Alumni Stories: Peter Valder (OT ’43)

Written by Peter Valder OLD TUDORIAN (‘43)

Sometime in July 2023 Tudor House sprang into my mind – why I don’t know. I had spent the best part of a year there in 1943, so my memory – 80 years later – may be highly inaccurate. Perhaps I should say that I was born in Surrey in September 1932, and so was about 10, when I had my Tudor House experience.

I had been evacuated from England, spent a year at Cranbrook Junior School, before my aunt, with whom I was living, moved the family to Bowral, and I went to Anglewood School in Burradoo – sometimes as a boarder, sometimes as a day boy. However, unbeknown to me at the time, at the end of 1942 Anglewood closed and was turned into a school for delinquent boys, and as I was not delinquent, my cousin Bruce Thompson and I had to go somewhere else. Tudor House was the obvious choice and for me it was a very happy decision.

My memories are positive. I was happy to board, and was used to moving around, World War I meant that chopping and changing were the name of the game and Tudor House was at least my sixth school.

Going to the dining room I remember the beautiful chairs – solid wood and with the Tudor rose carved into the back of them. Going to the dormitory the bedspreads were the same – also beautiful – with the Tudor rose set on, I think, a blue background.

There was a square pond outside the front door and to the best of my recollection, the Housemaster’s study was above the front entrance. His name was Mr Baynes. Downstairs right in the middle of the School was a little library, which I loved. I had polio (then infantile paralysis) and had my leg in plaster and so sport, which is such a basic of boarding school life, was a no-no. I had time on my hands and had various favourites, all no doubt very out
of date now – Percy Westerman, Ion L. Idriess, W.E. Johns, Jules Verne – I was a good reader and spent many happy hours there. Incidentally, in days when bullying is allegedly running rife, I do not ever remember being teased about my leg.

I do not remember music lessons during the week, but every Saturday night the whole School would gather, possibly in the School Hall. I remember it was a room near the library, where we were given a sheet of songs. Many were war favourites such as ‘The White Cliffs of Dover’ and ‘We’ll Meet Again’. There was a great community feeling to it.

While I am sure we learned English and Maths, the only classes that stick in the mind were Geography – taken by (perhaps) Mr Plummer. We had very nice exercise books, larger than the norm and we did at least one course on farming and the wool trade. We were given a piece of wool to stick in our books, presumably merino and I think provided by the farming parents of one of the boys, whose surname was Prell. I kept mine for years and wish I still had it.

In the evenings, on occasion, in what had the feel of a temporary building behind the main school block, we did craft and I remember making a very nice little tugboat out of cardboard and also doing some four- strand plaiting in leather, which, put on to a ring, made a most pleasing keychain. I am not very dextrous but was very pleased with these.

las all good things come to an end and at the beginning of November 1943 we were removed from school and taken to Sydney where we embarked on the S.S. Themistocles to return to England. The voyage took about four months.

Later I worked in English prep schools in Surrey and Herefordshire, as well as running schools in New Zealand and Victoria, and
I would assess my year at Tudor House as being akin to an English prep school I can imagine, and that is meant as a compliment.