Rowing Against the Tide - A career in sport and politics Read Online Free Page B

tea, I recalled the story of the Border Collie, and to my delight the locals remembered his regular racing of the train, though of course he had long gone to join his doggie mates wherever they go after this life !
    In preparation for the World Scout Jamboree in 1947, the Indian contingent stayed with us at our headquarters, for apart from the building, we were lucky enough to own a triangular field formed between two roads, and the path leading to Stamford Brook Underground Station. They were a great crowd, but sadly it coincided with the partition of India, and the creation of Pakistan, for many were unable to return home, either having being told their families had been killed, or they just could not obtain information as to their family’s whereabouts. We particularly befriended one Indian who came to our home for supper, and asked us to keep a secret, for he was the only Christian in the contingent. There was a spot of bother over the attempt to arrange a slaughter that would provide acceptable meat for the Muslim scouts, but was the first time many of us, apart from the Rovers like Ginger Cole, had ever had curry, and having a meal with them was something quite new. Apart from the troubles faced by my own people, this was the first time I realised the troubles that existed between the Moslems, the Hindus, the Sikhs and the Christians on the subcontinent. Sadly it is still the same now in the 21st century.
    I was at home with the sciences, with practical chemistry as my favourite. I don’t recall our chemistry master’s proper name, for we only knew him as Dogsbody. I was persuaded at one stage, to produce a stink bomb for friends, and concocted a mixture that produced phenol/iso/cyanide, which cleared the place. Realising that it could be poisonous, and was an extremely stupid thing to have done, I owned up to the Head and was suspended for three days. I could not face my parents with what I’d done, so I duly packed my things as usual on each of those days, and took myself up to the West End of London, to while away the time until returning home at the usual time.
    The school rowing club at that time, was run on a proverbial shoestring, for the one fine eight we used, had more shellac and sticky tape holding it together, than it had cedar in it’s skin. The school rented racks at the West End Amateur Boat Club, but when that closed we were adopted by the Furnivall Club and stayed with them until many years later the school was able to provide the present splendid boathouse adjacent to the school. Our Captain of Boats was Michael Phelps, the first amateur in his family, for his father was the boatman at Thames Rowing Club. So at the time, we were all made honorary members of Thames Rowing Club, and one of their oldest and most distinguished members, Berry, took pity on us and donated an old but excellent boat, duly named Berry, in which we rowed during my last two years at school.
    We did reasonably well in the school league running at that time, but our biggest hate were our neighbours St Pauls. Most schools invited you to tea after a race, but not St Pauls, they just paddled off back to their boathouse, confirming the widely held view of the rest of us, that they just felt superior to all the other schools on the Tideway at that time. The Schools Head one year, had a chaotic start, and when I realised that St Pauls had started, and no one had sent us off, or maybe in the turmoil we hadn’t heard the start called, I set us off with a call from the cox’s seat. We were furious to find that St Pauls had gone Head, by a couple of seconds, and we were certain, that we would have had that honour had the start not been messed up. To be fair, in 1952 they turned out to be one of the fastest school crews in the country, beating both the London and Thames Rowing Clubs in subsequent regattas. Rowing wasn’t the only sport where St Paul’s tried to look down on what they considered their inferiors, and showed it again in