Trevor Ternouth’s School Days in St Breward

First published in the Community news February 2025 edition

One From the Archives – My School Days (1946-1956)

It must have been a daunting experience for this youngster aged four years 11 months to walk from 10 Penvorda Cottages to the village school at Hill, St. Breward. Of course, I was accompanied by my doting mother or ‘Mammy’ as I affectionally called her. She left me in the Infants Class, with our teacher Meredith Rowe, nee Church (Methodist Church as she called herself). Naturally we knew Miss Rowe, she was married to one of Mammy’s cousins. But for the first few days seeing my mother leave, for her one-mile-long walk, back home, tears were shed – by both mum and little me!

One thing, in those far off days, most of us in the school – of around 120 children knew of each other – we were either related or had a village connection through our parents, church, chapel, football, Band or a few other shared interests and of course work. So, this made our school days almost cosy, except for Miss Rowe’s loud voice! She certainly ruled the roost in our class.

Yes, I was the class weakling – suffering greatly with asthma, since I was only two years old, with little or no medication. But I always made the long trek to school and back, with ‘Auntie’ Olive Knight – when mum ceased to take me. Later I was joined with David Methven, Graham Clarke, and Kenny Nottle, we were all Penvorda ‘boys’, who played together in our own little world at Penvorda.

On thinking back, Miss Rowe taught us well – reading, writing and ‘sums’. The day always started by being lined up outside in our classes, four in total. The big class, Mr Oswald Martin, next down was Mr Chadburn, then Miss Patton’s and finally our class. Mr Martin would say to his class ‘Lead on’ and we would all proceed to the double classroom for our daily service. A hymn and prayer to start the day – then off to our respective rooms. Mostly we were obedient pupils, but we all looked forward to the first ‘playtime’ – football for us boys on the front of school playground. Then back to the classroom until dinner. This was eaten in the converted veranda, which made an adequate canteen. The Cooks, Mrs Brown, Olive Knight, and I think Dulcie Sleep, were excellent, serving up great Cornish meals. Unusually our roast always had a square of cheddar cheese on the plate – one day Terry Kent ate 35 pieces – yes, he was sick! After dinner we played football on the school field – great fun – then a lesson for I think about ¾ hour, then another playtime – yes – it was football again – on the side playground! After school the long trek home – always a big gang until Row, then we’d all go our separate ways, the Row boys and girls would be home – Claylands gang down Limehead Road, we four Penvorda boys along the top road toward Mount Pleasant, across Tigers Platt, then down Bill Hawkin’s field to the cottages, after tea we boys would all meet up for a game of you’ve guessed it football!

Our school time lasted for ten years as we left at 15 years of age. A few passed their 11 Plus and went to Camelford Grammar School. Some going on to university or teachers training college. In my parents’ day the grammar school attendees had to cycle each day from St. Breward to Camelford, but in my time, a bus was provided – progress, eh?

As for us, boys and girls who were not so bright we progressed through the four classes. After Miss Rowe it was to Miss Patton – we all loved her – so gentle, in manner although she lived out on the moor, near Roughtor and travelled into school on her motorbike. Then it was up to Mr Chadburn’s class, each day would start with ‘10 Mental’, these were a sort of maths test, but on Friday would be ’20 Mental’ questions – I hated this, as I was not very accomplished at Maths! He also taught a bit of so-called Art! Watercolours of course – but he always insisted all the features we painted were outlined in black – again I hated that. For the boys who were not keen on football, often at dinner times, ‘Chaddy’ would get these youngsters to learn Morse Code! Yes, another of my pet hates, in fact not my favourite teacher.

At the age of 11, we who did not progress to Camborne Tech. College or St. James Smiths, were in the top class with Ossie Martin, definitely one of my favourite teachers. It was an enjoyable four years ending to my local schooling. We must have had a reasonable education as a lot of us wenton to have a successful life, some into education, nursing, one doctor, a police chief and a few into industry. Plus, a lot of lads took up the local crafts in the Granite Industry – but all in all, both girls and boys left St. Breward County Primary School well equipped for anything their future lives required.

The school premises were always immaculate. I think Mrs Mac Hambly was one of the cleaners – she also lit the boiler that heated the radiators in the whole school. Mrs Newton was also involved with this side of things. Along with the four teachers that was about the compliment of staffing.

We had a school vegetable garden, over the hedge between the school and the Hill Farm house. Not a great success. Toilet facilities were outside, girls in their playground and the boys in the opposite playground. Naturally in the winter were so cold, so no one lingered in there longer than was required. At least we boys had the black walled urinal – oh! Didn’t we enjoy ourselves with that – what pictures I’ve painted!

Our later years were given a great interest for both boys and girls when the school competed in Folk Dancing competitions. Mr Martin would take us to a few different venues in his Land Rover. Again, girls and boys enjoyed the annual school camps – quite primitive by today’s standards, but we did look forward to that week. From that stemmed mobile camping, four of us lads would go off – once I recall to Par, bus to Bodmin, train to Par Station, and a walk to Menabilly – where the renowned author Daphne du Maurier was living. Bill Hill, Chris Greenaway, myself and of course Terry Kent, I could write a book on that adventure!   

Trevor Ternouth