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1948-49

CONTENTS An Appreciation

Letter The Summer Term and After

Chanctonbury

The Jackdaw in Peacock's Feathers

My Kind of Music—Yours ?

Paradise Lost

Day Dreams

Extra Dragon

Here is a Problem Set for You

Have you Heard

The Green Curtain

School Concerts

A Term Ends

How Many Months

My Dream

Tree Puzzle

Sports Practice

Lacrosse

My First Impressions as a New Girl

The Farmyard

The Knight of the Burning Pestle

The Expedition to the Munich and

The Good Road

Nocturnal Journey

The Fire Alarm

The Dance

My Experience of the C.E.W.C.

The Ways of the Sweet

New Bread

Staff

Heads of Houses . . .

Exam Results

School Certificate

Medals and Certificates Awarded by the National

Association of Teachers of Dancing .

Matches Played 1948—1949

Matches Played 1948—1949

Old Girls' News

3

Vienna Galleries

Lectures

H. S. and M. L. Blakey Helen Sheehan-Dare

Robinetta Armfelt

Sarah White

Giulia Powell and Diana Waters

Antonia Gianetti

Elizabeth Marchbank

Ida Heywood

Ida Heywood

Valerie Freeland

. . . G. K. Garstin

Ann Pullinger

Patricia Hutchinson

Judy Miller

Leueen Yorke-Torr

Margaret Gittins

Diana Wates

Ann Trevor

Catherine Guerrier

Antonia Gianetti

Antonia Gianetti

Angela Cole

June Moss

Pat Pears

Vivien Lynch

Giulia Powell

Dianthe Forster Brown

Robinetta Armfelt

Page 4

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IN APPRECIATION

It is with much regret that at the end of term we say good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Blakey. During these last three years they have done more for the school than can be assessed in a few words. Their interest has been felt in every department of school life, so that everybody has been encour­aged and inspired to do their utmost. In parti­cular an interest in the affairs of the world outside school has been stimulated and the in­troduction of such things as a reference library, attendance at good concerts and lectures, visits to art exhibitions and places of historical interest, have helped to broaden our outlook.

They will be sorely missed, but we can only wish them every success in the wider sphere to which they are going.

■i

BATTLE ABBEY. December, 1949.

Dear Girls, Thank you very much for all your kindness to

us while we have been at the Abbey. We are very sorry to leave you but " Oppor­

tunity knocks " and we are going to the kind of work we had always hoped to have. Whenever you are in the neighbourhood, just drop in. You will be sure of a warm welcome and entertain­ment to suit all tastes, wet or fine, in the open-air swimming pool or the indoor riding school, and, of course, there'll always be an art room.

Be good.

H. S. & M. L. BLAKEY.

5

The Summer Term — and After

This is the term when we have to say " good­bye " to some of those who have shared our life here.

When they have gone we shall remember them not only, or even mainly, because they passed their last examination well, or helped us to win a match here and there, but for the something which was characteristic of each.

Did she quietly lift the lame dog over the stile or leave it struggling on the other side ? Perhaps no one but she and the lame dog will ever know, but the " future " of the School, which is, in the last resort, the sum total of that which we all do — or fail to do — for it, keeps its own silent record. This record is to be found not under headings in this magazine but in the happiness and well-being of those left behind.

We thank the " Bronzes" of the year just ended for much practical help, original thought and devoted service ; for the times when courage was needed in the handling of problems and did not fail, and for those moments when they placed the general welfare above considerations of pri­vilege. These things are a legacy which will hearten those who come after. I know I am putting into words the feelings of both staff and girls when I say that we wish those leaving us God speed in all they undertake.

To those who will carry on their work I would say — in this rapidly-changing world there can be no year without its unexpected happenings and its calls upon our powers of self-discipline and our goodwill. I know that you will try to meet these when they come with courage and integrity of purpose.

HELEN SHEEHAN-DARE. JULY. 1949

b

CHANCTONBURY The Druids stand like gnarled old trees ; A solemn circle on a silent hill, Impassive to the fitful morning breeze That blows their time-bleached beards ; while poised and still The sacrificial golden sickle gleams Above a bullock on the altar-stone. The whole world waits ; the last grey shadow seems To linger till the sun-god claims his own. And when the cruel dawn glow parts the shroud That wraps the long horizon's sombre edge, A sun-ray finger pierces through the cloud And stabs the blunt grass around the evil ledge. An Elder lifts his sacred ilex rod : A thin blade falls—salutes the dreadful god.

ROBINETTA ARMFELT

THE JACKDAW IN PEACOCK'S FEATHERS Tumens inani graculus superbia, Pennas, qual pavoni deciderant, sustulit Seque exomavit. Deinde contemnens suos Immiscet se pavonum formoso gregi. Illi impudenti pennas eripiunt avi Fugantque rostris. Male mulcarus graculus Redire maerens coepit ad proprium genus A quo repulsus tristem sustinuit notam. Turn quidam ex illis quos prius despexerat: " Contentus nostris si fuisses sedibus Et quod natura dederat volisses pati, Nee illam expertus esses conrumeliam, Nee hanc repulsam tua sentiret calamitas."

PHAEDRUS. Verse Translation:

A jackdaw swelling with an empty pride Took feathers which a peacock cast aside, Then decking himself out, and despising his own band Mingled with a flock of peacocks very grand. They snatched the feathers from that cheeky flirt And pecked him out; the jackdaw, very hurt, And grieving, started off his flock to find From whom he got reception far from kind. Then a former friend of his, him thus advised, " If you would be content to stay with us And allow what nature made without a fuss Such insults you would never have to face And never meet repulsion from your race.

SARAH WHITE. 7

MY KIND OF MUSIC— YOURS?

The solemnity of Beethoven, the beauty of Grieg, and Chopin's tuneful melodies — all these are my kind of music. The music that lives. Music played or listened to that carries you out of yourself, out of this world, into a new sphere of beauty and rippling sounds. Music that stills the passions. Music into which the heart can be poured. Such is my kind of music. Such is my music and such is music.

