January 1st 2019
I left Moulsford in 1993, to go on to The Oratory School and, from there, to Cardiff University and Sandhurst. It doesn’t seem all that long ago, but each time I’ve visited over the years, I’ve been astounded by the pace change. It still has the same feel to it, but long gone are the Colditz style dormitories, unheated outdoor pool and Computer Club where, if you were any good at programming on the BBC Acorn computers, you might just get the tortoise to walk in a circle of an evening (maybe that was just me). And more’s the pity in some ways, many of my fondest memories were made ‘dorm raiding’ or braving the pool for a pre-breakfast swim (an optional, so entirely self-inflicted test of manhood).
When it came to nocturnal tomfoolery, you didn’t want to get caught. If your ‘dorm head’ discovered you out of bed, they would likely utter the dreaded words, “go to the Chaise Longue”, a finely upholstered sin-bin which sat on the landing at the top of the main staircase, directly outside the Headmaster’s study. The time you spent there (ranging from about ten to thirty minutes I recall) depended on the seriousness of your misdemeanour. It was a game of pure chance as to whether you were there when one of the teachers passed by on their evening rounds! I was such a frequent visitor, I used to take my duvet with me.
There was always a sense of fun at Moulsford, and so many opportunities, be it Ski trips to Switzerland, rugby tours around the country or walking expeditions to North Wales. But there wasn’t too much; you had to be resourceful enough to find things to do with your evenings, which is where so many firm friendships, as well as a sense of self-reliance, were forged (and injuries sustained skateboarding down the front drive!). I can’t think of anything I wasn’t well-equipped for when I moved on to public school, or indeed in the Army. My Moulsford memories are very happy ones.
