Vanbrugh Castle School

THE TWO WORLDS OF YOUTH
divided by one word - DISCIPLINE

It was thoughtless not to have realized that the small boys on either side of me were obviously longing to tuck into their roast beef and mashed potatoes. But I was so fascinated by the scene around me that I kept on asking questions.

"How many are there in the school?"

"Fifty-one, sir." replied the small boys in unison, toying with their knives and forks.

"And how old were you when you came here?"

"Eight, sir. And we stay till we're 13."

"And you say you have a band?"

"Yes sir, I play the drums and he plays the flute."

I was about to inquire of the flautist how he had managed to master such a difficult instrument at so early an age when the penny dropped. I was keeping two healthy young lads from their lunch because they were far too polite to begin without me.

So I hastily began to eat, and for a few moments there were no more questions, for in such surroundings one does not speak when one's mouth is full.

I was lunching at Vanbrugh Castle. Thc remarkable school, overlooking Greenwich Park, which is run by the RAF Benevolent Fund for the sons of dead airmen.

And of all the incidents in a crowded afternoon this was the one that impressed me.

Why sneer at the 'old school tie' ?

SURELY nothing could be more trivial - two little boys and two plates of beef? But is an example of perfect manners in the younger generation so trivial nowadays?

This wasn't Eton - where one might expect a veneer of courtesy, though one mightn't always get it!

Nor were the boys being watched by the hawk eye of the headmaster ... they were acting instinctively, because they had been so disciplined that politeness had become second nature.

On the previous night they had seen the film version of West Side Story, with its tragic tale of youth gone wrong - for lack of elementary discipline.

And for many nights before that, indeed for many months and years I had been sickened by other stories, North, South, East and West in the theatre, in the cinema, on the television screen, in the newspaper columns, of youth run riot, while society shrugs its shoulders and parents fold their hands in despair.

Merely because discipline, in this day and age, is something for which nobody seems to have any time.

Well, they have a great deal of time for it at Vanbrugh Castle. And the curious thing about it is that it is largely maintained by the boys themselves.

Once a small boy has been taught, kindly hut firmly, to keep himself clean, physically and mentally, once he has been told that he must show respect for his elders, he ... well, he gets the idea, and he passes it on to those who follow him.

A lot of half-baked psychologists will probably protest that this sort of thing leads to 'repressions'. And some left-wing intellectuals might infer that Vanbrugh inculcates the spirit of the 'old school tie'. If it does, so much the better.

Of all the shallow and meaningless sneers that are current in modern society sneer at the 'old school tie' is the most contemptible. If I had an old school tie with the Vanbrugh colours I should be very proud to wear it.

For I believe that discipline is the basis of all achievement, spiritual and material. It is what distinguishes the man from the beast.

It is through discipline that a man climbs the ladder to success. It is through discipline that a woman keeps her beauty, That a star keeps in the spotlight, that a marriage keeps off the rocks, indeed, life . . . true life, is discipline.

[The article continues with BN's domestic problem which gives an indication of how he lived. I wonder if a homosexual journalist would be invited to write about an all boys school these days. - Ed]

The day I fancied fish and chips

NOW I am going to talk about a subject that really is trivial. But if it doesn't interest women. I shall be greatly surprised. I can put it in five words - Gaskin cannot cook chipped potatoes.

If this is 'where you came in', let me explain that Gaskin is my friend and factotum who has been with me for longer than I care to remember. He is such a good cook that he was oven raked in by television to give a demonstration.

His souffles are impeccable and his turbot, which is baked in tinfoil and flavoured with herbs, is something to rave about.

So is his watercress soup, his creme caramel, and ... well, quite a lot of other things.

But he can't cook chips. And the extraordinary thing about it is that I have only just discovered it after all these years.

I was feeling rather down-to-earthy after a lot of over-luxurious meals out, so I said to Gaskin: "I shall be in tonight and I think it would be nice to have just fish and chips."

Silence.

Not realising the significance of the silence I went on ; "Ordinary fish and chips like one buys in a bag."

Silence broken by a sniff. I looked up. Gaskin had a very pained expression.

Then he said; " I can't cook chips."

In the kitchen
- Gaskin rules

" How do you mean - you can't cook chips?" For this seemed a most extraordinary assertion, coming from him. It was like being told by a member of the Royal College of Surgeons that he was incompetent to tie a bandage round one's finger.

" Just what I say, I can't cook them."

Now if anybody else had said this I should have suspected some hidden reason. Such as thinking that chips were 'infra dig" or some such nonsense. But Gaskin really meant it. He could not cook chips.

He went into a lot of technical details about some sort of special apparatus that is apparently necessary, which I should be only too happy to provide but he did not seem at all anxious for me to get it, so the subject was dropped.

And I shall go through the rest of my life chipless. Pommes sautes ... yes. Baked potatoes split in half, buttered, delicately browned, with a faint hint of garlic, powdered with parsely ... of course. Souffles potatoes, as light as a feather ... certainly.

He even knows how to do a new potato in that specially cunning way which my mother used to describe as 'leaving a bone in it.'

But common or garden chips, crisp and hot, like the ones you buy out of a bag. . . definitely not. It is all most peculiar. I wonder if anybody could tell me the reason?

The pictures are of VCS boys (Barry Longhurst middle back) and the cast of West Side Story.