Mayfield Magazine 1952, Issue 10
From the Editorial by David Cracknell: During the year the dramatic activities of the school have reached a very high standard. The house plays, performed just before Christmas, attracted very large audiences. This year “The Happy Journey” which was presented by Wood House was awarded first place. One of the most highly successful plays ever produced in the school must have been “Treasure Island.” It was presented in the school hall just before Easter on the newly completed stage. The Theatre Club are planning another full length play for the end of the simmer term.
From the Headmaster’s Review by C. F. W. Hicks: It must be the aim of all to attain the highest all round standard of which you are capable, and to achieve an outstandingly high performance in that direction in which you are talented, whether it be in academic or craft work, activity or club work, or performance in the field of sport. The boy who achieves hard won success is well on the road to becoming a first rate man and citizen.
Contributor List – Click on items shown as links to view the entries
A Martello Tower by J. Joyce
Killer Shark by F. Tebbs
A Cycle Ride by D. Steven
Up The Amazon River by J. Bailey
A Cycle Ride To North Weald by M. Mumford
My Visit To An Aerodrome by A. Gill
The London Stage by R. Dickens
The Burglary by R. Wasley
Life On A Farm by G. Gower
Grindelwald Chair Lift by G. Smith
A terrible Ride by D. Hoye
Ambushed by S. Richardson
Louis Braille by T. Gocke
A Visit To Highbury by C. Price
A Tramp by M. Brotherston
A Visit To A Large Factory by D. Chambers
The Swallow by T. Cunningham
Impressions Of Woodcot Corner, Silverstone by Derek Evans
Ants by S. Schwendener
The House Next Door by C. Gilderson
An Extraordinary Day by A. Pratt
A Violent Storm by J. Fergus
Ghosts by J. Binns
A Mountain View by D. Page and J. Simpkins
Ode To An Untamed Actor by D. W. Evans
My Dog by C. Byrnes
Green Country by D. Cracknell
The Tower Of London by J. Bailey
Fire by D. Steven
In The News by P. Cardew
First Year Boys and Fourth Year Boys by Derek Chambers
The Author by Colin McKay
Journey To Egypt By B.O.A.C. by R. Armstrong
Our Tortoises by A. Pratt
My Strange Hobby by B. Bond
Our Marionette Show by R. Bell
The Electric Lamp by B. Ham
My Hobby by M. Woods
America’s Soap Box Derby by D. Cracknell
First Night by T. Day
The Rose And Crown by L. Shelve
My Visit To An Aerodrome by A. Gill
One bright sunny morning I clambered into my father’s old car and, having said goodbye to my mother and sister, started on my long journey to Binbrook Royal Airforce Station in Lincolnshire. My father drove me to Kings Cross Station where I caught the train to Grimsby. When we arrived there my aunt and uncle were waiting to greet me and we were soon driving to the aerodrome in their car.
The aerodrome is on the top of a very steep hill and on either side of the road there are several pill boxes made of concrete which have been put there for the protection of the aerodrome. My uncle, who is in the R.A.F., lives in the married quarters and to get there we had to go on a road which ran right across the airfield. We were challenged by an armed sentry, who told us that we could go on at our own risk as there was danger from some Lincoln bombers which were about to land. The planes came in very low over the road and might hit passing vehicles.
When I had changed in my new home where I was to stay for three days, my uncle suggested that we should go up to the hangers to see the new jet bomber, the Canberra. I agreed, so we walked over to the hangers, and I had to give certain information about myself to an officer there and to be searched as a precaution.
As we entered the hanger itself there before our eyes was the long sleek Canberra itself. Just at that moment the pilot got into the cockpit to start the engines. To my astonishment, a man put two cartridges into the muzzle of each engine and suddenly there was an explosion and a terrific screeching noise; the engine had started. After about five minutes the engine was shut off and my uncle and I walked around the plane. Under the wings I noticed small square holes and my uncle told me that if the plane was in the air small jets would come out of the wings and air would be forced out so that it acted as a brake. The Canberra can travel at a speed of four hundred miles an hour and in a hundred yards can slow up to ninety miles an hour by means of these air brakes.
