a pleasant nursemaid from the village, called Emma, who made delicious scrambled eggs and toast over a coal fire. This was bliss for me, as I rarely had any “tuck.” My mother, who was widowed at the end of the first world war by the influenza epidemic, lived too far away to visit often.

But for the Open University, I would never have attended a Reunion. I had to write an essay about childhood memories and fortunately my tutor was Dorothy Newby’s son-in-law. He immediately told Dorothy, who remembered me: she was in her first year at Ayton when I was in my last. She invited me to stay with her for several reunion weekends and has remained a much appreciated friend ever since. She is an excellent letter writer, and last month sent me news of the recent June weekend with signatures of ten people who were at school with me, which was a nice surprise. One of them was Kathleen Wilson (Fall). I haven’t seen her for sixty-five years! I always thought her very glamorous; also her friends, Margaret Proud and Dorothy Rudd. They used to flout Miss Wells’ strict rule of “No Make-Up” by using Potter and Moore’s powder-cream to enhance their schoolgirl complexions.

One of their many admirers was Monsieur Vidal, a French student-teacher with dark smouldering eyes and curly hair. I wonder if Kathleen remembers him. There is a photograph of him in my Ayton album, purchased by Form V girls for my fifteenth birthday, from Mr. Tingle’s shop at the corner of the village green. When Dorothy Newby comes to see us, she always likes to look through these photographs. I once took it to show Miss Nicholson and she was enthralled.

There are several photographs of Jean Townshend, who was my best friend for a time. She was a rebel, and horrified poor Miss Wells by having her long blonde hair cut off without permission ... We had a tiff because, when an aunt sent me a box of Doncaster Butterscotch, Jean carelessly let Miss Wells catch her sucking one. Subsequently, they were confiscated and Miss Wells returned them to my aunt, who was most surprised to get them back. I was furious.

I was interested to read Bevan Pumphrey’s account of Ayton in the 1920s. Being a day boy he would not have tramped joyfully along Station Road to catch the little train to Middlesbrough at the beginning of each holiday (very few cars then), but I wonder if he remembers the special train chartered to take the whole school to Whitby for a day at the seaside?

Our youngest son is married to an Australian girl and lives in New South Wales. I must be one of the few people who have seen Captain Cook’s cottage both in Great Ayton and in Sydney. I agree with Bevan that it should not have been moved, but at least the Captain Cook museum has been cherished.

I was sad to hear of the death of John Urwin. We started school together in Miss Bayliffe’s class, up the stairs in Rawdon House, and then were in every class till Form V. Our English teacher in Form III was a youthful Evelyn Nicholson. There are many photographs of him in my Ayton album: first a chubby boy, growing to be a handsome teenager - always good-humoured and cheerful.

Mention of the approaching total eclipse in August reminds me of the time the whole school was transported to a local vantage point, to witness the last total eclipse. No sooner were we assembled in serried ranks than I, being very young at the time, wanted to go to the toilet. Miss Wells was cross “Why didn’t you go before we set

off?” she said. “I did” I replied, in tears, “But now I want to go again.” Fortunately we were back in time for the awesome moment when darkness fell and all the birds stopped singing. Afterwards, Mr. Dennis made a solemn pronouncement: “When the next total eclipse occurs, I shall be dead and you will all be OLD people.”

At the time we thought this was highly amusing: how could young things like us ever be OLD! But it’s happened. My dear husband and I have been married for fifty-six years.

Now I am getting writer’s cramp, but you said you liked receiving letters, Gill, so I have made an effort to beat the Christmas deadline.

Eleanor Hone (Jackson 1927-35)

Return to:
Homepage