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My contribution to THE GOLDONIAN is usually addressed to the boys of the School, but on this occasion I feel I would like to make use of
our Magazine to send a message to all Old Boys. My morning post often contains Old Boys' letters, many of them airgraph letters from young
men serving overseas. When sweltering in the Malayan jungle, or swatting flies in some desert place of the Near East, an ex-Goldings boy
cannot help but think of the green lawns and playing fields of his old home. The topics most frequently mentioned in this correspondence are
"Sunny Dymchurch," Wimbledon, House Sports Competitions and various Goldings personalities, whom it would' be impolitic to mention
here by name. Almost without exception there is a request for the last copy of THE GOLDONIAN.
Many of the older generation of Old Boys may still be unaware of the existence of a Goldings Old Boys' Association. This was founded just
over two years- ago by a group of Old Boys who have found work, and in some cases set up homes, in the neighbourhood of the School. The
prestige of the School in the Hertford district owes a great deal to the standards set by these young men and they deserve the support of all
Old Goldonians, far and near. In future there will be a regular Old Boys' Section of our Magazine, which will be supplied to all who are
members of the Association and have paid their membership dues.
This is the season of "Dymchurch." As you toil in workshop, office, or field, footslog on the barrack square or keep watch and ward far from
home, think of us during the next few weeks basking in the sunshine on the sandy beaches of Kent, or maybe Squelching over camp ground
in gum boots. You never can tell.
We are always delighted to get your letters and to learn how things are faring with you. We have a saying here, "They all come back sometime.
"However recent your residence at Goldings or however remote, we are pleased to see you and to chat about times past, present circumstances
and hopes for the future. An important and most valuable feature of Goldings is the long service of many members of Staff. As a comparative
new-comer of only ten years standing I often welcome here Old Boys who were before my time," but you would have to be a very old boy
In deed to find no-one whom you remembered among Staff who have been with us two or three times this period of time.
Wherever you are, and in whatever circumstances of life, I send you greetings and good wishes on behalf of myself and my family and from
All members of Staff and boys at present in the School.
R. F. W.
CHAPEL NOTES, 1955
FINIS CO RON AT OPUS. To every boy and member of staff this motto is a great challenge, a dedication, and an ambition. No matter what
our job in life may be there is the same crown to be won, the same, "Well done, good and faithful servant" to be deserved. The great Sir Harry
Lauder greeted life with a song, "Keep right on to the end of the road". The end alone justifies the labour, especially if it be a labour of love.
To what end? No noble end was ever attained by mortal man that did not involve the bearing of a cross, often a heavy cross, but its weight is
the evidence of our Father who cares for the training of His children. A great mountaineer who once tried to climb Mount Everest once said,
"I got so used to the pack on my back that when I took it off I had to re-adjust my balance; it was almost like losing a friend". Our difficulties
and dangers and disasters are as challenges, and many will be these challenges in our life. But to everyone who can endure these challenges
and all they bring there will be an end which will justify the hardships and the pain and the struggle.
"Keep right on to the end of the road". There will be temptations to leave it, to slacken off in our work, to take things easy, to say "never
mind it will be alright". We are prone, especially when we grow older, to live in the past, to look up to the faded laurels of our former
achievements as though we could niether equal nor surpass them. We must forget these and press on to higher things. We can not live "on"
our memories, else we shall ever be harking after what has gone. We can live "by" our memories, and so seek to act as wisely as we can upon
the lessons of the past. Then we will not fall victims to the small mindedness which magnifies the trivial into the important, nor fall into the
prevalent cynicism of the age which only degrades.
As members of this School and of the wider family of Barnardo's, we can but accept the challenge, and with St. Paul "press on towards the
goal unto the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus."
"FINIS CORQNAT OPUS"
S. C. C.
"AT THE COURT CALLED CENTRE"
And it came to pass in the eleventh year of him that is called "the Head", and in the thirtieth year of him that scribes and gives money to the
little people, and in the eleventh year of him that diggeth in the gardens and keepeth the Verney under subjection in the ninth year of him
that preacheth to the heathen, and in the ninth year of Dickies who fagged the little white ball that is called Slazenger, or to be crude, 1955,
that many people heard swarms of peculiarly arrayed little folk about the court called Centre because it is not in the centre.
From lands far over the great seas came male and female to battle on the green courts of the arena called Wimbledon. Some were well stricken
in years, like Gardnar of the tribe Mulloy, the Evergreen One, who chewed and spat, and spat and chewed, as does the warrior waiting for
battle. And Patty called Budge, because he would not budge when mother called, was also full of years, yet he girded himself for battle like a
young Adonis. Some came to the battle as wise men, full of cunning and guile, who smcte the little white ball called Slazenger as though
addressing a class of studious fellows in the Junior Block. There was Herb of the family of Flam, who wandered hither and thither, and was
thither before he knew he was hither, but he never really knew where he was. And Art, the idol and friend of all little boys who fagged the
little white ball called Slazenger; when Art came upon the sacred turfs he tapped and swore strange oaths, and dreamed a dream of winning
crowns, yet lost to Lew, son of Hoad, in the Round called the Fourth. Lew, a walloper of the little white ball called Slazenger, bashed his way
to the Round called the Fifth before meeting Patty who would not budge.
He who held the crown, the old Drob, went along his way, full of strange powers over many who would dethrone him. Then it happened
upon a sunny day in the Round called the Fifth, that Tony, lord of the tribe Trabert entered the arena against the old Drob, and smote him hip
and thigh, until the old warrior lay defeated on the Court called Centre because it was not in the centre. And the strange folk who came to see
things and to look upon the warriors said in their great wisdom "La and la", and wagged their big heads. So they wheeled away the old Drob
to partake of tea and to eat buns upon the lawns where lords and ladies did eat buns.
