Memories of Hullavington
Many Thanks to Janice Tiley for
providing this
Memories of Hullavington School
By Mrs Marjorie Dolman
I remember starting school when I was five years old, sitting in the front row,
near a huge stove fire. We began the day with a hymn and prayers and had the
Register called.
One day I was very frightened when the schoolmaster and one of the elder boys,
Joe Hulance, had a terrible fight over making up the stove fire. Joe, for some
reason unknown to me, kept flatly refusing to take the long iron poker from Mr
Ray the schoolmaster. I would think he had more bumps on his toes than Joe did.
I was always told Joe won in the end.
The schoolmaster had a bald head and it was redder than the coal in the stove.
He also had a very hot temper, which I found out as I grew older. Sometimes he
could be very kind and understanding. When we were learning our parts in a
concert he made sure everything and everybody was perfect. No half way suited
him and his look was enough for all us children. In the end he always praised us
and was proud of us.
As I moved into the next room, Miss Maud Bishop was our teacher. She was very
strict and kind. She took us for singing lessons. We only sang notes and always
the same: D M S D D R D R M M M R D D T D, and she played the notes with one
hand on a very old, out of tune, organ which makes me have a good laugh since
I’ve grown older.
Growing older, I was then moved into the big room and Mr Ray was my teacher. I
had seen and knew he could be most unkind. I remember seeing him hit boys clean
out of the desks with two hard books. He once made another village girl and me
kneel on the hard boards; then he came along and kicked us both. We went over,
but not hurt, of course. We both remember it to this day and we are both over
seventy now. I can’t remember why he punished us. No doubt for talking as we sat
together.
Some afternoons Mrs Ray took the girls for sewing. I always enjoyed sewing and
took a keen interest in it. There was no half way. The stitches had to be
perfect. No matter how many times you had to unpick it, one long stitch in a
long row and all had to be undone and done again. I must admit I was a good
sewer – so good that when her two daughters went to College she brought
underclothes to be made at school. I had the job of doing the frills and letting
in rounds of lace. Sometimes I had to stay in at playtimes, which I didn’t like
very well. Mrs Ray never forgot a word of praise for any of us.
I must tell you a story, which is amusing now, but not at the time. I was about
9 or 10. The 1914 war was on so we were all allowed to go blackberrying at some
time of the day if fine. We had three pence for every pound we picked. We had
round hampers sent from Barker & Co., Birmingham. The boys used to paint the
address in big blue lettering on a rather large piece of white paper. The boys
had used our sewing desks for painting these letters in the morning and it was
sewing class in the afternoon. We all had sewing bags we tied round our waist
with our name on. I was making a chemise for Mrs Ray – white calico it was. I
pulled out my sewing and gave it a shake out and then very carefully placed the
back part of the chemise on the desk. I remember how exact I was placing it out
to see where I had to start sewing in the front part. When I picked my garment
up – dear me – Barker & Co., Birmingham was very plainly marked on the back of
poor Mrs Ray’s chemise. The boy had left it all wet and I didn’t notice it.
I had to go and tell Mrs Ray and I was very frightened. She wasn’t very nice to
me; not a bit forgiving, but told me to take it home and Mother was to wash it
clean or pay for it. I took it home but I didn’t tell my mother. I got some hot
water and heaps of soda (that’s all you had to use in that day). I only wetted
the bottom end of it where the lettering was. I cleaned it as best I could, but
I couldn’t iron it. I kept it from my mother – I can’t think why I didn’t tell
her for she was so very kind and understanding. But then, how does a child’s
mind work?
Mrs Ray wasn’t at all pleased, but she did say it was better, but not very
clean. She would take it home and give it a good boil.
Now I remember the time when I was nearer leaving school, in Mr Ray’s room.
Every morning about eleven he used to put something in a glass of water that we
thought was whiskey because his bald head would be as red as fire and we had to
be careful as his temper soon rose. I was monitor for one week so it was the
rule Mr Ray’s glass had to be taken outside and washed. I thought I wonder what
whiskey tasted like and as there was a drop in the glass I tasted it – if it was
enough to taste! After I had tasted it I was so frightened to go back in where
Mr Ray was, so I drank glass after glass of water and when I placed the glass
back in front of him I kept well back, thinking he might smell it – now as if he
would!
The school bell rang at a quarter to nine and half past nine in the morning and
quarter past one and half past one in the afternoon. In the winter when the ice
was frozen on the pond, we were allowed to run down there for our quarter hour
playtime. We sometimes pretended not to hear the bell and someone had to come
for us. Then we were punished in some way.
I must give honour where it is due. We all liked Mr & Mrs Ray and our teachers,
Miss Neal and Miss Bishop. I think all the older people who went to the Village
School look back on their school days and feel that their teaching has made us
good parents and, in many ways, good villagers. The strict schooling and the
strap did us no harm.
To the school children of today I say take good notice of your teachers and be
good. In later life you will be grateful to them.
M W Dolman
June 1982
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