Leaving school

 

In the fifth form at Acklam Hall Grammar School, I was faced with a dilemma.

GCE examinations were to take place, the result of which were crucial in deciding whether to continue to sixth form for two years and another set of exams. The A levels are precursors to applying for a university place. Therefore, results in both GCSE and A level exams were important.

By only creeping past 11 plus exams by interview after failure in the exam itself, coupled with my poor academic performance at grammar school, did not bode well for further study.

On the other hand, it would mean two more years of rugby! The results of my GCE examinations would be crucial here. I got five passes out of eight subjects. It seemed OK. However, my brother got 7 out of eight sitting a year earlier as a fourth former! On reflection, the thought of five more years of study at school and university if I were successful in A levels which are much more specialised and harder was not appealing and I decided to leave after fifth form at the age of 16.

But what to do?

As the eldest in the family and a boy, you might think there would be pressure to seek a well-paid career path. But there was no pressure. Neither was there any real interest in specific careers. However, our family came from a long line of Mariners, so going to see became an obvious choice. Father was at sea and Grandpa, who lived with us, was a retired captain. For some reason I decided to try for the Royal Naval Officer College in Dartmouth. I do not know why, but I did.

You need to keep in mind that the year was 1956 and I was a middle-class Yorkshire Grammar School boy.

I was instructed to attend HMS Eaglet in Liverpool docks. Not sure how I got there, but late morning. In 1956 I climbed the gangway into the hull of a retired Royal Naval Man of War. A Petty Officer took me down into a large room where I discovered there were four of us, a grammar schoolboy from Lancashire, myself, and two youths dressed in Penguin suits, well, that's what it looked like. Black uniform and hats. Later I learnt was either Eton or Harrow public schools. Remember in the UK a public school is really a private school for the rich. So, it looks like there was a competition between grammar school and public school.

The Petty Officer explained that we must first undergo an intelligence test and that would be followed by an interview.

There were a lot of questions, and you will not be able to complete them all in the allotted time, he told us. So, we started on this multiple-choice type question and answers and myself and the Lancashire lad finished them all in time. Not so the two other boys. Hope this means we are OK. Then I was led into a large room with a long table on one side. Behind the table was a dizzy array of gold braid belonging to at least 6 Royal Naval or Royal Naval Reserve officers. On the other side of the table, was a single chair for me. Somewhat intimidating. It started with a range of questions about my background, academic and sport achievements. And then the bombshell!

What did I think of Hornblower! Well, I had read the books and enjoyed them, but what to say?? A good captain, a bad captain, so I garbled out the sort of answer knowing that it was not enough.

Thank you and wait in the next room, said one of the officers. Sometime later I was called in to hear that I had not made the grade. The same was true for the other grammar schoolboy from Lancashire, but the two public school boys were through! Such was life in the 1950’s, but no regret.

Sometime later Dad was on leave and suggested I try for the Merchant Navy, and he thought Thos. & Jno. Brockbank’s based in Liverpool was a respected shipping company. So I applied, got an interview and Dad and I took the train to Liverpool to meet the Marne Superintendent Captain Cadwallader. I must have made a good impression and /or my fathers presence helped because I got an acceptance letter soon after and my career as a Merchant navy officer was to begin.