Memories of Ardwick Tech

Since thirty-seven years have passed since I left Ardwick Tech, my memories of those days seem to fall into categories. There are those which are lost to me forever, those which can be resuscitated by a photograph or a familiar face, and those which are still vivid. Unfortunately, after so much time, I am often tempted to believe that my vivid memories may have become memories of memories and that fiction might have taken over from fact. However, having said that, here are a few random memories of my days at the school and I'll add more later. Hopefully they will stimulate others to cast their minds back and pass along their stories for me to add here.

I recently watched a television documentary about the American Military Academy at West Point in which the topic of hazing featured prominently. This practice involved a systematic trial by fire imposed on under-class men by upper-class men. Apparently, their way of testing the metal of the new candidates, but in truth little more than the inhumane exercise of power of the strong over the weak.

The first day at Ardwick Tech was something like that and, in fact, so were the early years. Before I walked through the gate on Exeter Street with Tony Lowe and Steve Moulton, "homies" from the dank streets of Longsight and school friends from Plymouth Grove, I had been warned. Tony's older brother Terry had tipped us the wink.

It is my strong suspicion that the only reason that caps were on the uniform list was to provide older kids with an object to knock off, nick or chuck down the well outside the kitchen and chemistry lab windows. First years walked around with hands on heads, or if they were smart, stuck their caps away in their pockets. John Booth, a friend to be, but a stranger on that first day made two mistakes. Firstly, he was taller than most so stuck out in the crowd. Secondly, his mother bought him a school bag that, in the style of today's rucksacks, had a strap across the chest to give further support. Why John chose to fasten it up on a near empty bag escapes me, but he was instantly picked on because some of the "predatory pack" thought the strap looked like a halter on a dog.

Like new boys in a goal, we were warned to watch ourselves in the cloakroom and the toilet because, being almost no go areas for staff, you were doubly vulnerable there. The popular practice was to suspend First Years from coat hooks and leave them to try to struggle down before being late for class.

I remember that First Years were herded in off the playground, with some relief as I remember, and assembled in the gymnasium. It was here that we were allocated classes and marched off to our classrooms by our new form teachers. Before this happened though, we waited for the appearance of the Head who, in his typical style, made a dramatic appearance. He entered in a rush from the boys staircase with his academic gown flying out behind him, bringing the image of Batman to my mind. A few inspirational words from him and we were off.

This was quite a different world from Plymouth Grove where Pop Walker had prepared us for the 11+ and we had played in a huge playground along with our friends from the local streets safe within a wall and fence. Ardwick Tech in 1958 was a building site and the postage stamp sized Boys' playground was full of cement mixers, dump trucks and brickies. We played out on Exeter Street and mixed with kids from all over Manchester. From exotic places like Openshaw and Miles Platting.

Tony and I walked to school, meeting up near the Sand Park on Grey Street, where his Granny lived. We did this for a year or so, going home together for dinner rather than risk the school dinners. I don't think I was ever brave enough to risk them. I had on occasion been forced to stay for dinner at Plymouth Grove, an experience that scarred me for life. It always seemed that I had to stay on a Friday and even though it wasn't a Catholic School we always had fish. However, this was not the fish and chips we got at Dutton's, the best chippy on the face of the Earth. This was soggy wet fish coated in parsley sauce. I soon learned that it didn't pay to ask the dinner ladies not to put sauce on the fish. Pudding was always stewed prunes in custard. The custard was an anemic looking concoction. So on every occasion I had fish-in-sick followed by dead cockroaches-in-sick. To this day I can't eat anything with a white sauce and I certainly wasn't going to give the dinner ladies at Ardwick Tech a chance to get me.

When I moved to Old Trafford in 1960, I continued to go to Tech, but now I couldn't walk home for lunch so I took sandwiches. I soon discovered though that there were greater delights to be had on Hyde Road, and I started talking my Mam into dinner money that I spent on pies, cream cakes, fresh sandwiches and a Vimto lolly for afters. With staggered sittings for dinner, even in the sandwich room, we made runs to the butty shop on Hyde Road, often filling orders for a number of lads. They sold great crusty cobs and filled them to your design. They also had piping hot pies that you needed asbestos gloves to transport back to school. You also had to be careful that the bags didn't fall apart as the grease soaked and weakened them. Their real-cream filled doughnuts were a treat worth skimping on the first course to get. Years later I worked at Brooks Bakeries in Old Trafford where these delicacies were made and I put on a few more pounds on nights as the unofficial quality control officer.

Dinner-time was a time for wandering the streets. Further up Hyde Road, on the west side, next to an alley as I remember it, was a toffee shop that made its own Vimto iced-lollies of various sizes and frozen Jubbly's. Mind you, the lollies were about all you could cope with in the available time because a frozen Jubbly could be an afternoon's activity.