Whenever I hear the Rachmaninoff piano concerto, I think of the sea pounding against the rocks and the cries of seagulls wheeling overhead. When the music takes a more plaintive note, I imagine a wounded bird floating on the waves. Mercilessly it is rocked to and fro until with one last effort, the bird tries to fly, fails, and dies. The waves seem sad for a while as the music changes to a calm, sad melody, but as it is not for such great powers to think over their deeds, and so once more they gathered themselves up, leaping higher and higher until with a mighty sound they hit the rocks again.

Jazz is quite enjoyable for a short time because its rhythm is so fascinating. But jazz is monotonous, there is no doubt about it, and so let us leave this subject, to seek a higher and slightly more civilized form of music than the beat of the tom-tom and the hard-worked saxophone.

Swing can be divided into two classes, the ' hot stuff' verging on jazz and the slow, heart-rending love-dirges sung by those crooners who tear out the heart and cause dead faints. These men, such as Frank Sinatra, certainly must feel deep dejection and agony as their voices are so painful (full of pain, I mean !).

There is another group known as light music. Music that is heard every half-hour on the Light Programme, every hour on the Home Service and never on the Third Programme.

There are other kinds of music besides those already mentioned. Perhaps this is your kind of music The music of humming, whirling machines. The music of the tennis racquet as it sweeps through the air. The music of lights and laughter. Yes, there is a different side to music.

Music is not made by men, it is inspired. Nature has her music too, and her's is the most beautiful kind. Her's is the music of the wind. Her's the song of the birds. Her's the music of rippling water and the gleam of sunshine. Her's the soft chord of twilight and the closing amen as the rosy hue dies. No artist can paint so vivid a picture of this as music, for " What passion cannot music raise and quell ? "

GIULIA POWELL and DIANA WATERS 8

" P A R A D I S E L O S T " Drear sky dreading the earth's unfold, Trees which moan in wind-rune For space wonder-broken By tight cloud-chill, drawn Taut across the tear-swept pane of life . . . Rot sodden on tattered ground flats, Damp density close in air packed with unbreathing . . Spindled mercy trapped in sheet-iron, Steel branches with bark metallic, rattling Like tin-tipped fingers — Beating grass, gashed with their gulling fray : Day lost, all seeming guttered — Hopeless . . . Shutting out the sun . . .

AKTONIA GIANETTI

" D A Y - D R E A M S " Often in the day I dream, Of things I want to be, And oh ! You don't know how I wish I sometimes wasn't just plain me. I curl up on the nursery seat, And stare into the darkening shade I put my hands around my feet, And stay there 'till my dreams do fade. Perhaps I think that I'm the star, That shines on me at night, It looks to me, so very far, Although it twinkles bright. Other things I'd like to be, But I know I never can. I'll always, always be just me Although some day I'll be a man.

ELIZABETH MARCHBANK (Aged 12). 9

EXTRA DRAGON If you hurry to the butcher when the best meat has been sold And wonder what is left to eat, it's certain you'll be told :

" All the bully beef and whale meat And such luxuries, I fear Were sold out very early — But there is some dragon here.

It is naturally an extra which is charged upon your bill But the service of a doctor is quite free if you feel ill.

Why, this extra bit of dragon Is a useful thing to buy Made as soup or sometimes roasted In a dragon kidney pie ! "

When you're standing in a weary queue to get your rationed meat And you get a sinking feeling at the thought of what you eat,

Just think of what is coming When we'll all be forced to take In the place of beef or mutton Just an extra dragon steak !

IDA HEYWOOD

HERE IS A PROBLEM SET FOR YOU My first is in Must but not in Do. My second is in May but not in June. My third is in Gargle but not in Tune. My fourth not in Wolf is found in Bear. My fifth is in Zoo but not in Fair. My sixth is in Ink but not in Pen. My seventh is in Chicken and in Hen. My eighth is in Wage but not in Paid. My whole ? It is something which needs your aid !

IDA HEYWOOD

" HAVE YOU HEARD . . . " . . . that a clause is when the audience bursts out clapping at the end

of a play. . . . that one of Charles IPs aims was to establish a disposition. . . . that the Act of Uniformity compelled all retailers to wear uniform. . . . that an interjection is when the doctor sticks a needle into you to

stop you getting smallpox and other diseases. . . . that the trees are nice. . . . that there are some highly strung names like Haycock-Browne. . . . that the story of Romeo and Juliet ends in great comedy where each

lover kills itself for love of the other. . . . that Thomas a Becket lost his temper with two of his bishops and

undressed them. . . . that the second time King Alfred went to Rome to see the Pope

he went in a small train. . . . that the Pope granted Henry VIII a permit to marry Catherine of

Aragon. . . . that when Harold was in York he received a telegram to say William

had landed in Hastings. . . . that my son-in-law is an antique. . . . of the Pied Piper of Hamlet. . . . that Pride's Purge was when Cromwell drove out Parliament and

put up a notice " 12 Downing Street to Let." 10

"THE GREEN CURTAIN " Oh dear !," said Mrs. Anderson to her husband, who had just come home

from work, " these three bills came in this morning, and I am sure we cannot manage to pay them as well as Peter's and the twins' school fees. If only we could find your father's old will! I have often wondered where he could have put it."

" Look here, mother," said Mr. Anderson, taking off his shoes and putting on his slippers, " there is no use in worrying about the old will. You know that we have been looking for it for years and years. I expect he hid it away before he went insane. Anyhow, you need not worry ; we can sell this old house and buy a small flat in London. After all, this is a very big mansion, and wc could make a good profit on it." Mrs. Anderson sighed. She knew the children would hate to leave the old house where they had lived all their lives. She look;d around the room. If only they could find that will.

The Andersons lived in an old house which had belonged to Mr. Anderson's father. The latter had gone a little mad towards the end of his life and he had hidden his will. This had never been found, although many had looked for a very long time. The will was valuable, for old Mr. Anderson had been a very rich old man.

