King James I School

At the school there was a Scout Troop in addition to the Cadet Contingent. At some point in my bookish diversions I had read Baden-Powell’s Scouting for Boys and been seduced by it just like millions of others world-wide. The essence of this seductive power was contained in the bush-hat, the neckwear and the badge-adorned shirt with its military-style pockets. I’ve heard that the Girl Guides liked their version of the shirt because you could stuff those pockets with useful things like string and your breasts would appear more developed.

It was Mr Bradly the maths teacher who ran the troop and I had to see him in order to join. Apart from asking if I would do my duty to God and the Queen (what if those duties pulled different ways?) he asked the killer question: why do you want to join the Scouts?

I just wanted to wear the uniform, particularly the hat I could not tell him that I had thought of nothing beyond wearing the uniform. The more I was nervously silent the more he sternly repeated the question. In my mind was an admiration for Clive Smith, the leader of Kingfisher Patrol. Eventually I stammered out something.

My stepfather consulted his work colleagues and brought back some cast-off scout kit: the hat too small, the shirt too big, the belt (with its neat buckle) well-worn. We went to the shop which sold scout things for the rest: the green-trimmed garters and so on that Blackett had been unable to acquire from the fathers of other Scouts whose interest in this great Movement had waned shortly after joining. I stayed six weeks or possibly less.

The Cadet Force was another matter. On our annual camps where we met boys from other schools, I discovered that unlike us, they were volunteers with a keen interest in the Army and Air Force, whereas we were the ones too cowardly to risk the Headmaster’s displeasure and be punished by unblocking drains under the kindly eye of the school’s full-time handyman. I think I would choose differently now!

I’m jumping ahead till I was 14 or 15 now, but my preparations on Wednesday evenings for our cadet parade became fanatical. I got the toecaps of my boots to a mirror-shine with the “spit-and-polish” technique, after breaking-in a new pair with a hot iron to get rid of the natural bumps in the hide. Then I worked on belt brasses – six parts – with Brasso until they gleamed. Again, the brass had to be hammered and filed in the first instance to provide suitable surfaces. Then I put Blanco on belt and gaiters to acquire a perfectly matt shade of pale-khaki. The blouse had to be ironed in a particular way to give the appropriate creases on sleeves and back. Most elaborate of all were the trousers. If new, they had to be shaved a little to ensure the creases were razor-sharp. Applying dry soap to the inside of the creases before the hot iron helped in this. Then there was the correct hanging of the trousers to make your legs look long, lean and manly. This involved the use of “weights”: either a length of bicycle chain or lumps of lead strung together, to pull the trousers down over the gaiters.