St.Stanislaus 150 YEARS YOUNG.

Come to think about it, I was destined to school in St. Stanislaus High School. My bond with the school goes back way before I was even born. My maternal Uncle, Henry Scott was a boarder there and was well liked by Fr. Ribot. And my parents were married there in 1942. So when I…

Referring to teachers and masters by their nicknames was very much prevalent during our school days, i.e. around the ‘50s and ‘60s. Besides learning mathematics, science, languages, history, geography and discipline for that matter from our teachers and masters, the forty or fifty odd boys in the class would study intently these teachers and masters,…

I picked this YT-video from a Facebook post (thanks Lee!), that is evidently choreographed to drive home an anti-bullying message. https://web.archive.org/web/20210622143014if_/http://www.youtube.com/embed/MhYyAa0VnyY A great show, however the message is not so evident from the dance alone. So I decided to mash-up this with an article written by Editor-in-chief Trine Eilertsen at Bergens Tidende. I believe there…

On some Sundays the Prefect would announce that we would be going to Lands End for an outing. We knew what it meant, so we had old jam bottles ready. Then we treked in orderly lines in pairs on Hill Road towards St Andrews Church and along the sea face to Lands End. Once there…

Being a boarder also meant a rigorous religious upbringing. Morning prayers, 6.15 am Mass, Rosary, prayers before and after meals, night prayers, and during Lent who prayed most, We. Then there was being an Altar Boy, but all prayers to be learnt were in Latin. Somehow I managed and frequently assisted in mass from as…

That day in 1950 when I stood with a small cake in one hand and with the other, I clutched my mother’s hand. My confusion knew no bounds. Why was I here? Who was this guy with the white frock? Why did my mother bring my bedding and that tin box with my clothes? Where…