That night when the children came home from school Mr. Anderson explained that they would soon have to leave die old country mansion which they knew so well, and go and live in London. They were horrified. " But father, surely we could sell some of the furniture," cried Peter. Mr. Anderson looked at his wife. " Well," she said, " We will talk it over when you children have gone to bed. Now run along, for it is time."

When the children had gone to bed, they talked it over. " There is the closet in our room, and those two pairs of silver book-ends," said Mr. Anderson, " we could sell those." " And we could sell the old green curtain, could not we, although I do not like to part w;th all those, because they were your father's. But still, I suppose we must," and Mi's. Anderson got up and went out to get the supper.

The next day being Saturday, the children did not go to school, so they helped their mother get out and pack up the silver book-ends. Then they got out the green curtain. " Oh dear ! It has got a tear in it. Look children, come here and see," cried Mrs. Anderson. The children hurried to her. She shook out the curtain. Something white fell out on to the floor. " Look what has happened, Mother," cried Daphne, " I wonder what it is."

Mrs. Anderson picked it up. It was an envelope. She opened it. Inside were some papers. She took them out and looked at them. Then, without a word to the waiting children, she dashed to the telephone. Soon, she had got through to her husband's office. She spoke to him " Peter, come back quickly. I have found the missing will. Yes, it was in the old green curtain. Quick, come back ! "

On the following Monday the lawyer saw the will. He told the Anderson's that Mr. Anderson had inherited his father's money and land. So the Anderson's did not have to part with their lovely old house, or their silver book-ends and closet, and certainly not with the old green curtain.

VALERIE FKF.F.LAND (Aged 11? yearsy II

SCHOOL CONCERTS There have been two school concerts given in the past year, and on the

whole a high standard of performance was shown. At the first concert on December 5th, Ann Stancombc and Valerie Browse

showed promise. The two best performances in the Senior School were by Diana Edwards-

Jones and Daphne David. The choir ended the concert with Carols. At the second concert on March 20th, the best performances were by

Hilary Hockley, Odile van Zwanenberg and Dianihc Forster-Brown. The junior and senior choirs sang the songs which were set for the Hastings Festival in which the Senior Class won the first prize in a very keen competition.

If the Junior Class had sung as well at the Festival as they did on this occasion they would definitely have been runners-up.

The choir ended the concert with " The Lord Is My Shepherd " and " Worship," a lovely song by Dr. Geoffrey Shaw.

G. K. GARSTIN

A TERM ENDS Concerts and recitals

Are all great fun, But a midnight feast

With many a bun, Packing and plays,

And parties too, Playing touch last

And hunt my shoe, Films and festivals

Fill me with glee,. But playing at home.

I'd rather be, Matches and singing,

And riding too, Hiding and seeking

And saying ' Boo—' But at home, at home

Is much more fun Playing at soldiers

And firing a gun. ANN PULLINGER (Aged 12 years)

12

HOW MANY MONTHS How many months have passed since last I saw Amid the noisy laughing crowds, the statue Of a man ? Shining white against an azure sky He stood, a strong bold figure carved of stone. His arms were folded, head held high and eyes That surely would be blue above his mouth, which smiled. I used to stop and gaze up at his face ; At times I thought I saw him smile at me ; And when one day I walked in deep despair His look was kind, and so I found I'd told Him all the things that troubled me. But if I felt I had to laugh and sing Well then his eyes would crinkle at the sides As though we held a secret quite apart From all the men and women hurrying by, And he would merrily join with my mirth. One evening walking back along that street Oblivious of all the noise around, longing to see The silhouette of kindly strength, touched By the setting sun whose light would lend A warmth and soft humanity to that grey stone, I came, and only saw an empty shadow Of a by-gone dream, told in a cloud of dust.

PATRICIA HUTCHINSON

MY DREAM Last night I met upon the stair A link man who wasn't there, He wasn't there again to-day Oh ! How I wish he'd go away. His coat was red, his hat was blue, He wore gold buckles on each shoe He had some freckles on his face, And round his wrists were cuffs of lace. We ne'er believe in things like ghosts, But what will e'er annoy me most Is when he comes and isn't there That man I met upon the stair.

JUDY MILLER

T R E E P U Z Z L E There is the name of a tree hidden in each of the following sentences :

(1) Still I meet him at the crossroads. (2) As he arrived the door bell rang. (3) Do you call him Will o' Wisp or Will o' the Wisp. (4) When I have a cold on my chest, nuts are very soothing,

I find. (5) The only things he will drink are ginger-pop, lager and

lemonade. (6) As she sat on the pin, Eldrich pulled the lever.

LEUEEN YORKE-TORR (Aged 12 years) 13

SPORTS PRACTICE Arriving on the sports field I decided to go to Long Jump first as that is

generally accepted as being easy. Though naturally, I either did not take off from the board, or else just reached the ' junior mark.' The fact that I did ' no-jumps ' continually could not of course be kept a secret. Oh no ! It must be called out loud and clear, until I was gently told to do something else, as I was only becoming worse (if that were possible).

After much forethought I chose the 100 Yards as the next stage in my depression. Having carefully avoided all the good, and even ' fairly good ' runners, I optimistically attempted it with two ' bad' runners. Oh foolish optimism ! I need hardly say that I arrived at the winning post about 50 yards behind my opponents. Once however I was doing rather well, and managed to have almost caught the others up, though my hopes were smashed when I fell head­long — over my own feet!

I tried High Jump next, but after breaking the bar I wandered aimlessly over to the Discus Queue and very nearly scalped someone ; so I turned like a weary soul to rest and was exasperated to hear others complaining that they ' had only passed four things towards their first-class — really shocking ! ' ' Yes,' I thought ' it is shocking to depress amateurs like me. Though one must bear in mind that it is better in the long run not to do sports easily. According to that argument I must have an impeccable character by now ! '

The weary soul having turned to rest, is rudely awakened by the fire whistle. Oh happy days ! Just to think in twenty years' time I shall be saying how I loved my school-days.

