There are variants of the story, but all versions conclude with the untimely death of a young man, and a tribute to him was chalked on the School wall. Tradition has it that the memory to him is repainted each year by the Head Boy of the day, assisted by the youngest boy in School, and my friend John Robbie confirmed that he did just that when he was Head Boy in 1957

John Robbie, former Head Boy, as he is today.

My last A Level exam fell on 5 July, and it was a stinker of a History paper on the French Revolution. My Diary reminds me, painfully, that I was full of apprehension as I left the Memorial Hall where we had been sitting our examinations, convinced that I had not passed. This turned out to be a reality, and I have to accept that time management was a factor in explaining my failure.

JF Tilley's words were almost prophetic when, yet again, he had mentioned time management to me prior to the exam. I felt that I had let myself down because I knew what I wanted to say, and just ran out of time well before I could answer all of the questions. As I put pen to paper verbosity took over, so let this be a warning to all those of you about to sit exams now and in the future - time management is half the battle.

JF Tilley, my History teacher and exam adjudicator.

Upon leaving the examination room at 4.40 pm for the last time I convinced myself there was little point in feeling regretful as I could not turn back the clock. I reasoned that the exam was literally history now, and life was for living , so I decided to enjoy myself for what remained of the term. 

To help clear my mind I went for a run on the steeplechase course before going over to the Maes-y-Llan for nets practice in preparation for our forthcoming game against Oswestry 2nd XI. To celebrate the end of our exams, Bernard, Jack 'Grevo' Greves, and I went for a few beers in the Welsh Harp, just down the road on Upper Brook Street, hoping that we would not bump into Stoker Lewis. Fortunately, he was having dinner with the Franklands so we slipped through the net, but risked being caught by staying longer than we had intended. Lady luck was on our side however and, undetected, we made our way back, furtively, into School.

The Welsh Harp as it was in the 1950s.

Diary entry for 6 July: No more exams.

Although most of my CCF platoon were heavily involved with GCE O Levels, parades were still taking place regularly, and my Diary reminds me that when our new Bren guns arrived we spent a lot of time learning how to clean and reassemble them.

On several occasions John Tilley, who was adjudicating over GCE candidates in the Memorial Hall, asked me to take over some of his Geography classes since I had been studying A Level Geography. It was a subject I really enjoyed, and having studied JFT's notes I found the process very gratifying, and fun, particularly when the boys took the mickey out of me by insisting, tongue -in-cheek, on calling me Sir.

On 9 July we played Oswestry Town 2nd XI , and an account of the match can be seen below in a cutting I took from the local newspaper.

Success against Oswestry Town.

In the meantime, Major Frankland was relentlessly pursuing a hard line at School, and bounds were restricted even more when we were caught playing tennis with nurses on the hospital courts, and to make matters worse, Roger Morgan was found canoodling with a girl from town so our half hour break was cut to 15 minutes. It seemed to me that the Headmaster was barrelling headlong on a direct collision course with School House, as eventually proved to be the case.

With barely a week to go until the end of term, rather unwisely, and aware of the possible consequences if discovered, we threw caution to the wind by inviting several girls to a dance at the Victoria Rooms in Oswestry. Somehow Stoker Lewis found out and told us to go and own up to the Headmaster and tell him that we had broken bounds to go to a dance, or he would do so himself. Forced into a corner we went to see the Major who said he would see us later. To cement our alibi we then went to visit George Roberts-Jones and had afternoon tea with him and his mother, who promised to help with an alibi, if needed.

The needle match of the cricket season against our old rivals 'The Cabbages' duly arrived, and as we travelled to the Boys' High School ground on 20 July. I was excited at the prospect of doing battle with our oldest adversary. The outcome of any sporting competition between us meant so much to boys from our respective schools, and I was all too aware that we had not beaten them at cricket for 5 or 6 years.

Excerpt from my Diary, 20 July: The sweet smell of success.

As my time at Oswestry was drawing to a close I went to see the Old Man in order to try and heal the rift between us before the end of term as more mutilated photographs had been discovered, and I had no wish to leave Oswestry on a sour note. Without a word he handed back my photographs with no mention of our night at the dance hall. Later that afternoon Oswald were presented with yet more cups as noted in my Diary below.

Diary entry, 25 July: My last meeting with Headmaster Frankland.

As I walked past the LAST DAY sign and out of  School on 26 July, 1960, for the last time as a student, I reflected on the final weeks of my time as a boarder during what had been, mostly, a very enjoyable eight years.

The day before I had mingled with boys walking home as I made my way beyond the School gates and into town, to say my farewells to friends at the Girls' High School, Duncan Felton, my French teacher, and Mr Schofield, Head of Holbache House. I had already made my peace with David 'Stoker' Lewis with whom, I am pleased to say, I became firm friends after leaving School, enjoying many convivial beers with him in his favourite watering hole, The Welsh Harp.

Duncan 'Fatty' Felton was in a sombre mood as we sat having a cup of tea together in his sitting room and I thought that he was looking tired and careworn after serving almost 40 years as Deputy Headmaster at Oswestry School. He had arrived at Oswestry in 1920 along with his good friend Ralph Williamson with whom he served as a fellow Master at Hereford Cathedral School, and when Headmaster Williamson retired from teaching in 1958, the year following Oswestry's 550th Anniversary, Duncan carried on as deputy head under newly appointed Headmaster Major Frankland. 

Headmaster, R Williamson, during the visit of HRH the Duchess of Kent.

Having ascertained that I could be candid with him I expressed my concerns about the direction of travel the School was being led in by Major Frankland and enquired whether he was happy with the new leadership. He replied that he was, in fact, considering retirement after an even longer career at School than that of Mr Williamson, and that was as far as I could draw him on the matter. I somehow sensed that he had finally run out of steam, and he retired shortly afterwards, only to return later for a term as interim Headmaster after the departure of Major Frankland.

Before I left him he urged me to join The Old Oswestrian Society, and asked me to keep in touch. He also wrote me a very complimentary reference to present to future possible employers. Despite his bluff and bluster, I always got on well with this bear of a man, His was always one the first ports of call for many Old Boys returning to visit School, and we were always made very welcome by Duncan and his charming wife.

Since leaving Oswestry School in 1960 I have returned many times as an Old Oswestrian, and some of the many friends I made at School remain my friends today, and we meet regularly for Sunday lunch.

Sunday lunch with old friends at The Docks in Selattyn.