Joe Wyche

A Memory of Poynton.

I remember Joe Wyche very, very well; a very progressive man, and to be frank I owe my success to him.

At age thirteen he hauled me into his office to inform me I was lazy and he was going to make me work. In consequence I did work for fear of my life, and in 1956 came top of the school. This won me a free scholarship to King's School, Macclesfield, an experience that changed a working class lad with his shirt tails hanging out of holes in his trousers to somebody with a chance to succeed. Now at age 71, I run my own business and work as a consultant to firms such as Jaguar Landrover.

I married in 1964 at St Georges and now live in Chester with the same girl I met at Newhouse Farm, Middlewood in 1959. If our education system could be designed on Joe's model, this country's young people would be in a better shape. Moving from a Council school of mixed pupils to a boys only Grammar school was a life changing expereience; Joe I owe you my life, thank you.

Other memories include Mr White the chemist, in Fountain Place as it was before moving it. Bell ringing at St Georges aged 11, Mr Turner the Nat West Bank Manager (then District Bank), hanging himself because he'd fiddled the books; no change there then. Working at Newhouse Farm for Fred Cheetham because at age seven or eight I'd burned his rick-yard down and paid it off with free labour evenings and week-ends when I could until marriage at age 22. Nobody told me about insurance, but what the heck, Freddie taught me plenty of life skills, and he's another I owe a lot to.

Jim Hart was another I owe much, I worked for him at Sunny Bank Farm for a year to save up to go to Norway in 1957; a couple of hours in the evening, all day Saturday and couple of hours Sunday, all for 12.5p. But it got me there; what a fantastic experience for a 15 year old lad.

What else, well, playing in the old pit buildings, that was fun. Making hand grenades out of weed killer with Mick and playing in Prince Wood as we lobbed them at each other. The freedom we had, and the places we went on our bikes; we went miles. Watching the Vulcan at the end of the runway, ducking under the railway line track to get there at the back of what was Shrigley's Garage. Putting h'pennys on the railway line to press them into penny size and buying penny chews at the tuck-shop on Clumber Road; do you know, I can't remember the family name. But I do remember my mother buying my blazer from Mrs Beath opposite the school; Alan the Liberal MP, his mother.

There's so much more; but for me it was Joseph Wyche, a very far sighted man indeed. Joe, thank you.

P.S. I'm on Google