MARGARET GITTINS

LACROSSE O pity the poor ' lax ' player Who stands in the cold on the field, Her feet are numb, and she feels quite blue, Bdt she simply must not yield. O ' pass ahead ' she is ordered (A head ! There is none to be seen.) ' Get back on your man,' the mistress cries, (Your man ! Pray who can she mean ?) ' Don't waste your energy I ' she hears again, ' Pass out,' is the following cry. ' That does not make sense ! ' thinks the poor girl. ' Pass out,' surely means to die. Then comes the shout ' Get under the ball.' ' Under the ball ! ' she thinks, ' This game is incomprehensible,' As her heart to her heavy boots sinks. O pity the poor ' lax ' player Who stands in the cold on the field, Her feel are numb, and she feels quite blue, But she simply must not yield.

DIANA WATF.S

u

MY FIRST IMPRESSIONS AS A NEW GIRL Battle Abbey ! What a lovely name ! I wondered if it is as nice as it

sounds. But when I came to the gateway, I found it even nicer ! Never before, when I had gone to see places of interest, had I seen such a magnificent gateway, with its beautiful towers and lovely stone-work. The wooden door swung open and in we drove.

There was a bell ringing — an out-door bell, which was swinging high on the wall. Now, it seems quite ordinary to hear it clanging up there, but then it added to the excitement.

Then, what lovely names the dormitories have : Rainbow, Jungle, and Rat's Castle. They are all striking names because they are out of the ordinary. I expected numbers.

The classrooms are panelled. They give that mellow, friendly feeling, which is seldom found in the brisk clean paint of modern schoolrooms. Not many people are lucky enough to have lessons looking out on to interesting ruins.

I was surprised to find how friendly the girls were to new ones, who are always a nuisance. I was thrilled too, by the gymnasium and the art room in the gateway. All I used to think of a gateway as a gate and two small posts. Now, I think quite differently.

We each have a little cheque-book, and what fun it is writing out a cheque when you want more pocket-money !

Everyday we walk under the archway, where monks trod long ago. Per­haps, one day, I might meet a robed figure, making his way under the arch too — I don't know.

ANN TREVOR

"-

T H E FARMYARD Only this morning I peered out of the window facing the farmyard which

I had so long been acquainted with. The fields were occupied by friendly cart horses who stare at you with

their large brown eyes as you pass, their large feathered boots which make a friendly plod as they stroll along.

The peace was broken by a clucking and noise from the hen-house, the trouble (of course) was caused by a beautiful black cockerel, which no farm is complete without, with his red crest and orange feet, which were slightly muddy for so proud a bird.

More panic is to come. The ducklings are impatiently being taught to swim, while the older ones paddle in the mud beside, quacking merrily as they waddle up-stream.

No farm is complete without a cow and its calf. The calf with gentle soft tongue and staring eyes, and little butts of horn, walking contentedly at his mother's side.

All dreams could be awakened by the familiar grunts of a family of pigs, happily digging their snouts into the ground rummaging for acorns. In a small field near the pigs is the boar, a very aged pig, who would suddenly see some­thing moving and dash at his victim.

CATHERINE GUERRIER (Age 12 years) IS

" THE KNIGHT OF THE BURNING PESTLE In the Autumn Term of 1948, Miss Gifford, with her usual vigour and

enthusiasm, started her production of the Elizabethan comedy " The Knight of the Burning Pestle," by Beaumont and Fletcher.

Before and during rehearsals, members of the cast were to be seen alter­natively knitting and learning their pans, and although the coffin-bearers became entangled in stray balls of wool once or twice, no serious mishaps occurred ! Per­haps we have had more fun in taking part in this play than in some of the other productions of recent years, because every character is an amusing one, and Miss Gifford's instructions and demonstrations were side-splitting, and much the best part of rehearsals. It is to be hoped that the audience enjoyed seeing the play as much as we enjoyed acting it.

Miss Scott-Evans and the other members of the staff were, as always, most helpful with the costumes and stage properties, and Mr. Blakey, surrounded by squads of powder paints, old jars and brushes, ardent admirers and would-be helpers, built and painted the scenery with his usual competence, and it looked very good indeed.

On the days of the performances, many of the cast could do no more than croak or gasp out their words, owing to an epidemic of sore-throats, but I gather that this rather added to the comic effects !

We are, above all, very grateful to Miss Gifford for all her hard work and her entertaining guidance and to Mrs. Curran for her help, especially on the ' days' with the make-up and costumes. Altogether the play proved itself well worth the while of all those who put so much trouble into its production.

ANTONIA GIANETTI

THE EXPEDITION TO THE MUNICH AND VIENNA GALLERIES

Four of the VI. Form had the pleasure of going on a special trip to see the Vienna and Munich Collections, and the Royal Academy, immediately after half-term. We tackled first of all, the Munich Collection at the National Gallery, and Mr. Blakey, in a very spirited conversation, pointed out the developments of the different styles of North and South Germany.

At the Royal Academy, we were presented with a startling contrast—but our main criticism of this collection was, that there were so many pictures on the wall at once that we did not know where to look ! We were struck by the fact. that of all the flower pieces, there was not one in which the artist had captured the velvety softness of flowers ; the paintings were hard and clear almost to the point of being brittle. Here we were seized with thirst, and accordingly left with but one aim— to quench i t !

The Vienna Collection at the Tate was perhaps the most enjoyable of the three, as it combined pictures with taf>e?tries, glass, jewellery, and gold and silver­ware. It provided evidence of a bygone age in which the n'ch saw fit to work the poor craftsman to the bone in order to produce ever more fabulous illustrations of their wealth.

Although we found the collections a lot to t.ike in in one day, thanks to Mr. Blakey, the achievement of seeing them all has provided us with an unforgettable experience.

ANTONIA GTANETTI 16

'THE GOOD ROAD" One Saturday, shortly before the end of the Autumn Term, Miss Silow

took the Sixth Form to London to see a new musical revue called " The Good Road." Before we went, we were told that it was based on the ideology of a new, international youth movement, but that was all we knew about it.

