Saturday, September 30, 2006

Friday, September 29, 2006

Autumn's Here

Just been helping himself from the bird table.

Best of the Best II

Graham here are a few signatures to go with your photo. L to R on your photo I have unknown (thought it might be Ron but rejected it), ‘Titch’ Colbon, Moe Smith, and Ricky Turley. When I arrived at Drake they occupied the room next to the Housemaster’s Study (room 15) because of misdemeanours of the ‘walkabout' nature the previous term. I was advised to stay away from them as they were a bad influence – not unnaturally we became great friends (maybe this is where Siegfried picked up some of his habits). The housemaster unable to reconcile this turn of events asked my mother at the next ‘easy weekend’ if I’d ever been to Borstal! Rich and Moe were both good boxers and were part of that era when Drake was the number one sporting house as opposed to that other place. Both Rich and Moe can be seen on page 41 of the Cavalier Volume IV no.1


This is the result of the fire in 2005, which Juergen covered in his photoshoot. The building he assures us is in fact Jellicoe, so we wuz wrong Helga!


Just to refresh the tired memories of Paul and Helga.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Best of the Best

Here you are Dmitri, reprinted and cropped from the original negative.

It's a 1929 12 Ton Super Sentinal Steam Lorry, I'm the one on the right taking much needed refueling.

Historic photo

This historic photo, uncovered by Juergen Taddicken over a year ago, shows an inspection of Wilhelmshaven by RN personnel sixty years ago almost to the week. Does anyone have any idea where they are actually standing? I don't recognise the building in the background, so I don't think its on school terrain.

Back to the Water

One for Dmitri, no prizes with this one.

The missing one

Sorry Guys & Galls only a front view for this one, need to protect the girls identities you see as the comments were very private. James Bond for your eyes only, you get the jist.

And the only difference is...

Well, if we are going to research this scientifically, we need two menus from consecutive years, which I just happen to have in my possession (thanks to Val). And clearly the difference lies purely in the orangeade / lemonade. I don't think it would be prudent to show what Derek Wright wrote on the back of the 1960 one, but it sure wasn't just 'Merry Christmas'.

Merry Christmas from all the Staff.

All I can see Graham is perhaps a menu design downgrade unless you count the giblet sauce!

Recognise anyone?

An impromptu snap of a bunch of lads taken in the late fifties. It has to be said that they all look rather smart. On their way to/from church or the Sunday morning after-church hop at Drake Girls? I recognise the two in dark clothing, but who are the others?

Happier Times

After the mayhem and destruction who about happier times, I'm sure some of you must remember the Christmas dinner held on the main site in Nelson. More to the point does anybody know or remember any of the names on the back of the menu? Looking through the ones I have it seem the only change from year to year was the choice of either lemonade or orangeade. Did they ever become more adventuresome and change the menu in later years?

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

...moving on... some valiant attempt to fast eradicate the vision of the demise of Nelson, I'll post these: brief glimpses of the days of yore, afore they slip totally under the bridge of history...and concrete too, I suppose eh!...

Away with sentimental thoughts of yesteryear...

Those feeling a tad sad on viewing the previous posting will note that the skyline of Wilhelmshaven continues to take on a new shape as these photos of Juergen show. Fliegerdeich now looks as though its population has at least trebled since our days and although many of the mainsite buildings shown on the lower photo have been demolished in the meantime, some have been saved and renovated. Perhaps Juergen or Pete Rees will send us an updated view of the causeway showing the new Holiday Inn?

Dust to dust...

Recycling machinery grinding up the old school to a pulp is not the best sight for sore eyes if you are still having your breakfast, but Juergen's image is one of the less disturbing ones that we could show. Let's look on the bright side: there will be some road or stretch of autobahn that we drive on that will be PRS in it's new life!

The Train Now Standing...

More of Juergen Taddicken's photos. In my era the trains pulled up directly in front of the school, but these are clearly in the station (platform visible). Does anyone remember when the switch took place? This was the most exciting (dare I say emotional) time of the whole term. Saying goodbyes to roommates, classmates and friends in the knowledge that you would be reunited the following term. Sadness if you knew they or you wouldn't be returning. Joy at the thought of seeing your family again.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

The Iceman commeth.

For those of you who didn’t recognise the last view of our revered Head Boy – try this one. Here, young men pause from discussing the works of Arthur Eddington and Stan Freberg, to ask the photographer if he’s going to have the ugly one this time?

