Teachers were in short supply during my middle years at the Valley so we had our head teacher handling three classes in the big hall. Trouble was, he had a drinking problem and chalked several problems on the blackboard, then disappeared into his office for a couple of hours. Boys being boys, things usually got out of hand and we would be sprung in mid-flight by his return and face the cane. We kept dropping his canes down inside an old upright piano, so eventually he resorted to pulling palings off the fence. This went swimmingly till one day he used one with a nail still in it and whacked Brian Barnett. The howl stopped the head in his tracks and Brian tore off home to get his father. Shortly after, this burly chap hove into view and the headmaster disappeared for the rest of the day.

One day, someone discovered the school supplies cupboard was unlocked and started distributing school pens. These had a nib set in a wooden holder, and were issued for copybook writing. The big hall had a very high ceiling, close-boarded on the inside up the rake of the roof. Bit like a church. Some bright spark decided to start throwing the pens up into the ceiling to see if they would stick. Some did, and when they didn`t, you had to scatter as they came spearing down. Many boxes of pens later, we had exhausted our ammunition and our devious minds turned to other plots. The headmaster never noticed anything for a couple of weeks and we had grown used to the prickly porcupine ceiling. One day, he was talking to us and tilted his head back in reflection and his mouth fell open. I can still see it all these years later. What must have been hundreds of pens were hanging from their nibs. He gagged and gagged, speechless for minutes. Naturally, we knew nothing about it—‘must have been other kids in here at lunchtime, sir’. They were hanging so high in the air that the Public Works men sent to remove them were stumped for a few weeks. They just looked up and shook their heads in admiration.

The same headmaster must have been running low on cash, so he organized a treasure hunt. The Valley Football Club members were training on the school grounds and had reported loosing spare change as they ran around. Our head sent the whole school on a hunt across the playing field with a ‘big prize’ to the kid who found the most money. We scarcely left a blade of grass untouched. Guess who found the most? Muggins Me fronted up with four shillings and sixpence and got the prize---a mouldy banana left over from his lunch. Meanwhile the head took the gleanings and headed up the road to the Jubilee pub.