I came to Belmont at the age of fourteen and have never really left it. It was a small school of
about ninety boys, divided into two houses and taught by an assortment of monks and one layman.
Being small, peoples' characters stood out, and some were decidedly eccentric and many were very
interesting: nobody was lost or went unnoticed. It was a happy school with little bullying and
much laughter, and almost everybody was content.
Two headmasters had the honour of serving while I was a pupil. Father Alphege was portly,
intelligent and witty, and managed to exude a head-masterly aura, even when going round the
school in carpet slippers. His jokes were genuinely funny and never of the kind to cause
embarrassment. Even when he beat me - which he did all too often - the time in his study would
sometimes be extended long after the punishment by very enjoyable conversation, quite out of
keeping with the nature of my visit, and I would leave the room laughing in spite of the smart on
my buttocks.
He was succeeded by Fr Christopher I - to distinguish him from Fr Christopher II who is still with
us. I can say nothing of his competence because the school carried on as usual; but he didn't have
the presence of his predecessor. He had been a chaplain in World War II and was Principal of
Toynbee Hall afterwards. During this time "in the world" he had come to know all kinds of people
I think he is the only Belmont monk who could claim to have met Princess Margaret. One of his
wartime friends was Group Captain Cheshire, and he talked about him so often that a groan could
be heard whenever the great name was mentioned. He liked extravagance and was very kind. On
one speech day, he spent £60 on carnations - a great sum in those days - and I remember when
the
whole school was treated to trout which he had ordered from Harrods!
There was a barbaric custom on November 5th when the whole school collected in the paddock for
fireworks. Older boys, wearing masks, would form chains and run around to "duff-up" whomsoever
took their fancy. People were rarely hurt, but it was the only occasion when bullying was winked
at and it was eventually abolished. There was one incident which passed into Belmont legend In
1954, when Bros. Mark and Illtud were novices, Bro. James Oakley went to the bonfire dressed as
a witch, wearing one of those rubber masks you can buy in Blackpool. A chain of youths,
pretending not to recognise him, picked him up and dumped him in a horse trough fall of water'
The bell for Compline rang, and the luckless monk struggled out of the trough and rushed to put a
cowl over his sodden clothes so that he could take his place as cantor atthe Divine Office Compline
began in the normal way, but, little by little, a pool began to form at Bro. James' feet. The novices
noticed it first, and soon the whole choir was giggling to itself, and the singing stopped Every
attempt to revive it ended in failure as the monks rolled in their stalls. It is the only occasion at
Belmont when one of the Offices has not been completed.
In 1955,1 left the school in which a bunch of amiable amateurs did their best for a small group of
boys with many excellent results. This continued under Fr Brendan. I had been four years in the
monastery when he called me to his office two weeks before the beginning of the school year to
tell me that I was to teach History in the Lower and Upper Fourths and Geography to the Lower
Fourth. "But I railed Geography at "0" level", I exclaimed, "I don't know any" History was a
different matter. We had studied "1485-1660" for my last three years in the school and I knew it
backwards; but Geography! I don't know about my pupils, but I certainly mastered a lot
that year.
This is not to imply that the majority of masters shared my lack of competence. Many were very
good indeed and some, like Fr Aelred, were excellent.
When I returned from Fribourg, the school was beginning to change under the inspired direction
of Fr Roger. It was beginning to become the much more professional institution that it is today.
As I had a degree in Theology, I was put in charge of Divinity, voluntary work and hearing
Confessions. Boys began to come to me with their problems. It was Fr Roger's idea to give me a
room in the school which he called a "centre of chaos", where boys could seek refuge, so he said
from the necessarily high degree of organization in their daily lives. School rules stopped at the
door, and he turned a blind eye to anything that went on there. I became unofficial school chaplain,
with accent on the "unofficial". It was understood that whatever was said in that room would not
be reported. At the same time, I was to foment voluntary religious activities: work in the Blind
Home in Hereford, Young Christian Students, prayer groups and pilgrimages.
If anything demonstrated my talent for being a "centre of chaos", it was the Lourdes Pilgrimage,
almost always a near disaster. On the very first one, ten boys volunteered, five seniors and five
juniors. On the train between Paris and Lourdes, the five older boys decided to look for some empty
carriages where they could lie down fall length and sleep. At 5.00 am, the five younger ones and
I got out at Lourdes. Where were the rest? An impatient guard undertook to look for the missing
boys and send them back at the next station. We waited, butthey didn't arrive. I
went to the police
"I have lost five boys," I explained.
