The school was originally called Totley County School or TCS, but known to generations of 50s’ pupils as ‘Totley Cowsheds’. The other school in Totley, All Saints C of E School, was still (I think) the old-fashioned ‘all through’ village school catering for children up to school-leaving age (then 14, I think) – and there were certainly some ‘big boys’ that we little ‘uns were all a little scared of. Yan Kendal was one name I remember!
The classes at Totley were:
Born in 1947, I was a child of the biggest-ever ‘bulge year’ following the Second World War, and presumably the school was built to accommodate us in the growing community of Totley (which, until the mid-1930s, had been a small Derbyshire village – and remained in the Diocese of Derby until the 1970s). Likewise, because of numbers J3 and J4 (at least) were divided into A and B sections. J3A’s teacher was W E ‘Pop’ Roberts, who moved up to J4 with us, much to my parents’ delight; he was a very good teacher. My best friend, Roger Glossop, was unfortunately in J4B, but his teacher, Mr Courage, seemed a lot younger than Mr Roberts, and was also very popular. I met Roger Courage years later when he came to the school where I taught in North Yorkshire for a conference – he was then teaching at Birkdale.
The Headmistress was Miss Clareborough, who seemed quite stern and forbidding to us children! I think her Christian name was Phyllis, but for some reason I thought it was Peter (even though I knew that was a boy’s name!) Miss Clareborough took assembly every day, when we sang a hymn and had prayers. One of the older children would read a Bible story. Every Friday children were allowed to perform in some way – often a recitation or even a small play. In 1958 I remember playing Claudius (in my dressing gown) in a brief excerpt from Hamlet performed by members of J4 and directed by Edward Mayor. The stage was littered with dead bodies by the end and we all got the giggles! The hymn came from Songs of Praise, standard issue to Sheffield schools at the time. I particularly enjoyed ‘Glad that I live am I’, ‘Hills of the North rejoice’, and the Easter hymn ‘At Easter time the Lilies fair’, and also remember having some problems with the meaning of verse 2 of ‘I vow to thee, my Country’, mixing up the meaning of ‘shining bounds’ with ‘bonds’ and tying it all in with some aliens called Treens in the boys’ comic The Eagle! I was a thoughtful little boy, but sometimes my thoughts got tangled up! If we didn’t sing loudly enough we would be told off by Miss Clareborough, whose favourite line seemed to be ‘You would still carry on singing if the roof fell down!’ the thought of which caused us great amusement – and I remember often mimicking her saying this out of school!
A regular assembly item was the reporting of accidents to schoolchildren, detailed on a series of sheets produced periodically by the City Council. Miss Clareborough would read the name of the unfortunate child, followed by a resonant ‘ran into the road without looking’ or whatever. I don’t remember any Totley children ever being knocked down, but our roads were very quiet in those days.
I started at TCS when I was 4¾ years old (presumably Easter 1952) as the school was brand new and had space for under-5s. My only memory of that first day was sitting in a large room surrounded by crying children – but I remember NOT crying! My first teacher was the lovely Miss Nadin. I lived at 35 The Grove when I started school, and walked to school with the other children from that road. In 1953 we moved to 11 Stonecroft Road and I was taken home to my new house with the Stonecroft children. There were six of us ‘Stonecroft’ boys within two school years and it was like growing up with five brothers – we did everything together!
On the day before the Coronation in June 1953 we were each given a souvenir china mug and I remember carrying it extremely carefully (in two little hands) walking home along Sunnyvale Road! There were horrific tales afterwards of children who had dropped theirs! The modern idea of the ‘school run’ had not been invented, of course, as cars were very rare. Primary school children simply walked to and from school, and if it rained you wore your wellies and got wet! A regular halt on the walk home from school was the Co-op shop by Wesley’s newsagents, where we loved to watch the overhead track carrying cash from the counters into the cash office at the rear of the shop like an inverted railway. We were often passed going home by a Ford van with ‘Beware – A Blind Man Is Driving This Van’ painted on the back doors. As a small chap I used to think deeply about this, and guessed that the blind driver had a sighted companion sitting alongside who told him when to turn and when to slow down etc, and it was only when I was a little older that I realised that the van belonged to a company selling blinds!
I have always been keen on buses, and at one stage – probably around J2 – my friend Adrian Holden and I would ‘drive’ home, pretending to be buses and turning our steering wheels to go round corners! The place on Baslow Road where the Roman Catholic church now stands was just a field in those days, and at the far end there were some blackberry bushes – for this reason that spot was known to us as ‘Blackberry Bus Station’ and during the summer we called there to sample the produce! I also remember passing that very spot on the way to school one day when I was in J4. Examining the coins in the pocket of my shorts I found an 1837 ha’penny in almost mint condition; I wondered where it had been for the last 120 years! N.B. that in 1958 a ha’penny would buy two Black Jacks, so was not to be sniffed at! Mrs Spring’s sweet shop on Totley Rise used to have a ‘penny tray’, a ‘ha’penny tray’ and even a ‘farthing tray’ for us to choose from, while fish & chips next door would be up to 1/6d (7½p) by the time I was old enough to buy them! Polos were 2d and Mars Bars increased from 4d to 6d (2½p) while I was at Totley.
Like many families, mine bought (or rather rented) a television for the Coronation. I say ‘rented’, as TVs were very expensive in those days, and most people rented a set from firms like DER for so much per week. But the first time I remember watching television was King George’s funeral in February 1952; Mrs Foster, who lived in the house at the corner of The Grove and The Green, was the only person we knew with a TV and I remember sitting on the floor in front of a roomful of quiet and respectful adults watching the funeral procession on a tiny black and white screen. By the time of The Queen’s Coronation we were living in Stonecroft Road and I remember the street party on Coronation Day, long tables of food lined up the middle of the road. All very exciting when you were six! Our class photo in the summer of 1953 had a special ‘Coronation Souvenir’ mount. In 1955 ITV started in the North, and I remember watching it for the first time at my friend Roger Glossop’s house; it seemed very odd to have adverts on the TV!