The curtain rose upon a stage bereft of all scenery, save for a model of the world, and a signpost pointing to ' My Way,' ' The Old Way,' and ' Dead End.' A throng of people was hurrying across the stage and a bewildered little man in their midst asked them where they were going. Some answered that they were travelling the way their fathers had gone before them, and others said that they were following the road to riches. To the little man their journeys seemed in vain. " Is there no other road ? " he cried in despair. The crest of the revue was based on this question. Is there no doctrine for the peoples of the world to turn to which might save them from the sin and destruction that materialism brings in its wake ?

The question was answered in several very vivid sketches. The first showed how cheerfulness and unselfishness can make family life approach the ideal. In the second the same principles were applied in a village. A crusty, old farmer forgave an erring neighbour and they became good friends. Then we were shown how the external war between labour and management can be ap­peased by an unselfish appreciation of the other man's point of view.

In the second act a certain Mr. Everyman had to choose between Mater­ialism and the Good Road. In a series of magnificent tableaux he was shown the high principles that our forefathers have lived and died for, and then a host of young people from many lands came befort him. They had chosen the Good Road as their way of life, and Mr. Everyman was convened by the enthusiasm of those citizens of to-morrow.

Though the philosophy of this play is by no means new, it is refreshing in this world of unrest. It is based on essentially Christian principles and should have a profound influence for good.

ANGELA COLE

NOCTURNAL JOURNEY " Coming now to Cleveland," each night I alway cry, I really must be brave, because there's always the reply, " Sorry, going to the Vlth Form," or " No, I want to dance," So I always go alone ; if I get across, it's chance. With a thud the Beggars' Hall door swings to behind my back, And I peer into the night, my head beneath my mac. But the pan I really hate is by the sandbags and the hut, " No, don't turn back, that's cowardly. Be brave don't be a mut." Wait, there's a rustle, heavens ! what was that ? Could it be a maniac, or Ginger, Cleveland's cat ? There's that dark bit coming next, and I haven't got my torch. Do you think he's waiting for me, somewhere near, just by the porch ? Perhaps he's got an iron bar to hit me on the head, Perhaps he's huge and muscley—eh, I wish I was in bed. Thank goodness ; here's the small gate, nothing more to fear There's not much more before the steps, so green room's somewhere

near ; Tubby says she's not afraid, and Carey doesn't mind, But one day, lying on the path, poor little June they'll find.

JUNE MOSS 17

THE FIRE ALARM (with humble apologies to Lewis Carroll)

The sun was shining on the bed, Shining with all his might,

He did his best to make The dormitory bright—

And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily, Because she thought the sun

Had got no business to be there After the day was done—

" It's very rude of him," she said, " To come and spoil my fun." The dorm was calm as calm can be

The bath was dry as dry, You could not see a star, because

No star was in the sky : No bats were flying overhead

There were no bats to fly. But suddenly awoke we all,

To answer the alarm, Outside the wind blew up a squall

No more was it a calm. Out sprang we all from cosy beds,

Some fat, some short, some tall, And thick and fast We came at last

All hastening to the Hall, Some rummaging through comfy beds

Their teddies they did call. " O girls ! " Miss Bolt did say aloud

With register in hand, " That was very bad indeed,

I cannot understand." And glaring to the gallery, said

" Did runners come with speed ? " Miss Gifford shook her drowsy head

And did not pay much heed, In fact she really only meant, And all the girls did dream

Twas very bad indeed. But four young runners hurried up

All eager for late night. And said, " We could not help it, please,

It gave us such a fright." Miss Bolt walked to and fro the stage

Feeling a bit subdued, Thinking that all the fire alarms,

Perhaps, could be renewed. " O no ! " the girls did shout outright

As she said her thoughts aloud, " Let's say our numbers quickly right

And then we'll leave the crowd." " O girls ! " Miss Bolt did say again,

Turning a little blue, " After such behaviour

'Twould be a dismal thing to do." If-

But suddenly her normal face, Returned to her again,

As she repeated with a laugh And taking out her pen :

" If it was a real fire, We would not have a head

By now we would have frizzled up, So register, then bed."

A burst of laughter filled the air Then silence once again,

As numbers of each dorm, were said " Six, seven, eight, nine, ten."

Dismissing of the dorms came after As each girl walked upstairs,

But now and then their smothered laughter Reached the matron's ears.

The school was quiet No more was heard,

But for a distant cough or sneeze, And o'er the trees a screeching bird

Disturbed the gentle rustling breeze. Sleep passed over everyone,

And all the girls did dream Their dreams alone

PAT PEARS

T H E DANCE When the idea of a dance was first suggested, I do not think anyone

thought it would materialise. It seemed ridiculous that the prim ' young ladies of Battle Abbey' (as some are disposed to call us !) could ever be allowed to invite a boys' school here for dancing. However, the great day has arrived, but, alas, it finds us all completely ' flat out' with the exertions of packing, staff matches, hair cutting and frantic last-minute slimming efforts (of no avail).

The efforts of Tuesday night are especially worthy of note, or anyway, those of Eiffle Tower. Shaky was astounded at our arriving to go to bed at least half-an-hour early, and asked us if we felt quite well. We prompdy began a beautifying campaign, waging war on finger nails, last minute spots, reluctant eye­lashes and laddered nylons. We all tried on our dresses, and the poor unfortunate VB.'s acted as a sympathetic, but highly critical audience. They have valiantly offered to act as dressers on Wednesday night, and I feel they will be needed. The next, and most difficult problem, was that of hair. How to preserve the curls and waves we so laboriously set, all through netting and staff matches ? It seemed unsolvable, and we hope the boys will not be too allergic to straight haired females !

The time is drawing near, and we all have different feelings, but we have one in common—we think it will be highly amusing. We now only await 6.30 before realising our ' Great Expectations.'

VIVIEN LYNCH 19

MY EXPERIENCE OF THE C. E. W. C LECTURES

The series of lectures given by the C.E.W.C., the Council of Education for World Citizenship, at the Central Hall, Westminster, began on Tuesday, the 28th of January which was just soon enough after Christmas to make me regret that I had agreed to go to them—but I soon changed my mind.

