Chapter one - part two

Waihi School

I was sent off to boarding school at the tender age of 9, after a couple of years at the local school in Cust - as was the tradition in Canterbury farming families.

Waihi was a small preparatory school with less than 100 pupils and had a tradition of its pupils running fairly wild, building tree huts, and more worryingly, underground tunnels - (A stop was put to that quite quickly),

I was a sensitive child but I suppose boarding school was supposed to be character building.

When I was sent off from home I was still wetting my bed and I have memories of being teased about this mercilessly, as well as having to clean my sheets in freezing water on cold South Canterbury frosty mornings.

At Waihi school, c. 1967

For all that, life there was reasonably benign, at least in my memory, although in the first year I was there the dormitories were in the old wooden building and there were no showers – the boys had to share a bath with water that was cold and dirty by the time you got there. I have recollection of being caught talking after lights out and being taken down to the bathroom to be slippered.

I don’t have a visceral memory of the cold but it must have been freezing. We all wore shorts all year round, even in the cold winters. I suppose it was a bit of the old country!

There was a common room which I remember had a painting of Capt Oates from Scott’s 1912 Antarctic expedition saying “I might be some time” as he stoically walked out to his death.

In winter there was an open fire and all the boys gathered round to be as close to the warmth as possible and on these winter evenings large pots of cocoa were served out.

It was also in the common room where we were given boxing lessons by someone who came in once a week – I remember hating that.

I remember the Mayor of Temuka coming in to give art lessons,  and with my friend Matthew Turnbull painting a mural of the Battle of Trafalgar or some other sea battle.

When I arrived this coincided with what must have been the first modernisation in the history of the school with the construction of a brand-new teaching and dormitory block. The dormitories actually had proper showers.

From an early age I hated sports, except I have a memory of playing French cricket.

I have memories of tree huts and wonderful times spent outdoors. However, much of my time was spent in the library where I did various research projects such as learning the names of all the world's capital cities or the geography of all the states of the USA.

I was obsessed with knowing everything there was to know about the life and death of Capt. R.F. Scott's 1912 expedition to the South Pole.

I can still remember, to this day, some of the great events of 1968, such as the assassinations of Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King, as well as the Wahine disaster - because I kept newspaper cuttings which I put into a scrapbook.

I lived out my fantasy life as an 11-year-old writing stories about characters such as Jim Logan, a heroic cowboy. These stories reached 100 pages long, mostly because I wrote in very large handwriting. Kathy, who had completed a short hand typing course at Pitman’s and took on a job at Kodak as a secretary to typist must have had time on her hands for she kindly types my stories for me at work.

Outings from school were always a big highlight. This picture of Kathy was taken with a Kodak Box Brownie in 1966 or 1967

At same time as this I set up the DHS (the Dog and Horse Society), which as I remember only ever had three members apart from myself – my mother, my Aunt Barbara and Johnny Rhodes a mentally-challenged friend and outsider at boarding school.

I remember poor Johnny Rhodes scoring his first rugby try, The only problem was, he ran in the wrong direction and so had the whole field to himself everyone laughed at him.

Poor Johnny. He hated so much the dreadful fish that we were served up while I was made to stay at the table until I finished my lunch of luncheon sausage and salad. I also remember the piles of sugar that went on my porridge (a habit I still haven’t completely thrown off!) and eating my sausages with butter accompaniment because I didn’t like tomato sauce.

I remember one year - 1967, when my parents went on a six month overseas trip I was farmed out to various uncles and aunts during the school holidays. I didn’t enjoy my time with aunt hand and uncle Dick’s so much because they made me eat spaghetti bolognase which I didn’t like and tried to wean me off my 3 teaspoons of sugar in my tea which I learnt from boarding school.

My whole childhood was largely a list of things that we did with the Keddell family – skating at Cave, outings from school to the Winchester show and to Waihi Gorge where we played murder and caught and cooked trout.

The Keddell boys and friends on holiday at teh tram on Lake Ohau - ealy 60's

Steve Keddell was a great childhood friend, both at home and at school. Peter, his father was my godfather and his mother Robina was a great pal of my mother's.

I often used to visit and sometimes stay during the holidays - first at Chapel Farm near Cust and then the home in Repton Street.

I associate the story of Joseph from the Bible with my godfather Peter who used to read it to us, and sharing the same bedroom as my friend Steve who was about 18 months older than me.

I'm sure I was the butt of pranks played by the older Keddell boys.

