Showing posts with label school. Show all posts
Showing posts with label school. Show all posts

Thursday, 3 April 2025

Book Idioms

Several words have become part of the language in being used in phrases. Last time we looked at ‘wall’ and now look at ‘book’.

Book is also used to refer to a record of bets made, this is first seen in 1812. Although ‘bookmaker’ is seen as early as 1862.


Book of life dates from the middle of the 14th century.

Nobody had the book thrown at them (in a legal sense) before 1932.

Nobody did anything ‘by the book’ until the 1590s.

Book-burning used to be a fairly common phrase, this from a time when it would have limited access to what some might consider inappropriate material, and first seen in 1850.

Domesday Book, a record dated 1086, but the first time anyone used the phrase was in 1178.

The red book, a list of peerages, is seen in 1788; but the more famous Little Red Book (Chairman Mao) comes from 1967.


The term schoolbook first appears in 1709.

Copybooks made their debut in the 1580s.

Fieldbooks, used by naturalists, is seen from 1848.

Bookplates have been written about since 1791.

Nobody used a cheque book until 1872.


Scrap books have been known since 1821.

Matchbook, which contains matches, is seen from 1913.


We have seen songbooks since the late 15th century.

Storybooks have been seen since 1711, these always then referring to books for children.

Bookends have been utilized for many years, and certainly predate the first written mention in 1907.

Textbooks have existed since 1779.

Bookkeepers have been known since the 1550s.

Sunday, 16 May 2021

Bishop Roger de Clinton

In St John Street, Lichfield near the almshouses and the chapel of St John the Baptist hangs a plaque marking the site of the Culstrubbe Gate of the city. This, one of four gates, was erected by Bishop Roger de Clinton (1129-1148). The plaque is attached to what is now the offices of Lichfield Rural District Council, formerly the 16th century grammar school and headmaster's house.


Many famous men were educated here, including the wordsmith Dr Samuel Johnson, actor David Garrick, the Addison family, and Elias Ashmole. The present school of King Edward VI has four houses named after Johnson, Garrick, Addison, and Clinton.

Sunday, 18 April 2021

Hospital of St John, Lichfield

The Hospital of St John the Baptist without the Barrs in St John Street. This hospital or place of hospitality was founded just outside the walls of Lichfield in AD1135 by Austin Canons for the accommodation of pilgrims who had come to reverence the relics of St Chad. It was refounded by Bishop William Smyth in 1495, who provided more permanent accommodation for homeless men and also developed a school, this now King Edward Comprehensive School, and he also built the Masters’ House. Hospitality is still the main occupation of this ancient place. Sixteen men are accommodated permanently and people from miles around make the chapel their spiritual home. In recent years, the trustees have extended the hospital into the close, and seventeen now live there. In 1984 a new east window by John Piper was installed in the chapel by the direction of the trustees. The chapel of Old St John's is open every day. Admission is free and visitors are normally welcomed, clearly the pandemic has changed things. It should be noted though that the almshouses and masters house can only be reviewed by appointment.

Sunday, 24 June 2018

Health and Safety

Monday 19th June 1854 must have started out as a normal working day for John Hudson. On reaching the Shire Hall at Stafford he climbed the scaffolding as usual and was returning to where he had finished work two days earlier. He failed.


Moments later, having slipped through an opening in the scaffolding, he was falling back toward the ground. Such a fall would have been unlikely to have killed him, for this was no great height. Furthermore, his fall was broken by the window sill of the floor below. Hudson bounced off the sill, which threw him away from the building and he landed on the iron railings surrounding the building.

Unfortunately the decorative iron railings were topped by spikes and he landed on one. The spike entered one side of his face through the upper jaw and exited on the other side, just below his eye. Taken to Stafford Infirmary he survived to tell the tale and return to work.

In October 1968, almost fifty years ago, a damp and misty autumnal morning at Yardley Grammar School in Birmingham saw one pupil looking out for his best chum whose late appearance was highly unusual. By stepping up and standing on the low wall, this highly intelligent 12-year-old could peer over the top of the school railings and look along the street for his absent friend. He slipped. A railing impacted his face and he was concerned that there was a rather bad scratch across his most handsome face. He was mistaken.


The spike had actually entered the fleshy part of his face below the jawline and as he attempted to lower himself to the ground, had only succeeded in pushing it further into his face and exiting through the cheek. Luckily he managed to pull himself back up to where he had been standing on the wall and effectively lift his face back off the spike. Thinking now might be a good time to seek medical treatment, he sauntered off to the medical room where a mirror revealed two holes in the righthand side of his face and shortly afterwards an ambulance raced him to hospital. Doctors sewed him back together with, what he then thought, an impressive 39 stitches and then reported back to his parents how the railing had missed the artery by just a fifth of an inch (5mm to we youngsters).

