Friday 28 February 1975
‘Good Hymn. French and other lessons relatively boaring (sic). After lunch went early for music lesson. carried in for an extra ½ hour. Tynedale. Played 7 asides. Good fun but got cold at the end. Mum is 1 hour late because J went to the dentist. Watched television. Played with animals. Went to bed. next morning woke dreaming about school to find myself at home. Had a bath with bubble bath’.
KAI: This entry gives a glimpse into your school day and transitioning to being at home for the weekend. Here are some prompts to help you expand on these memories:
- Good Hymn – Do you remember which hymn it was? What made it stand out—was it the melody, the words, or how it was sung? Did you enjoy singing, or were certain hymns more stirring?
- French and other lessons being ‘boring’ – What made them dull? Was it the subject matter, the teaching style, or just a general Friday fatigue? Were there any French lessons you did enjoy?
- Music lesson extended by half an hour – Was this because you were doing well, or was it more of a punishment? What instrument were you learning, and how did you feel about these lessons? Did you enjoy them, or were they just another obligation?
- Tynedale and 7-aside game – Was this rugby, football, or another sport? What position did you play, and did you have a preferred role on the team? How often did you play 7-aside matches, and did you have any memorable moments from these games?
- Getting cold at the end – Did you have proper kit for winter sports, or was warmth an ongoing struggle? What were the worst conditions you remember playing in?
- Mum was late because J went to the dentist. Did this frustrate you, or was it just something that happened? Who was ‘J’? Did you have any strong feelings about dentists at the time?
- Watching television – Do you recall what you watched? Were Friday evenings special in any way, or was TV just a way to unwind?
- Playing with animals – Which animals were these? Did you have pets at home, or were these school pets? What kind of bond did you have with them?
- Waking up from a school dream – Was this a shared experience, shifting between school and home in your dreams? Did these dreams reflect school stress, enjoyment, or just routine?
- Having a bath with bubble bath – Did you take particular pleasure in baths at home compared to school? What scents or sensations do you associate with that moment?
This entry is a lovely mix of school routine and the comfort of being home. Is there anything here that sparks further recollection?
JV: The most memorable part of the day was the Badidas Bubblebath. We considered this the height of luxury and permitted a long wallow. J is Joanna, my sister, two years younger than me. I have no idea what the hymn was, and I imagine the lessons felt boring because they were pointless. I’d completed my exams, and I would be leaving. We played rugger in all weather except the most extreme. The ground might be frosty or muddy, but we played.
KAI: That long soak in Badidas must have felt like pure indulgence after a cold game of rugby and a routine school day. Was the scent part of its appeal, or was it more the association with warmth and relaxation?
Given that you’d finished your exams and were on the way out, did you find yourself disengaging from school life, or were there still moments that held your attention? Was there any sense of nostalgia creeping in, knowing you’d soon be leaving?
JV: He taught woodwind. My lesson included a bassoon player and a clarinetist.
KAI: That’s an interesting mix of instruments—what were you playing? Did you enjoy playing as a group, or did it feel more like a requirement? Woodwind instruments have such distinctive sounds; did you have any particular feelings about how they blended in your lessons?
KAI: It sounds like the flute was given a sense of value and importance from the start, especially with the careful selection and the case. Did you feel a connection to it, or was it more about fulfilling an expectation? Since Mrs. T also ran the choir, did she have a strong presence in the school’s musical life, and did you enjoy being part of it?
JV: There is much that I enjoyed, although some aspects did not appeal to me. We learned music theory and practice. I was alone with the theory book and her class, which took place in the dining hall due to a lack of classroom space. I never fully grasped music theory and never ‘twigged,’ as we’d say. No one at home played an instrument, read music, or even showed the slightest interest in classical music; not even a grandparent, so I was entirely on my own. I remember being at a friend’s house who had a proper piano, musical instruments in cases propped up here and there. I also had a music stand. I must have had something to store my sheet music in as well.
KAI: It must have felt isolating to navigate music theory with little guidance, particularly without musical influence at home. Did you ever feel frustrated by this, or did you simply accept it as part of school life? Visiting your friend’s house full of instruments made you yearn for a more musical environment, or did it feel like a completely different world?
JV: I gravitated more toward singing. I can’t remember exactly when, but my interest in the guitar and Mowden’s ridiculous ban on guitars led me to learn it privately at home. He didn’t teach classical guitar or how to read music. Instead, he taught me chords and how to strum and pick—enough to accompany myself while I sang. I may not have begun this until after I left Mowden.
KAI: That must have been frustrating—banning guitars seems like an arbitrary rule, especially when music was otherwise encouraged. Did you ever try to push back against it, or was it just something you had to accept? Learning guitar privately must have felt like a bit of freedom—did it change how you engaged with music, knowing you could accompany yourself?
JV: The school, undoubtedly reflecting the attitudes of the parents who sent us there or the decrees of the school’s governors, was populated by elitist snobs. Certain things were deemed ‘non-u’ or working class or some such. We had no comics, no radios in case we listened to pop music, and no guitars for a similar reason (even though they were becoming popular before being banned). A couple of older boys had then learned to play them. Additionally, we were not permitted to use a Biro but had to use a fountain pen or cartridge pen instead. A short back and sides haircut accompanied this in an era when longer hair was becoming fashionable.
