Author Topic: Boy,s Model...  (Read 57680 times)

unrecog

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Re: Boy,s Model...
« Reply #225 on: May 23, 2020, 10:22:19 PM »
My Year Master in fifth year was Jimmy Francey (aka Jimmy Deathbreath or Gaseous Joe). He was my technical drawing teacher in third year.  I remember those classes in M8. What a lot of people may not know about him was that he was a closet narcissist.  It never escaped my notice or that of several others that during a TD double period, there were several times that he would retreat into a storeroom attached to M8 and gaze at his reflection in a full-length mirror on the wall. I could often see him straightening his tie and jacket and combing his hair as well as grinning at himself in the mirror.

He also seemed to have "problems endocrinal".  I remember on one occasion when he lay flat out on top of a row of storage cupboards, next to the room windows and grunted he words "Hurrrr. Anybody gat a mint?"  Obviously looking for some indigestion relief.

His breath was foul, but he had the weirdest looking face. I have an abiding memory of a frog with glasses and wearing a jacket...

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Re: Boy,s Model...
« Reply #226 on: July 24, 2020, 08:34:04 PM »
It's that time of the year. I said I'd post pictures of the demolition of the "school". One every day until August.  First picture taken July 25, 2010. As you can see, the offices and library have gone. It's possible to see through to the staff and senior school staircase.

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Re: Boy,s Model...
« Reply #227 on: July 25, 2020, 08:23:45 PM »
The pile of breeze blocks and the debris to the right was all that was left of the Sixth form centre.

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Re: Boy,s Model...
« Reply #228 on: July 26, 2020, 08:08:37 PM »
Room thirty reduced to rubble. Good riddance to it. I remember those Friday afternoon O Level Geography classes in sixth year. Windy McDowell always used to turn up ten minutes late while we were all standing outside. The bell rang at 3.10 and Windy said, "You're in your own time now, boys." The class would then continue for another ten or fifteen minutes. By the time we got out, all the special buses had been and gone.

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Dargan

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Re: Boy,s Model...
« Reply #229 on: July 27, 2020, 09:31:14 AM »
Just a casual visitor to your thread to lend support to the idea of photgraphing the demolition of a "school" with daily updates on the progress. Marvellous stuff. I'll watch with zest until ground zero is reached. I like the commentary too. I only wish I could do something similar at the demise of the former "educational establishment" I attended but it's still going, possibly as some kind of sadistic club for persons with Dip Ed. after their names (I could think of a few letters to alter there). Good luck.   
And so it goes: "yours sincerely, Holden McGroyne."

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Re: Boy,s Model...
« Reply #230 on: July 27, 2020, 03:22:10 PM »
img free

Rooms 10 and 30 gone! I never liked them anyway.
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Re: Boy,s Model...
« Reply #231 on: July 28, 2020, 07:30:19 PM »


Is that a blood-soaked wall I see in what remains of Room 24?
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Re: Boy,s Model...
« Reply #232 on: July 29, 2020, 08:08:54 PM »


Almost all of the ground floor windowless.
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unrecog

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Re: Boy,s Model...
« Reply #233 on: July 29, 2020, 11:57:01 PM »
If I had been there I would have pushed the Big Red Button to blow the whole thing up. I am sorry I missed the demolition. I would have stood on the pavement and demanded special menaces for Rooms 3, 5 and 7 (3 - English, Mrs Fowler, 5 - Contact, 7 - Andy bl**dy McMoran)

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Re: Boy,s Model...
« Reply #234 on: July 30, 2020, 07:59:35 PM »
If I had been there I would have pushed the Big Red Button to blow the whole thing up. I am sorry I missed the demolition. I would have stood on the pavement and demanded special menaces for Rooms 3, 5 and 7 (3 - English, Mrs Fowler, 5 - Contact, 7 - Andy bl**dy McMoran)

I also have stories about those rooms - and a corridor. All that's for later. In the meantime, Lawrence McConnell has retired.

https://www.belfasttelegraph.co.uk/news/northern-ireland/model-old-boys-celebrate-schools-150th-birthday-28402188.html
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Re: Boy,s Model...
« Reply #235 on: July 31, 2020, 08:40:51 PM »


Rooms 3 and 23 barely standing.  The rest are barely recognizable by the inner walls.

Room 4 - Mr. Niall Haslett, if you're still raging about who was writing on your desks waaaay back in September 1974, It had absolutely NOTHING to do with me. If you hadn't damaged me 24 hours after I started in that school, I might've had a better school career.

Room 5 - Mrs. Lloyd. First year contact teacher and insufferable pedantic madam.  Inspections, inspections, inspections and more inspections. Sorry, I can't help it if you think my shirt's the wrong shade of grey. Why don't you write a letter home to my parents?