Sunday, 6 September 2015

Back to School

As children across the country return to school after the long summer break, coincidentally this week I found myself examining an edited transcript of the events at a nearby village school. Records began in 1872, sadly the first two lines record the deaths of two pupils - the first of which, a boy of six years of age, said to have died "from a softening of the brain."

Perhaps some of the other notes would never make it into modern diaries, although they do give an insight into what staff considered important in times gone by.

January 1873 - Mrs Arblaster visited and brought the children a packet of sweets. (One hopes it was a large packet as there were at least 80 children in attendance at this time.)

June 1875 - the school is now very full, the children rather noisy.

October 1886 - Five children had to be sent home this week suffering from a scurvy complaint.

June 1899 - Attendance not so good owing to Rugeley pleasure fair.

December 1907 - A visit from His Majesty's Inspector who reported: "A new timetable must be drawn up for the infants. Their lessons at present are far too long. The main room is very narrow, badly lighted and ill ventilated and is wedged between the Teachers House on one side and some farm buildings on the other. I understand that at times there is a most offensive smell from some neighbouring premises."

January 1912 - Mrs Orgill visited the school on Monday and gave each child the present of an orange.

May 1915 - Impromptu census of parents' occupations reveals: 54% farm workers; 17% pit workers; 30% various trades (yes this does add up to 101%)

February 1917 - Timetable will be varied during the next few months in order that many additional gardening lessons may be taken for the purpose of cultivating waste land.

July 1917 - Mr J. Price, a bee expert, called to examine the school hive.

August 1918 - Headmaster absent through examination by the Army Medical Board.

August 1918 - Commencing today children will be frequently engaged in blackberry picking (apparently this was part of a national scheme)

March 1927 - Gardening class will be allowed to attend the pruning competition in the orchard belonging to Mr Jones opposite the school at 2pm.

May 1939 - Emergency Supplies S arrived today and have been duly stored unopened (it seems they knew what these were, although I wish they had bothered to note what "Emergency Supplies S" actually contained.

September 1939 - Outbreak of war meant the school remained closed in the morning to allow the headmaster to attend a meeting in Lichfield (this would have been to discuss taking evacuees).

June 1940 - Ten evancuated children from Westgate-on-Sea arrived at the school.

September 1940 - Air raid siren at 3:15pm saw the children head for the shelters until the all clear sounded at 4pm. (Until the end of this year the siren sounded out a further eight times)

September 1941 - two groups of children were out picking blackberries which were later delivered to the Drink Preservation Centre. Later that month other parties collected elderberries and rose-hips.

November 1947 - children had a day's holiday to mark the wedding of a certain Princess Elizabeth to Lieutenant Philip Mountbatten.

June 1953 - 64 children and three teachers had a half-day's holiday and attended Rugeley Plaza to see a film entitled The Queen is Crowned.

October 1953 - another day's holiday, this time to allow the children to travel to see Queen Elizabeth, th e Queen Mother open Blithfield Reservoir.

January 1964 - During the holidays the school had had toilets installed and connected to the main sewer, the old privy buildings were demolished.

February 1965 - Granada Television delivered the school's first ever television.

April 1969 - overnight the school rabbits were stolen.

December 1970 - industrial action by power station workers resulted in children being sent home with a letter warning parents they may find the children sent home at any time when the temperature in the school dropped too low.

July 1990 - (and my personal favourite) saw the evening report by the school governors attended by a single parent. This was July 4th 1990 which, as any football supporter will be well-aware, was the evening of the World Cup Semi-Final at Italia 90 between West Germany and England. The match went to extra time and then penalties - although I just can't recall who won the penalty shoot-out.

Sunday, 20 April 2014

Unsuitable Surnames

Talking about place names I am often asked to give my thoughts on the origins of surnames, particularly those derived from place names. A few days ago a lady asked me to define her married name. I could do so but, without giving details of the name, she commented on how unsuitable this was considering both she and her husband had met at the school where they were both teachers. This started me thinking about the teachers at my schools and whether their names were appropriate for their chosen subjects or character.

Beasley – undoubtedly a place name, however unless I know which example it represents it is difficult to know the true origin. Most describe ‘the woodland clearing where bees are found’, ie describing a source of honey. As a primary school teacher he was a generalist so had no specialist subject that I knew off. He was certainly not honey sweet, but may be seen to have had a sting for he had a habit of throwing the chalk to get a pupil’s attention or, if he really didn’t like you, the blackboard eraser. How times have changed.

Chapman – as an English teacher it is probably appropriate to give the Oxford English Dictionary’s definition of this name as (i) a man whose business is buying and selling (ii) an itinerant dealer, hawker or peddler (iii) an agent in commercial transaction (iv) a purchaser or customer. I have nothing to add really, save for pointing out these two syllables both refer to a man, and Chapman was female.

Deavin – a name introduced to Britain by the Normans, who initially used it as a nickname. It is ultimately associated to the Latin ‘divinus’ or god-like. A specialist subject of mathematics may be seen as divine or pure by some, yet doesn’t really seem appropriate for a teacher could never negotiate ‘double maths’ without at least one cigarette break.

