The headmaster of my grammar school was T.A. ‘Taffy’ Evans. He’d been appointed to Worthing High School for Boys in 1958 – I became a pupil in 1961 – and departed in 1968 – the year I too left for university studies – to become headmaster of Steyning Grammar School. He was one of the very few people I’ve met who was genuinely charismatic. He had a stentorian voice that brooked no dissent but he commanded respect rather than obedience. I had no access to staffroom gossip of course, but he at least appeared to occupy the role of headmaster with effortless ease.
I have two particular memories. My A level results were disappointing, not least to me, which meant I had to return to school to do retakes. In fact all those of us who took history at A level failed, an odd and cataclysmic episode that left Mr Ludlow, head of history, almost suicidal. A remark was requested but – wrongly I think – turned down by the exam board. Anyway, I decided I would forego continuing to play rugby for the school to concentrate on my retakes. It would have been my fourth year in the first XV so, at least between injuries, I had been a regular at wing or centre for a long time. Taffy asked to see me in his office and tried to talk me into changing my mind. I resisted, saying I really couldn’t afford to mess up another set of exams and risk missing out on university. I think very much to his credit he accepted my decision. My exam results eventually came through and I was once more summoned to his office. They had gone well and it was clear both that he was very pleased for me and that he’d wanted to give me the news himself. I was of course relieved, but I can recall even now the look of pleasure in his eyes at my success.
Teachers matter and he was not the only one to whom I’m personally indebted. But these interchanges remain with me.