Although I had ‘G’ for P.E. and swimming, I never had him for Maths. Whether this was fortuitous or not, who knows? Here are some of the tales:

Colin Stuart:

I recall the first day at Highbury, arriving in the playground, and being warned by several of last years new recruits to “Beware of G!”. V G was Head of Physical Education and School Tailor at Highbury County Grammar as well as being a Steward at Arsenal FC during the early 1960’s.  He also instructed first year pupils in the art of writing and the skills of Mathematics. His strange antics and derisive manner left a lasting impression on many of us, and forty years on, remains the subject of much mirth and frivolity when two or more of us get together over the odd pint or two! With the help of Ken Tipple I have recalled some of his most bizarre behaviour. I assure anyone reading this who did not attend Highbury, that none of what follows is a figment of our vivid imaginations!

G’s Writing Lessons

Day one at Highbury, and we await the appearance of the Teacher who is to instruct us in the art of writing. In walks a short, erect, bald and red-necked character, carrying some books under his arm. He places the books on his desk in absolute silence, turns to the blackboard and writes very precisely in large letters G * * *. He turns to the nervous looking eleven year old children and staring through his metal-rimmed glasses wrinkles his nose as if there were a bad smell emitting, and utters: “My name is G. If you play ball with me then I will play ball with you; (Voice drops a decibel) but if any boy steps out of line, I will come down on him like a ton of bricks! He then starts to dish out the exercise books and orders us to enter our name on to the front label, and add the legend: “Writing Book”. Walking along the rows of desks he inspects the results until he finds what he has been looking for. He orders the culprit to stand up and with a look of utter amazement on his face, announces: “There’s a fellah here who can’t spell ‘Writing’, well I don’t know! What will your dear ol’ Mum think” etc., etc. We are then all ordered to put our pens on the desk. He starts to inspect them, paying particular attention to the nibs. “What’s that?” he retorts to some poor unsuspecting boy with a fine-nib fountain pen. “It’s a Parker pen Sir, my Father bought it for my birthday.” “Don’t mind me giving you a bit of advice? Throw it under a Bus! Then go to the School Secretary - Mrs Coffie - give her my compliments, and ask her for a “School Pen & Nib”. Having been instructed in the correct formation of every letter in the alphabet we are ordered to begin copying from Charles Dickens “A Christmas Carol”. He checks the results and then announces his number one rule in writing: ALL ONE WAY.  “I don’t care if your writing leans back, forward or upright, as long as it goes ALL ONE WAY”. Mine however did not go all one way! It went in fact, several ways and still does today. This meant that my mark fell below the accepted level, and I was ordered to attend the “Half-past eight Class”….. ”Report to me at Half past eight on Monday Morning please, and attend everyday until your writing improves!” - So there we would stand, at 8.30am, every morning - boys from different classes – in a line, with our School Caps planted firmly on our heads, as the famous “Austin of England” poodled up to the main Gate. Out he would get, and carrying his Cricket Bag, stroll past the line of boys who would all have to touch their Caps ands say “Good Morning Sir”. The tone of the reply and the demeanour of the clean-shaven face would indicate precisely the level of achievement that was to be expected from us on that particular day.

G’s Maths Lessons

To the student of psychology G would have made a fascinating subject. His role as instructor of mathematics to the first year students was taken very seriously indeed. The familiar cheese cutter cap, Gabardine raincoat and suede shoes were exchanged for the Grey suit, Regimental tie and brown Brogues.

His mentor and Guide through each term’s tuition was “H E Parr and his textbook “First Year Mathematics”. He would scan the form for the two biggest lads (Ian Sams and Tony Simpson) who, by coincidence, happened to sit next to each other. “You Primrose, hand out these textbooks to the boys on my left, and you Matilda, hand out these ones to the boys on my right. The only time G smiled was when he was taking the piss – usually by inventing a nickname; Ken Tipple became “Triple”, John Quarterman (who one day decided that walking the streets of Islington would be infinitely more educational than listening to G’s rantings) became “Truant”, and the rest of us would take it in turns to share the epitaph “The Form Dunce”.

Chapter one of “H E Parr” describes the mathematical formulas for three-dimensional shapes. This prompted G to set the first piece of homework for the new recruits at Highbury. “Go home, find some suitable material and construct a Cube and a Cuboid”. So off we went to to forge our constructions. The next day the results of our endeavours were displayed on our desks for inspection. G sifted his way through the assortment of exhibits made from cereal packets, shoe boxes, birthday cards, tennis balls etc, many falling apart at the seams, his face gradually becoming redder and redder, until he finally exploded when Cliff Headley produced a sad looking Cube which had been carefully produced from several editions of the Islington Gazette! “What’s that made from?” he cried “Lasht night’s fish and chipsh?” His strange dialect (always accentuated when he got angry) sounded as if he had been stuffing cotton wool under his tongue.

As he sat marking homework, while we performed exercises from H E Parr, the restlessness would begin. Tozer using wooden rulers as a catapult to project a paper pellet in the general direction of Stoney’s ear – Tipple turning round and performing Quasimodo impressions at the giggling Yates, Mason offering Wagner a 1d for three black jacks etc etc. G without so much as a flicker, would murmur “Mumbling” the resulting silence didn’t last long; five minutes later, with the restlessness recommencing – “There’s shomebody mumbling” and again five minutes later, but this time in utter amazement “There’s still shomebody MUMBLING why?” until finally his voice now screaming “THERE’SH A WRETCHED FELLAH MUMBLING, IF I FIND HIM, I’LL COME DOWN ON IM LIKE A TON OF BRICKS!!

Then there was the famous moment when he had discovered that three of the pupils had forged their homework marks. He walked solemnly into the room – The grey suit now exchanged for a black one with white shirt and handkerchief in the breast pocket. He sat at his desk, composed himself for a minute, took off his glasses and carefully began polishing them with the handkerchief. Replacing them, he slowly rose and with a trembling voice – more in sorrow than anger – announced conspiratorially: “Boys. We’ve got criminals in the form!” Then with his voice now raised, “Stand up the criminals!” (Silence) “I said stand up the CRIMINALS” A shaky voice (from Ladd or Rhodes I think) was heard to whisper “Who me sir?” “YES YOU SIR! YOU KNOW WHO I MEAN!” The three boys were then packed off to the Headmaster’s office; “Give the Headmaster my compliments and tell im you are the criminals!” Normality resumed, and the following night’s homework was dished out. “H E Parr page 5 questions 1 through to 12 - Page 8, questions 4 & 5” then peering over his glasses he would cheerily add “That’s all!

Congruent Triangles

John Quarterman once asked if anyone can elaborate on Gage's "Congruent Triangles".

OK John! Here goes:

"Two shides -one angle - trianglesh are congruent....Two anglesh - one shide - trianglesh are shimilarly cocngruent! (Must be read with plenty of cotton wool in mouth!)

Ken Tipple:

Another G gem from the Maths lesson: G: Apples are thruppence, pears are tuppence. Triple, if I give you two apples, would you give me four pears? Quickly boy!”

Ken: “Yes sir”

G: “Well I don’t know! Stuart, you’re not the form dunce anymore, Triple is! Hit him Matilda! Hit him hard!!”

Bill Szelazek:

Colin’s, and others’ anecdotes have brought back some amazing memories that I had thought were long gone. G’s absurd behaviour in the Writing classes is all true. “All one way!” Like Colin my writing was, and still is, anything but.

Len Westoby:

On inspecting a Parker Pen owned by one of the class. "Well, boy. You might use it to dig potatoes, but it won't do for writing"

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