Coming Home!

A Memory of Coulsdon.

I loved this school. The first time I set foot inside the grounds I knew I had found the place I was supposed to be. Passing the 11 plus was unheard of in my family, I knew it was my means of escape from drudgery and the school itself exemplified this. Did I already see the beauty of correct proportions as an orphan aged eleven? Of course I did! And I was allowed to go every day.
I loved that big oak and it's deep shade that sheltered us in summer's heat and stood as a standard through the winter when I kept goal (not too well) at hockey.
The corridors and class rooms were austere and fine, they ran around the quadrangle that was a visual oasis that had a Zen like effect of calm that not even the approach of 'Sim' the headmistress Miss Simpson could destroy. Her rule of psychological terror was another marvel of the school. I'd never known (I was 11) a woman with such power and charisma. Imagine a cross between Margaret Thatcher, Mr Toad and a monk, then you have her.
The staff all university graduates were Misses. They had dedicated themselves to their profession - with one or two exceptions. Miss Bottom to the delight of the girls, married and became I believe Mrs Jones. She was a much loved teacher.
As was Miss Ebbinghaus a woman of charm and compassion who on two occasions sent me postcards from exotic locations, knowing I should be thrilled not only to have the postcard but to know someone who'd been abroad!
When I left Purley County in 1964 it was like leaving home but I had been given the resources and confidence and education to get on with it , and I did.