The Carmelite Years

“My first day at school consisted of wondering just how I was ever going to concentrate with all the clashing and clanging emitted from the Fleet Street presses. It was deafening. However it was not too long before we hardly noticed the noise as we went about our daily work.  

In the winter days we would surreptitiously put potatoes on the classroom fire so that we could eat them at break time. Once in a while one would explode in the fireplace and trouble would follow for the owner of the potato.  

There were strict rules not to look out of the back windows towards the Boys’ School as we descended the staircase. It became an adventure to take a peek without being caught. We also seem to have spent an inordinate amount of time going without both hat and gloves whenever we were out of sight of the staff. This was considered an extreme violation of school rules and was punishable with a trip to the Headmistress's door.”

Hilary (1956 - 1961)

"I remember the open fires in the old building, especially in winter when I used to bring in a potato in the morning, put it in the grate and have baked spud for morning break - great fun. I also remember crossing through to the newer building between small studios from the School of Music and seeing the students practicing their conducting to records.”

Ann (1948 - 1952)

“The Guildhall School of Music was somehow integrated with the City building. Some of our corridors passed through their facility… at the change of classes we used to dash madly through the GSM corridor causing many a missed note in arias, violin and piano, I am sure. Liken it to a herd of elephants. The more noise we made, the happier we were! This building overlooked Fleet Street and the newspaper offices, in which were quite a few young men that we ogled from the windows whilst pretending to study. We even held up messages! All very innocent - but not in the eyes of the teachers!”

Janyce (1943 - 1948)

“Looking back, it seems rather Dickensian... the porter's lodge by the front door where Stringer dwelt, Miss Colton's office, known as the coal-hole, the way the floors in the two buildings didn't quite meet, in the summer when the windows were open the clattering of printing presses, in the winter the coal fires in the classrooms, indoor shoes and outdoor shoes, the toilets in the old basement known as the bogs, the aptly-initialled Misses B and M Nash, the library in ‘Heaven’, the gas lamps in the street lit each evening by a lamp-lighter, playing ‘carriage-he’ in the train on the way home, the awful maroon school knickers obtainable only from Gamages…”

Joan (1956 - 1963)  

“At the end of the Summer Term in 1956 the Headmistress decreed no more hats were to be thrown into the Thames by those leaving CLSG; a ‘tradition’ which had grown for some years. A reporter picked up on the story and a rhyme was printed in the Evening Standard that year. Unfortunately, the only piece I can remember after all these years is ‘Blue bonnets fly over the windmill but not in the Thames, dear girls.’ Needless to say, when my friends and I left in 1957 a few more hats whizzed off Blackfriars Bridge!”

Ann (1951 - 1957)  

“My earliest impression was of the enormous amount of stairs (we lived in a ground floor flat) and the lovely old wooden staircase which wound its way round a small gallery to the level of the Assembly Hall. Then a rather scruffier wooden staircase from there up to the Preparatory Department, Music Room and ‘Heaven’. The Preparatory Department housed four age groups in those days, divided into Kindergarten and Transition who were largely taught together on one side of a large folding screen, and Lower and Upper First also taught in the same classroom, on the other side of the screen, but doing different work.

The old school adjoined the Guildhall School of Music and down in the Old Basement there were internal windows which looked into the Music School and on hot days when they were often open I can still remember the smell of greasepaint wafting through.

The school porters were another integral part of the school. They monitored all who came and went, though as we got older it became a bit of a game to try and sneak out unseen (and then get back in again) during the lunch hour. I also remember a steady little stream of girls nipping into Stringer's cubby-hole by the front door to get him to place bets on Derby and Grand National days - all of 3d each way!

I think it has been well chronicled that in early years girls who were leaving threw their hats into the Thames from Blackfriars bridge and then raced across the road to watch them bob under the bridge and sail down the river. However before I left that practice was stopped as being dangerous, so several of us decided we would burn our hats instead and set light to them in the tin waste paper basket. Unfortunately the blaze got a bit out of hand and my last memories of Carmelite Street are racing between the cloakroom (fortunately close by) and the burning bin frantically dowsing the flames. We succeeded in putting it all out but left rather a mess behind. I don't know if anyone did ever discover who was responsible!”

Helen (1946 -1959)

“When I think back to my two years in the sixth at CLSG the overriding memory is that of kneeling in front of the Headmistress / Deputy to check that one's skirt was no shorter than an inch above the floor.”

