With it arrived hoards of parents and friends, including my father, aunt and uncle, who descended on Oswestry School to enjoy a jolly on expenses, as Stoker called it, whilst watching their offspring, if they were lucky or talented enough, being rewarded for their endeavours during the year by receiving a prize of some description.

The Headmaster's Report, taken from The Oswestrian magazine.

Stoker Lewis, a disciplinarian from the old school and the Housemaster at School House, disliked Speech Weekend and half-baked parents, as he often described them, in equal measure, and he made this abundantly clear to all of us at School House during weeks leading up to his least favourite time of the year.

Ralph Willianson, the previous Headmaster, had been well aware of this weakness in Stoker's personality, and he did his best to keep him out of the limelight wherever possible on such occasions. However, Major Frankland, ex-military and a disciplinarian like Dai Lewis, had him maneuvering amongst the boys in the front line, as seen in the photo below, like a general, marshalling his troops on the battlefield. 

Stoker, maneuvering amongst the boys.

Unknown to much of the throng gathered together on the playground, the unpopularity of Headmaster Frankland had been gathering momentum in its intensity as he seemed to find fault with anything and everything going on in School House. Despite our entreaties to Duncan Felton, deputy Headmaster, to help bring down the rising anti-Frankland sentiment at School by bringing his considerable influence to bear on the Headmaster, the general feeling among the Prefects was that as far as Major Frankland was concerned it was business as usual. He was becoming less communicative with us all, and for a few days he refused to speak to us at breakfast time, so we retaliated by sending him to Coventry.

Shortly after this period the Headmaster began summoning us to his study for a pep talk about keeping discipline, and we took refuge from him in the school tuck shop where we had a card school developing. Somehow he found out where we were and surprised us one day by walking in as we drank beer and played Pontoon with tuck shop money. He banged on the table in anger, and threatened expulsion if we did not stop drinking and playing cards. As we were almost at the end of exams, and were entering the final weeks of our time at Oswestry School we all felt that this was a little excessive, and over the top.

Our tuck shop retreat is front, far right, just this side of the Fives Court.

Many of the comments in my Diary during this time reflect the growing seriousness of the situation at the School, but some of them are too graphic to detail here. Suffice to say the atmosphere in School House was deteriorating, and we concluded that Duncan Felton's efforts had fallen on deaf ears. 

By this time, with just one more A level paper to sit, on 5 July, I had resolved to enjoy what was left of my time at Oswestry by concentrating on fun things such as breaking bounds to see friends in town, forthcoming cricket matches, tennis with the nurses over on the hospital courts, and card/drinking sessions with the boys. Not all of these were officially recognised as part of the school curriculum, but enjoyable nevertheless, and in particular I was relishing the prospect of playing The Old Oswestrians, and the looming match against our oldest enemy, The Boys' High School.

Diary entry for Saturday 2 July: The day of the Old Boys' match.

Outside The Memorial Hall during the dancing. (L-R) Prestwich, K Mottershead, D Berry, Carolin Sinclair (now Mrs George Roberts-Jones), and George Roberts-Jones.

For once, during what for me personally was proving to be a poor cricket season, although the team as a whole played very well I had what might be described as a good day. I had dropped myself down the batting order to give myself a better chance of scoring some runs, and although unused to going in at number five the move seemed to work in my favour. Despite the unimpressive score of 11 runs I remained at the crease until the end of our innings having had a long stand with Headmaster Frankland who played very well throughout a lengthy innings whilst I withstood the onslaught at the other end. 

Eventually, having lost his concentration for a second he was surprised by an extra quick ball from Narraway, and was caught for a splendid total of 44. Although off the field animosity between us was almost palpable, I clearly wanted him to reach at least 50, and was disappointed for him when he was caught out by the wicket keeper, going after the bowling of their captain and star fast bowler, Pip Narraway. 

When it was our turn to field I managed to run Narraway out with a direct hit on the stumps when he was only 5, and likewise my good friend George Roberts-Jones, for 2. At least my throwing arm was in fine form on this occasion, in support of bowlers Jack Greves and my brother Bernard, who made the Old Boys suffer under a barrage of accurate bowling.

Scorecard of the match.

School team photograph, after facial mutilation by drawing pin.

On one of my regular visits to see the Headmaster just prior to Speech Day he had expressed a wish for Hayden Morris, a Master, and himself to take part in the forthcoming match. I could hardly refuse, and it has to be said that whilst Hayden Morris, known as 'Bumble', did not fare well, the Headmaster acquitted himself rather better and it was most regrettable that a couple of weeks later his face was obliterated by a drawing pin after I placed a photo of the School Team on the noticeboard outside the Masters' common room. Stoker quickly rescued the picture from the notice board and took it along to show the Headmaster.

My Diary reminds me that before this, on 16 July, several other mutilated photos of the Old Man had been removed from the same noticeboard which, unsurprisingly, enraged Headmaster Frankland. 

Extract from my Diary, 16 July.

Under no circumstances would I have condoned such behaviour despite Frankland's obvious unpopularity, but he seemed to consider me, Goffy, and others as possible suspects, and duly hauled us all in for a chat. Expulsion was threatened unless a confession was forthcoming, and I comment in my Diary that the place is near to rebellion.

Yet more expulsions were threatened when several of us, including Roger Morgan, were caught fraternizing with girls from the High School. The Headmaster informed us that he was going down to see the Headmistress of The Girls High School about it the following day, adding that we should expect repercussions.

Diary, 18 July.

My on-field rapport with the Headmaster had quickly faded into the past, and was obviously a distant memory for him as he summoned me, yet again, to his study - this time for a chat about my selection of Ed Goff, our regular wicket keeper, for our match against Whittington. 

High up on his list of suspects as a person responsible for photograph mutilations he told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to include Goff in the team. I argued that as he was an integral part of the team I could not justify leaving him out and that as his only crime at the moment was as a suspect I had no intention of leaving him out of the squad. 

I wisecracked that since I was also a suspect, perhaps he would be happy to see me stand down as well. He told me not to be ridiculous, and dismissed me from his office.

I recorded in my Diary that we beat Whittington by 5 wickets. Having dismissed them for 76 runs I decided to open the batting with my brother and, finding a bit of form, I managed to score 21 before being run-out. 

I also commented again on 19 July, and I quote  "This place is as near to rebellion as it has ever been [...] I have never known it like this. He questioned 5 boys for 3 hours this morning [...] he is accusing innocent boys, and Mrs Walton has sent him a stinking letter mentioning resignation."

In the next, and final episode of the series I say my goodbyes to Oswestry School after an interesting eight years of life as a boarder in School House, the beating heart of the School, as indeed I suspect it still is today.

School House, as I remember it (shot from the playground).