This photo was recently found in the Faber archives! This is the CCF at RAF Waddington (home to the Vulcan bombers) in 1978 for a weeks camp!
Memories of Brighton College
Prior to a recent show in London, Pablo Picasso’s “Le Train Bleu” curtain was last seen at Brighton College as part of the Brighton Festival of 1982. The 10.3 x 11.7m curtain formed the centrepiece of The Burstow Gallery’s “Picasso and The Theatre” exhibition organised by Gavin Henderson (L.1960-65 and later overall Director of The Festival) and assisted by my father, Nick Bremer (Director of Art 1969-2000). The show attracted 7,200 visitors to the College – “The publicity is beyond price” Headmaster Bill Blackshaw proudly told the Council.
“I am he that came out of the army.” (I Samuel 4. 16)
posted - 17th June 2005
Many Old Brightonians I have met during my retirement have memories about their experiences in the CCF and I thought this third – and final – instalment of reminiscences over the last fifty years should deal with the Corps and why I became involved.
“I have been young, and now I am old.” (Psalms XXXVII; 25)
posted - 28th January 2005
In the last issue of the Pelican I wrote about the Remembrance Service in November 2004 and the changes since my first in 1954. I had been appointed in January of that year to help with the four members of the Sixth Form who were taking Latin at A Level. Norman Frith, a Classical Exhibitioner at Corpus Christi, Cambridge, had started the course but found it too much of a commitment in addition to his duties as Head of the History Department.
In November 1942 an appointment had been made by my parents for me to be interviewed by the then Headmaster, Walter Hett. A daunting prospect for a 12 year old. We lived on the other side of Hove so Kemp Town was unknown to me but I did manage to get off the bus at the bottom of College Road. My first contact at the College was the then porter, Smart. On hearing that my appointment was at 11 o’clock he looked at the hall clock; it was ten past eleven! I can still see the look on Smart’s face. I don’t remember ever being late at school again in all of my 5½ years there.
In March 2006, I had the pleasure to attend the 100th Anniversary Dinner of the founding of Durnford House. While at the College, I made a quick visit to the Junior School (JS) now long since situated where St. Mary’s Hall used to be some fifty years ago. I was profoundly shocked and saddened to realize from what turned out to be a very short visit that the JS that my brother, Brian, and I used to know, had totally ceased to exist.
I read with much enjoyment Pat Lyford’s affectionate recollections of his masters’ nicknames and mannerisms in issue 18 of the Pelican. I fully endorse Pat’s comment that he was very fortunate to have had the masters that he mentions. I would like to add my own very minor contribution to his list.