Free Pie 'n' Mash and Prefabs by Norman Jacobs Page A

deserved a prize for their hard work even if they didn’t finish high up in the exam. Dad was upset that this meant my not getting a prize. Personally, I wasn’t really very bothered, but he went up to the school to see the Headmaster about this injustice.The outcome of the meeting in some ways made the injustice seem even worse as it was a real case of ‘Do you want the good news or the bad news?’ The good news was that I had actually received the highest marks of anyone in the school for the 11-plus exam; the bad news was that I still wasn’t getting a prize! Dad was absolutely incensed and he forbade me to go to Prize Giving Day, which was compulsory for all pupils to attend. He said it would upset me but I think it upset him more.
    Although I didn’t get a school prize, I was rewarded for having passed the 11-plus, firstly by my parents, who presented me with a signed Tom Graveney cricket bat (Graveney was my favourite cricketer). Secondly by Nan, Grandpa and Aunt Clara, who each bought me a Premium Bond. I still have them today, 56 years later at the time of writing, and they’ve never won me a sausage!
    As far as upsetting news about the 11-plus and prizes went, that wasn’t the end of the good news, bad news, as some time later the Headmaster asked to see Dad again and told him the good news, which was that my high 11-plus marks meant that, like John, I had been offered the chance of going to Christ’s Hospital, Westminster or Bancroft’s on a scholarship. The bad news was that he hadn’t said anything until it was too late to apply as he felt I wasn’t cut out to be away from home. Once again, Dad was furious. Although I suspect he didn’t want me to go away either, he quite rightly reasoned it wasn’t Mr Foreman’s decision to make. There was also the point to take into consideration that, had I gone to Christ’s Hospital, I wouldn’t have been on my own as John would still be there in his last year and would be able to look after me.
    Anyway, it never happened and I had to choose between three local grammar schools instead, Hackney Downs, Owen’s and Parmiter’s, all single-sex boys’ schools. Hackney Downs was the nearest, and most of those who passed at Rushmore decided to go there, including my best friend, Andy. For some reason, I quite fancied Parmiter’s. It had a better name locally and, although administered by the London County Council (L.C.C.) just like the other two, it had a certain degree of independence and still carried the status of ‘public school’. I think Dad quite fancied this as well for it would go some way towards spiting Mr Foreman with the idea that I was going to a public school after all. So Parmiter’s it was, along with Bob Marriott and Terry Gregory.
    Before I left, I had one more run-in with Mr Brown. During the last week at school, it was traditional for those leaving to go round getting the teachers’ autographs. All of them, except one, signed with no difficulty. That one was, of course, Mr Brown: he said you had to give him a reason why you wanted his autograph. We had been to a carol concert for schools at the Royal Festival Hall the previous Christmas and I’d noticed that he was a member of the London School Board organising committee for the event so my reason for getting him to sign was to say he was famous as he was on this committee and had his name printed in the programme. He said he wasn’t famous and I should come back with a better reason. I told Dad about this and he suggested I just say to him that I wanted something to remember him by. On my way to school the following morning, I considered this and thought to myself that actually I didn’t even like Mr Brown and didn’t particularly want toremember him, so I just took the view, ‘Sod it, if you can’t sign my autograph book like all the other teachers, I really don’t care!’ And I