Holly Park and Ealing Art School
Although I had done quite well at St John’s primary school—my first school—I was about tenth in my class. I failed the 11+ exam, known back then as the Scholarship to Grammar School, and it was probably my maths that let me down. Besides which, I felt very nervous on the exam day. You can imagine my disappointment when a lot of my friends had places at Finchley County Grammar School, Woodhouse Grammar School, or Toynton Park. Never mind.
Although I had to go to Secondary Holly Park, I was to love it there, partly because the teachers were ambitious for us all and strove to bring out the best in us. I was lucky enough to be in the first year, comprising of three classes with about thirty five pupils in each.
A lot of new friends were made and it was a happy time for me. In the second year I met a new girl, Alvis Britton, who, coming from a better off family, had moved with her parents into a house on our road which must have had at least four bedrooms. Alvis seemed older for her age and it was true to say her parents were getting on a bit. We were to sit for the scholarship for art school together.
After passing the initial general education test at Holly Park, we took an exam for a place at Ealing Art School, which we both passed. Alvis’ father drove us to Ealing in their car, and again for the final interview. I was in the Holly Park playground when a girl told me the headmaster was asking my whereabouts.
‘Mr Greeves wants you to go and see him,’ she said. Feeling worried, I thought something might be wrong, but as I approached him I could see he was smiling.
‘Congratulations Elsie! You have won a place at Ealing Art School.’
This was wonderful. Up until then there had been no news for me despite the other girls at school having already had their results, with some preparing for secretarial college and some getting ready for needle work school. I felt that I had probably failed, so it was a real achievement for me to discover the exact opposite. Mum was so pleased, but then came all the worrying about my uniform and getting to Ealing each day, which turned out to be a journey of about an hour and a quarter. There was a parent’s evening at the Art School, which Mum and I attended one sunny evening in early July, and we were told I was entitled to a free bus pass which came as a relief to Mum.
The school uniform could be bought at a shop at Ealing Broadway. The winter uniform was a navy tunic, white blouse, green tie, navy blazer and beret with a badge bearing what might have been a coat of arms. A gabardine raincoat cost Mum a lot of money, but it was paid for with a provident cheque. The shop also supplied the pale green material for the girls’ school summer dresses which we had to make ourselves. The outfit was to be finished with white Peter Pan collars and white cuffs, so Mum and I got stuck in to make them. Because we did not have a sewing machine, we unpicked a dress I already had and used that as a pattern to make the new dresses by hand. It took us a while but we were pleased with the results.
Mum had to go to hospital with appendicitis, so Dad took me to buy school shoes. He chose bright yellow leather ones from a cheap shoe shop that sold end-of-line and sample footwear in Wood Green, despite my protests. These were dyed black, but whenever it rained I constantly had stained socks.
My first day of Art School began quite early. I had to leave our house about 7:30 to be able to get two buses; the 134 from The Orange Tree pub at Friern Barnet to the North Circular Road, and from there the 112 to Ealing. I had arranged to call on the way for my school friend Alvis who had passed the scholarship too. She was not quite ready and seemed a bit flustered, but nevertheless, we were still in good time for the first bus and we arrived at the school with about ten minutes to spare. The journey seemed long on the first day, but it soon became quite routine and we quite enjoyed the trip.
Feeling smart in our navy uniforms, Alvis and I liked being at art school. There was quite a lot to carry, including a small Bible, a dictionary, water and poster colours, brushes, a mixing pallet, pens, pencils and geometry equipment. Later there were library books, textbooks and gym stuff.
The morning was taken up by a general education class with Miss Mills, who had previously studied at Oxford… and didn’t we know it! She spent so much time telling us about her life as an undergraduate that a lot of lesson time was wasted. After this there was illustration, lettering, geometry, dressmaking, dress design, plant drawing, weaving and spinning. Everybody enjoyed it.
Our part of the art school was J.A.D. (Junior Art Department). Upstairs was for the full-time students who, despite only a few years difference, seemed quite old to us. Most of the young men had beards and wore cord trousers and duffle coats, while the girls were very arty with hooped earrings, loads of make-up and bat-winged tight jumpers. I would have liked a loose-backed coat, the same as they had with a collar that stood up, but of course Mum could not afford it, so school uniforms were all I was able to wear at school and at home.
One particular classroom would occasionally have papers stuck over the glass for privacy reasons. Of course, we knew a nude life model was posing for an art class that was in session.
During the school holidays there was a sketch club in which everyone was expected to produce a painting. If it was good enough, it would be framed and hung on the approach to the stairs and considered a great honour. I was lucky enough to have one of my own creations displayed there, which was encouraging.[35]
In the winter of 1952, just before Christmas, there was the Great Smog. A thick dense fog came down early in the week and worsened by the day. It became so bad that on the Friday afternoon, the school advised that anyone who had a long journey home could leave early. Alvis and I hurried to Ealing Broadway for the 112 bus, but by now, it had become so very murky that the bus crept along the route at a snail’s pace.
Finally, reaching our stop at the bottom of Colney Hatch Lane, we alighted and blindly searched ahead, trying to make out what was road and what was pavement. We usually crossed the North Circular Road to get to the stop that would be the last stage of our journey on the 134 to Friern Barnet. We could hardly make out where the main road was! Unable to get to the other side with any certainty, we decided to play safe and walk up Colney Hatch Lane which was on our side. Most of the walk involved passing the Friern Hospital[36] with its high wall. Because it was a mental hospital designed to keep the inmates in, you can imagine our shock when we saw a rope descending from the trees within the grounds… but luckily was followed by two small boys who would have only been looking for conkers. I was so glad to get home, and my mum was relieved to see me.
The weekend had even worse fog and I remember walking along Woodhouse Road with my mum and Barbara. As it was safer to keep as far from the busy road as possible, we walked across a setback lawned area in front of Woodhouse Grammar School, only to be alarmed when a trolleybus had come off its overhead cables and was careering across the grass straight behind us; we had to sharply jump back out the way to avoid being run over.
Quite a few people with chest problems became ill during the smog, and the chemist sold masks to filter some of the particles the fog left afterwards. For several days everything was covered in a grey residue.
Leave a Reply