Chapter One
English Public Schools in 1973, were by and large, very traditional establishments and Bart's, as we pupils referrred to St. Bartholomew's School for Boys, was no exception.
This particular morning was the second Wednesday of Spring term and the entire school, as was usual practice, was squashed into our small main hall. We stood in ranks, junior boys, noticeable for their traditional schoolboy grey short trousers and knee stockings, forming the front lines, followed by the senior boys of sixteen plus, all grateful to had shed those juvenile shorts for long trousers. Taking up the rear, the prefects, of which I numbered one, identified by being the only boys not to be wearing those aweful school boy caps and with our maroon blazers trimmed with navy ribbon. The only boys more senior to ourselves were the regal Captains of House, four in number and our supreme being Bamber Hollingbrooke, Captain of School, who all stood along side Masters on the raised platform before us. It was only a few months to my seventeenth birthday and, I should have been relishing my second term as a prefect, but that morning I felt sick with anxiety. "Grey!" The sound of my own name being called loudly by the Headmaster made me physically jump. My heart started pounding so loudly I was certain I could actually hear it inside my tight chest. Almost every head in the hall turned in my direction. "Report to my office now, and stand outside facing the wall until my arrival." As I quickly tried to walk out every eye followed me and I could see smirks on most of the faces, as the whispering and muterings grew louder. For a prefect to be treat so could only indicated that I was in serious trouble. Most new exactly why I was in trouble and considered my retribution long overdue.
I took up my position of humiliation and very soon heard the Headmaster approach. I did not dare move or look round as I heard him enter his study. Nothing happened so I was left standing their contemplating my demise. I had ben a pupil at St. Bart's since I was 12 years old, but I had never achieved any popularity. My 'people' as your parents were termed, were Fish Merchants, very well positioned financially, but Fish Merchamts none the less. It would have made no difference if they had been millionaires. Worse at St. Bart's, I was crap at games, which was deemed unforgivable at an English public school. To be honest I was not much better in the classroom. I was however a nice looking boy, even if I do say so myself, tall and thin waisted, with honey blonde hair and a touch of arrogance(if you had not guessed already) As a junior boy it had been all I could do to ward off the attentions of unwanted admirers. My bottom, considered one of the best in the school, often suffered beating from prefects, not because of my behaviour, but because they wanted me bare butted. However, I aquired less enviable traits as I progressed into senior school, becoming something of a tabacco addict and with a liking for the odd bottle of beer. Junior, who were either popular or athletic became targets for my jealous nature and had to endure any indignation I felt like imposing. Such had my ability in this direction become, that by the time I was promoted a prefect, I was an out and out bully. Also, I hit on an inglorious method of financing my illicit activites. As prefect I was endowed with the authority to administer the cane to junior bottoms, which I opted to do for even the most trivial reasons. Not ungenerous however, I began to allow the unfortunate juniors to purchase back strokes of teh cane. Half a weeks pocket money allowance could even get them excused six of the best. I was so carried away by my own success that I failed to see just how unpleasant a person I had become. I was acknowledged as teh official school bully, feared and resented by almost every junior boy in the school. Stupidly, as usual with people like me, greed was to be my downfall. Any 'goods' I could not immediately utilise, I stock piled, until I had a veritable Allandin's Cave of cigarettes and beer. On the first night of term, I was celebrating my return to Grey's Empire, cigarette in one hand, bottle in the other, when unannounced Mr. Nott, our Housemaster, entered my study unannounced. I had overlooked the fact that cig smoke has a tendancy to travel. Discovered red handed, the subseqent search of my room revealed all.
"Grey!" Again, I physically jumped. My thoughts were abruptly brought back to earth as I was summonded within. Mr. Stewart-Brown surveyed me from his seat behind his desk. "Expulsion is what you deserve boy." My stomach turned into a knot and a large lump swelled in my throat. My father would skin me alive and mother would just cry, endlessly. The shame of it all. "However, I have decided against that action." A huge wave of relief swept over me.
"Thank you sir," I replied, "I'm very grateful."
"I would reserve you gratitude if I were you Grey. Expulsion would only bring disgrace on to your poor parents, when any disgrace should be solely yours boy."
"Yes sir. I am ashamed of my actions sir. As a prefect...." He held his hand up to stop me mid-sentence.
"You can consider yourself no longer a prefect Grey. You have amply proved your inability to exercise correct authority." So I was demoted. Not too bad and nothing more than I could expect. I might even suffer a caning fom him, but surely he would not make me drop my pants; I was after all a senior boy."As I indicated Grey, hte shame and disgrace will be all yours and, I intend that you learn the privilages of rank are not to be abused. All your senior privilages are to be withdrawn and you will go back to Lower School for the remainder of this term." I could hardly believe my own ears, but as he went on I began to fully comprehend the implications of my punishment. I was to leave my private study dorm and return to the junior dormitory, to live and sleep, with the other fourteen junior boys in School House. At all meals I would sit at junior tables and, my name would be added to the fagging list. The humiliation would be unbearable and I would have to fag for oneof my previous collegues. Lastly I was to suffer twelve strokes of the junior cane, as befitted my new rank, and in accord with tradition, these would be administered in teh junior dorm after evening prep, observed bymy fellow juniors. The only vestige of pride he left me was that i had to attend senior classes in order that my studies did not suffer. "Do you understand your position Grey?"
"Yes sir," my reply almost inaudible, as I fought to keep back tears.
"Very well. Stand outside facing the wall again until lunch bell. After lunch Matron will collect you and make your uniform arangements."
"Uniform arrangements sir?" I inquired puzzled.
"Yes Grey. You are demoted to junior school and as such will wear junior uniform"
"Junior uniform sir," I asked, my mouth dropping fully open, "not...not...not with short trousers surely sir."
"Yes Grey. Junior boys all wear short trousers and you are no exception. Now stand outside when you are told!"
All through his lecture it had never once occurred to me that I would suffer the ridicule of being put back into juvenile short pants. Facing my former senior friends reduced to such a position would be horrible, but how was I to confront all my previous victims. As I stood with my nose to the wallcold sweat began to run down my back. Just how was I going to get through this dreadful punishment.
Reality, however, was to prove worse than anything I could have imagined.
(To be continued....)