The Deserted House

Its your lucky day folks, assuming you are in a reflective mood that is. A little dedication to our (my) English teacher and the cerise sweaters that brightened up many a dull day. "Life and thought have gone away, side by side, leaving door and windows wide. Careless tennants they! All within is dark as night: in the windows is no light; and no murmur at the door, so frequent on its hinge before. Close the door; the shutters close; or through the windows we shall see the nakedness and vacancy of the dark deserted house. Come away: no more of mirth is here or merry-making sound. The house was builded of the earth and shall fall again to ground. Come away: for life and thought here no longer dwell; but in a city glorious - a great and distant city - have bought a mansion incorruptible. Would they have stayed with us!" (Alfred Lord Tennyson)


Having read Dmitri's fictional story of Siegfried with intrigue, it prompted me to have a check back through my PRS photos. These were taken in June 1958 at RAF Jever Flugtag I'll let you read into there implication as you will, no doubt it will give Babs something to think about!!! Is it fiction or truth you may ask, I say no more.

Monday, September 25, 2006

If at first you don’t succeed……..

Two PRS boys, one who made it to the very top of the greasy pole and the other who managed to slide to the very bottom, take a break from discussing Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, to discuss the contribution made by women in green wellies to absolute knowledge.

Bleak House

An almost haunting view of the Fliegerdeich complex from Drake Boy's end. We had a basketball court on this concreted area and there were also the foundations of a demolished building within which rainwater froze in either spring or winter term 1960. I recall our housemaster Mr Callan, one of the masters (Mr Malins I think) and a senior boy (possibly our head of house, Mike Beams) taking advantage of the freeze and using the area for ice skating.

Sunday, September 24, 2006

A rose by any other name

Not many clues to go on if we are to identify this former pupil, I'm afraid, except that she was in Rodney up to leaving school in summer 1959. Anyone recognise her? I wonder where she is now?

The Götterdämmerung part IX

‘Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;
Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks;
Arm it in rags, a pygmy's straw does pierce it.’

Shakespeare, King Lear

To Albereich’s annoyance the Sirens counsel for fairness and justice. The apprentice Nibelungen have set a bad example to the lowly fourth formers they argue. Surely, they should know better? Justice demands the same punishment be meted out to all. Albereich hates having his authority challenged and now confronts what he loathes most - political expediency. Still seething he charges his deputy to administer six of the best all round. Under no circumstances must any word of this be allowed to get out. The whole system hangs by a slender thread. One by one, in total secrecy, the miscreants are called down to the gymnasium to be beaten. In strict hierarchical order of course, for that is the PRS way.

So! What of Siegfried dear reader? Bear your handkerchief away, Siegfried is a Grammar school boy and immune to flogging. Savour instead, if you will his smiles, as he sees his betters and tormentors brought down to his own lowly level. Besides Siegfried has other more important things on his mind, there is a production of Carmen to attend to ……and best of all; Rodney Girl is now wearing a yellow crush pin………As for Ulrike, she understood the fickle ways of men. She also knew that Rodney Girl was destined to be the first to take Siegfried’s heart. Nevertheless, Siegfried and Ulrike remained good friends for many years and as long as Siegfried remained in Wilhelmshaven he was always welcome for a few beers with Ulrike’s aunt.

So! All’s well that ends well. Some stories it seems do have a happy ending……Let us simply be grateful that none of this ever really happened.

[This tale may contain many truths, but nothing that should be construed as relating to fact. Reality is a state of mind and consequently the characters in this tale are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.]

Welcome to ALL ex-pupils

If you have seen Carol's TWA guestbook message and are tuning to this PRS blog for the first time, WELCOME! We are an enthusiastic band of former pupils who have been keeping in touch by blogging, which we only discovered ourselves earlier this year. It was never our intention to exclude anyone from the blog, but its existence was made known only by word-of-mouth, which limited the number of visitors. To post material directly, simply make your email address known to us and we'll send you an invitation so you can add your material to the blog directly. Anyone can leave a comment.

Saturday, September 23, 2006

Ulrike, Kaiser Bill and the Politzei part VIII

Time once more dear reader to visit main site. Pass the daughters of Erda quickly. Their rope will break soon enough. Head instead for the dank depths of the Neidhoehle, where the night dwarf Albereich lurks. Sitting on a large rock he beats his bulging forehead with his fists. The Collingwood Rheinmaiden was right. Albereich has been making enquiries and not just for the location of the Rheingold. He needs answers and quickly. So tonight, if you are vigilant, you will see his Nibelungen heading out to gather information for their master.

