One thing I always dreaded was the summons from Nick. ‘Is Seeley here’. I had heard the tongue lashings echoing along corridors and vowed to avoid being singled out. One day it happened!
Two things first though. I had stupidly insulted a classmate’s mother. My glib thoughtless tongue was to blame. But I ignored it and as far as I was concerned it was over. Not so. Behind the scenes and without my knowledge this offended one approached Nick and asked for his permission to use the school gym to teach me a lesson with the gloves on. Ever the gentleman’s son was George.
Secondly I was a growing lad and war time rationing was still in force so although my shoes pinched dreadfully, being a full size too small, there was still plenty of wear left in them. I slipped the shoes from my feet and let them swell and breathe. Ah, bliss!
Just then enter Nick with his foolscap pad on his arm. Then the dreaded call. ‘Is Seeley here?’
I tried to thrust my feet back into the shoes, stand and say, ‘Yes, sir.’ all at the same time. Nick left into the corridor and waited for me as I shuffled and scuffed my way down the passage between desks, hunched over in a semi crouched position, like some seriously disabled person, with my face red, my mind racing ( Why me? What have I done??) and the bloody shoes refusing to assume their proper place on my feet.
I stood there shaking, with the heels crumpled as Nick asked me if I wanted to fight. I didn’t care about anything but my feet and shoes and told him it was all over thank you. I was left to scrape back into the classroom with every eye watching my return.
The tortuous shame and turmoil of that long walk has lived with me all my days. I think the insulted one got more for his money than he ever knew.
There was another moment though.:

The Unfinished Mile

In borrowed pumps I toed the line,
seduced to that reckoning by comic books
and fables of sudden glory.

I was Wilson from the wild moors;
Wonder Man. I would astonish them all.
I was eleven.

Around me towered the truth; the stiffened sinews
and summoned blood of sixth formers,
sash-haired heroes of their House.

Their disdain questioned my existence.
The reek and sheen of their embrocation defeated me.
I did not even smell like a hero.

The shimmering air was rich
with the balm of cut meadows
as I was humiliated that hot evening.

The whole school bayed like hounds,
and chased my narrow back
round and round the ground.

I padded down corridors of grass
to trail my shattered fantasies
into that last long curve of shame.

The line loomed, hands beckoned
but I stepped from the gauntlet of those taunts
and hid behind the wooden stand;

belittled by their belling,
comforted by nettles
and the mollifications of cow parsley.

Does an unforgettable “day” qualify as an “unforgettable moment”? If so, I nominate my last day at school and the last day of term July 1960.

It was Founders’ Day.

The morning began in the school hall, North Street, with the presentation of all the school’s sporting prizes for the year. David Ogden and I proudly lifted the House Shield for Longsdon House which topped the inter-house games competitions 1959-60 – for the first time since the illustrious Don Chadwick was House Captain in 1956(?).

There followed the School Founders’ Day Service in the Parish Church where I read the lesson from Ecclesiaticus 44 – “Let us now praise famous men and our fathers that begat us” - (after Watthey had earlier ironed out some of my Lawkholme vowel sounds – pro tem).

All that remained was the afternoon cricket match against the Old Boys’ XI before the whole school at Keighley CC ground – and then the following morning off to Kirky with Gilbert and the foragers.

I was to open the innings with Malcolm Bailey (also Longsdon) who had won the cricket bat presented for for the best batsman of the season. According to my school report, FW (Wellock) recorded that I had an average of "more than twenty" and I was looking forward to the game. School batted first.

Malcolm and I took to the field. I always took first knock. I was to face Norman Wetherhead, a bit of a bête noir to me. He had bowled me out in my first junior house match against Brigg in 1954 and on another later occasion when he bowled for Oxenhope in the West Bradford League.

I noticed that at cover-point was Alan Hargreaves, the much respected staff photographer of The Keighley News and dad of my friend, Trevor. I took guard, scanned the field placements and saw that Alan Hargreaves was still at cover-point. What happened next can be seen in the collection of photos under “Cricket”.

An unforgettable day for several reasons.

Unfortunately for me, someone sent a copy of The Keighley News to the Kirky camp and it put a bit of a damper on my last camp holiday - correction !! - holiday at camp.

Ten years earlier,Prut's diary entry read..."Thank goodness Founders' Day Service and Old Boys' match are over once more." Retrospectively, I would have agreed.

Years at KBGS e.g. 1958-1964 (optional) 1952-60

Current location (optional) Lincoln

I have seen the photo for the first time Terry. Thi got thissen out!! Look at your feet for goodness sakes!! All over the place. That front foot should only be there for the pull or hook and the rest of your body says you weren't going for that. The ball was not short enough to be pulled else it would not have hit your stumps. Still too late now but we could have straightened you out in a couple of evenings in Eastwood School yard with a tennis ball.

Was the 1960 old boys cricket match the one where Frank Wellock was fielding on the boundary near the rugby stand.Someone gave the ball an almighty swipe and it came down with snow on straight towards Frank who didnt have to move an inch.Everyone watched with baited breath as the ball eventually connected with Frank.It slipped straight through his hands and gently fell onto the floor.Frank went bright red to the accompanyment of the biggest cheer ever heard on the ground.

Years at KBGS e.g. 1958-1964 (optional) 1954-1961

Current location (optional) Filey

No surprise to me. Wellock all talk and no expertise.

Years at KBGS e.g. 1958-1964 (optional) 1961-1969

Current location (optional) Bradford

Peach, the Geography teacher had absolutely no class control and his lessons were a disaster. He had either had too much of it or had been told to get a grip by higher up because he tore into us one afternoon, screaming and shouting and frothing and ended his tirade' ...and I don't want to hear a peep out any one of you.' There was a stunned and respectful silence that lasted about 10 seconds and then Brian Hamilton, sat next to me, either as an act of defiance or brought about sheer terror, let off a squeaker of a fart that pierced the silence. The class dissolved in a riot of laughter.

Only one really, relating to a little short French Master, dark hair and a thin spiv like moustache. We had a lad Smith, always known as Miffie, and this Master was alway picking on him until Miffie walked slowly from the back of the class and laID The Master out cold with one thump. Miffie walked out of school never to be seen or heard of again. The only other memory would be everyEnglish Clas and a full right hook from FRizzie Berrington... I've almost still got the scares !

Years at KBGS e.g. 1958-1964 (optional) 1943 to 47 (app)

Current location (optional) Pembrokeshire

I think all my unforgettable moments have been reported as anecdotes on other threads. I've forgotten all the other unforgettable moments, sorry John ...... with the exception, that is, of having to squeeze past the lovely Susan on a very crowded staircase once.

Years at KBGS e.g. 1958-1964 (optional) 1958-65

Current location (optional) Leeds

???Susan , Shaun ????

Years at KBGS e.g. 1958-1964 (optional) 58-64

Current location (optional) Wirral