I think I could already read when I went to school, having learned, quite literally, at my mother’s knee. I gather that I was quite precocious in terms of language – my mother’s elder sister, a primary school teacher herself, had apparently been amazed when, aged 4, I said ‘Look at the river glistening in the sun,’ at Bakewell!
From Reception I moved to Infant 1, ruled over by Miss Grandage. She was a shouter; her favourite shout was ‘This place is like a bear garden!’ – though we did wonder what a bear garden actually WAS! Infant 2 had Miss White, a large red-headed lady, whose mother used to come to school sometimes to play the piano. Miss White was a little older and more experienced than Miss Grandage, and her classroom was quiet and well ordered. My first composition in Infant 2 was the story of Jack and the Beanstalk and I can still remember my pride at being awarded my first gold star! We must have started British geography in Infant 2 as we were all amused by the Isle of Wight, which of course we all thought of as ‘I love White’! Infant 2 was also the time of my first rude joke: Why did the submarine blush? Because it saw Queen Mary’s bottom! Queen Mary, the present Queen’s grandmother and the wife of George V, had died only in Coronation year, so was a recent figure. She was the last British queen to wear long dresses as her everyday attire.
I remember little of early junior days, at least in the classroom – but see the photo of Mrs Forsdyke’s J2 class below. Mrs Forsdyke was known as ‘Fussy (or ‘Fuzzy’) Forsdyke’, so I presume she must have been rather fussy! I was generally considered a bright boy and behaviour in the classroom was well controlled, and so the early junior days passed without any problems. One of the most memorable moments of my life took place when I was 7. In those days we all listened to Children’s Favourites on the wireless on Saturday mornings, introduced by ‘Uncle Mac’. One Saturday morning I was just going into the dining room of our house when Uncle Mac said ‘The next request is for David Hope, aged 7, of Stonecroft Road, Totley Rise, Sheffield – and I must congratulate you on your good handwriting, David.’ (I fear it’s steadily gone downhill since!) My request read – and I remember it exactly: ‘Dear Uncle Mac, Please would you play for me “The Yeomen of England” from “Merrie England” by Edward German. Yours sincerely, David Hope (Age 7).” That particular piece was the signature tune of a TV programme at the time called ‘The Gordon Honour’ starring William Russell.
We had a uniform of a brown blazer with a ‘TCS’ badge on the breast pocket, though I don’t think this was compulsory, likewise a brown and gold striped tie. Boys all wore short trousers in the 1950s, khaki in the summer and dark coloured in the colder periods of the year. None of us ever wore long trousers in those days, even in the snow! My mother considered jeans very common, and I wasn’t allowed to wear any until I was in my teens. We had no special clothing for PE, but I remember the girls tucking their skirts into their knickers, which I’m sure some of them found embarrassing.
At school playtime we boys often played with our Dinky cars, running them along the wall opposite the back door into the playground. One day I was running along with my car from one end and my friend Adrian Spring (grandson of Mrs Spring of sweet shop fame) started from the other – CRASH! This was one road accident that did not get reported, but both of us were certainly ‘knocked down’! I must have been the more seriously damaged (I remember two bloody knees, one tooth knocked out and another held on by a strip of gum) as I had the singular honour of being taken home in Miss Clareborough’s car, a dark blue Austin 10. My poor mother didn’t know whether to take me to the doctor or dentist first, but presumably I was patched up successfully! We had no telephone in those days (my parents didn’t get a phone until I went to university) and of course my mother was at home as mothers of young children simply didn’t go out to work in the 1950s.
Talking of Adrian Spring and cars brings me to Adrian’s Uncle Spike. Uncle Spike had a pre-war 4-seater open MG, and when he was visiting he would take us boys to school, a great treat. The best place to sit was not actually in the car itself, but with our bottoms on the folded hood and our feet on the rear seat, hanging on to each other with loud squeals as we went round corners – ‘Elf and Safety nowadays would have a fit, but in those days nobody worried! Few people had cars in those days, but another of the Stonecroft boys in my year was Michael Witherley, whose father always had two cars in the drive in addition to the van he used for work. One of them was always a sports car, and another fond memory is of my 10th birthday, 11th June 1957, when I was in J3. Mr Witherley came to pick us up from school in his Triumph TR3 and – for a birthday treat – we went up to Owler Bar and I did my first ever 100 mph on the back roads of Derbyshire!
Needless to say we were all safely inside the car on this occasion, no schoolboy bottoms on the hood, but there were no seatbelts in 1957! A couple of years later the TR3 had been changed for a Jaguar XK150 and Michael took a photo of the speedometer showing a (then quite legal) 140 mph on the way to Scarborough!
Of course, not everything you learn at junior school is fit to be repeated to adults. I remember getting home one day when I was about 8 and saying innocently, ‘I’ve learnt two new rude words today, mummy.’ ‘Oh yes,’ she answered, ‘what are they?’ ‘F*ck and f*rt!’ I said proudly – and from the reaction I got I didn’t dare use the latter word for many years afterwards!
Punishments at home for children in the 1950s were usually a smack and would, I suppose, be forbidden nowadays. I remember once going for a walk with Jimmy Grattan, who lived on Marstone Crescent and whose parents owned the big grocery shop at the top of Totley Rise. I must have been longer than intended and arrived back home to angry and worried parents. My trousers and underpants were taken down, I was put over the piano stool, and my father took off his leather belt and applied it to my bare bottom. Illegal nowadays, but quite usual in the 1950s.
‘Playing out’ was the normal occupation of primary and lower secondary school children in those days. There were very few people with cars in Stonecroft Road, so the road became our playground. We played football, we played cricket (using a soft ball in deference to peoples’ windows!) and we played our own game called ‘Ego’, whose arcane rules I no longer remember!