Most efficient of all the servants of the Dark Lord is the Flikmeister, a limp, sackbarrel of a man dressed in black. Shortly you can see him crossing the causeway and minutes later enter Drake. Under the guise of tending his flock, he sways the impressionable Tchaikovsky into believing his enquiries are for his ears only. Tchaikovsky believes in the Flikmeister’s magic and tells of the moonlit walk along the Fliegerdeich. Fortunately that is all he knows, but nevertheless when the Flikmeister returns to Albereich, he has news that brings a smile to his master’s face. He brings the head of Siegfried.

Albereich’s hand snakes across the table for the necessary paperwork. Expulsions are always kept under ‘E.’ But the Flikmeister has other news; many of the apprentice Nibelungen – the Prefects, the keepers of their own kind, including some of the most senior, have committed similar dark crimes. The Flikmeister is pleased that he has served Albereich so well. But the Dark Lord flies into a fearful rage. How can he banish Siegfried without damaging the prefectorial system beyond repair? The sun is up over the Valkerie Rock. Albereich must now make a decision which one way or the other will cause him much pain.

Will the Goddess of Just Revenge finally catch up with Siegfried? All will be revealed in the last thrilling episode.

Friday, September 22, 2006

...a bridge and a garden... you are then, Paul, in reply to both your questions; here doth mine garden grow!...These taken at different times of the year and complete with bridge and visiting ducks: Master Quick, Mistress Quack and entourage!...

Ulrike, Kaiser Bill and the Politzei part VII

The next morning Siegfried is unable to walk over to breakfast, so the duty monitor makes him stand (one legged) outside the housemaster’s door, as refusal to eat breakfast is another in the endless litany of Drake’s many mindless cardinal sins. Luckily matron comes by and Siegfried is whisked off to sick bay, strapped into one of these clever traction beds and a cage put over his leg. It seems imprudent to tell matron that he has other parts needing attention. There he lays in total solitude to emerge five days later feeling like Steve McQueen. As he leaves the sick bay a Collingwood Rhinemaiden beckons from her window and warns Siegfried that the forces of darkness are abroad and closing in.

A week later, two of Siegfried’s friends Tchaikovsky and Gates impressed by his nocturnal wanderings, express the desire to join him on one of his moonlit jaunts. Siegfried deciding to play it safe this time, suggests that they keep on the Fliegerdeich and they head west to where the Germans have some allotments. Here they smoke a few HB, eat a few carrots and then head back to Drake. It is a perfect summer night with a light sea breeze and more than anything Siegfried feels heartily relieved that he’s been able to get away with it all. Or has he? Next week the coming of the Night Dwarf.

Ulrike, Kaiser Bill and the Politzei part VI

The Volkswagen continues to bore into the night, wipers pumping furiously, when it screeches to a halt outside a nondescript three story house and Siegfried is bundled inside. He has never been to the Wilhelmshaven police station, and yet clearly this isn’t it. Recalling Matron’s tales of Bruno Muller, he has a sinking feeling that these Stadtpolizei, may be of the Geheime variety. The purple-faced Siegfried still clutching himself, is dumped in a chair, and a large measure of something resembling paint stripper forced down his throat. As an afterthought a HB cigarette is inserted between his lips. Don’t they do this just before you’re tortured? Having ascertained that Siegfried isn’t going anywhere, the Stadtpolizei head for the back of the house. A door slams. For a moment voices. Now only the ticking of an old clock. Tick! Tock!

Tick! Tock! Tired and frightened, the heat of the night envelops him and as the adrenalin subsides, the pain takes over. The minutes pass. Each tick of the clock becomes a nail hammered into his coffin. Somewhere far away voices. They’ll be ringing the school. Then, unexpectedly the door opens with a hinge-bound groan and a vast Brünhilde of a women dressed in black emerges, breasts like flour sacks - forearms the size of hams. Her hands are dripping wet. Suddenly, torture seems the most likely option. Drying her hands on her apron, she advances…… then smiling, introduces in herself as Ulrike’s aunt. In no position to protest, Siegfried’s clothes are removed to hang over the boiler and a towel provided for the decency that’s in it. Coffee brewed to laxative concentrations arrives stage right. The Stadtpolizei re-emerge, each with a bottle of beer and aided by more paintstrippers, Siegfried gives them a blast of the Toreador Song courtesy of Mr J Brynmor Jones. An hour later Siegfried is taken back to the Fliegerdeich and between them, the long arms of the German law manage to manhandle him over the wire and push him through the washroom window. Is Siegfried’s improbable adventure finally over?