I arrived early on the eventful morning, as I was uncertain how long it would take me to reach my destination, but I was certainly not the first. When I eventually reached my seat I was surprised at the crowds who were pouring in until, except for the odd seat here and there the hall, holding three thousand people, was full.

The opening speech was given by Professor Tonybee on ' World Crisis.' Unfortunately I found him rather hard to listen to as the persistent splash of the cameras made concentration difficult. He compared the cause and result of the two world wars showing us how at the end of the last war everyone went wild with excitement, never contemplating the crisis in 1939, and how in 1945 we all looked gloomily towards the next attack from some power-loving country! In illustrating the present difficulties he used a very simple but clear simile. For he said that during the war many families were forced to evacuate to the country and share houses with people wnom they knew nothing about and did not under­stand. To start with it had been very unpleasant but they had eventually settled down. That, he said, symbolized why there was a crisis to-day, for all the countries had suddenly been drawn together and so were made to think of their neighbours' conditions and politics, not as mere facts in a paper but as something which was of real interest. Whether we would, like those families, settle down was now the question.

The chairman at the close of the speech very rightly said that Professor Tonybee had shown all of us that to have a true appreciation of the state of world affairs meant the necessity of having a very certain knowledge of previous history.

The following morning was devoted entirely to European Co-operation which was dealt with under three headings and by three speakers. The first was Lord Layton who was meant to be speaking on it politically, but he encroached on economics, and I am afraid I was not very impressed. Also when all three speakers had finished and questions were being asked he answered his with the same indecisive explanations as in the speech.

Senor Salvador de Madariaga followed Lord Layton and spoke about European Co-operation culturally, and was certainly a contrast to the last speaker. As many people would say, Lord Layton was obviously English, so Senor Salvador was a typical foreigner. My reason for saying this is that he insisted that it was not only books and letters of goodwill that attained the friendship of another country but that this feeling must come from our hearts. He is, of course, right and I think that before he had finished his short speech everyone was convinced of his theories. He spoke of other ways that culture could help co-operation, some more serious, but he spoke so sincerely that whether laughing or grave, he carried his audience with him.

Sir Waley, who terminated the morning session, spoke about economics, so adding a third way of European Co-operation. I admit knowing next to nothing about the subject beforehand, his words were above me, but judging by the ap­plause and the interest inspired, I am sure he spoke very well. The American Ambassador was to have been the Chairman, but as he had just returned to America, his Deputy came instead and concluded with a short speech.

20

The last day, Friday, was I think the best part. We were fortunate enough to have first Lord Woolton, and then Sir Stafford Cripps. Lord Woolton spoke of course on food, and most of his speech was devoted to explaining the reason for the beginning of rationing, and other such restrictions which had come into force while he was Minister of Food, but somehow I can remember very little of it, as after Sir Stafford had spoken it was difficult to remember the details of anything else.

Sir Stafford Cripps was the only person whom I heard speak who showed a strong political background. By various figures he showed the improvements made in the last few years in England's financial position. Despite the fact that I was unable to understand all he said I could not help appreciating the cleverness of his speech. In it he showed all the strength of his ideas and his determination that anything but a social government would be a national disaster !

My companions were a strange crowd, eager to listen but also very ready to express their own ideas. Even if I had gone with no interest in the lectures the keen atmosphere would soon have encouraged one.

GIULIA POWELL

THE WAYS OF THE SWEET Now that sweets have been rationed For nine weary years ; We've saved up our money With toil and with tears, So that each little ration Was used to the fill, And e'en great grandmas Ate their sweets with a will. But a Peer stood up in the House of Lords And said (in a speech of extensive words) " I have a few statistics On the subject of acoustics ; Some mental gymnastics That I'm sure you will not greet: So let's all be national, Start a policy that's rational, And ideas that are librational : Let's de-rationize the sweet." So Monday morn came With weather uncouth, While queues stretched for centuries From each sweet-monger's booth, 'Til they all got well muddled, And you hadn't a clue, Whether where you were standing Was the sweet or snack queue. And a Peer stood up in the House of Lords, And said (in a speech of resounding words) " I should like to tell you asses You are a' cheating of the masses, Causing hatred among classes : You were ever indiscreet. So let's get on with action, Away with affectation, Admit it needs correction : Let's re-rationize the sweet."

DIANTHE FORSTER BROWN 21

NEW BREAD To eat new bread is well worth the risk of indigestion, as it is one

of the most delicious foods there are. A small boy once said that bread is only a vehicle for jam, of which he must have been inordinately fond, or else he had never been given the chance to taste a really fresh loaf.

White bread and brown bread, rye-bread and malt-bread, even machine-mixed dough and hand-kneaded bread that is honeycombed like a sponge ; these are good breads. With bad breads I have no truck : they go under such headings as chalk, wet sawdust, arsenic, toadstool and pumice-stone, according to con­sistency and taste. Every batch of good bread has a different flavour, and no baker makes it as any other baker does.

The best son of baker has a large leather glove, a long wooden shovel and a wide brick oven with a goodly smell and mysterious dark recesses. And every such baker will let you watch him plunge his shovel into the shimmering, swelling gloom of the heat and bring out your loaf all crisp and hot. As you hear the clatter of tins on the crumbling brick, the crackle of golden crust in the baker's hand and the squeak of the strained basket of loaves, the warm smell of the bread will rise and waft round your head, teasing your memory. Where have you smelt it before ?

Perhaps you were in a pram while your mother was shopping (pity the child who lives in a nursery, eating the bread when it is cold and dull, with a nurse forcing him to finish the tough crusts !). Your mother was not attending. She had put a loaf — all hot with a hungry smell — in your pram. Your small fingers stealthily explored its crisp brown flank ; you poked an exciting hole. And after you had poked a hole, you began to pull at the crumb of the bread and eat. You found it was soft and spongey, and if you squeezed it would go into queer shapes, so you just went on squeezing . . .

Perhaps it was not in a pram but in a boat that you were sitting, des­perately cold, with the rims of your gum-boots cutting behind your knees, the water slip-slapping in a chill pool at the bottom of the boat and your father's coat-sleeves rasping his arms in time to the creak of the rowlocks. In your lap and clutched in your arms was a new loaf wrapped in yellow tissue-paper. The warmth from the bread was a fierce glow on your thighs, your tummy and your chest.

