Chapter 7 - ‘New Beginnings’ – ‘Dreams Begin’
It is August 1962. I have started work!!!!!!!!!
Those in charge of me:
• call me by my first name
• ask after my welfare
• forgive my mistakes and help me to correct them
• encourage and motivate me
• allow me to eat and smoke in the office
• allow me to leave the office when I want to spend a penny
• allow me to talk to others on almost any subject
Girls flirt with me, and elderly females mother me. I have
landed in paradise!!! It must be like arriving in the West after spending years
in a Gulag. Were there any Gulags named ‘Trinity’?
Strange that in the early sixties ‘School life’ was hell and work was cushy.
Today, the roles appear to have been reversed. Maybe that’s the route of all our
‘social ills’.
I have read with great interest and amusement Peter Douglas’ account of his last
day at Trinity. I don’t remember a last day. Of course, there must have been
one. I just don’t recall it. All I remember is that when I finished my last
exam, I stopped going, and no one came looking for me.
Although, I lived close to Trinity, it was many years before I could bring
myself to walk up Trinity Avenue and pass the school. When I finally did, I
quite expected to be accosted by ‘Gunner’ and dragged in for another dose of
double French.
A kindly welsh lady in my first office went some way to alleviating my burning
hatred of all things welsh. After five years at Trinity,
I began to believe that the objective of all Welshmen was to put English youth
to the sword at the earliest opportunity.
The tour of the school as part of the 2004 reunion certainly laid a few ghosts
to rest for me. As an eleven year old never having been used to more than a one
storey building, the Tower Block was a terrifying experience. At that time, I
found the building to be a cold and foreboding place.
However, when I returned in 2004, the Tower Block seemed small compared with
what I remembered, and the rest of the building appeared much more welcoming.
Maybe, it was the sight of so many old friends and the absence of the more
gruesome teaching fraternity. That last remark is a bit unfair. They were not
all monsters.
I remember fondly Harry Hartwell, and was grateful for the chance to meet
him again at a 1997 reunion not long before he sadly passed away.
The 1962/63 Season saw dreams beginning to happen for the Cobblers. After a
protracted season due to one of the two bleakest winters in living memory,
Cobblers were crowned Champions of Division 3 beating Swindon Town by just four
points.
The Team was based on a cast iron defence led by an inspirational skipper Theo
Foley at right back, Terry Branston at centre half, Mike Everitt at left back
and the dapper goalkeeper Chic Brodie.
Dave Bowen’s youth policy was yielding the likes of Barry Lines, Tommy Robson,
Billy Best, Brian Etheridge, Don Martin and Graham Carr. The Goal Scoring
Machines of Alec Ashworth and Cliff Holton helped to notch up 109 league goals.
Only the great Spurs side scored more goals that season.
To be Continued ‘Chapter 8 – The Second Division Beckons’
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