Room 7 - Just barely visible is the corridor outside the room. During the 1978-1979 term, last two periods on a Thursday there was Geography, taught by Mr. McMorran. He could come up with the slightest excuse to banish me to the corridor - I mean it was practically every Thursday during term time.  I hated Thursdays, Geography, Room 7 and Andy McMorran. Sometimes he would call on Windy or David Shufflebottom - my maths teacher who ended up teaching ICT, for moral support just to make my life a misery.
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Re: Boy,s Model...
« Reply #236 on: August 01, 2020, 08:51:13 PM »


Room 3 - A usual venue for House meetings. The green band above the badge on my school blazer indicated that I was in Hazlett House. Not that I cared. I just hated House meetings.

Room 23 - The venue for my first maths class, taught by Denis Johnston. During this class I was distracted by a painting on a cupboard of Spitfire and a Messerschmitt in a dogfight - the room was a History classroom where you would find Spot Stephenson and Alan Anderson. Anyway, the Jant noticed that I was distracted and said that he would pull the projector screen off the wall and hit me on the head with it.

Also in the picture to the right are the science rooms - but not for long.
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Re: Boy,s Model...
« Reply #237 on: August 02, 2020, 08:29:18 PM »


There's a hole in the wall of the Central Hall.  A lot of things happened in that place. Sometimes it was the place where some kids were called up to the stage and given a beating by Ernie.  It was the place where I did my last O Level exam.  In the 1974/75 term it was the venue for the school play, "Murder at the Old Red Barn", or something like that. The drama club acted the roles of William Corder, Mariah Martin and Jasper Ryan. Music was provided by Ivan Black. "Supertrouper" operator was Billy Sharpe. Put it all together, it was more camp than a row of tents.

I was in the school choir at the time and we had to provide "interval entertainment" by getting up on stage and singing a few pieces we'd rehearsed. Conducted by Ivan Black, of course. At the end of that term, I was in the hall again to have a photo taken as part of the school band and choir.

On really cold or wet days, all of the junior school would find themselves in the hall at lunchtimes. You'd eat your packed lunch there. However, some pupils would start a food fight - much to the dislike of the supervisory staff. Geography teacher, Mr. Brennan used to try and identify the culprits by examining the sandwich fillings. Some of the lads used to stuff unwanted sarnies down the back of the radiators (not enough bins). It was an hilarious sight to see The Jant poking out the stinky sarnies with his cane,
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Re: Boy,s Model...
« Reply #238 on: August 03, 2020, 11:29:34 AM »


Another view of the Central Hall where the head of the English department, Trevor Lowe used to give scripture readings and a general talk during Tuesday morning assemblies. If you look at the hall doorway on the right, are those bullet holes or shrapnel marks from one of Ernie's explosive tempers?  The hall was the scene of a teaching award given to Ernie and Mr. Hutchinson. I think he taught woodwork or metalwork.  Anyway, this was a big occasion and my class, amongst others went to the hall to be the audience for this event.  I think they both received clocks - there was a photo captioned "A prize for teacher" published in the Belfast Telegraph.

What was most memorable about this event was Denis Johnston (AKA "The Jant"). Ernie was in a good mood and asked us "Would you like to hear Mr. Johnston play the piano?"  He sat down in front of an upright piano and over the course of several minutes banged out a blues tune on the ivories. Even if you weren't there at the time, I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that he brought the house down. Nobody could believe how a strict maths teacher could be so talented. 

It didn't end there. The Jant also did a stand-up comedy routine in which he made jokes about things like Spam tinned meat and "Miss Suzy Quatro". Ernie's obsession with rugby was also made fun of.  "I got a report that there was some anti rugby grafitti in the toilets. So I ran in, pushing open the door, knocking Truesdale off his perch! Then, when THE SMOKE HAD CLEARED, I saw this slogan "Rugby out. Soccer rules OK!"
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Re: Boy,s Model...
« Reply #239 on: August 03, 2020, 08:09:58 PM »
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This delightful des res pictured here was the caretaker's bungalow. Through most of my time at the Model there was a caretaker called Billy. He was a slightly stocky dark-haired man who never seemed to take his boiler suit and boots off. If I remember right he also wore round-rimmed jam jar glasses.  One of Billy's responsibilities as caretaker was to run the tuck shop which was originally located in a double-doored storeroom under Room 10.  Buying tuck in the Model was always something that had to be treated in a "disciplined and orderly" manner - the teachers would make us line up. Of course, we got bored with this and decide to have a laugh at Billy's expense. You could hear lads up and down the queue shout orders, "A packet of seagull's waterboots!" "A packet of centipede's bootlaces". One third former had the nerve to ask him for "Half a pound of 'ordure'!"

Billy wasn't without a sense of humour. I remember one occasion when I reached the front of the queue and ordered a cup drink (packed in plastic and tasted like plastic) and a can of coke. He handed my order to me and said, "There ye are son. Don't mix yer drinks!"
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