In later years we ranged further afield and the Sand Park became a venue for games of bowls or putting. This wasn't the best part of the day though for the bloke in the bowls' hut. His stress level was tested every day from the smart-Alecs who had trouble distinguishing between crown-green and ten-pin bowling. His treasured woods were flying here and there, colliding in mid-green and heading off across paths and into flower beds.

I remember feeling really important as my satchel (plastic as I remember it and not the more aromatic leather that others had) filled up with text books. I also remember taking those books home along with exercise books to get them backed. It put quite a strain on our household resources finding enough brown paper to do this so several books had much more decorative wallpaper covers.

I also remember the discipline, both within the classroom and beyond. A good clip around the ear was usual and almost expected. There were rooms where chalk and even board brushes flew. We discovered new uses for rulers, plimsoles and paddles. When the teachers weren't looming, there were prefects who strutted the hallways. A position to be looked forward to. The ultimate sanction though was "The Line". The main hall had two supporting pillars which flanked the entrance to Mr. Woodhead's Office. Boys stood beside one pillar and girls next to the other to be dealt with by the Senior Mistress. This was where you waited to be punished for some infraction that had gone beyond the means of the classroom teacher - horrible crimes that were bound to bring down terrible retribution. At least that was what we all thought as we passed the victims who sometimes stood there for the good part of a morning or an afternoon, only to be reminded to stand up straight by every passing teacher. "Stand up straight lad, you're making the place look untidy." The members of the line were exposed for all to see, and if they were really unlucky, they would be picked up and dealt with by the Deputy Head.

Because the school was bursting at the seems in the 50s and 60s, it was necessary to head off to various other locations to take some subjects. Whilst the girls just walked up to the top floor for Domestic Science, boys had a good hike across Hyde Road, up Devonshire Street and Chancellor Lane to the point where Ashton New Road met Pin Mill Brow. Here the school had woodwork and metalwork shops and classrooms. This was the lair of Messrs Chapman, Allerdice and Reese. The woodwork shop became a refuge for me because, even though Mr. Chapman often described my carpentry as resembling the work of a rat, it was a break from the academic routine of the main school. Metalwork was something else. From the first day, when I foolishly described the macho apron worn by a "metal worker" as a pinny, I was doomed to display my total lack of aptitude in this world of filing and soldering. I got caught out when I tried adopting the much better hasp and staple of a student who had been away for a long time, due to illness, and did little to endear myself to Mr Allardice when, instead of cutting the air to the forge, I greatly increased it and showered him with hot coals.

Another venue was The Octogon, a church hall, that we reached by heading the other way down Devonshire Street. We went past the Devonshire Pub, across Stockport Road at the zebra crossing, past the bus stop, (where I caught the 94 bus home and Mr. Martin caught to 95 or 96, and where incidentally he died of a heart attack in 1977), and then off down a back street. The Octogon was smelly and so cold that we worked with our coats on. It may be that there was method in this madness because I seem to remember that the lessons there were particularly boring or annoying and the cold was a useful way to keep us alert.

The third venue was our North Road games field where boys played football and cricket and girls played hockey and something else which I can't remember, maybe rounders. This playing field was, in fact, the original home ground of the fledgling Manchester United football team. It sat next door to the Monsall Isolation Hospital and across a valley from the Dogs Home, as evidenced by constant barking. There was a pavilion at the grounds that was used by the girls and then the boys for changing, but in fact, most of us got our kit off and then on again on the bus as we drove through the margins of the city centre and out again to Miles Platting. It was here that some of us learned the basics of dressing and undressing, including the amazing fact that you have a heck of a time getting on your drainpipe trousers while riding on the top of a double-decker bus and wearing football boots.

On one occasion I remember one of the boys was made to ride on the lower level of the bus as a punishment. He gained huge credibility with his peers after that because, he claimed, he had a very enjoyable journey watching the girls who changed on the bus. Some of us, whilst envious, had difficulty believing his story.

The biggest clanger I ever dropped at North Road was to try to kid-on that I had left my soccer kit at home on a particularly cold and wet winter afternoon. Being a "bear of very little brain", I thought this would gain me a dry and warm spot in the pavilion or on the bus. Instead, I, along with one or two other malingerers, were taken on a cross country run along the streets that bordered the field and the hospital for what seemed to me to be miles and miles!! I didn't die but I came close.

On the first floor of the new extension to the school, towards the back of the building, beyond the staff room, was the technical drawing office, the domain of Les Holding. At a point in my life when I was kidding myself that I would grow up to be Frank Lloyd Wright, Les Holding introduced me to technical drawing. We spent double periods away from French and Math quietly and carefully drawing and listening to Les tell us stories about his time in the R.A.F. and his excellent Riley car which sat and gleamed on Exeter Street. Les always had a smile and a friendly word.

Nicknamed "Fanny" by one and all, Miss Pearson was my 2nd year form-teacher and math teacher. She wore a number of watches on the same arm and delighted us all one day by pulling the new venetian blinds in her classroom off the wall while trying to adjust them. She described my performance in math as "Rather slow - Revision in Geometry needed" - nothing changed there then!