Parents were always wanting us to go up to the ‘rec’ at Green Oak to play ball games, but we were perfectly happy playing in the road, thank you, just moving on the rare occasions when a car came down. There were two vacant building plots at the top of Stonecroft Road where it meets Marstone Crescent. I guess that building had started there but had for some reason been halted, but for us boys it was ‘The Site’, where we had our adventures, rushed around, fell down and cut our knees! For some reason our parents would say ‘Keep off that Site!’ when we went out following the doorstep request ‘Is your Hopey coming out to play?’ but that was where we always headed, often just to ‘hang’ (as they say nowadays) or to do some construction of our own. There were lots of scaffolding poles lying around, plus some corrugated sections of Anderson shelters, and if we laid a trail of poles from the raised section in the middle of the Site and hauled an Anderson shelter ‘sledge’ to the top, we could then jump aboard and roll down. Great fun!
And we went further away to play. Our favourite place as we all got older was the Dirt Track on Totley Rise, which I don’t think many adults knew about; I certainly never saw an adult there! Before the dual carriageway on the Rise was constructed there was a very sharp bend – scene of many collisions – where the old road passed between some woods and the shops on Totley Rise. In those woods was a well-worn track in a large irregular circle where we rode our bikes and raced – there was even a banked section like Brooklands!
Another favourite summer activity when we got to senior school was riding our bikes up to Owler Bar (good for the calves!) then pedalling furiously and coasting back down into Totley! My 13th birthday brought the ineffable delight of my first brand-new bike, a Dawes Dorado with 5-speed gears, finished in ‘polychromatic purple’ with black and silver mudguards. Wow! The bike came from Butterworth’s cycle shop down on Abbeydale Road, and when I caught the bus towards town on my birthday – which was luckily a Saturday – to pick the bike up, I was under strict instructions from my dad that I had to wheel it as far as Millhouses! I then did the Cycling Proficiency training at Jordanthorpe School on Saturday mornings, meaning a long pull up Twentywell Lane, but I came away after a few weeks with my badge and a certificate signed by the Chief Constable!
Going back to Totley County School after that brief diversion, school meals were rather ‘iffy’. I think that most school meals in Sheffield were delivered from central kitchens in a fleet of grey Austin K3 vans, but – still very young – I heard my mum telling someone that at Totley all meals were cooked ‘on the premises’. I mis-understood this, thinking that a ‘premises’ was a make of cooker, like a Cannon; I told someone who went to a different school that ‘we had a premises at our school’! School meals at Totley have had a psychological effect on me to this day: I still cannot eat mashed potato, and the boiled fish with black skin was revolting. I remember queuing for lunch in J4 having learnt a smattering of French, and remarking to a friend that the revolting taste and smell of school fish made me understand why the French called it ‘poisson’! When I was about 6 I staged a one-boy protest in the dining room. I wouldn’t eat my lunch (it was probably the dreaded boiled fish and mashed potato combo) and Mrs Gascoigne, the lunch-time ‘helper’ (that’s what she was called) said ‘You won’t go till you’ve eaten it all up.’ I clutched my knife and fork vertically in my little fists and refused to eat….I sat there all through two sittings until it was time for class and they HAD to release me!
I didn’t like Mrs Gascoigne, and she offended me again in J4. My father had lent me a book ‘Twenty Poems by Rupert Brooke’, which I had at school one day. It was a rainy lunch-time, so Mrs Gascoigne had all of us juniors to entertain (poor woman!) in the Assembly Hall. She saw my book, snatched it off me with the word ’Poems!’ (she pronounced it ‘Pomes’) but then thrust it back in my hands with ‘Oh, they’re for grown-ups!’ I remember thinking ‘Well, I’m in J4 – do you expect me to have kids’ books?’ When I was in my teens I had a Saturday job delivering meat for Pashley’s, the butchers at the top of Main Avenue; Mrs Gascoigne was a customer so I met her often, and my opinion softened somewhat!
My bladder was a problem throughout my days at Totley. I was, I think, the only child who could go to the loo during class without asking first, as when I wanted to go, I wanted to go NOW! I spent a few days in the Children’s Hospital when I was seven ‘for observation’ because of my fairly constant bed-wetting. After my first night in hospital a large nurse stood over me and said ‘Have you moved your bowels?’ At 7 I had no idea what my bowels were, let alone whether I had ‘moved’ them or not – what a daft question to ask a small child! My bladder control improved as I grew up, but I was 13 the last time I wet the bed. I remember once in J4 laughing so hard at something that I lost control and wet my pants, not a good idea in the summer term in those days when boys generally wore khaki shorts! Another embarrassing moment in J4 was going out to play rounders on the field one summer afternoon. I hadn’t noticed a rounders post lying on its side in front of me, and trod on it; the effect was like the cartoon rake – the post sprang up and hit me on the forehead. I saw stars for a moment, but recovered and went on with the game – I never told the teacher!
Being left-handed meant being a little awkward – or ‘cack-handed’, as we say in Yorkshire. I was, I think, amongst the first generation of British children who were ‘allowed’ to write left-handed at school. Working in pencil was fine, but when we started using ink (J1?) it became more of a problem. The school pens we used were simply pieces of dowelling with a nib attached, and they were ‘dip pens’ – we dipped them into the ink-wells on our desks to put more ink on the nibs. The ink-wells were white porcelain and fitted into holes on the right-hand-side at the front of the desks, ideal for right-handers but not so good for us left-handers as we had to take the freshly-inked pen right across ourselves and the paper. I can remember the day when I solved the typical left-handers’ smudging problem by deciding to write ‘over the top’. It looks awkward but works! By the beginning of J4 I still couldn’t tie my tie or my shoe-laces, but learnt during the year as senior school was fast approaching. I remember once my Auntie Doris (the schoolteacher), who must have been staying with us at the time, coming to school with my mum to take me home. She bent down to tie my laces just as Miss Clareborough came outside and was roundly told off for doing it for me!