I remember my brother Jeremy would always hide his Dinky toys if he knew the Keddell boys were coming.

Exposure to pesticides

They were largely, carefree happy times.

They were also the origin of things that have later come to plague my life. In particular, I’m sure that I have suffered from the consequences of being exposed to toxic pesticides – (My godfather, Peter, recalled how they used to mix up the DDT by hand!).

Pesticides, as I have later found out tend to have long-term effects for those who are downwind and absorb into their lungs (and bodies) the smaller molecules which go on to injure the endocrine and other body systems in later year

My mother, who was already smaller and less robust than her sisters, I am sure, was exposed to chemicals just like her children. She went on, in later life to develop and die from breast cancer, while my elder brother has gone on to suffer from several strange autoimmune diseases.

With my mother and father and sister, Kathy, 1970

Right from the age of about 12 or 13 I had strange things happen such as  the onset of a skin condition, which has never left me. After exposure to water, such as swimming or taking a shower I would be driven to distraction by severe itching which would only pass after about half an hour. I suffered from many many strange and inexplicable symptoms which caused the doctors and medical specialists to scratch their heads.

I also experienced symptoms what might be called depression, an inexplicable sense of sadness or melancholy,

My parents, who must have at a total loss as to how to deal with this got the name of a Dr Ding who tried his best to treat me with group therapy, Luckily these were in the days before anti depressants like Prozac became popular. Naturally this didn't work, just like the many other treatments for my various ailments.

I now understand that this was not depression in the commonly-viewed sense and therefore would not respond to any conventional treatment.

This was, rather, a manifestation of what is called in homeopathy, a miasm which is "a general weakness or predisposition to chronic disease that is transmitted down the generational chain".

Not only was I actually exposed to pesticides but I also suffered from the results of my mother's exposure.

As the years have passed (especially since my late-40's and 50's) symptoms have got only worse.  About our years ago, after falling off my horse my health started to take a nosedive and I started to become familiar with the hospital system and have been diagnosed with both malignant melanoma (operated on) as well as sarcoidosis, an autoimmune condition.

Mostly, however my progressively-deteriorating health has been denied by the medical industry - because they have nothing to offer.

Christ's College

At the age of 13 I was sent to a very traditional school in Christchurch, Christ’s College that has educated many sons of the Canterbury ruling class and farmers to become influential, successful - but emotionally- stunted members of New Zealand Society.

1970. Halswell My first year at Christ's College, I am in my school uniform while my sister Kathy is preparing to leave for her first overseas trip and has left her job as a secretary-typist with Shacklocks.

I obviously didn’t do well at the entrance examination for I was relegated to 3C, a midstream class. Even though, as I realise in retrospect, I was offered a good education and had several fine teachers I did not thrive and my more creative and imaginative side was largely suppressed. Consequently I only studied with due diligence those things that caught my imagination and I often found myself punished for minor infractions that I cannot recall any longer. I am sure that the real reason was that I was “different”.

I was punished, partially for my lack of attention to schoolwork, but also for my association with a wonderful teacher, Frank Andrews who did foster my creative side as well is my passion for astronomy. I think he was hated by my small-minded housemaster, “Potguts” Barton whose greatest love was for conformity to mainstream values.

A contemporary photo of my friend and guiding light through my years at school. Frank (aka 'Haddock') was never my teacher, but was an inspiration who my otherwise miserable experience bearable.

Consequently for some time I was barred from attending evening sessions of the Canterbury astronomical Society which were held in the Christ’s College Hall.

Obviously it was more important that I should do my three hours homework!

The boys were forbidden to walk on the quadrangle at Christ's College

I have a fairly painful memory of being sent during my lunch hour once out of the college gates and around the corner to Barton’s house where I had to ask his wife for the cane which I carried back to the House so that I could be ritually caned with all the prefects present and to come down the stairs afterwards where everyone was waiting.

No way to treat a sensitive, growing boy.

An outlet in astronomy

I found my outlet in astronomy and in stargazing. 

At the age of 14 I gave a talk to all the adults of the astronomical Society on "Stellar evolution and the Hertzsprung- Russell diagram”. 

I started a project, with my friend Greg Welch, to produce a photographic star atlas. It never came to anything but I spent many happy hours copying out information from a a star catalogue of the different constellations, as well as making some wonderful photographs of the night sky. 

Later on I was given the opportunity to give public talks on astronomy at the planetarium at the Canterbury Museum.