Drinkwater – originated as a Saxon nickname, but not exactly what it seems. Humour changes over the centuries, things which will have caused our ancestors to proverbially wet themselves leave us cold. This seems to be such a name, for it was used ironically for one who never did (drink water) or perhaps for a landlord or inn-keeper whose ale meant the customer might as well (drink water). A geography teacher and thus includes climate, so perhaps the name can be seen as appropriate in the modern sense, if not in the original sense.

Dyke – an English teacher and certainly a place name or topographical feature. Whilst I can see no connection with the name and the male teacher, the origin of the word and/or feature is of interest. The word began as Old English dic and originally referred to the ditch/dyke feature in its entirety, ie the soil removed to create the dyke also forming the ditch. In the south of England the predominantly Saxon communities brought about the pronunciation ‘ditch’ with the obvious meaning, while the northern Scandinavian pronunciation was harder as ‘dyke’ and came to mean the earthen mound formed by the spoil from the ditch.

Fulton – a clear place name but unless we know which example it is difficult to be certain this is ful tun or ‘the foul or muddy farmstead’. I must admit I never knew what this man’s speciality was, he came as headmaster and I never knew him as anything else. Having said that, and noting he was never the most approachable or likeable of individuals, ‘foul or muddy’ does not seem particularly appropriate.

Harrison – a chemistry teacher whose name means ‘son of Harry or Henry’ and I can see no connection whatsoever.

Henderson – oddly this is the Scottish version of the previous name, here ‘the son of Hendry’ rather than Henry. Further parallels in the sciences, for Mr Henderson taught biology, although maybe here we could see a connection in the form of heredity.

Herlihy – an Irish name beginning as a byname for a feudal overlord. Not at all appropriate as she taught French and nothing else.

Howlett – originally Germanic and ‘the son of Hugo’ but brought to our shores by the Normans and thus ‘the son of Hugh’. Neither work here as this was a daughter who taught Latin.

Jenkins – a British surname, a diminutive of ‘John’. As with the name of Fulton he was also the headmaster and I never knew his chosen subject but, unlike his successor, was an affable and approachable man despite also being a strict disciplinarian.

McGregor – clearly a Scottish surname and one meaning ‘son of Gregory’ (the Christian name means ‘watchful’). This primary school teacher was no son but a daughter, although she was certainly watchful – as I found out to my cost for two consecutive years during which time she loathed me every single day (yes, including weekends and holidays).

Mills – whilst not a miller it does refer to milling and the mill, which require the large grinding stones or querns to grind the corn. This is relevant for the subject was geology.

Preece – depends on the origin and language as to whether this is Welsh ‘the son of Rhys’ or Norman French pris quite literally ‘price’. Neither language nor meaning is appropriate for an English teacher.

Richmond – certainly a place name, unusually for an English place name one of Old French derivation and meaning ‘strong hill’. This definition fits neither the person nor the music teacher.

Saunders – for many years this was said to be from Alexander, yet there have been some surnames traced to Sanderstead in Surrey, a name meaning ‘the sandy homestead’ – no link to a teacher of mathematics.

Shuttleworth – an obvious place name and one meaning ‘the barred enclosure’. No link to any individual and not an art teacher.

Wallbank – a name from a minor topographical feature meaning exactly what it says, a wall with a bank. If this is seen as something from history then it is appropriate for a history teacher.

Young – means exactly what it says, a nickname for ‘the young one’. A teacher of English who was certainly in the last years of his career.

The exercise was really only to look at the origin of a selection of surnames. To choose former teachers was solely to reduce the options to a manageable number (albeit taking the opportunity to have a little dig back at one or two).

Sunday, 3 June 2012

Schooldays with Whatshisname

Ideas for writing come from the strangest places. An aroma, a tune, a news item, a venue, or even a particular meal might bring to mind a memory which results in an idea. The other day it was the face of a child who looked very like a boy I was at school with forty-odd years ago. I don't remember his name, yet do recall how his unpopularity did not diminish his annoying enthusiasm one iota, nor did it stop an extraordinary claim which I recalled the instant I saw his doppleganger.

I recall the autumnal chill in the air when this odd individual insisted if, after visiting the upstairs toilet and flushing, you didn't reach the bottom of the stairs before the flush finished you would die. Nothing was offered as to the means of our potential demise nor how this had failed to kill off the entire population before we were in on this fascinating snippet. Despite the utter absurdity of this statement there were those who chorused "Yeah?!"

Most likely the chap grew up to become a plumber, possibly working for Dyno rod. Undoubtedly he is still plunging headlong down staircases in the hope of reaching the bottom in an effort to delay meeting his maker for a while longer.

All this brought to mind by the face of a child who must have been left wondering what he had done to attract the attention of some greying fellow with a notebook.