In J4 Rodney Hogg, a very sensible boy, was a sort of ‘form captain’. When it was time for the bell to be rung (for lunch or the end of school) Pop Roberts would say to him ‘Go and tinkle, Rodney.’ At the end of the school day we put our chairs on the desks then put our hands together and closed our eyes to say together the 3rd collect at Evening Prayer: ’Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee O Lord, and by thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night. For the sake of thy only Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ.’
In J4 I sat at the front desk on the right – with David Hunter, I think. On the wall to my right was a maths poster with the word ‘parallel’ on it; since then I have always been able to spell ‘parallel’!
A fixture towards the end of the summer term was the whole school reading test. Every child was called individually into Miss Clareborough’s office and had to read through a long series of words – which included the word ‘sceptre’ (the only one I remember). As a good reader I was always excellent at this and even got a smile from Miss C!
There was a junior school choir organised by Miss Willoughby – later to become Mrs Poyser. I enjoyed singing (and joined the choir at St John’s when I was 9) and remember singing ‘Non nobis Domine’ by Roger Quilter and a Breton folksong ‘At Pleyerel in Brittany’ with a soulful modal melody. We were all convinced that Miss Willoughby and Mr Courage were romantically linked, so it was a surprise when she became Mrs Poyser during one holiday!
The 11+ exam was of course a feature of J4 in those days, though I don’t remember any cramming for it, and I was still 10 when I sat it in March 1958. There were, I think, three papers (English, Maths, Verbal Reasoning), and they were invigilated by teachers from another school. We did not sit the papers in J4’s classroom but in another room – at the far end of the corridor, I think, near the infants…..I was rather nonchalant about the whole thing (no stress at all!) and remember having a bag of crisps in my blazer pocket which I dipped into when the invigilator wasn’t looking! If you were a boy and your parents wanted you to go to King Edward’s (which simply took the top 120 boys in the 11+) they had to put it first on the list of choices – it was the only secondary school which had any special conditions. Rather like senior schools getting children into Oxbridge, Sheffield primary schools in those days were judged on the number of boys they got into King Ted’s.
One benefit of actually passing your 11+ for us boys was that Mr Harper, the barber on the bank of shops above Totley Rise, gave you 6d (2½p) when you gave him the glad tidings of your success! I remember in 1958 one of the shops in that block closing, then re-opening as something called a ‘Self-Service Store’. Instead of having a counter and a friendly shopkeeper standing behind it, the groceries were arranged on shelves around the shop, and you picked up a basket and filled it yourself with items from the shelves.
This was a novel concept which didn’t interest the housewives of Totley, who preferred to be served. The shop closed after six months, and self-service took many years to reappear!
The 11+ results came on a Saturday in early June: if you passed you got a long brown envelope, if you failed you got a short white one (which was rather silly). I remember sitting in our kitchen in Stonecroft Road, the week before my 11th birthday, opening (thankfully!) my long brown envelope…..’Dear Sir/Madam,’ the letter from the Director of Education began, ‘I am pleased to inform you that your son/daughter has qualified for admission to (rubber stamp) KING EDWARD VII SCHOOL.’ This was probably the greatest moment of my life so far, and my dad took me to town in the afternoon to buy me my first watch. We had to bring the letter to school the following Monday, and I was the first of three boys to report a pass to King Edward’s – a rare moment of glory! The other two were Alan Dungworth and Paul Cooper. My best friend, Roger Glossop, failed his 11+, much to my distress, and he ended up at Abbeydale Secondary Modern School – but later on he was in the first year to sit O Levels. Later still he became a nationally famous theatre designer, so he didn’t do too badly! There were ugly rumours that at King Ted’s boys did PE just in their underpants and swam naked, but happily these turned out to be completely untrue – the uniform list included PE shorts and some rather strange non-elasticated swimming trunks with tapes to fasten at the side, white for non-swimmers and blue for swimmers. Mind you, the boys’ lavatories were out in the back yard (and therefore known as ‘the Backs’) and I well remember going through the snow just in a pair of shorts when I had to ‘go’ during a PE lesson! It was only the advent of girls at King Ted’s in the later 1960s which brought the lavatories indoors!
There were 45 children in J4, all sitting at double desks with separate chairs. In form 1(2) at King Edward’s there were 33 11-year-old boys, all in blue blazers and short trousers (apart from Gray, who was the only boy in the whole first form to wear long trousers!) and we sat in individual iron-framed desks with attached seats. First formers were known as fags, and we all had to wear a narrow square-bottomed tie known as a ‘fag rag’. We ditched these at the end of the 2nd Form, while the compulsory school caps could be left off after our fifth term at the school! My form master, in his Oxford MA gown, was a lovely man called Bruce Chalmers who taught me Latin. His lessons were great fun and I love Latin to this day. Often, if a boy made a common mistake, Mr Chalmers would give us a ‘law’ named after the boy; thus ‘Hope’s Law’ ran: ‘In Latin an adjective agrees with its noun in number, gender and case.’ I remember it still! He also had a ‘Fish Club’ list of boys who swam into his traps – ‘In the Fish Club!’ he would grin at some unfortunate little boy who had been caught in his net. He taught us the difference between the active and passive by bending us over a desk and (gently) whacking our bottoms with a slipper while intoning ‘Magister puerum verberat’ and ‘Puer a magistro verberatur’ – ‘The master beats the boy’, and ‘The boy is beaten by the master’. In 2016 he would doubtless have ended up in one of Her Majesty’s prisons, but in the 1950s he became one of Her Majesty’s Inspectors of Education!
Before the advent of the metric system in the UK, maths lessons were a little more complicated than perhaps they are today. Our exercise books had useful tables of ‘Avoirdupois Weights and Measures’ on the back cover, and I used to find that delightful and obviously foreign word ‘avoirdupois’ quite exciting. Rods, poles and perches were there, as were furlongs (which we learnt meant ‘a furrow long’) and of course children knew by heart that there were 1760 yards in a mile and 2240 pounds in a ton – and I expect most 50s children remember these numbers still! Sums involving money in maths lessons were particularly complicated as you had to remember that there were 12 pennies in a shilling but 20 shillings in a pound – and there were farthings (4 to a penny) and ha’pennies (2 to a penny) as well. We also had guineas to contend with, as prices of large items were often in guineas. A guinea was one pound plus one shilling (21/-) so large multiples became quite difficult.