You might have been very much older, standing at a street-corner waiting for someone who never came. You were watching a piece of newspaper fluttering between walking legs, and you suddenly knew that the paper was lucky because it could not feel hungry — or any of the other things, for that matter. There was a bakery behind you, and the same wind that chivvied the paper blew the sane, honest smell of the new bread to you.

It is only the circumstances that differ ; the smell of hot loaves has always been the same. And the joy of tearing a loaf apart so that the hot steam rises wet on your face, your fingers throb and the sharp crust scratches your hands is a joy unknown to the eaters of drawing-room bread and butter and railway sandwiches, and to the slaves of the digestive peppermint.

ROBINETTA ARMFELT 22

School Year, 1948-49.

STAFF

Principal: Miss H. M. SHEEHAN-DARE, B.A., Hons. London.

Headmistress : Mrs. H. S. BLAKEY, B.A., Hons. Oxon.

Bursar : Mr. H. S. BLAKEY, A.R.C.A., London.

Hon. Chaplain to School: The Very Rev. A. T . A. NAYLOR, M.A., Dean of

Battle.

House Mistress ... . . . . . . Miss M. K. GIFFORD, B.A., T.C.D.

Religious Knowledge . . . . . . The Very Rev. A. T . A. NAYLOR, M.A.

English ... Miss D. M. CREWS, B.A., Hons., London, Diploma in Education.

Classics Miss J. BROCKLEHURST, B.A., Manchester, Diploma in Education. History Mrs. H. S. BLAKEY, B.A., Hons., Oxon., Oxford Diploma in Education.

Miss J. BROCKLEHTJRST, B.A., Manchester. Modern Languages . . . Mile. D. L. Y. EMPAYTAZ, Licence es lettres.

Miss J. M O U N T , B.A., London.

Mathematics Miss E. SILOW, B.A., Hons., London, Certificate in Education.

Geography Miss M. K. GIFFORD, B.A., T.C.D., Higher Diploma in Education.

Science ... . . . . . . . . . Mr. F . KNELLER, B.Sc, Bangor.

Junior Forms Miss B. COLTMAN, Ministry of Education Teachers' Certificate Homerton College, Cambridge.

Art and Craftwork Mr. H. S. BLAKEY, A.R.C.A., London. Miss B. COLTMAN.

Domestic Science Miss M. SCOTT-EVANS, National Training College of Domestic Subjects.

Piano Aural Training and Class Singing ... . . . Mr. CECIL BAUMER.

Miss J. ROSE, A.R.CJvL Miss B. G. VINCENT, L.R.A M.

Violin Violincello Miss J. ROSE, A.R.C.M.

Elocution Mrs. STELLA CURRAN, L.G.S.M. Hons. Gold Medal (Eloc.).

Gymnastics Miss I. P. BOLT, Diploma, Bedford Physical Training College. Games London University Diploma in Physical Education.

Dancing Miss GWEN SILVESTER, President of the National Association of Teachers of Dancing, 1937-38-39, 1946-47.

Head Matron ... . . . . . . . . . . . . Miss B. LISTER.

Secretaries Miss G. M I T C H E L L Mrs. J. L. SHEEHAN-DARE.

There is a Resident Nurse in Charge of the Sanatorium.

23

HEADS OF HOUSES ST. MARY'S

Head : Jacqueline Carey Vice-Head : Ida Heywood

ST. ETHELDREDA'S Head : Robinetta Armfelt

Vice-Heads : June Moss Daphne David

ST. MARTIN'S Head : Odile van Zwanenberg

Vice-Head : Julia Powell ST. PATRICK'S

Head : Tony Gianetti Vice-Head : Patricia Hutchinson

EXAM RESULTS, JULY 1949 HIGHER SCHOOL CERTIFICATE

A. Gianetti.

THE ASSOCIATED BOARD OF THE ROYAL SCHOOLS OF MUSIC LOCAL EXAMINATIONS

Speech and Drama Lower Diana Wates

„ Jacqueline Cartwright » „ Mary Bryden „ Ann Pullinger

Susan Chetde Anthea Mulford Ursula Bulky Valerie Mellard Angela Coheu

Lower Upper Elementary Elementary

THE ASSOCIATED BOARD OF THE ROYAL SCHOOLS OF MUSIC Theory of Music. Hilary Hackley Grade V. (Higher)

SCHOOL CERTIFICATE

t§* M. Bridgeford . A. Crindall

t J. Deutch t A. Duvivier t S. Escrirt

J. Freeland t M. Gittins t A. Glendinning

P. Hutchinson . A. Ley V. Lynch

t J. Moss J. Paterson

t§* G. Powell t S. Schwalm §*t D. Wates

t Exemption from London Matriculation. § Exemption from Oxford Responsions. * Exemption from Cambridge Previous.

Credits. Distinctions. Distinctions. Distinctions. Distinctions. Credits. Distinctions. Distinctions. Distinctions. Credits. Credits. Distinction.

1 Credit. 1 Distinction. 1 Distinction. 4 Distinctions.

4 Credits. 5 Credits. 4 Credits. 5 Credits.

5 Credits. 3 Credits. 5 Credits.

7 Credits.

6 Credits. 7 Credits. 3 Credits.

24

MEDALS & CERTIFICATES AWARDED BY THE NATIONAL ASSOCIATION OF TEACHERS

OF DANCING BRONZE:

Maria Bridgeford ; Annette Duvivier ; Judy Deutch ; Antonio Gianetti ; Margaret Gittins ; June Moss ; Diana Wates.

JUNIOR BRONZE: Commended : Susan Chettle ; Vivien Lynch ; Sonia Schwaim ; Henrietta White.