Thursday, September 21, 2006

Ulrike, Kaiser Bill and the Politzei part V.

Here on the bridge, fear has now become a haplessly weak word in the wider lexicon of abject terror. Advancing, one of the Cro-Magnons greets Siegfried with that sch…. word that Germans seem so fond of. Meanwhile, one of his Palaeolithic mates removes his belt and wraps it ominously around his fist. High above in the night sky the first shimmering, firefly notes of the Valkeries and the thunder of hooves. With the rain continuing to lash down, Siegfried decides it’s pointless wetting himself and that diving off the bridge now looks like an attractive option. Wielding his buckle, the fearfully ugly Piltdown man swings at Siegfried who hops backward and falls over. Immediately, Cro-Magnon man moves in to administer the coup de grace. Siegfried instinctively covers his face, but instead the boot finds other parts. Now only the rumbling, opening notes of Siegfried’s Funeral March.

Seconds later a noise like a panzer division on the move interrupts the proceedings and a Volkswagen van slithers to a halt and decants a couple of the boys in green, the rain glistening on their leather jackets. Stage left, the cave painters are in hasty retreat. Grabbing the doubled up figure of Siegfried, the Stadtpolizei heave him unceremoniously into the van and head at breakneck speed back into Wilhelmshaven. Having just avoided Odin’s maidens, it now seems Siegfried is under arrest – presumably for loitering on one leg. As the van bumps and slithers across the cobbles Siegfried briefly thinks of Ulrike, seemingly oblivious to his plight, wrapped up safely in her cotton nightie (no socks folks), but mainly he wonders how he will explain all of this to his parents. Will Siegfried survive? There’s even more for those who can stomach it.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Ulrike, Kaiser Bill and the Politzei part IV.

Watch carefully dear friend. The humid, summer night now lies heavy across the slumbering town of Wilhelmshaven like an old dog’s blanket. Over on the Fliegerdeich a bathroom window opens at the back of Drake. A figure emerges and drops silently to the ground eight feet below. He runs until he is hidden behind a row of old garages, then begins to climb the barbed wire fence. He balances carefully as he reaches the top. One slip here, can have disastrous consequences - both for the evening and later life. Now into the foot-stumbling, rubble-strewn, shadows. Looking right. Looking left. You can sense the adrenalin pumping and the underlying exhilaration laced with fear. After two hundred yards, he relaxes and emerges onto Sudstrand, where he sits on an rusting bollard and lights a cigarette. His hands are shaking…..

For several minutes he is lost from view. Then, there he is below you. He pauses to admire the reflection of the moon on the surface of the Torpedo Hafen, then checking there are no headlights sprints across the bridge. Once more he is lost from view, then down by the waterside you can make out the outlines of Ulrike and Siegfried sat on a wall discussing moral nihilism and the death of God. They share a cigarette and draw closer to each other. Siegfried is wondering why German girls kiss using their tongues and beginning to worry if Ulrike is one of those loose women he has read about, when a thunderstorm worthy of the Götterdämmerung erupts. Within seconds the rain comes down like stair rods and as you will know dear reader, there’s nothing like cold water, and Ulrike and Siegfried quickly go their respective ways suitably chastised and chaste. By now the rain is bouncing shoulder high off the cobbles and even though it makes little sense Siegfried begins to run. From where you are you can see him slip on the cobbles and hear him cry out in pain. By the time he reaches you, his ankle is the size of a turnip. It is now midnight and Siegfried is clinging to the bridge and hopping on one foot. The Gods are clearly displeased and to emphasize the point three, large, greasy übermensch appear stage right. Why such degenerates are called halb starke is unclear, and as they approach, Siegfried has this uncanny feeling that lights are about to go out……Sorry the sex was so short lived but the violence is still to come……………..

In what book did Nietzsche unveil his concept of übermensch ? What myths did it perpetuate?

Ulrike, Kaiser Bill and the Politzei part III.