Below are some photographs from the Friends Reunited site, posted by Lynne Hawley. She put in some names and I’ve added as many more as I can remember. These children will now be 69 or 70 years old! There’s also my First Form photograph from King Edward’s to show that there was life after TCS!
Back Row: ?, Kenny Wells, Terry Ollerenshaw, Ian Nutter, Alan Smith, ?, ?, Christopher Eales, David Hope, Michael Reynolds, Miss White.
2nd Row: John Parkin, ?, Paul Croft, Sheila Hooley, ?, Pamela Webster, Philippa Winser, ?, George Crawshaw, Alan Beere, Stewart Raw.
3rd Row: Jennifer Booth, Anne Singleton, Catherine Nicholson, ?, ?, ?, ?, ?, ?, ?.
Front Row: John Adams, Paul Cox ?, John Allerick?, Nicholas Gibb, Geoffrey Hayward, Adrian Spring, ?, John Cook.
The present Cheshire Home up Mickley Lane was Cherrytree Orphanage in the 1950s; the children attended TCS, and we were encouraged to invite them for tea. Michael Reynolds and Stuart Raw in I2 were from the orphanage, Michael being a particular friend of mine.
Back Row: Mrs Forsdyke, ?, Richard Jerrom, John Parkin, Paul Cooper, Andrew Whittlestone, Brian Johnson, Peter Cattell, Michael Hemming, Kenny Wells, Martin Newman, Robert Coey, David
2nd Row: Anthony Nathan, Margaret Nicholson, Stuart Raw, Paul Maddocks, Maxim Rollin, David Hunter, Sylvia Russell, Elizabeth Hazlehurst, John Schofield, Rodney Hogg, John Kay, Mary Kelham.
3rd Row: Mary ?, Dorothy Bearcroft, Lynne Hawley, G. Gregory, June King, Jane Cattell, Anne Singleton, J. Wilkinson, Jacqueline Harrison, Ann Hewson, Christine Burnand, Gillian (with a hard ‘G’) Keith, Pamela Webster.
Front Row: David Beckett, Michael Witherley, Robert (‘Fuff’) Jones, Edward Mayor, Christopher Crookes, John Cook, Ian Nutter, ? , Robert Morrison, Alan Dungworth.
(not such a clear photograph, I fear)
Back Row: John Schofield, Paul Cooper, David Hunter, Brian Johnson, Maxim Rollin, ?, Rodney Hogg, Paul Maddocks, Andrew Whittlestone, John Kay, Peter Laming, Mr Roberts.
2nd Row: John Parkin, Robert Coey, Anthony Nathan, David Hope, Mary Kelham?, Sylvia Russell, Madeleine Hatchek, Elizabeth Hazlehurst, Peter Cattell, Richard Jerrom, Michael Hemming, Kenny Wells.
3rd Row: Pamela Webster, ?, Gillian Keith, Jane Cattell, Catherina Nicholson, ?, Christine Burnand, ?, Lynne Hawley, ?, ?, ?,
Front Row: Robert Morrison, Alan Dungworth, Robert Jones, ?, Michael Witherley, John Cook, Martin Newman?, Ian Nutter, ?, Edward Mayor.
Peter & Jane Cattell were twins, Robert Jones was always called ‘Fuff’, and Gillian Keith pronounced her name with a hard ‘g’ and I think she left during the year to go to a private school.
Life After Totley County
Below is 1958’s Form 1(2) at King Edward VII School with our wonderful form master and Latin teacher Bruce Chalmers, MA (Oxon).
Back Row: Keith Woodward, John England, Patrick Solway, Tim Wilkinson, J R Gregory, Graham Siddall, David Sidery, David Hope (TCS), Paul Cooper (TCS).
2nd Row: P Gray (NB the long trousers!), Paul Timperley, P J N Thomas, David Sleigh, David Winter, Michael Taylor (choirboy at St John’s), Ian Batty, John Wheen, David Fox, John Wilson.
3rd Row: Terry Connerton, Ian Salvin, Alan Wiggett, Mr Chalmers, R L Bellamy, David Hollands, Roger Barker.
Front Row: Glyn Pursglove, John Abrahams, Bruce Bentley, John Hopkinson, Barry Edge, Dewi Davies Jones, Alan Stopford, Peter Lilley.
When visiting the area recently, completely by chance I saw the October/November edition of the Totley Independent advertising your open meeting on local education on 23 November at the Totley Library. My life is now split between London and Wiltshire and hence I will be unable to attend the meeting. However I thought that some of my recollections of experiences as a pupil at Totley County School ("TCS") between 1967 and 1974 might be of interest.
TCS was always referred to as the 'cow sheds' in order to differentiate it from the other 'Church' school. Quite how parents opted for one or the other, I have no idea although my family like many Anglicans were reticent church goers and hence probably gravitated to the more secular sounding 'county' option.
My first reception class teacher at TCS was a formidable matron-type called Miss White and her approach to new pupils was definitely of the no nonsense style; woe betide any boys and girls who did not take her many and varied admonitions seriously. My reception teacher for the summer term was a workaholic lady called Miss Redmayne. Despite seeming to us to resemble a busy bird going about its business, she single-handedly (no class room assistants then!) managed a class totalling 36 or 38 of rising 5s, everything was run (and had to be) like a well-oiled machine.
The headmistress, Miss Clareborough (teachers often seemed to be misses in those days) was a ruddy cheeked figure of impossibly high authority and was able to convey this merely by way of a varied range of scowls. A visit to her, even if only for the annual reading assessments, gave you more than just the butterflies. Two or three years later (and after she had retired), my father spied Miss Clareborough standing at a bus stop. To my utmost horror, he pulled over and offered her a lift into town. While I trembled all the way, she of course chatted amiably and wore a broad grin which I swear I (and all the other TCS pupils) had never ever witnessed before - so she was a normal human being after all.
