St Joseph's Society
I remember very well the 1957 Christmas panto ‘Cinderella’, because had I been born 3 days later than my actual birthday, I would have missed the intake for the class of September 1957. As it was, I scraped in and entered Underlow as the youngest, along with Dermot O’Malley, my friend from junior school. I suspect that it was because of our strong and broad Lancashire accents that we were chosen to play the parts of the “two local yokels”, Dick and Tom.
As I remember too, there was a serious flu epidemic in the autumn of 1957 which necessitated the temporary closure of the College, and the still-standing pupils were sent home for a couple of weeks, and when I turned up out of the blue, and after just a few months as a student for the priesthood, my mother thought I had actually run away from the College! Consequently the panto was full of jokes and references to this epidemic, as can be understood from the titles given to some of the cast. Gerry McCusker (now at St Mary’s, Euxton) was, for example, ‘Sister Syringia’, while Paul Borland had a leading role as ‘The Flu Bugg’. Dermot and I were required to be dressed as the archetypical bumpkins with smocks, strings around our knees, hats, facial hair and large boots. The last item we were asked to supply ourselves.
Before going to the College, my parents had been supplied with the usual list of items of clothing etc. which I would need and should take with me if I was to survive the rigorous life that lay ahead, and one of the items required was a pair of stout walking boots. As I had never owned such things, I was taken by my mother to our local shoe shop and fitted out accordingly. The lady shop assistant knew our family quite well and realised that although my parents were by no means poor, they had five other children at the time, and so had to be careful with money. So, she persuaded my mother, who had herself no first-hand experience of wearing the required footwear, that she should buy me a pair of boots that were generous in size; the argument being that they were expensive and so needed to last me a long time. They should allow me to “grow into them!”
So, I wore the boots when acting my part in the panto, and Dermot and I received great praise from our peers and the staff for “being very funny”. In particular, it was pointed out that my hugely oversized boots were a touch of comic genius by whoever had given me my costume. I kept quiet about the fact that they were actually mine, and was careful afterwards to hide them away lest they be discovered and cause me to be the object of ridicule from my class mates, and possibly the rest of the Lower Line!
Today, as far as I can remember after some sixty years, I don’t think I ever needed to wear the boots again, and I don’t know what happened to them. But they would probably fit me now!!