Kurt, son of Niel girded himself like a Viking and stormed the ,del of the infidels. He was from the land of great Danes, and himself like a
great Dane, and did speak like a great Dane. _; all the fire of Thor and Odin he wielded his hammer-d downed the cunning Ken from the land
of the kangaroo. did all he could to withstand the Danish onslaught, but alack, Harry the Hop had mixed his words and confounded little Ken,
and little Ken did breathe his last upon the court called centre because it is not in the centre.
eat day of battle, that is, the day before the last -: two warriors would see who would be last to be first or something like that, Kurt, the great
Dane did array himself against Tony, lord of the tribe Trabert. As the giants entered d Centre because it is not in the centre, the whole earth
trembled. The little boys who fagged the little white balls called Slazenger did hurl these same little white balls called Slazenger to the giants,
and the giant Kurt and the giant Tony advanced to combat against each other. Strange men in chairs sat around the great arena, and called
strange words as the giants battled . . . "fault" . . . "net, first service" . . . "deuce". . . and many other rude words. And men with black boxes
that went "Click", looked over the edge of the arena, and many a time Kurt frowned and uttered protestations: but the black boxes went
"click" just the same. All this time did Tony slam the little white balls called Slazenger down the lines, and between the lines, but rarely
over the lines, and he that sat upon the Chair and was called Umpire, did call "game" and "set". And when the sky was dark because of the
thunderbolts of Kurt, and because of the cannon-balls of Tony, Tony uttered a great shout of joy, and Kurt was defeated.
And the lord of the tribe of Trabert did look earnestly upon the thing that is called "Challenge Cup", when the great lady who has looked upon
the great White Queen and is called Duchess, came upon the sacred turf of the Court that is ..called Centre because it is not in the centre. So
the Duchess did put into the hands of Tony the Challenge Cup, and Tony was well pleased. Kurt, who stood by and smiled, and thought
strange thoughts, did put the lid of the Challenge Cup upon the head of Tony, not because he was a big head, but because he wanted to laugh
about something.
All the boys who fagged the little white balls called Slazenger were arrayed in the jousts in coats of mail . . .green and purple, because they
were "of the Club". Among these gaily clad laddies were two, so small, that the giant Sirola who comes from the land of ice-cream and
macaroni, and the giant Morea, who comes from the land of corned beef and revolutions, thought they were new kinds of bugs in the grass.
But they did not smite them nor hurt them, nor even tread on them, because they threw to them the little white balls called Slazenger. And on
the Court called "One" because it is not the first but the one after the first, because the Court called Centre, because it is not- in the centre, is
the first, and the first is then the second but is called "One" . . . well, on this Court called "One" there was a strange one who fagged the little
white balls called Slazenger. This strange one ran as though he ran in a groove, and it made the giants, even in battle, laugh to see the strange
little one run. Some'say he was the fastest thing on two. . .what?
And one called "Walter" did scout out a "wow" called Ava, and asked her to write upon his little book. But Ava wondered what this strange
thing was until "Walter" spoke, and then she knew (but didn't tell him). One, who called herself Darlene Hard by name, but not on the eye,
was a great favourite with the little boys who fagged the little white balls called Slazenger, and she gave to Casey her name upon a tablet
bearing her image. And now Casey sleeps with this strange tablet bearing the image of Darlene under his pillow.
So it came to pass that after the knights and ladies had ended their jousts upon the Courts of Wimbledon, that they did return to their homes
across the great waters. And the coats of mail of the little boys who fagged the little white balls called Slazenger were cast off, and the said
little boys went as quickly as they came.
In the fastnesses of the great marshes of the shire of Hertford, hidden from the vulgar stare of common people live the little boys who fagged
the little white balls called Slazenger; and they will there stay 'till, upon the Court that is called Centre because it is not in the centre, the
sounds of battle will once more be heard. Selah.
S. C. C.
LETTER EXTRACT
The following is an extract from a letter sent to Mr. de Boeck. James Walford was the youngest of the Walford brothers and was at Goldings
in the Sheet Metal Work Department from January, 1950 to July, 1953.—EDITOR.
NA/JH Walford,
L/SF 935250,
I4A. / A.H. Mess,
H.M.S. Bulwark,
c/o G.P.O., London.
Dear Mr. deBoeck,
Since I saw you at Easter I have been on the move quite a lot. I have visited Norway, Sweden, Denmark and Holland.
We have had a very busy time flying, etc., but have certainly had some good fun and could not have had better weather. We were at Oslo for
one week, just before the Queen visited there.
Norway is a beautiful country and most of the people there speak good English. We also visited the town of Bergen.
When we visited Sweden we stayed for a time at Stockholm there I went on a coach tour inland. I also went on a boating trip with some girl
students and visited many villages and historic buildings.
We visited the Royal Palace and City Hall, where there was nor and banquet for the Royal Navy. We all had a very good time
Denmark reminded me very much of Holland because we find many windmills and flower farms and as it was June
you cam guess at every-where was in its brightest summer colours.
We were taken to the homes of Danish people and had a very enjoyable time.
The weather was very hot on our return and the ship was stopped twice out in the channel so that we could have "hands to bathe". It was good
to think that I was swimming farther out in the Channel than most people reach. The water was not too warm as the temperature was only 50' F.
I hope to visit you in August. Remember me to the folks at Goldings and to Mrs. deBoeck.
Yours sincerely,
JAMES WALFORD.
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