Often the issue of corporal punishment is cited both by its many detractors and supporters as a defining issue for all that was either bad or good about schools in that era, depending on your stance. Certainly I recall pupils at TCS were occasionally spanked with the hand or occasionally with a ruler (on one occasion the deputy head even walked around with a short cane) but corporal punishment certainly wasn't a dominant theme and was probably threatened or hinted at far more times than it was ever deployed. Also while corporal punishment may have been the paramount punishment available, discipline was actually maintained far more by the sheer force of personality of the type of people who were school teachers in those days.
School food was very basic. I am sure the cooks came in at 4 a.m. every morning just to make extra sure that every last bit of the food was all well and truly cooked through by lunchtime - particularly the cabbage, the smell of which percolated from the kitchens, through the dining hall to reach out to the whole school! With mainstays like spam, ox liver (which had a peculiar greenish tint) and sago the menus still probably owed something to wartime which was then only 20 odd years beforehand and was not a totally distant memory, at least for the cooks. Lunches (or dinners as we called them) cost the princely sum of 1s. per diem (5p. in today's currency) and I do not recall anyone being able to opt out or bringing packed lunches although I think you could go home for lunch. We paid for the lunches in advance each week on Mondays, with the exact money being transported to school in small match boxes (all parents presumably being automatically assumed to be smokers). We were also strongly encouraged to purchase a National Savings stamp worth 2s. each week - in those days it was obviously quite normal for one arm of the state to promote the interests of another!
School milk arrived in one-third pint bottles, which being left for hours outdoors exposed to all weathers were typically frozen solid in winter and totally off in summer. Truly disgusting, the consumption of school milk was very much compulsory - its partial abolition later on by Education Secretary Margaret Thatcher ensured I was one of her earliest most devoted fans.
Whenever it rained TCS leaked like a sieve - even though this was followed by the deployment of a plethora of buckets, many of the dark black corridor floors quickly became extremely slippery leading to all sorts of accidents, once including a teacher who broke her arm. Given the buildings were at that time hardly old, one explanation was that the council had been woefully ripped off by the building contractors.
One highlight of the times stands out and that was the first lunar landing by Apollo 11 in July 1969. Shockingly it seemed to me as a 6 year old, some others in my class had even been allowed to stay up all through the night to watch Armstrong's momentous first steps. The school however using some sort of primitive recording device (maybe it was a day or two later or even perhaps one of the later moon expeditions) showed us the whole landing on a big wooden-clad TV mounted on long legs. Sadly between the endless beeps and clicks, it was simply impossible to make out any of the detail amongst all the snowy blurred images.
As the years moved on and Infants morphed into Juniors, the swinging 60s gave way to the more dismal 1970s. Even as children, we were not immune to the aroma of national economic decline and strife manifested in three day weeks and endless strikes. Quite a few winters were punctuated by repeated power cuts with memories of sitting in cold classrooms with our coats on. One welcome result however was that as boys we were at least allowed to wear long trousers on power cut days rather than shorts. The girls still had to wear skirts however.
Looking back, I find it highly refreshing that TCS seemed to attract a very broad social mix. One of the Derbyshire MP's boys attended as well as those whose parents presumably had pretty modest means. Notwithstanding the fact that society was then far more hidebound and class conscious, I don't believe we were really aware of the differing financial circumstances of our fellow pupils. Yes some had cars and some did not but with far fewer gadgets (and certainly few for children) and an absence of children's designer clothes (uniform then at TCS was optional), there simply wasn't the opportunity for manifest monetary differentiation. Homes also offered fewer opportunities for ostentation, everyone had a single TV (black and white with even BBC2 unavailable for years) and that was about it - I was not aware of anyone whose house for instance had, what would in any event have been a very primitive, domestic dishwasher.
The headmaster in the early 1970s was a short little chap called Mr Walsh. Mr Walsh liked to give little lectures mainly on religion, morality and current events at the school assemblies. He had a certain persuasiveness and was someone who clearly strived for all his pupils to achieve their very best at all times. Some of his homilies have stuck ever since and I believe were the early catalysts which set me off on a course of academic study and intellectual curiosity which has stood me very well in life. In fact the TCS of the 1970s seemed to equip its pupils very well. The curriculum was broad-based, ensuring a firm mastery of the basics as well as emphasizing the importance of social responsibility and curiosity for the world beyond Totley or Sheffield. If I have one criticism of the curriculum, it would be for the absence of formal sports coaching and inter-school matches but this omission was all too common in those days.
I have extremely fond memories of my years at TCS as well as the friendships I had at the time. I firmly believe the school provided an excellent academic and social foundation for my life which later saw me reading chemistry at Oxford, creating two enterprises both employing several hundred people, leading a London borough council not to mention being a past governor and chairman of governors of a primary school myself for a number of years.
Our first meeting in the new year will be on Wednesday 24th January when we welcome back Chris Corker whose talk is called The Shell, Armaments and Munitions Production Crisis, 1915-1916. The wartime demand for armaments lead to the Shell Crisis of May 1915. Chris examines the effect that the formation of the Ministry of Munitions, under the guidance of David Lloyd-George, had on Sheffield's armament companies and its industry as a whole. Because of refurbishments to Totley Library, there has been a change to the advertised venue. The meeting will now be in Totley Rise Methodist Church starting at 7.30 p.m.
On Wednesday 28th February we will be holding another in our popular series of Open Meetings. Everyone is welcome to share photographs, memorabilia and recollections of our local Sports, Social and Community Groups and activities. The meeting is in Totley Library, beginning as usual at 7.30 p.m.
On Wednesday 28th March there will be an illustrated talk by Stephen Gay called Off The Track in Derbyshire when we shall find out what hides out of sight alongside the Dore and Chinley railway line. The meeting begins at 7.30 p.m. in Totley Library.
