Rhubarb

St Edward’S r h u b a r b

13

OSE Memories

Books

Human Nervous System: Early Programming and Behavioural Integration by Gerald Nsugbe (G, 1974-1979)

John Hayman, MB.BS., LMSSa (c, 1938-1943)

alan richards (G, 1961-1966) Alan has kindly written to the OSE Office, detailing the school memories of his late father richard M. richards (1929-1934), which focus on several members of the MCR. He remembered Bertie Ovenden was one of the truly great violinists of the 20th century, playing for Queen Victoria at the age of six, and giving his first London recital at the age of 11. He was asked by Ysaye, the Belgian violinist to go as his accompanist on a world tour at the age of 15, and retired at the age of 19 on the outbreak of the First World War. That information was given by SW (Stan) Tackley, MCR 1930-1969. Amongst the other characters of my father’s time was GH Segar (1925-1953), who was well known for his enthusiasm for physical fitness. Amongst the stories that went around the School was one that he cycled up Boars Hill with the brakes on. It wasn’t until my father was up at Oxford and a friend was driving a group out to The Fox for a drink, that he found out it was true! The career of HGC Mallaby (1924- 1935) is well documented in the School’s records, but there are one or two less important items which are worth recording. He was never one to think too much of his own importance, announcing, when he saw the Quad neatly cut and ready for a Gaudy, ‘I haven’t had a roll for a long time’ and proceeded to lie down and roll on the grass. He liked to digress from topic during lessons, especially on the subject of Wordsworth, on whom he was an acknowledged expert but he would be interrupted by the question ‘Is this in the syllabus sir?’, ‘No’, ‘Then we don’t want to hear about it’. EP Hewetson (1926-1936) was no great academic, but put on his application that he could speak Spanish, assuming, not unreasonably for those days, that no one would want to take the subject. Unfortunately somebody from Spain joined the school, and so, along with another pupil, was assigned to Hewetson’s care. One day the Warden, Henry Kendall, needed to speak to him, and on entering the classroom, found Hughie and the other boy being taught by the Spanish student. What the outcome was my father could not remember, but he suspected Kendall merely laughed and the lessons were abandoned.

I am a very OSE, tucked away in a beautiful retirement village in a corner of New South Wales, where I see lots to interest me in how the School develops - particularly in the quite extraordinary inclusion of females in its ranks, and the very desirable inclusion of music in their achievements - both unheard of features of my life under the guidance of my very dear Warden, Henry E Kendall. I had the good, good fortune to live in our old Field House, under the warm and fatherly housemastership of Bim Barff, and am eternally grateful to LH (Bertie) Ovenden (1924-1946), for his efforts at engendering the love of music in me, “but of course, dear boy, only as far as Schubert - NOT that Brahms!,” although he did include some Bruckner in his choir pieces, and I often wonder about the nature of much of that composition of his which never saw the light of day. I was to learn piano and organ from him, but never got nearer to the organ than a surreptitious experimentation at night when I was a sacristan. Whatever happened to that grand old organ, which had been converted from the old hand pump, to wheezy electric action? I always thought it had a lovely sound. I should also record my gratitude to Leslie Styler, of the lower Classical Sixth who, when he noticed me misreading my Plato crib, said it was about time I decided what I really wanted to do in life, and was instrumental in getting me transferred to the ‘Science Side’. The only time when I started to appreciate that loathed ‘Rugger’, was when the time came for House Matches, when those inscrutable rules were largely forgotten and it was a free for all. The summer and walks across Port Meadow to the boats were my favourite times for games - yes, I did appreciate the team effort of the ‘Eights’, but individualism in athletics was otherwise my preference. I’d be most interested to hear from any surviving contemporaries, especially any who have been discovered to be autistic. I am very surprised to be still on my feet at age 89, and still walk about three to four km, and swim in a heated pool up to 200m, daily, the year around.

f e a t u r e s

As a scientist manqué, Gerald Nsugbe is pleased to announce the recent publication of his book. Amongst a wide range of other things, the book postulates the

origin of human brain waves –the culmination of 23 years of alternate writing and reappraisal summed up tersely in the comments of a neuroscientist and three medics.

Unsung by MarcYoung (E, 1972-1977)

“You have to start a journey

somewhere and, at its source, you may not expect very much. Everything may just remain in a pond nearby. But, what

if your waters nudge the bank and create a new stream, slipping a seeping vein into virgin soil, and carving out a fresh direction? It may be a turbulent flow, muddy, curling, curving and twisting but, somewhere in amongst, it discovers purpose and direction. It is vibrant, picking up a pebble as it passes the silent swishing tails of sipping cows and rides the current of Father Time’s gathering speed. Make the most of the life force, before enjoying the lazy meander as your journey embraces the wide mouthed silver shine of the vast reflecting ocean beyond. There, on the beach, your pebble comes to rest. It forms part of a beautiful view whilst its journey there lies untold. Until this moment.” A long forgotten old Cornish tale by Marc Young.