I developed a passion for astronomy when I was still at Waihi and read and studied as much as I could, including wonderful books by the likes of the famous Patrick Moore. I  shared this interest with another boy, Andrew Collier who was a little younger, a little more brilliant than I - he got 99% in school certicat mathematics -  and was destined to become quite a genius astronomer. 

He was,however,  a funny little boy who used to collect insects and beetles which he kept in matchboxes.

Andrew and I used to sneak out during the winter nights to star gaze and to familiarise ourselves with the constellations. 

I don’t think we had a telescope to look through but I became very familiar with the sights of the night sky. The skies were dark and very clear and I’m sure that we were able to see down to the magical sixth magnitude that are supposed to be the limit to what can be seen by the naked eye. I remember the brilliance of the Milky Way in the southern skies and seeing meteor stars and satellites crossing the sky.

The Canterbury Astronomical Society observatory in West Melton looks much like what it did 40 years ago - although there are way more trees

It was very beautiful.

Some memories become distorted by time but I’m sure my recollection is of many beautiful night skies. Now, at least in the city , it has become impossible to see more from the brightest of stars. The skies have become more polluted and affected by light and we need to designate areas "heritage areas",  such as Lake Tekapo for their dark skies.

 The clear skies that I remember from my childhood in Canterbury have gone, and,  at least here in Wellington, are less sharp and more misty than they were.

I don’t know whether it’s just age but much of the magic I felt from looking up into the heavens has gone.

Unfortunately, my ambition to become an astronomer was marred by my dislike of mathematics (taught by the hated "Potguts" Barton), mediocre marks in school certificate physics and hopeless results in chemistry.

I realised in my university entrance year, that I was not cut out to be an astronomer, so I decided, mid-year, against all advice, to give up chemistry and to take up history. I was told that it was impossible, but by the end of the year I not only passed my history examination but came second in my class.

"You're a communist"...

I was always an outsider while at secondary school but soon found another reason to stand outside the mainstream.

I had a penchant for writing away to foreign embassies for information about their countries. By far the most generous was the embassy of the USSR which sent me, not only leaflets about the huge social achievements of the USSR but also several works by Lenin.

Naturally I flaunted these books at school and the taunts came back “you’re a communist!”. 

Well, I thought, perhaps I am! And these comments were enough to stimulate me to find out as much as I could about Marxism -Leninism, "scientific atheism" -  and to start learning the Russian language, which I immediately excelled at.

This, naturally, was no recipe for courting popularity at a very conservative school in a conservative country and every action produced an equal reaction in me.

In short it always rankled being a 'blackball' and I started to hate the milieu that I came out of and identified with the 'people' - essentially with thee downtrodden and outsiders like myself.

Early environmental awareness

One of the results of my time at secondary school was that I did was that I received the basics of understanding of some of the problems we're facing today - put simply, overpopulation and the limits to growth.

For instance I remember quite early on, in social studies classes learning about population explosion We were taught how 2000 would be the year in which “the stork would pass the crow”. In other words,this was when the population, which was projected to reach 6 billion and would exceed the ability to feed them.

Does this sound familiar?

I was so shaken by this back then that I looked for further information and found in the school library the first book on the subject by Paul and Ann Ehrlich.

I also remember we had a wonderful liberal studies teacher, an American, Mr.Carvil Carpenter. When we did projects on the different religions - I chose, instead of studying a religion to do an project on 'atheism'. I remember distinctly reading then that Buddhism was an 'atheistic religion'. 

I also recall distinctly Mr. Carpenter quoting Jacques Cousteau about the deteriorating state of the oceans back then, in 1973.

I recall a class when one smart arse put up his hand and asked what Mr. Carpenter thought about (John) Lennon. Poor Mr. Carpenter didn't understand the question and thought he was being asked what he thought of Lenin. Naturally this produced great mirth.

Unfortunately, Mr. Carpenter, who was one of my inspirational teachers, had to leave the school very suddenly, under mysterious circumstances, which I suspect were connected with sexual misconduct.

My friend Frank Andrews, who was a biology teacher,I remember, produced a resource on a cyclostyled sheet providing anecdotes and facts of all the environmental problems of the time.

One thing that sticks in my memory from this sheet was about the effect of DDT on the eggs of baldheaded eagles in the United States. The shells, it seems, were thinning and being broken. 

Now the bald-headed eagle is under threat again.

There were I admit, looking back,many positive aspects to an education at Christ's College. But this should be available to all, not only to those that have the money to pay for it.