A recently discovered box of WWII correspondence reveals the story of how a small group of ladies from Dore and Totley recruited knitters from the west of Sheffield and how their efforts made them the country's greatest provider of Comforts for the Minesweeping crews of the Royal Navy. The story is told in Knit For Victory, a new book from Totley History Group. Written by Pauline Burnett, it has 82 pages and many illustrations. It is on sale in Totley Rise Post Office and local shops. Also available in Dore at the Village Store or direct via our website.
Since 1875 when there was only a Rolling Mill and Chemical Yard alongside the river a mile from Totley, the area has changed beyond anyone's imagination This book by Pauline Burnett tells the story of how it was named and grew into the community we know today. The Rise of Totley Rise has 94 pages including a useful index and is profusely illustrated throughout with many previously unpublished photographs from private collections.
The story is told in Totley War Memorial WW1 of the ten men from our village who gave their lives in the Great War. Written by Pauline Burnett, Jim Martin and Dorothy Prosser, a chapter is devoted to each of the soldiers with a family tree followed by as much information as could be discovered about the men and their families. There is also information about their military careers and the actions in which they lost their lives. The book has 64 pages and is illustrated throughout with photographs of the men, their families and the houses where they lived.
The Tyzack family are well known in our area for owning iron and steel trades at Walk Mill, Abbeydale Works, Totley Rolling Mill and Totley Forge. This article covers the history of the family from the late 18th century when William Tyzack the founder of the company was born until the early 20th century when Joshua Tyzack farmed at Avenue Farm, Dore.
Walter Waller Marrison moved to Totley around 1897 with his wife and their two young sons. He was a house builder who constructed properties around Totley Brook and Greenoak before ill health forced him to take up less physically demanding work. In 1904 he took over the tenancy of the grocers and off licence at number 71 Baslow Road. After his death in 1908, his widow Kate and later their eldest son Jack continued to run the business until it was sold in 1934.
Ron Wijk of Nieuw-Vennep in the Netherlands has sent us two scanned images of drawings of old cottages made by the celebrated Dutch painter, Anton Pieck (1895-1987) simply annotated "Totley", and wondered whether we could identify their locations.
We would like to thank Christopher Rodgers for bringing to our attention this fascinating log of the 85th Sheffield (St. John's and Totley Orphanage) Wolf Cub Pack for 1927-45. The log is published jointly by Sheffield Scout Archives and Totley History Group as a free PDF download. It is illustrated by no fewer than 92 photographs and is supported by a comprehensive index and biographies of some of the main participants.
Following our Open Meeting event on School Days, Roger Hart, Howard Adams and John Timperley have each written to us with their memories of Norwood School, which was located in the rooms attached to the Dore & Totley United Reformed Church on Totley Brook Road.
On 22nd July 1909 the children of Dore and Totley Schools celebrated by a pageant the union of England under King Ecgbert which took place at Dore in AD 827. The pageant was devised and written by Mrs Sarah Milner and her daughter Marjorie and performed in a field close to Avenue Farm in front of a large audience. Photographs of the event survive together with a fragment of the script.
John Edward Greenwood Pinder had lived all 46 years of his life in Totley but on census night, Sunday 2 April 1911, he was not at home; he was in Derby Gaol serving a sentence of three months hard labour. From the age of 20, John had been in and out of local courts for a series of minor offences including drunkenness, assault, wilful damage and night poaching. Finally he was sent to gaol for cutting down and stealing 86 small trees which he sold in Sheffield market for Christmas.
We have already transcribed the census returns for Totley, Totley Rise and Dore. Now we have transcribed Census Strays. These are people who were born in Totley but are missing from our earlier transcriptions. They may have been living, working or studying elsewhere or just away from home on the night the census was taken. Two people were in prison. Others were in Union Workhouses, hospitals and asylums. Fully indexed strays from the 1851, 1861, 1881, 1891, 1901 and 1911 censuses are available now.
We wish to thank Gillian Walker for allowing us to digitize an archive of material about the 1st Totley Scout Group. Most of the material was collected by Arthur Percival Birley in the period 1949-51 and there are many interesting documents pertaining to the building of the scout hut on Totley Hall Lane. In addition four Newsletters survive, two from the 1940s and two from 1971.
We are grateful to Angela Waite and All Saints' Parish Church for giving us access to baptismal and kindergarten birthday rolls dating from 1926 to 1941. We have transcribed the names, addresses, birthdates and baptismal dates and created an alphabetical index of entries for you to search.
Edmund Sanderson, a Sheffield estate agent, aquired the land on either side of the old drive to Totley Grove in 1874 and divided it into plots for development. He called it the Totley Brook Estate. But before many houses were built, the estate road was severed in two by the building of the Dore & Chinley Railway line. The eastern end of the road became the cul-de-sac we now call Grove Road.
John Roberts was born in Sheffield in 1798. He became a partner in one of the leading silversmiths firms in the city before moving to Abbeydale Park in 1851 and extending the house in Victorian gothic style. He paid for the building of St. John's Church and was believed to dispense more in charity than any other person in the neighbourhood including his protege Ebenezer Hall.
The Coke Family owned the Totley Hall Estate from 1791 to 1881. With the aid of a family tree to guide us, Josie Dunsmore takes us through the story of their tenure.
When the Rev. D'Ewes Coke inherited the Totley Hall Estate in 1791 it had two farms. Josie Dunsmore tells the story of how the two farms were combined under the tenancy of Peter Flint with the aid of field maps drawn by Flint himself and later by the Fairbanks family.
Do you think you recognize this face? More than sixty photographs of the girls and teachers at Hurlfield Grammar School for Girls in the 1940s were given to Totley History Group by Avril Critchley, who was herself a student at the school. The collection includes fifteen form photographs from June 1949. There would have been a number of girls from the Totley area attending the school in those days.
Christine Weaving tells the story of her 2 x great uncle George Edward Hukin, a Totley razor-grinder, and his life-long friendship with the academic, poet, writer, and free-thinker Edward Carpenter.