Now to meet our heroine. Sometimes a fleeting glance is sufficient, but in this case Drake Boy and Ulrike met under the wing of a Hawker Hunter at Jever. Despite the smell of hydraulic fluid, the encounter proved both prophetic and good value, as it only cost 0,50DM. Struggling with that most compelling and ridiculous of emotions, Ulrike confided that her uncle had once flown Me 110s out of Jever and had shot down a Wellington Bomber. Drake Boy wondered whether he should hold this against her, but alas other matters seemed more pressing. She needed to practice her English, and he was taken by her fine mind. There was more than a touch of Marlene Dietrich about Ulrike and even in the absence of black stockings and suspenders more good news was to come - Ulrike lived not in Jever, but in Rhein Strasse just at the back of the Bonteheim. As a result, their friendship blossomed. Flaxen-haired Ulrike often laughed at Drake Boy’s shyness and to prove Germans have a sense of humour, she called him Siegfried – a name which we will adopt for the remainder of our story. Siegfried who was an uncomplicated soul, was simply grateful that Ulrike wasn’t of Wagnerian proportions and although his interest in her mind wandered, they occasionally met from time to time to discuss Nietzsche’s ‘Genealogy of Morals,’ or so it is said. While some might question such fraternization, in fairness it must be stated that the Rodney girl that Siegfried really fancied was still ignoring his affection, or was unrequited lust a better description? Suffice to say, under the mystical influence of Ulrike, Siegfried like many young men before him, strayed and became a creature of the night.

Pray be patient dear reader, the sex and violence start soon………To provide assurance for those Australian readers of a delicate disposition, these two activities will be taking place severally as opposed to jointly. OK! I’m getting on with it…..

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

…no picture but…

...important news on the retention of memory front...(see Paul's earlier excuse fer not knowing the answers to the latest pub quiz!)...
...Seems a new study, directed by Mount Sinai School of Medicine, has found that moderate red wine consumption, in a form of Cabernet Sauvignon, may help reduce the incidence of Alzheimer's Disease (AD)...As reported: The study entitled "Moderate consumption of Cabernet Sauvignon attenuates amyloid neuropathology in a mouse model of Alzheimer's Disease" is in press, and will be published in the November 2006 issue of The FASEB Journal. The breakthrough study will also be presented at the Society for Neuroscience meeting held in Atlanta, Georgia, October 14-18, 2006. "Our study is the first to report that moderate consumption of red wine in a form of Cabernet Sauvignon delivered in the drinking water for ~7 months significantly reduces AD-type amyloid neuropathology, and memory deterioration in ~11-month-old transgenic mice that model AD," reported researchers Dr. Giulio Maria Pasinetti and Dr. Jun Wang at Mount Sinai. "This study supports epidemiological evidence indicating that moderate wine consumption, within the range recommended by the FDA dietary guidelines of one drink per day for women and two for men, may help reduce the relative risk for AD clinical dementia."
...Right! That settles it then!...I'm coming back as a mouse! :)

The ‘Last Führer’

It’s a rum do when you have to answer your own questions. Apart from Helga it seems no-one wants to liberate their minds…..

Karl Doenitz (1891-1986) served in cruisers and U-Boats in WWI and in 1935 was appointed to command the U-Boat arm of the Kriegsmarine with his HQ in Wilhelmshaven , a position he held until 1943 when he succeeded Raeder as C-in-C of the German Navy. In 1945, on Hitler's death, Doenitz although technically not the last Führer became leader of the Third Reich and surrendered Germany to the Allies.

While I was at PRS it was widely held that Major ‘Maud’ Malins the woodwork teacher lived in Doenitz’s old house.

Ulrike, Kaiser Bill and the Politzei part II.

Now dear reader, instead of darkly muttering ‘get on with it’ take time to survey the scene. From the bridge, cast your eye west to the causeway. This, other than the bridge, is the only way to leave the Fliegerdeich, although at night this is akin to entering Mordor via Isenmouthe, as certain housemasters are known to frequent the Bante Ruine.

At the end of the causeway, behind a large bunker is where the Rhinemaidens live, although being of a modest disposition they are rarely seen disporting themselves in the water. Here too lives Albereich the powerful night dwarf and sworn enemy of Drake Boy. Because of this malign influence, Drake Boy never ventures forth without the protection of the Tarnhelm, carefully disguised to look like a PRS cap.