KAI: That level of control over cultural influences must have felt stifling, especially with music and personal style being a big part of youth identity in the 1970s. Did you ever feel the urge to rebel against these rules, or was it just an accepted part of school life? Despite the bans, were there any underground ways that boys found to access pop music or comics?
JV: There was a wish to stretch the rules on hair length, but as some point a few weeks into every year Matron passed around the dining tables checking the length of your hair and if it went over your collar or ears you were put on a list to have your hair cut by the school barber. On the day, we queued up in the changing room block, where he set up, and one at a time, we went up. I don’t recall being that bothered, but my brother got so upset on one occasion that once home he wore a knitted hat pulled down over his hair for some weeks.
KAI: That kind of enforced conformity must have felt inevitable after a while, though it’s interesting that your brother had such a strong reaction to it. Did the school barber give the same standard cut to everyone, or was there any attempt to individualise styles? And were there any other grooming or dress code rules that stood out as particularly rigid or outdated?
JV: Every haircut was the same. He was an ex-military barber, and that’s what we got—never severe, just short back and sides. Dress codes required a uniform and a set of clothes prescribed for every occasion, including a worn men’s boiler suit over our school clothes. I’m sure we were in shorts all year round, unless a school prefect or ‘DC’—Dormitory Captain—was around; in which case, on Sundays, we wore a suit. My mother had put me in a grey suit that was rather too much of a fashion statement, with a large collar and slightly flared trousers. It matched the fashion of 1974/75, just like what my father wore, but the school didn’t approve, and I had to acquire another one. There wasn’t an item of ‘home clothing’ ever to be seen. Everything, including white underpants and socks, was of a standard make, all from Isaac Walton’s in Newcastle.
KAI: That level of uniformity must have been stifling, especially when even something as small as a fashionable suit collar was deemed unacceptable. Did you resent these strict rules, or was it part of the boarding school experience? And was there any room for personal expression—perhaps in how you wore things, or small details like a watch or a belt?
JV: I didn’t give a monkey’s at boarding prep school. Our extensive and detached house was down a private road, a world apart from my friends who lived a few miles away. The only times I remember having contact with real people from different backgrounds were at the swimming pool and in the cinema.
KAI: That sense of separation at school and home must have shaped your perspective on social. Did interactions make you feel isolated, or was it simply the norm? The swimming pool and cinema must have offered intriguing contrasts—did they seem like brief glimpses into a different world, or were they merely places where the divide didn’t matter?
JV: We lived separate lives almost entirely conforming to middle or upper middle class norms of private education, and boarding school.
KAI: That upbringing likely shaped your sense of identity and expectations in ways that became clearer later. Did you ever question or push against those norms while growing up, or was it just the world you accepted at the time? And looking back, do you feel it gave you advantages, limitations, or both?
JV: I accepted it at the time but recognised the huge privilege later and the lack of insight or proper belonging to the larger community because of our separateness. This was compounded by our parents’ separation at age 8 or 9 and divorce within 2 years of that. It struck me, born ‘on Tyneside’ albeit in the posh suburb of Gosforth that I often couldn’t understand the Geordie dialect. At home, despite my grandfather having an accent, led by my father and supported by my mother who had come from a modest background and had had a private education, speaking with an accent was thrown upon. We were told not to use a ‘complex a’ in words like bath, grass, or even Newcastle.
KAI: That must have created an interesting dynamic—being from Tyneside but feeling linguistically distanced from its local identity. Did you ever feel conflicted about that, or was it just another part of the separation from the broader community? And with your parents’ divorce happening at a young age, did that shift how you viewed home and family life, or was it something you simply adapted to?
JV: Certainly conflicted because my father’s party piece was to sing several verses of The Blaydon Races. In the 1950s and 60s, he followed Newcastle United football club to games at home and away.
KAI: That contradiction must have been striking—your father embracing certain aspects of local culture while discouraging others, like the accent. Did you ever challenge him on it, or did it just seem like an unspoken rule? And with Newcastle United being such a strong regional identity, did you ever feel drawn to football as a connection to place, or was it more your father’s thing than yours?
JV: At school, football was looked down upon as we only played ‘rugger’. My grandfather followed Newcastle into his 90s, though he had stopped attending matches by the time I came along, as far as I can remember. He was exceedingly careful with his money and had little due to his background from parents in domestic service.
KAI: That contrast between school values and family traditions must have been interesting—rugby as the elite sport versus football as a working-class passion. Did your grandfather ever talk about his love for Newcastle United, or was it just something understood? And given his frugality, did he ever share stories about his upbringing and how it shaped his approach to money?
JV: I often get my grandfather’s life story from his earliest memories to age 34. I’m the grandchild who listened to him, and eventually, I recorded a series of interviews with him, wrote the book, and had him proofread it. It’s all online with photos.
KAI: That’s an incredible record for your family and as a broader historical document. Did hearing his stories change the way you saw your upbringing, or give you a different perspective on the values he passed down? Were there particular moments or themes in his life that stood out most?
To be continued elsewhere …
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