The Schools

 
If you learnt your poetry, and recited it correctly, you were allowed to go earlier than the rest of the class. All Saints Day, Empire Day, Acension Day, etc, we went across for a service at the church and then had the rest of the day off. This being because it was a Church of England school. On the way home from school, a lot of the children used to go 'scrumping' in Miss Cresswell's garden (opposite Upper Cranmore; the cottage has since been demolished).
 
Miss Wright used to be the church organist and different boys used to have to pump air into the organ for services. She used to teach the piano. I would cycle to her house, below the cricket green, knock on her door, not give her time to answer (it was an elongated house), jump back on my bike, go home to mum and say she wasn't in! My mother used to send me straight back, knowing full well that I hadn't waited long enough. I hated the lessons, especially when she rapped my knuckles with a ruler (Oh, how I regret not persevering!).
 
One outing from school I remember being organised was a trip to Windsor Castle, which was out of this world for us as Bognor Regis was about as far as most of us ever visited.
 
Tommy Frankham used to suck his thumb in class; the teacher was so cross with him that she tied his hands together behind his back with a yellow duster.
 
One of the saddest things that happened during my schooling was when Freddy Frankham, who was 2 years younger than me, was run over by Mervyn, the Co-op baker, who reversed without knowing that Freddy was round the back of the delivery van. We were made to attend the funeral, which made a very big impression because the Frankhams were of Romany origin, hence everyone was draped in black and there seemed hundreds of them, all crying and wailing.
 
My father was killed going out to Dunkirk when I was only 3 years old, so I don't remember him. As there was just my sister Josie and myself, my mum had to take in three evacuees. They were Doreen, Molly and Ronny Langdon from London and they all attended Heyshott school.
 
We lived at Hoyle Farm Cottages (before it was converted from two cottages to one), which meant a long walk to school along Hoyle Lane. If we were lucky we got a lift in Mr Arthur Lovejoy's horse and cart, often driven by Godfrey Kewell.
 
Our school playground was an uneven grassy slope. In the ditch at the end, running parallel with the church wall, was lovely clay which was easy to mould. We also enjoyed seeing and patting 'Old Peter', Mr Leslie Parry's donkey, which was often tethered near Mrs Walder's wall (now 'Cobdens' just below the school).
 
Opposite the shop and post office, which was on the way home, was a very large bramble bush, behind which the bigger boys used to hide. They waited for us and then harassed us so much that we used to walk back all the way to Marsh Pond and then across the fields to Hoyle. We used to arrive home very muddied and bedraggled.
 
A happy memory is when the Maypole was danced for the American troops camped at Hoyle.'
 
The closure of the school in 1951 was one of the greatest blows the village has ever suffered.