The plane the took off and did a series of acrobatics and then landed at a speed of about ninety miles an hour, a much slower speed than the Lincoln bomber would land at.
The next morning I was wakened in the very early hours by the clanging of bells and the shrill call of hooters. I dashed downstairs to find my uncle already dressed and putting on his boots. ‘There is a fire on the airfield,’ he said in answer to my question. ‘Would you like to come and see it?’ When we got there a fierce blaze met our eyes and we could make out three Lincoln bombers on fire. A Lincoln had been out on a bombing exercise and had had trouble on the way back. All his engines had packed up just as he was going in to land. Two other Lincolns were on the ground near the hanger, and the one in trouble landed on one of them, bounced, landed on the other and then took a final leap into the air and piled up against the hanger door. Luckily there was only one fatal casualty, the Polish pilot who was burned alive, but all the others escaped without serious injury. In ten minutes the flames were under control and were eventually put out.
After having my breakfast, my uncle introduced me to a friend of his a boy named Bernard Kaine, who worked in the Parachute Section and he taught me how to pack a parachute. In the R.A.F. if you pull the rip cord of a parachute without good reason, you have to pay two shillings and six pence to have it packed again.
That night my uncle had permission to take me in a Lincoln whilst it was ‘power testing,’ that is testing the engines. I was very pleased and as we entered the hanger after tea we saw the Lincoln in a corner and a lot of mechanics around it. ‘That’s our one,’ said my uncle, pointing to the great hulk of the machine. ‘Come on they are waiting for us.’ ‘All right,’ I replied, stumbling over tool boxes and pipes. I scrambled into the cockpit, a mechanic pointed to one engine and my uncle told me what to do. I pulled a lever and the whole machine quivered and shook violently. I stayed there for an hour and then went home to bed. As I left Grimsby Station the next day I thought of what an exciting time I had had.
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The Burglary by R. Wasley
I went to bed rather late on Friday night and for a long time I couldn’t get to sleep but kept tossing and turning. Suddenly I heard a queer sound and it was repeated again and again. I decided to go down and investigate and as I went down into the hall the constant tapping seemed to come from my father’s study. By now I was feeling scared as I waited in the dark shadowy hall.
A brilliant idea came to me and I quietly made my way round to the back of the house, whistled softly and my dog came bounding up to me. I called him to heel and crept quietly up to the window of my father’s study. I peered through the window and as I did so I saw the thief disappear through the door into the dark hall. I realised that we was going to the back door.
I rushed round and stood there silently, my hand resting on Paddy’s collar. The thief crept quietly out, sped across the lawn and vaulted the fence. He made only one mistake, in making a trail a dog could follow easily, which was exactly what Paddy did. When I caught up with them, Paddy was standing guard over the thief whilst in the distance could be heard the sound of a motor cycle’s engine. The sound gradually came nearer and nearer until the motor cycle was coming down the lane towards us, so I waved my arms frantically. As luck would have it, it was a mobile policeman and he asked me what I wanted, so I told him the whole story. He got off the machine and soon had the handcuffs on the thief and then phoned for a police car, which arrived within a few minutes.
After everybody had heard the news my father decided to give Paddy and me a reward. Paddy had a silver disc with his name engraved on it. I had a small portable radio of which I was very proud.
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Impressions of Woodcot Corner, Silverstone by D. Evans
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Ghosts by J. Binns
At midnight when the moon comes out,
A ghostly form will creep about,
The graveyard dark and drear.
It rings the bells and shouts in wells,
Which echo loud and clear,
Amid the graveyard dark and drear.
And then the folks will all come out
And say “What’s all the noise about,
Within the graveyard dark and drear?”
But as the people all draw near,
The ghost shrieks out so loud and clear,
That people hurry home in fear,
From the graveyard dark and drear.
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