Mary Bryden ; Angela Cohen ; Penelope Crundall ; Anne Crundall ; Jean Fricker ; Ann Kempner ; Judith Lane ; Jennifer Laurie ; Susan Lindup ; Musa MacKinnon ; Valerie Mellard ; Esther Menell ; Anthea Mulford ; Elizabeth Rickett; Joan Taylor ; Helen Taylor ; Sarah White ; Sally van Zwandenberg.

DOUBLE JUNIOR BRONZE: Juliette Slade.

M A T C H E S PLAYED 194 WINTER TERM, 1948

Netball. 1st VII v. St. Mary's Convent Home

1st and 2nd VII v. Hollington Park Away

1st and Under 15 VII v. Ancaster House Home

1st and 2nd VII v. Lillesden Away

1st, 2nd and Under 15 VII v. Winceby House Home

Lacrosse. 1st and 2nd XII watched the England v. Res­

erves match at Merton Abbey. 1st XII v. Benenden 3rd Home 1st XII v. Southover Manor Away 2nd XII v. Ancaster House Away

SPRING TERM, 1949 Netball.

1st and 2nd VII v. Ancaster House Away

Under 15 v. Lillesden Home Lacrosse.

Juniors and Middles watched the South v. East Territorial match at Roedean, Brighton.

1st X n v. Lillesden Home

1st and 2nd XII v. St. Stephen's College Home 25

8 - 1 9 4 9

1st Results Won 18—14

1st 2nd

Won Lost

15—12 4—12

1st Udr.

Lost 15—18 15 Lost 16—20

1st 2nd

Won Lost

17—9 5—14

1st 2nd

Udr.

Drew 19—19 Drew 7—7

15 Drew 20—20

England won 1st Lost

6—2 3—9

1st Lost 0—11 2nd Lost 1—6

1st 2nd

Lost Lost

13—20 4—13

Udr. 15 Won 12—4

East Won 5—3 1st 1st

Lost Lost

1—6 6—9

2nd Lost 2—13

We were unfortunate during the Easter Term in the fact that many of our matches were cancelled owing to mumps in the school. During this time we had two enjoyable matches, the 1st XII v. 2nd ' plus staff' XII—the results being, 2nd ' plus ' won 5-3, then a draw 6-6.

The girls were able to see two first-class matches during the season. The players showed determination and good stamina throughout the whole game, a thing which is often lacking in the girls' play.

Tennis. 1st and 2nd VI v. Winccby House Home

1st and 2nd VI v. Ancaster House Away

1st VI v. Ravenscroft Away 2nd and Under 15 VI v. Ancaster House Home

1st VI v. The Old Girls Home 1st, 2nd and Under 15 VI v. Winceby House

Away

1st and 2nd couples in " The Beehive " Tournament Away

1st VI v. The Staff Home

1st Lost 1—8 2nd Won 5—4 1st Lost 30—69 2nd Lost 35—64 1st Lost 64—71 2nd Lost 1—8 Udr. 15 Lost 67—68 1st Lost 40—74 1st Lost 3—6 2nd Won 6—3 Udr. 15 Won 4pts. out of 12.

We have great hopes for the future of the Under 15 team, judging from their promising start this season.

Inter-House Matches LACROSSE NETBALL TENNIS

• ROUNDERS

St. Mary's St. Mary's Senior and Junior.

... St. Etheldreda's

... St. Etheldreda's.

Inter-Form Netball won by the Vlth Form.

Sports. 1st ... 2nd 3rd 4th

Senior Singles Tennis Tournament Won by A. Duvivicr.

Junior Singles Tennis Tournament Won by C. YatesheU.

... St. Etheldreda's. St. Mary's

St. Martin's. St. Patrick's.

Senior Doubles Tennis Tournament Won by S. Escuitt and V. Lynch.

Junior Doubles Tennis Tournament Won by P. CrandaU and A. Mulford

Lacrosse Colours gained by : M. Bridgeford. A. Duvivier. O. van Zwanenberg.

Netball Colours gained by : 1st Team—O. van Zwanenberg. 2nd Team—S. Escritt.

Old Girls v. First Tennis Team Old Girls won, Games 90--15.

26

OLD GIRLS' NEWS DINAH BOON (September 1939—July 1940) is a qualified nurse but has

left hospital and is a secretary to a dental surgeon in Wimpole Street. She is engaged to Paul Clements and hopes to be married next year.

SUSANNE CRAPS (September 1944—July 1946) is studying music at Bad­minton School and hopes to make the piano her career.

SYLVIA CRUMP (May 1942—July 1945) is secretary to the General Man­ager of Associated Clay Industries.

MARY DARNLEY-SMITH (May 1942—March 1944) has been to a Dom­estic Science College and is about to start a secretarial course.

PATRICIA DIXON (May 1936—Easter 1940) has taken a dancing degree and has been teaching in the East End. She is going to Canada in June as a secretary-hostess on a guest house-ranch.

CHRISTELLE FORCEY (September 1939—July 1945) is training at Roe-hampton Froebal College.

ANNE ATESHA GRIGGS (September 1939—Easter 1940) is a photogra­phic model for Vogue.

JILL MARSHALL (September 1944—July 1945) is training to be a secretary to her father who is M.P. for South-East Cornwall.

PAM NORMAN (Mrs. Ian Golding) (May 1942—July 1944) was married at Westcliff-on-Sea on January 30th, 1948.

GILLIAN RATCLIFFE (September 1941-—December 1946) has almost com­pleted a secretarial course at Queens.

ANNE REYNOLDS (May 1941—July 1947) is teaching games and gym at a Kindergarten School and is going to Nonnington Physical Training College in September.

SUSAN ROGERS (September 1941—July 1947) is at a Domestic Science College and is going to take up art.

BERYL SANDERS (September 1937—July 1940) is studying art in Hastings.

DOREEN SANDERS (September 1933—July 1940) is a secretary at Sand­hurst College.

ANNE WOODMAN (September 1938—July 1942) is on the Control Com­mission, Germany.

JEAN ZEALLY (May 1943—March 1944) started to train at Princess Eliza­beth Orthopaedic Hospital, Exeter, and then trained as a Norland nurse. She is now at a private post looking after two girls.

27

Olivers Printing Works. Battle.

±