At your feet, the vast expanse of the Groβer Hafen. Stay here if you will to search for Rheingold, but better still, cast your eyes south-west and you may, if you are lucky, see Drake boys exploring other ways of crossing the perilous waters of the harbour.

We thank you kindly for your patience and are nearly ready for our play to unfold. However to hide the imperfections of our humble stage, endeavour to answer the following questions.

Who built the causeway? Why was it built? Where did the materials come from?
Why was incontinence taken so seriously in Wilhelmshaven in the winter of 1946/47?
What was the first priority of the Allies for re-establishing normality in Wilhelmshaven?
What TV celebrity served as a sailor in Wilhelmshaven in the immediate post war years?
Who was PRS’s top sailor in 1959?

...answer to the latter!...

...again, google has proven triumphant and begs the question: was there life afore binary numbers?...Seems Wilhelm Friedrich Ludwig was the culprit, Dmitri: he founded
Wilhelmshaven in 1869 on territory purchased from Oldenburg in 1853...However, I suspect you knew all this already else why ask so confidently eh! :) In his memoirs, Bismarck describes Wilhelm as "an old-fashioned, courteous, infallibly polite gentleman and a genuine Prussian officer, whose good common sense was occasionally undermined by "female influences"..."...hmmm, now where have I come across this afore!!!...And hey!...there's some other snippet of interest which definitely escaped me...the city is also a summer resort featuring mud baths...oooooer!...steady the buffs!...anyone familiar with this particular tourist attraction? Wilhelmshaven,I mean! :)

Monday, September 18, 2006

Just for orientation....

In anticipation of the unfolding serial, herewith a suitable bird's-eye view of the stretch of water separating the Deich from the mainsite (nearly said mainland), the relevant house having been annotated for further recognition. Admittedly, I wouldn't have known its precise location on this photo without a much larger magnification!

Ulrike, Kaiser Bill and the Politzei part I.

It is important from the outset to state that this story is fictitious, as what unfolds could have never really happened. If there is an object to this tale, it is to highlight an aspect of school life now largely lost in the contemporary ‘jolly japes’ interpretation of PRS history. Wie es eigentlich gewesen ist –as they say in Todmorden.
This story is about someone called ‘Drake Boy’. Drake boy arrived at PRS fresh from London, where the world was changing and the old certainties were being questioned. His 'Tony Curtis' hairstyle and blue suede shoes were part of the new emblem of youth, but for Drake House however, he proved a trifle premature. Within hours his hair was summarily cut and before long he realised he had much in common with Oliver Cromwell……
Now dear reader, we must set the scene. With what imaginary puissance you can muster, take yourself to the Kaiser Wilhelm Brücke. From this unworthy scaffold you will be well placed to see our play unfold. Built in 1907, this bridge was once the largest of its kind. Whether it was named after Kaiser Bill, or his granddad, isn’t clear. But you can rest assured that Bill would have made an ideal monitor.
From here, you will be able to follow the nocturnal activities of that small band of Fliegerdeich dwellers whose exploits this tale celebrates. For them, the bridge upon which you stand was by far the safest way of reaching town and while to you its 150 metre span may look modest enough, for them every set of oncoming headlights was a potential one-way ticket to incontinence, or worse ….. Our tale which promises sex, violence and political intrigue will be continued……

Quiz addicts might like to try the following questions:
Which PRS member of staff was said to have lived in Doenitz’s house?
Who founded Wilhelmshaven in 1869?

Saturday, September 16, 2006

The answer to a PRS girl's dream

Now here are three lads who I'm sure the belles of PRS used to swoon over during their school days. But how good our the memories of our gals? I have it on good authority that one of them has hardly changed a bit over the years. Don't tell me he fell into an ice floe as well? So, we now have two Adam Adamants among us (hi Alan).

Just when you thought it was safe to come out of the briar patch...

Don't be deceived by the harmless expressions on the faces of this lot. With pupils like these at school, who needed Mandy Rice Davies on the roll call anyway? Well, at least one of them is a PRS gal. No clues this time. Hasn't she been on the blog before somewhere?

Friday, September 15, 2006

Kaiser Bill

Still getting up to speed with this new interest in bridges. Perhaps because subconsciously we recognise they are structures that allow passage over obstacles? Surely this one, as far as PRS was concerned, was the most iconic of the lot! Hopefully a picture you’ve not seen before. Taken from an old postcard from around the time of the Great War..