St. Albans College, Buenos Aires   A few reminiscences by a 1954 leaver I've tried to put down on record just a few I particularly remember. I came to St. Albans in 1953, having spent five years at St. Andrews and completed what was then called "Sexto grado." I was in a class called "Shell", consisting of about twelve boys, mostly, I think, boarders. I can recall the fear that many of us had for Edward Vibart, the head master. Rumours that he might be cross with us would spread like wildfire, and we always had our weekly lesson in accountancy in respectful silence! Mrs. Vibart used to teach us literature, and even now I remember some of the classic stories were read. She also played the piano in Assembly, with an unusual style in that the left hand would be played a fraction of a second before the right hand. Mrs. Vibart was a very popular lady, and I believe that she lived to a very old age. At Mitre annexe there was only one toilet, and we had our obligatory shower. Given that we were all male, there seemed to be nothing untoward that someone might be sitting on the toilet whilst we showered. But oh, if someone forgot, and pulled the chain, two things would happen. First there would be screams from the poor guys under the showers, that were now pouring out virtually boiling water. Secondly, Mr. Hearle (Cañita) would go absolutely berserk and lay into the forgetful miscreant! The other side to this was Cañita's kind heart. He'd awaken us all up ever so gently each morning, and I think that many of us pretended to remain asleep just to receive the gentle shake to end our slumbers! Another unusual teacher we had was Mr. Franklin. Revd., I should say. He taught us Religious Studies and Literature. I say "taught" rather loosely, for in the heat of the day, aided by a gentle crescendo of humming from us all, he would almost invariably drop off to sleep. He was a bit of a rogue in his own way. At the end of term we would be given marks for the term and also for the exams., as I recall. These marks were totally fictitious and not once did we ever have a test! Later he became a bishop, which confirmed my teenage misgivings about the Church of England! Mind you, I was almost invariably in the first two for both subjects, because I belonged to the choir. Who else? Oh yes, Mr. Cohen. I have to say that I never liked his tendency to sarcasm, and he seemed to relish in putting me down at every opportunity. (Perhaps I deserved it, but sarcasm is never justified). However, he was a good man who inspired us to work hard. He also ran Crusaders in Temperley, and he and his wife very generously provided boarders with tea, and a seemingly endless supply of dulce de leche. There was Mr. Richards, deputy head, I believe. Geography teacher (I may be wrong here). Given, sometimes, to punching you in the face if he lost his cool, but with a weird sense of humour that appealed to us, and someone who put a lot into the school, especially on the theatrical front. He produced a play for the school at the church hall, where I played the part of Sinho, a somewhat sinister man with a turban, who was not public enemy number one, but very near it. Strangely, I can still remember one line of the play: "The religion of Shampawr is an orientalised version of Greek Pantheism. Under the relics left by Iskander... " I have no idea what the line meant, but I think I acquitted myself and said it with an authoritative air! One of the adults playing a part in that play was Teddy Vibart, (the son of EV) who was very much liked. No-one ever had a bad word for him. I think he decided eventually to leave teaching, but am not sure. Roger Vibart one approached with caution. He could erupt very easily, and for the most part we feared him. Strangely, when in 1974 I met him at a match when the school had a rugby tour in England, I still remained very respectful and apprehensive whilst talking to him! I suppose people react in different ways! John, on the other hand, was very popular. As so was his wife Ines. He married whilst I was at SAC, and I remember attending the reception, as I was in the choir, and had sung a verse of a hymn solo - "Oh perfect love" I think it was. Who else? There was a Mr. Hartles - a small, bald-headed martinet who had this tremendous gift of antagonising everybody. He was a football referee in real life. I'm not quite sure what he taught, but his style was to humiliate everyone who crossed his path. He never knew who it was who removed all the wheels from his Ford Popular - his pride and joy, before that certain person left! There it was in the quad, balanced on four bricks, not a wheel in sight.... The school ruled largely by fear. The paleta bat was often used, as was the cane. I was once knocked out by an enraged E.V., coming back to consciousness just at the time that a slightly embarrassed headmaster had realised that on this occasion he had got the wrong boy! Corporal punishment was often dished out by the prefects and sub-prefects; whether it was permitted no-one knew, but if it wasn't, blind eyes must have been turned! Now, can anyone of my vintage remember the significance of "Chapter three"? There was an appallingly boring Geography book called "Southern continents", and if you had offended the prefects, you would have this as an imposition. Or chapters three and four if the sub-prefect was being particularly mean. I lost count of the ones that I had to do! Some enterprising people set up a little cottage industry selling "Chapters three"s to offenders; this thriving industry went along, together with the polishing shoes service. Who was in my class? Francis Fernie, for one. I believe he went on to become one of the top bosses of YPF. What special events took place? Oh yes, I remember that we had a holiday on the day of the Coronation. (By sheer chance this is being written on 2nd June, exactly 47 years later!) Then there were the occasions on mild excitement, when for example Grant 1 ran away from school. But the event that saddened many of us was a tragic car crash that took place in January or February of 1954, involving Mr. and Mrs. Vibart, and a Miss Draper, who died in the accident. Frankie Coleman and I visited Mr. Vibart at the Buenos Aires Hospital that April. For a long time, the battered and bloodstained car remained in the corner adjacent to our classroom, and pupils of all ages would visit it with a measure of awe. Both Mr. and Mrs. Vibart recovered after some time. I'm sure that as time goes on, further memories will come back, and would be delighted to hear from students who were there at this period. I valued my time at St. Albans, and the light-hearted recollections here are totally outweighed by the confidence I gained during my short stay. I hope that the school goes from strength to strength. I left at the end of 1954 to come to England for the remainder of my schooling. Again, what illusions one has at that age; I proudly sported my Old Philomathian tie and badge (the badge was similar to the Prefects' one, with laurels round the side) and had the notion that there would be instantly identified by hoardes of OPs in London, which never turned out to be the case. However, I have met several OPs, and a highlight was a reunion in 1999 (see here). I have met Angus McVitie, who lives in the outskirts of Bedford, and Edward O'Regan, who is a consultant (and who, I learned, was recently awarded the MBE). Oh, and Leonard Alexander. I've just been in touch with him today, and he's well and thriving. (Tel UK 013 942 78300 if you'd like to get in contact). And finally Mark Nash who lives in Kilburn, London. How about other OPs writing in and letting us know of their reminiscences? Robert Leggat '54