19th May 1952

He was not built for sport but by courage & will-power made himself into a useful Rugby forward.

W.G. Hutchins
Headmaster of Wallington County Grammar School for Boys

History and Heritage of WCGS

The County School for Boys, Wallington opened on the 19th September 1927, the 33rd birthday of Mr. W. T. Hutchins, its first Headmaster. There were just 71 pupils when the school opened at its original site in Queen's Road, Wallington. We moved to our present siet in 1935. To join the school, boys had to pass the entrance examination, or win a county scholarship. Parents had to pay the not inconsiderable sum of £3 per term.
The outbreak of war led to a time of crisis for the School. In February 1944, a bomb exploding outside the senior cloakroom demolished a section of the building, and four months later a flying bomb landed near Bunker's Alley, breaking nearly every window in the School and causing widespread damage. The Headmaster refused to close the School and emergency repairs made it possible for a few rooms to be used. Additional accommodation was provided at Carew Manor, which was to be the home of the Lower School until 1972.

Following the introduction of grammar schools in the 1944 Education Act, the School became known as Wallington County Grammar School for Boys.
The School is blessed by the long service of its Headmasters. Mr. Hutchins, the founding Headmaster, opened the School in 1927 on his 33rd birthday, and served for 32 years. He was succeeded in 1959 by Mr. Hitchin, who served for 17 years before handing over to Mr. Harrison, whose 14 year stint was exceeded by Dr. Haworth, who began his headship in 1990 and served for twenty years. Mr. Smart has been Headteacher at WCGS since 2010.

Smoking sucks and so does not smoking

in the words of Dorothy Parker

Résumé

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

Secret Tips

Now I've been smoke-free for three months, one week, 21 hours, 19 minutes and 26 seconds. 3915 cigarettes not smoked, saving £1,011.73. Life saved: 1 week, 6 days, 14 hours, 15 minutes.

Mystery Dude asked me do I have any tips?

I don't want to be a big old Negativio but I don't really.

The thing is, forget all that propaganda shite about what a liberating time smoking cessation is. It doesn't seem to have been a time for joy and celebration, relishing the new potency of your healthy bod etc etc.

It has been a time of grim endurance. Even now after 3 months I want a fag almost all the time. There is a sort of pleasure in noticing how much suffering I've endured.

Sounds like I'm being sarky, but I'm not, there's a tip after all. Enjoy the fact that you have endured suffering. Think about the people who love you, which I'm sure in your case MD is quite a gang. So you have given them the best gift by taking steps to avoid death, even though it hurt and inconvenienced you massively. Even though it made you into a fat mentalist. Even though you can't sleep and when you do everything feels wrong and bleak when you wake up. Even though life is now confusing and different.

So you did all that - for them, and you. That would make you a hero wouldn't it? xx

And then..

..all of a sudden it seems I have not smoked for Two months, three days, 20 hours, 28 minutes and 31 seconds. 2514 cigarettes not smoked, saving £649.90. Life saved: 1 week, 1 day, 17 hours, 30 minutes.

• I am fed up with life without fags.
  
• Every evening goes on forever and is no fun.
  
• Every part of me itches.
  
• I hear myself moan on and on about everything to everyone.
  
• There is a faint atmosphere of tomato soup coming up from my lungs all the time and it is debilitating.
• I am a great big fatso now.
• My only relief is in being drunk and sleeping with people I shouldn't.

I thought I might be able to blog myself back to joy. But then was I ever there?

Been thinking about why I complain so much and I suddenly got it, its because I don't think its fair. Whew - listen to the first sentence I uttered this morning. "I just want my sink outlet to go down a pipe into a drain, like everyone else's does". (Sink currently outletting over a concrete bit of the garden because a pipe fell off)
Well that's fucked up thinking. Sure, its true that most people's used washing-up water goes down a drain at this point in time. But what I mean to imply with my sulky whinge is that this sort of thing doesn't happen to anybody but me. I am so so so unlucky.

But am I buggery unlucky. Check it out. I live in a 5 bedroom house that I have complete control over. I have enough money to live on. I love my job. I am my own boss and my business is thriving. I have 3 children that are, in the main, superb. Though I have smoked 40 fags a day for nigh on 30 years, I do not have emphysema or lung cancer (touch wood). I can think of at least 5 men who would love to be my boyfriend. I have many and varied lovely and loyal friends. I have the freedom to do what I like. I've got a brilliant dog, an ace piano teacher, loads of good books to read and an acting workshop to go to on Monday's.

Off to take Ali to Guides now. More later.

Bjork - Unravel

I aint gay or anything, apart from my deep unconditional love for Bjork.

Because who could resist her, walking in on her heels in stripy tights in a chapel.

Bjork: While you are away my heart comes undone. Slowly unravels in a ball of yarn. The devil collects it with her grin. Our love. In a ball of yarn. He'll never return it.

Indigenous Peeps: When you come back, we'll have to make new love.

But how beautiful.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VbHGOFwH09k

Some people in a tannery

It's a long way down

This is my daughter's feet on the glass floor of the Spinnaker tower in Portsmouth. A very scary place to be.