"Aren't you pleased?" asked the policeman with a smile.
I met one of the missing boys idly window shopping during the afternoon. The train had divided
halfway across France, and the carriages where they slept had gone to Spain.
There was me time that Robinson lost his passport just before we left Lourdes to go for a week in
Spain. As we were all on a single ticket and our places were reserved, I sent the boys on, with
instructions on how to find the campsite, while Robinson and I waited for daylight to look for the
passport. Not finding it we made our way to the border, partly by hitch-hiking, partly by train. I
left him at the French side and went on to Barcelona and the British Consul. An official told me
that they could only give the boy a document to enable him to get back to England. I explained
that there was no one to take him back and that, as he was an orphan, it would be psychologically
bad for him to be separated from the rest. The solution was to put him on my passport as my son!
I took the train back to the border, went through the customs and collected the boy. Going through
the doors marked "No Exit", we arrived at the train which was about to return to Barcelona. It was
empty, and a railway official tried to stop us getting on. I said the first thing that came into my
head, "Police!" just as I had seen it done in the films. It worked, and we returned and joined up
with the rest. Apart from the surprise of a French passport official at Calais who did not think that
a Benedictine monk should have a son, everything else went well.
Then there were me missing tents. We had arrived at the train for Lourdes, each boy carrying a
pack. I told them to put the packs down while I looked for our carriages. I then told them to pick
up their packs and I shepherded them into their compartments, taking special care to count the tents
as they entered. These tents were very special, each in its canvas bag. They had been borrowed
from Alderwasley, and Fr Raymond was very fond of them. Imagine my dismay when, hallway
across France, boys came in to tell me that two of the tents had disappeared. I made a complaint
to the guard and, on my arrival at Lourdes, reported our loss to the police. It was only several
months later, back at Belmont, that the boys told me the truth. When I told the boys to pick up
their packs, two of the boys picked up mailbags that were lying on the platform instead. On the
train they realised their mistake, threw the mailbags out of the window, and then came to tell me
that the tents had been stolen. Months later, Fr Raymond managed to trace his tents which had
been left on the station platform.
There were many other similar incidents which gave a certain flavour to the holidays and made
them memorable, but they don't explain why I took boys abroad every year. I was convinced that,
while there has to be a certain amount of compulsory religion in a Catholic school, it is in voluntary
activity, even when undertaken for less than perfect motives, that boys are more likely to "catch"
religion. Hence it was my job to multiply opportunities for them to do this.
Beside Young Christian Students and, later, "round table" Mass groups which met most evenings,
the Divinity classes and the Confessions, there were the problems which people brought to me.
Boys who were homesick, boys who thought their housemaster was picking on them, boys whose
parents were separating, boys who thought they had contracted unmentionable diseases from
lavatory seats, boys who felt misunderstood by their companions or who were being bullied by
them, the problems varied enormously in seriousness and in kind.
One of the ways of dealing with bullying which almost always worked involved inviting the culprits
into my room and, over coffee and toast, I would tell them that I had a problem and needed their
help. There is this boy who is very unhappy and who might even leave because he believes that
he is being bullied. It would be a tragedy if his whole future were messed up because of the
thoughtless actions of a few. I am sure that they are not bad and do not realise the extent of the
distress they are causing him. Then I would ask for their help. The stupid thing is that this procedure
is now illegal. Every case of bullying must be reported to the social services who decide whether
to call in the police - a completely nutty way of going about things, at least in the Belmont context.
I look back in delight on seventeen years as unofficial chaplain at Belmont. During that time, it
was a place which never lost its family atmosphere. It had its ups and downs, its disagreements
and its problems but so much was put into it by highly dedicated people, monks and lay staff alike;
and I value my memories of so many boys and some girls who co-operated with me in my work
and gave me their friendship. No one is sorrier than I that the school is to be closed. I hope that
the Old Boys and Girls will keep in contact with the monastery in spite of the closure and that the
monastery can find a comparable communal work for the benefit of the Catholic Church in our
land.
Dom David Bird