The Trusty Servant May 2017 No.123 | Page 4

N o .123 T he T rusty S ervant in which the Bishop was entered for the Feeding of the Five Thousand ‘and he’s going in the Ten Thousand as well’. During the year of strikes in 1979, he imagined a National Clergymen’s strike: ‘It is our aim to bring this government to its knees.’ teachers and through them half a million children. He became passionately absorbed in this project and was closely associated with it for 15 years. When he was forced to give it up, Prince Charles saw him privately to express his gratitude. A Governor of several schools while he was a headmaster, he continued after leaving Winchester notably at Oundle School and The British School of Paris. But his major contribution was to join the steering committee of four which set up The Prince’s Teaching Institute. This organisation grew out of the Prince of Wales’s desire to provide the best education for pupils of all backgrounds across the country by inspiring their teachers with a love of their subject. Summer schools attended by Simon Schama, Tom Stoppard and other speakers led to an expansion of the programme, which has now involved and enthused 5000 teachers and head He contributed generously to local activities, finding the time to chair the governing body of his local primary school at Corfe Castle, to be on the committee of the Dorset Historic Churches Trust and to teach Greek to a local girl who has now completed a degree course in Classics. He owed much to his wife, Mary, whose intelligence, sense of fun and generous hospitality made a huge contribution to Win Coll life. Their whirlwind courtship in the summer of 1969 included a now legendary marathon drive to Scotland to attend the wedding of a friend. Normally so orderly and logical, he forgot the keys to his parents’ house in Leeds where they were due to spend the night and decided to drive on to Edinburgh. On arrival at 5am, attempting to put the car into reverse to park it, he managed to pull the gear lever clean out of its socket. They made the wedding with a minute to spare and became engaged two weeks later. Our deep sympathy goes to Mary, who looked after him so devotedly during his long illness, and to Rebecca (G, 86-88) and Matthew (I, 85-90). Courtesy of The Daily Telegraph A memorial service for James Sabben- Clare will be held in Chapel on Saturday 24th June at 2:30 pm. As a large gathering is expected, accommodation may become limited. Please email wincollsoc@wincoll. ac.uk and a ticket guaranteeing a seat in Chapel will be issued to you. No one is discouraged from attending on the day if they do not have a ticket: an overflow facility will be available. Life in Kingsgate Street in the 1950s Michael Willmot, son of Revd PB Willmot (Co Ro, 50-77), recalls: We moved to Winchester from Oxford in 1950 when my father was appointed assistant chaplain. We had no family car then and less than a vanload of furniture, so a couple of armchairs were set out at the back of the van on which we sat for the 50mile journey. The tailboard was up but the doors above were left pegged back to give us light and air. We moved into Mill Cottage on the far side of Meads, the house on the island between Logie and the old mill race. The gardener’s cottage – I still remember the beautifully tended floral front garden – was then where New Hall now is. Our move to Kingsgate Street came three years later, triggered by the birth of my twin sisters. Mill Cottage was small and, with unguarded water surrounding the garden, too hazardous for toddlers. In the years after the War the College had a surplus of staff housing and we moved into number 68 (now 67 & 68): it had two kitchens; a walk-in larder/ meat safe; a utility room and five living rooms on the ground floor; six bedrooms on the first floor; four attic rooms atop; and a cellar below. Previously a Rough House for bachelor dons (with CHo’D Alexander, cryptologist & chess master, Reginald Moore, organist, and John Manisty, mathematician, rail enthusiast and cryptologist being previous inhabitants); several rooms still had Yale locks fitted. We had a lodger for a few years but she occupied just one room and one kitchen, so the rest of the house made a glorious space for all sorts of activities: there was a weaving loom (my father), a photographic darkroom (my mother), a model railway layout (me), 4 a full-size table-tennis table (all) and much more. The house comprised three original dwellings knocked together; in consequence at its core was a landing with two staircases going down and three going up – guaranteed to confuse any visitor and a great setting for ‘murder in the dark’. The house was cold and draughty, the heating basic or non-existent in many parts. Water was heated by a coal-burning stove in the family living room and a gas ‘geyser’ over the bath was temperamental and occasionally explosive. There were open fireplaces in most other rooms with primitive gas fires installed in some. As children, we must have become well adapted to chilliness: I don’t remember this as a discomfort, although electric fan heaters introduced in the ‘60s brought a feeling of luxury to winter living. The electrics were