For most of the time I was there, the school was led by "Toady" Nugent. He was Irish, and when he got excited (which was often), very hard to understand. The year I took the Senior Cambridge examination, Mr. Nugent decided he would do the reading for our Dictation Test. The text included a phrase that went "the cows were chewing the cud"… most of us wrote "khud", we were sure that is what he said, and that spelling was the more familiar.

In 1942, most of India was nervous about the approach of the Japanese Army, pouring up through Burma. On Christmas Day 1941, a Jap observation plane flew over Calcutta, so all the Cal boys thought they were about to see some excitement.

On an assembly day, Toady addressed the entire school on the subject of starting rumours. His speech included "Any boy, caught spreading rumours about Japanese planes over Calcutta, will be severely flogged in public." That speech was shouted endlessly in corridors for years to follow.

I remember Rev. Elliot and Rev. Solomon, who both made the front room of the padre's accommodation, above the Armoury available to anyone who wanted to play Draughts, Ludo, Caroms or read a range of magazines. My understanding of World War 2 is still based on "Picture Post".

Mr. Prins taught us History, and a selected few were allowed to study Latin… the dundaheads had to do Hindi. His favourite response to our answers to his questions was "full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

On one occasion after dozing off in class, I was ordered by him to join the Cadets, which delighted me. As an Army brat, I knew all the correct moves in foot and arms drill years before that day. Afternoons on range, waiting for the mist to clear and reveal the targets. The highlight of my time in the Cadets was a camp in Assam, where we took part in exercises against the Gurkhas, and had the chance to use live ammunition. The final treat was to fire a Tommy gun or two inch mortar.

Mr. Doyle was a great story teller, and we soon found we could easily divert him from the lesson plan. "Please Sir, what can you tell us about…."

Mr. Ferris taught us Geography, and brightened up lessons by telling us about his relative that lived in the particular corner of the globe under discussion. "My cousin in Manaos…". But he could play the bugle, and had kept goal for the India hockey team. He fell from grace on one of those rare occasions when the sun shone in the monsoon season. The headmaster was about to declare a sunshine holiday, when Mr. Ferris pointed out that there was an eclipse of the sun on Thursday, so why not save the holiday until then. Like to guess what Thursday's weather was like?

Mr. Oliver was a brilliant teacher in Mathematics and Science, owned a range of chalk striped suits, and was shorter than everyone in the class. He also taught us the rudiments of Rugby.

Mr. Hill taught Carpentry, we called it "Manual". Every lesson ended with us arranged around him in a circle. Armed with a 12 inch length of wood, he would fire questions at us (in Spanish Inquisition style), "What's the half of one and seven eighths?" The slightest delay brought a crack on the head with the piece of wood. Later he went off to war, and we sympathised with any Japanese soldier that came within range of his short plank.

Mrs. Clarke taught us Art. It must have been agony for her, her incredible talent brought her the commission to create 12 portraits of Indian soldiers, they were used on a calendar for the Red Cross.

I started my time at Victoria in March 1939, and went to what we all knew as "Commercial". My parents were impressed to find that their son, not yet 10, was already learning how to run an office.

In September of that year, we heard that we were at war. "Who against?" was the question. "Germany!" "Oh, that's alright, we beat them last time." Our small dining area in Commercial had a mixture of Sheffield and German cutlery, and getting there early meant one could switch your knife for a good one, thus avoiding accusations of treason.

We were much in awe of those in the Big School, a place at the other end of the Top Flat. Rumour had it that when we moved there, we would have to use pen and ink!

The class that I moved through the school with included Bul Bul and Puss Puss Carapiet, both hockey stars and difficult to tackle because they were left handed, Irvine Clarke whose sister had the distinction of being Dow Hill's tallest girl, Mordecai Cowen, who added two phrases to our language.. "He hit the hammer right on the head" and "Don't take my comic to church, the padre will confirm it (I think he meant confiscate)". Stanley Prins, one of two chosen to take Latin), Bisset a budding artist, the margins of every exercise book he owned were crammed with detailed sketches of German soldiers, trucks and tanks, Guzda came from Bombay and brought more tuck with him each year than the rest of us put together….naturally we let him join our gang. Copley the first boy I spoke to on my first day. Sadly we fell out in an argument over a missing comic several years later. Davies who never stopped smiling, and never mentioned his walk out of Burma in 1941. Pearson, our class bully, who was elevated to hero status for standing up to defend Davies from a teacher that harassed him over his perpetual grin.

I suppose they all had first names, but we never found out what they were.

MEMORIES OF VICTORIA.

The sound of the wind in the cryptomania trees that surrounded both Top and Bottom Flat.

The very damp walk through the forest to Goethal's to watch one of our teams play the "enemy", and removing leeches from your legs when we got back to school.

Watching the sun's first rays strike the white face of Kinchenjunga.

Roller skate races around the verandahs and corridors of the main block.

Twig races along the deep monsoon ditch in front of the main building, a raging torrent in the rainy season.

