Sunday services meant the donning of navy blue suits, stacked in a room beneath the tower,and carefully groomed by an Indianservant. Stiff collars, too, and straw bashers, which were part of the school uniform and looked well. These were laid at the boys'feet during the service. Juniors had to wear Eton collars. The Chapel had perfect acoustics and a warm atmosphere, especially at night, when the services were shared by the school Staff. Many will recall the preliminary prayer-meeting held in darkness,during the half-hour preceding the service. This was well attended, even by boyswho liked to pose as "thugs", and undoubtedly had spiritual influence. Below the Chapel was the cemetery, containing the names of many well-known former residents, and over topped by the angelic statue representing Sir Liege himself. It was surrounded by blue-gum tree, whose leaves glittered in the moonlight and cast eery shadows. Add to this the hoots of owls and cries of night-birds, and the effect was a little awe-inspiring. Many a boy admitted to having closed his eyes and run rapidly past the cemetery. The bees did not confine themselves to the Chapel. The main school building wasalive with them,and honey trickled down the walls. Always there was a sweet scent about the place, and we were assured that honey from blue-gum trees and tea bushes was the tastiest of all. Many boys had hives of their own on the premises. On one occasion, having been offered a jar of honey, I asked the donor what he had used to sieve it with."My shirt" was his reply. Life was very self-contained. There was no getting away. There was no to-ing and fro-ing from parents,for the school wastoo far away. Many parents never saw the school. We were one large family, headed by Mr Matterson,and this led to great camaraderie among staff and boys, though in the case of one master the boys maintained they could always tell his mood for the day by the clothes he wore at breakfast. We became highly involved with the people of Stanger, Umhiali and Darnall, through church affiliations, through participation in plays and concerts, or through playing sport. Can you imagine Mr Medworth and myself singing duets? Well,we did,on many platforms.So did Miss Eraser (later to be my wife) and I play duets on the piano together. As regards school functions, Speech Day, the Annual Play and the Carol Service took precedence.Plays were the brainchild of Mr Oram, who was meticulous in his presen tations and had no hesitation in keeping boys up till midnight for their rehearsals. The biggest successes that come to mind were Julius Caesar, Charley's Aunt, and She Stoops to Conquer. Clarence Putterill, as the "fake" aunt, had the spectators rolling in the aisles with laughter, with a delightfully uninhibited performance. The Carol Services were not pretentioubsu,t boys who could sing were only too eager to join the choir, and the atmosphere was good. The Debating Society met weekly, and I can personally vouch for the enthusiasm of the speakers. I was very fond of the piano, and had one installed in my Prep room. Here I regaled (?) the boys not only with classical music but also with the latest song-hits, as I had been pianist in a jazz-band in London. Some boys tell me they remember me more for my music than anything else (especially Latin). Mr Medworth's room was adjacent to mine and he had an over-worked gramophone,on which he played contemporary songs or operettas. Whether this duel cacophony lulled the boys to sleep or kept them awake in terror I never enquired. For some years the virtual school song was a composition of mine,of which the chorus went; Toddling down the road to Barcelona, Wand'ring up and down the Pyranees, There you'll find just me and my Ramona Playing out guitars beneath the trees. Eating onions with a real stiletto. Macaroni and spaghetti too.Oh! Clara Bow is all the go but I prefer Ramona, YES,SHE'LL DO! (This song was published by a London firm) In the pre-radio, pre-TV days, and with no cinema accessible, we had to make up our own amusements, and musical evenings, staff plays, mock trials, debates, all com bined to create imagination and give public confidence. Sometimes we had a debate-supper. After the special meal had been consumed, each member had to make a speech representative of, or referring to some well-known persona lity, such as Charlie Chaplin, Winston Churchill, or some film or political figure.The merriment of the evening usually ended with a vociferous rendition of 'Toddling down the road to Barcelona". One Old Boy reminds me that I used to read bed-time stories to the boys in the Prep building, and quotes "The Face on the Wall","The Monkey's Paw" and Edgar Allan Poe. As these could hardly have induced sleep, I interlaced them with selectionsfrom "The Pilgrim's Progress". The school's electricity supply came from a battery room at the bottom of the slope. This was maintained by Mr Oram and boy helpers. As the power was a mere 30 volts, no electrical appliances could be used, and I often wonder how they kept the meat and milk fresh. It was extraordinary how often the electricity failed just as the boys were about to begin their evening prep. The boys had an acceptable change one day when the whole school was taken down to see "Ben Hur"at the now defunct Criterion Cinema on the Esplanade. (One boy seized the opportunity to run away). I had come from London with glowing accounts of this film, and persuaded the Headmaster to make arrangements to convey everyone to Durban.The exercise was much enjoyed by all. For the shorter holidays, at Easter and Michaelmas, many boysdid not go home. Kearsney remained their home, and accommodated and fed them. They were at liberty to go where they wished and do what they wanted, within legal limits. Many, accompanied by members of the staff, spent enjoyable sessions at Sinkwazi or Stanger beach. As we were well in the country,snakes abounded.The unmistakeable twittering of the birds in the trees indicated that a green mamba or boomslang was in the vicinity. Classes immediately adjourned while someone brought a gun and shot down the offender. Two black mambas were killed in one morning by the same man — the day the Governor General, the Earl of Clarendon, visited us. I am inclined to think that his retinue was more interested in the snakes laid out for their inspection than in the school itself. The so-called Sick Room was set well up under the tower, the domain of that firm but lovable character Sister Edwards, who came in at the foundation of the School.She dispensed Epsom Salts and squeezed out boils with enthu siastic glee. No malingerer ever got past her firm hands.She was an Australian no-nonsense Sister, delightful raconteur, but merciless with those who thought they could pull the wool over her eyes. She left back in 1929,to accept a post first in Johannesburg and then at the adjacent Kearsney Hospital, before returning to Australia, where she passed away,much loved. A duiker, whom we named "Beauty", adopted the school for a period of five years. She was completely tame, ate from the hand, entered the classrooms and even the chapel. On one occasion she made her way upstairs to the dormitories. Alas, she was severely savaged one Saturday night by dogs,and we mourned her passing. The school bell was of course set in the tower. The rope to this descended through several ceilings and down to the porch below. It passed down the wall of Mr Matterson's bathroom. One summer morning Mr Matterson's father,the elderly Rev. Robert Matterson, went for an early bath,saw the rope and thought it was a shower. He gave it a vicious 43
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