St Joseph's Society
I was an altar boy at church because dad was a great churchgoer, and when he went to church, we all went to church. He played a leading role – only slightly second to the priest himself – singing in the choir, taking the collection and welcoming people, but my dad’s leading role involved his sons as supporting actors!
We were Catholics first and Christians a poor second. We weren’t encouraged to read the Bible or do good deeds for our neighbours – in fact we always argued with our neighbours, but we were strongly encouraged to go to church on a Sunday morning when all of our mates were playing football, and we were strongly encouraged to go to church of an evening, regardless of whether ‘Top of the Pops’ was on TV or not.
I certainly wasn’t pressured into training to be a priest. It was just that for some reason it was me on whom dad had pinned all his hopes and I didn’t want to let him down, and I figured that wearing black all the time was a small price to pay, even if it meant missing ‘Top of the Pops’. Anyway, one day black was bound to be the new black!
Before I knew it, I was twelve years old miles away from home, and for the first time in my life I was allowed to watch ‘Match of the Day’!
Dad dropped me off at the top of the long drive lined with rhododendrons (little did I know then the joys of public work that awaited me!) in his bread van which had ‘The Merry Baker’ written on the side. Other parents were delivering their sons too, and while the other cars weren’t exactly Rolls Royces, I don’t remember seeing any other vehicles which doubled up as some kind of delivery van, merry or otherwise.
“It’s like bloody Colditz”, my dad helpfully and sensitively observed. He could not, however, have been further from the truth! That day was to be the first day of the most defining period of my life, and Upholland was to become my home, my family and my haven for the next six wonderful years.
I was glad when the ‘Merry Baker’ finally trundled off down the drive. Before leaving, my dad had squeezed a crumpled five pound note in my hand and mumbled something about ‘being proud’.
It wasn’t at all difficult for me to settle into my new environment. I made friends easily, on account of being able to cross a ball with my left foot! Upholland taught me many skills which have been helpful for me throughout my life; learning to make friends, looking after myself and standing up for myself; all of which I learned in those first few days.
I measure everything I do now against the time I spent at Upholland. When I went to University, it wasn’t for as long as I was at Upholland. When I left my first teaching job after ten years, it was longer than the time I spent at Upholland. Nothing, however, had the same lasting impact on me than the years I was privileged to spend at the College. It became everything to me and it saved me. I was surrounded by brothers and parents, family and friends. It protected me and nurtured me when my parents split up and when my brother died. It helped make me strong; it shaped me and formed me, and made me the person I am proud to be today. Plays in an all boys’ school became very interesting events, particularly when the teacher in charge was a big fan of Gilbert and Sullivan. Local residents who came to watch these extravaganzas were convinced that girls from the local schools were drafted in to play the parts of the young ladies. However, playing a young female with a soprano voice, and being suitably mocked for this, was a small price to pay for a few moments of fame on the stage!
As news broke of the next year’s play, so thankfully did my voice, and after a few more macho performances (if that is at all possible for Gilbert and Sullivan) I landed the main part in the Sixth Form production of ‘The Importance of Being Earnest’– a risky choice of play by the weirdly wonderful Fr. John Danson, proving that as an English teacher he really did appreciate irony, and that he had a great sense of humour and self-deprecation. There were ten parts to be given out at the first casting meeting and as luck would have it, ten of us turned up. However, as luck would not have it for my great lifelong mate and sadly now MS sufferer, Peter Richardson, it was decided that he would be great at painting the scenery and organising the props, instead of actually being seen on stage.
**Peter Richardson was at Upholland College from 1975-1982 and a further two years at Ushaw. He died in February 2019. May he rest in peace**
As time passed I used to dread the holidays and loved returning after them. I know this may sound strange to many of you, but while I was away at Upholland the family I had known and loved back home had broken. Maybe that is why I clung to what I had at College all the more. I was extremely fond of all the staff at Upholland and the friends I had have become friends for life. I have never missed an Old Boys’ Reunion, and even now when we return to visit the shell of what I once knew as home, the warm memories come flooding back. I know that not everyone will have the incredibly fond memories I have, but I believe that the vast majority of us owe Upholland and the people in it a huge debt of gratitude. Stop and think about it deeply for a while. I honestly believe, as I also do as a Head Teacher now, that schools shape and form us in our most formative years. Whether we like it or not, Upholland shaped all who went there, and the essence of the place will stay with us, in our makeup and in our DNA, long after we think it has left us.