I was a lad of about 14 or so when William Golding came on to the scene at BWS. He taught me English for a while. I can recall him very clearly in Room A. He was never a great communicator in class. Looking back, I can see it was that artistic temperament which was at the back of it. All that literature in his head just waiting to burst forth into print must have made having to teach us boys a severe trial of patience.
Writing on the blackboard was a bit of a chore. First a bit of slopey right hand, then a bit of slopey left hand. It was fringy, like his beard, to say the least. But then there was poetry.
When 'Scruff' Golding read poetry, all the angels in heaven stopped to listen - it was pure music. I have never been much of a poetry person but whenever I do read some to my grandchildren, I can hear William Golding in every line, even though I could never come near him in actual performance.
Then there was the music. In those days, BWS had quite an acceptable orchestra, bolstered up, unquestionably, by the experienced playing of several members of staff.
I was privileged, but not very well qualified, to be the leader of the orchestra during my final session at school. William Golding played the oboe. Those were fun days. We toured other long-suffering schools in the area. Good times for us at least.
Non-instrumentalists may be fascinated to learn that an oboe player has to 'warm-up' the reed of his oboe before it is fit to play by sucking it between his lips to make it moist. 'Scruff' could, and frequently did, make some amazing kissing noises with his reed and send them across to Fiona Brown, the talented and glamorous wife of Tony Brown, the associate music master.
Little things like this make a school memorable. Long live the memory of Sir William. Whoever would have thought....?
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