Page 10 - Martin Holmes - Old Derbeian Article

Derby School & WWII
I guess the war made me a cynic about human nature and particularly about politicians and people in power.
The war’s end
1945 was a year of change. It was the year my intake to school was to sit School Certificate; the war in Europe ended in May before we sat the exams and the war in the Pacific ended after; our time at Amber Valley came to an end also.
As I remember it, that summer was a brilliant one and our liberal headmaster had decreed that the Upper Fifth should be freed from scheduled classes for much of the half-term preceding exams and that we should determine our own study times and subjects etc. It surprised me somewhat that it actually seemed to work and while some of the wilder element gave a greater proportion of time to pleasure than study at least when anyone did study they put their minds to it.
One of the principle pastimes that summer was playing bob-sticks. It is a game easily played from found materials; a couple of stones to form a spaced pair of pylons, a small stick to bridge them and a larger stick with which to heft the smaller and hit it hard before it falls to the ground. If the smaller stick isn’t hit, or is caught by a fielder, you are out. If not out the hitter nominates the number of steps from where the stick lands to the pylons. If a fielder can cover the distance in that number or less the hitter is out; if not, the hitter scores the number of steps as “runs”.
The actual end of the war in Europe didn’t have a great impact on life at Amber Valley as the routine stayed the same and all the constraints of wartime persisted apart from the nightly black-out.
I passed School Certificate in all six subjects I took with credits in English Language and Literature, French and Maths but failed to get Matriculation as only one of the two English credits could be counted. Nevertheless it was good enough to move on into the Sixth Form and dumbfounded my English teacher who was very snooty about my success in English. I had clashed with him more than once over my imperfect pronunciation which always seemed rather rich to me as he always called me Holl-mez!
With the war over and the school able to re-occupy its buildings in town, the Amber Valley days were over and it was back home to a decent bed and Mother’s meals. A new phase in life was about to begin!
Written by Martin Henry Holmes (pupil 1940-470 as part of his memoirs.