Buns at tea time on Sundays, the dreaded smell of brinjal "jackies" at least once a week, "pish pash", a personal favourite. Saving chillies from lunch time ( they were hidden in the flower vase on the table) to make aloo sandwiches to eat after evening prayers in the Assembly Hall.

The school nurse issuing a spoonful of Mag. Sulph. to every boy in the school. We had to say "Thank you, Nurse" to prove we had swallowed the disgusting stuff. The chaos in the Bogs two hours later…..

The excitement of Sports Day, having numbers sewn onto your vest. The Head Prefect (Bowen?) breaking the school high jump record that had stood at 5 feet 7.5 inches for years. The Old Boys Race over 100 yards. It was run on a handicap system, a yard start for every year since the entry left school. It was won every year by some sprightly gentleman that left the school in the 19th century.

Queueing at the Tuck Shop, clutching 4 annas, deciding whether you wanted a curry puff, sticky cake or coconut ice. Buying illegal jalabes in the school servant's lines.

How good supper was at Siliguri station on the way home, and the horrible breakfast in the same room three months later.

Trips on the Toy Train to Darjeeling to watch our hockey team. One year the final at St. Pauls went to extra time. When we got to Ghoom, the train had gone, so we walked most of the way back until we thumbed a lift on a goods train.

The race down the terraced tea estate to get to the Plaza for a rare cinema trip. The noise of some two hundred boys breaking open the husks of monkey nuts in the cinema, while the prefects on the balcony shouted "Stop eating cheenas!"

Exeats at weekends to walk to The Tank and Duke's Nose. Green Plain at the South end of Top Flat was in bounds, in the centre there were 3 heavy wooden posts, used to support straw filled sacks for the Cadets' bayonet practice. We once left a prisoner tied to a post, so he missed supper.

Lying in bed at night as the monsoon rain hammered on the corrugated tin roof.

Lining the wall along Top Flat to watch the sun go down, chanting "Going..Going.. Gone!" One day closer to Going Home Day.

Making elaborate labels for our trunks and those of Dow Hill favourites from graph paper.

Making huge signs to hang on the front of the Big Train engine as we pulled into Sealdah. These were made from up to 40 layers of exercise book pages and home made glue, topped with glossy art paper to form the school badge or the entwined letters VSK. At least one of these became the roof of a shunter's shed in the railway yards north of Sealdah.

Counting off the days to the end of term on home made charts glued to the underside of desk lids.

The dread at the end of the holidays, some sadist gave February only 28 days. Being handed over to the teacher in charge at Sealdah, by parents trying to be cheerful, with 275 days to the end of term.

Trying to ignore the sobs of new boys suffering their first night in a "dorm".

"Jug Night", a huge bonfire on Top Flat, around which the teachers were obliged to sing a song each. Later sleeping on the floor under our beds, to avoid the barrage of tennis shoes that went on most of the night.

This section of my life ended in December 1946, when our batch of JC and SC candidates finished the last exam and we woke up to the fact that our sheltered life in the cocoon that was Victoria was over.

The only VS boy I have seen since that day was Irvine Clarke, one of our gang members. Having completed 32 years of Army service, my father was allocated a troopship to move us back to England.. Soon after sailing from Bombay, I saw Irvine Clarke on the troop deck. He had joined the Army and his Regiment was going back to Blighty.

You can imagine my delight when I found the VICTORIA KURSEONG pages on the Internet. I printed all the newsletters, drooled over the VS photographs, and bored my wife silly with shouts of "He was in my class!"

My own life? I joined the Army in August 1947, and was trained as a Mechanical Draughtsman in the Royal Engineers. My 5 years service included 3 in Malaya. In January 1953, I left the Army and worked for 5 years as a Design Draughtsman with Gloster Aircraft Company, involved with the Meteor and Javelin aircraft.

I applied to join Cessna in Wichita, but they lost a big Air Force contract. On the rebound, I became a lecturer at the Mombasa Institute of Muslim Education in Kenya. That was on a two year contract…I stayed for 23 years, that means I must have enjoyed the life. I stayed on in Kenya for another 5 years, they included running my own small company, involved in Advertising, Public Relations and Drafting. and working as the Training Manager at a vehicle assembly plant.

I was very involved in Motor Sport during my time in Kenya, running Mombasa Motor club with the help of my wife. I helped with the Safari Rally for 21 years, and finally became Chairman of the committee for the Coast Province portion of the route.

In 1985, we came back to England. Since then I have worked as a Weights Engineer with several companies, including Ford and Daewoo. The latter company has an active Motor Club, for the last two years a team has driven a small saloon around the M 25 London Orbital Motorway for 24 hours, to raise a total of some 2750 Pounds for the "Children in Need" appeal.

I have three children, Jillie married to a pilot with Virgin Atlantic, Tina lives with her husband in Tanzania and Alan is in the Surrey Police. By June next year, we will have 6 grandchildren. My wife Lilian has worked for Virgin Atlantic for the last 14 years.

I am about to retire from Daewoo (not by choice!), but intend finding another job in January 2000.

I have every intention of attending any reachable VADHA re-unions in the future, so hope to see someone from my era in Kurseong.

John Gardiner