Eric Renshaw (pictured here on the right with Bob Carr) grew up and lived in Totley from 1932 to 1960. Many of his memories are of a sporting nature.
We are very grateful to Gordon Grayson for giving us this splendid sale document for the Norton Hall Estates, following the death in 1850 of Samuel Shore. The estates included a large part of Totley and the document has maps and illustrations, plus schedules of land and property with the names of tenants. We have also added a transcription of the entries for Totley and Dore.
Watch this Youtube video of the talk given by Dr. Mark Frost and Sally Goldsmith on Ruskin, Totley and St. George's Farm. The talk was hosted by Totley History Group on 20th May 2015 as part of the Ruskin in Sheffield programme. Also enjoy a video of the outdoor performance Boots, Fresh Air & Ginger Beer written by Sally.
When Jacqueline A. Gibbons became interested in what made her father tick, it began a journey through WW1 archive records and led to her flying from Toronto to visit the house and village where he lived and the countryside that he so much enjoyed. Jacqueline reminds us that in the early 20th century Sheffield was a driving force of industry and that Totley was the place where many of its remarkable people lived and where they formulated their ideas.
Edgar Wood was the designer of The Dingle, 172 Prospect Road, built in 1904 for Rev. William Blackshaw, the founder of the Croft House Settlement. The house, together with its western terrace and boundary walls, has now been awarded Grade II listed building status.
What was probably "the most perfect little garden railway in existence" in 1910 was to be found in the grounds of Brook House, Grove Road, the home of its designer and constructor, Guy Mitchell. Look at some wonderful photographs and read reports in newspapers and a full appreciation in Model Railways magazine.
We have now completed our transcription of Totley School's Admission Records for the period from 1877 to 1914. There is also a useful index to the names of the scholars and to their parents or guardians. We are very grateful to Sheffield Archives and Local Studies Library for allowing us to transcribe and publish these records and for permission to reproduce the photograph of a specimen page of the register.
On 8, 9 and 11 November 2014 Totley History Group held an exhibition at Dore & Totley United Reformed Church to commemorate the centenary of the First World War. Below are additional links to some of the photographs we were lent and stories we researched especially for the exhibition.
Oscar Creswick was a local farmer who served with the Army Service Corps in Salonika and who after the war returned to Totley to become the innkeeper of the Cricket Inn and a member of the village's successful tug of war team.
Walter Evans was a market gardener who also ran a small grocery shop on Hillfoot Road when war broke out. He fought with the Machine Gun Corps at the fourth battle of Ypres. After the war, Walter ran a grocers shop at the top of Main Avenue.
Fred Cartwright was another Totley soldier who survived the Great War. He fought in France and Belgium and although he wasn't wounded he was gassed and was home on sick leave when his daughter was delivered by Nurse Jessop during a snowstorm in January 1917.
Maurice Johnson joined the Yorkshire Dragoons, a territorial unit, on 1 Jan 1914 and so was called up at the very start of the war. He fought throughout the war on the Somme, at Ypres and at Cambrai. After demobilization in 1919 Maurice returned to his old occupation in the steel industry.
Bill Glossop lent us a letter written by his father, William Walton Glossop to his wife describing life in the army during training in the north east of England and asking her to keep him in mind with the children.
The photo above provides a link to an album of photographs taken of WW1 Hospitals at St. John's, Abbeydale and the Longshaw Estate.
Nora Green, of Chapel Lane, was only 14 when war broke out. In 1914 she was ill with diphtheria and was sent to the isolation hospital at Holmley Lane, Dronfield. Nora recovered and wrote a letter of thanks to one of the hospital staff and the reply she received survives.
We have collected together on this page the names of local men who appear on various War Memorials and Rolls of Honour in Totley, Dore, Abbeydale, Norton, Holmesfield and Dronfield.
Unfortunately we were unable to identify all the photographs we were lent of Totley Soldiers. Please take a look at this album to see if you recognize any of the missing names.
This walk visits locations that have strong associations with Totley during the First World War. It includes the homes of the ten soldiers from the village who lost their lives, the auxiliary hospitals, war memorials, and even the rifle range on which the soldiers trained. Take a look at the first draft of a new walk by the authors of "Totley War Memorial WW1 1914-1918"
As we have nowhere to exhibit memorabilia and artifacts, we have decided to create a Virtual Museum instead, starting with old bottles that were found under the floor of the Old Infant School. Please contact us by email if you would like to see the real thing or have things that you own and would like to see added to the virtual museum.
We wish to thank the Trustees of Cherrytree for giving us permission to publish transcriptions of the Cherrytree Orphanage Admissions Book entries for the years 1866-1929. There is also an alphabetical index for you to look at.
Our transcriptions of local trade directories have been expanded to cover the 95 years from 1837-1932 and have also been indexed. From the days when there were a handful of farmers, stone masons, saw handle makers & scythe grinders to the wonders of the Totley Bridge Garage Company, Betty's Boudoir and The Heatherfield Shopping Centre.
We continue to add to our Totley Newspaper Archive. Recent entries have included several about John Roberts and the building of St. John's Church. There are several about the history of Brinkburn Grange and its first occupier, John Unwin Wing, an accountant who later lived at Totley Hall before being convicted of forgery and fraud and sentenced to 7 years imprisonment in Pentonville gaol. There are more than 50 articles from the 1880s and 1890s about Joseph Mountain and the Victoria Gardens, and twenty on the construction of the Totley Tunnel and the Dore and Chinley Railway.
Totley Church of England Parish Magazines for the years 1922-1939 and 1948-1967 with notices of births, marriages and deaths and accounts of spiritual, educational, charitable and social matters in the village.
Around 90 photographs taken by Stuart Greenhoff for his thesis A Geographical Study of Dore and Totley including several of Totley Moor Brickworks. Superb!
Chronologically ordered snippets of information recorded by Brian Edwards during his many years of research into our local history.
Read the inscriptions on more than 600 gravestones in the churchyard.
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