Pauline (1966 -1968)

“How dark it all was. The huge staircase. Standing in the hall for prayers and looking at the golden-lettered honours boards and the portraits of William Ward and his wife. Real coal fires in the classrooms. Coming out of school to go home and looking down and realizing the fog was too thick for me to see my own feet. Playtime down in the basement - sticky buns and milk. The embarrassment of Miss Turner's scripture lessons near Easter - she always wept when she told the story of the Crucifixion. Poetry competitions held in the Headmistress's study. Fire drills when you went down to the basement and climbed up ladders into the Guildhall School of Music. How hot and sticky you were in the summer, still in stockings, a thick wool blazer, panama hat and gloves. I seem only to remember the disadvantages, and yet I loved school and was very happy there. The good things weren't exactly the buildings but were connected with the people and the teaching, and there was something exciting about belonging to the City and being in the middle of it.”

Jean (1936 - 1943)

“My first memory of CLSG is of getting fitted out with the school uniform, which filled me with indescribable pride.  We infants were located right on the top floor. The ‘babies’, which I initially joined, I seem to recall, were located in a tiny room, where we learnt reading and writing; arithmetic with tins of little brightly coloured blocks of wood, representing tens and units; dancing and movement; painting and gym.

My very first theatrical experience was at the school production of ‘ Alice in Wonderland’. We infants were escorted downstairs to the gym and sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the stage. I remember that the finale was a pack of cards being hurled across the stage, a memorable moment! I also remember a visit by the Lord Mayor of London, when we were given little bottles of milk, which we were supposed to shake until they turned into cream!

Robin (left 1943)

“A group of us travelled up every day from the Dulwich/Forest Hill area in South London on the number 63 bus. We had all been together at our first school, Miss Jamieson's, in Honor Oak. I remember the building very well: the huge wooden staircase sweeping up and lit from above by a skylight; the basement where we had breaks and played pirates; the large hall on the ground floor; Miss Wickham's rooms at the top of the building complete with grand piano and several Pekingese dogs; and, my favourite, the art rooms - run by the inimitable Mrs Cardew.”

Jacqueline (1958 - 1962)

“One of my most amusing memories was that (presumably to give us some fresh air, since we had no outdoor playground and at ‘break’ we had only a dingy underground room with a skylight to play in) we were on occasions taken for a walk through the Temple. The smart thing to do was to drop out of the crocodile, go to Lyons’ tea shop in Fleet Street for, say, a glass of milk and a bun, and rejoin the crocodile on its way back to School. Whoever carried out this daring exploit had to bring the receipt to prove that she had really done it.”

Sheila (1938 - 1939)

“The entrance hall was quite small but the floor was beautifully tiled and a brass notice board hung on the wall with the names of Governors etc. This was Stringer’s domain. Mr Stringer, a small dapper man dressed in his uniform of black suit with the Corporation badge embroidered on each lapel was the Head Porter. He was always on duty and kept a strict eye on who was coming and going. He was assisted by Mr Hinde. Only the staff used the main entrance, girls used an adjacent door.

We only had two science labs, one for biology and one for chemistry. Later a room designated as a physics room was installed and my form had the privilege of having it as our form-room when it was brand new. Instead of desks we had lovely birch wood tables with drawers.

Lessons in the Tudor Street extension were different. When the windows were opened in the summer the rooms echoed to the constant clack-clacking of the printing presses churning out newspapers day after day. Whitefriars Street that leads down to Carmelite Street was always jammed with enormous lorries carrying huge rolls of paper looking like giant cotton reels on their backs. Later in the day the distinctive red and yellow Evening News vans would speed off to distribute the bundles of papers tied up neatly with string.”

Fiona (1957 - 1964)

“We had a playroom in the basement of the Old Building near the cloakroom where we left our hats, coats and shoe bags on pegs. We spent many happy times during our break playing table tennis there.

Our uniform was splendid and always looked very smart. The only awful part of it was having to wear red woollen pants.

It was a great rush to have our lunch on days when we had to travel to Grove Park on two different trains for our sports - hockey, tennis and, of course Sports Days. It must have kept us very fit! We had to run up all those awful steps at Villiers Street to catch the train from Charing Cross to Grove Park and then walk carrying all our homework, games equipment etc.”

Ann (1953 - 1959)

“During the very cold winter of 1963 the weekly coach excursion to the games field was usually replaced by outings to St James’ Park where anyone who had ice skates used them on the lake whilst the rest of us just slid about on the ice - much more rewarding than hockey or netball, I thought.

It must have been at about this time that Miss Church (Geography) was our form mistress. Miss Church had something of a reputation for being a bit of a dragon. I soon discovered that one could keep on her ‘right side’ by having a yellow duster and a tin of furniture polish in order to keep one’s desk pristine - the glassier the top the better.”

Jill (1960 -1965)