This account was originally sent to members of the Lichfield Cathedral Former Choristers' Association in 2014 and is reprinted here with permission.
I am grateful to Michael Cockin, Richard Lloyd, Colin Smith
and Geoffrey Walker for their recollections and for confirming my own memories.
The day started at 7.00am with a jug of cold water being
poured over one’s neck, administered by the headmaster, the Reverend Egerton Walters.
It was wise to lean well over the edge of the bath to avoid the water running
down one’s back. Thereafter, we ran around the Close before breakfast.
At mealtimes the Headmaster said grace in Latin before and
after the meal. His words were ‘Benedictus benedicat’ but sometimes with the
additional words ‘per Jesum Christum Dominum nostrum’; after the meal it was ‘Benedictus
benedicata’.
Lessons, including Latin and French, followed the usual
school curriculum save that every day at midday we assembled in the Song School
for choir practice conducted by the Organist and Master of the Choristers, Ambrose
Porter.
The song room was at the end of a passage behind the Dean
Savage library. We were able to observe Ambrose’s approach and had time to be
at our allotted seats by the time he entered the room. Ambrose was a kindly
man, nicknamed by us as ‘Potegg’ as he was short and stout. He was exclusively
in control of our musical life and undoubtedly he became the most important
figure in our school lives. He sat at the piano on a high hassock in a low-backed
Windsor chair which we christened ‘the
egg-cup’.
Once a week, apart from choir practice, Ambrose held a ‘sing
song’ lesson. We enjoyed singing various songs from a collection by Adam Carse
who is little known today: it made a pleasant change from anthems and settings.
A particular favourite song was I
wandered lonely as a cloud by Clifford Harker who went on to become the
Organist of Bristol Cathedral.
On Saturdays we had an additional choir practice with the
men in the Cathedral.
By Eastertime, Ambrose had succeeded in training us into a
cohesive choir ready to appear on Easter day in our red cassocks and surplices.
I remember singing the Easter Carol This
joyful Eastertide which has remained a firm personal favourite.
I always sat on the Cantoris side under the watchful eye of
the Headmaster who sat on the Decani side: woe betide anyone who was seen to
laugh. Sometimes the men behind us made jokes which made it difficult to keep a
straight face.
The services consisted of Sunday Matins followed by Sung
Eucharist (on alternate Sundays) and Evensong at 3.30pm. On weekdays we sang Evensong
on Tuesdays and Saturdays, and on Friday morning we sang the Litany Service.
There were additional services on Saints’ days.
The standard of education was fairly high and the time spent
on singing did not affect the time spent on education. Emphasis was put on
dictation and spelling and the good grounding in grammar and spelling made an
important contribution for later life.
Discipline was quite strict and certainly the Headmaster was
not averse to using the cane on one’s backside. An instruction to go and wait
outside the headmaster’s study invariably meant corporal punishment would be
administered. It was usually four or six strokes and a victim was expected to
display his stripes in the dormitory to his fellow pupils.
The school’s first playing field was behind St John’s church some distance from the Close; it is
now used by the city tennis club. The next playing field was by Stowe Pool and
finally the school took over the playing fields beyond the stark building,
Selwyn House, at the end of the Close, then used as a Theological College.
I recall Dean Iremonger telling us the story how one old lady had a squabble
with her sister who lived by St Chad’s Church in a house with an uninterrupted
view of the Cathedral across Stowe pool: out of spite the other sister erected
this tall building so as to spoil the view!
Dean Iremonger was a bachelor who lived in a small house in 9,
The Close which is the present Cathedral Shop. He took a kindly interest in the
choir and had strong views about what music should be sung in the Cathedral;
Ambrose was obliged to respect his wishes. For instance, Stainer’s music was
not generally acceptable although there were some exceptions, including I saw the Lord.
Mr Dodd, the Head Verger, lived next door and escorted the
Dean to the Cathedral; Mr Dodd wore an unusual hat for these occasions. Because
the Dean did not wish to live in the Deanery, this building became available
for the School in about 1944. .
The headmaster and his family moved into one half as their
residence and a number of the choristers moved into the other part. I was
fortunate to move to the Deanery and certainly the dormitory was a very
pleasant room. We continued to use School House (12, The Close) for all meals.
There was a Broadwood grand piano in the large room in the Deanery on which we
were allowed to practise.
Being wartime, the culinary standards were not exciting.
There was an element of compulsion about eating all the food on one’s plate. I
recall I had some difficulty, particularly with some fish which smelt somewhat
differently from the fish I eat today! However, I do remember that ‘spotted
dick’ was a firm favourite. I recall one boy, Booth, was adept at cleaning
every spot of jam out of a jam jar with a knife; by the time he had finished,
nothing was left.
Because of the shortage of sweets many of us brought jars of
malt and cod liver oil to school. The matron kept our jars in a storeroom and
after breakfast we would be given a dessert spoon to enable us to take one or
two spoonfuls of malt. It was regarded as a treat by some of us and was no
doubt an important contribution to our diet.
We were allowed to walk down into the town and the chemist’s
shop was an important port of call for glucose tablets and meloids, a liquorice
based throat sweet; occasionally it was possible to find a bar of Cadbury’s
ration chocolate.
