When back in my hometown, Bury (Lancashire), I always find myself revisiting St. Gabriel's, which now looks like something of a prison compound (probably due to threats from the horrendous demographic change that has occurred throughout many parts of Britain during the last 20 years or so):
Hard to believe that it's now 43 years since I left this school.
Looking back in time and through hindsight, my time at the school (1977-1982) seems rather strange now.
Back in those old days, students bullying other students and teachers caning (and even physically assaulting) students were commonplace events, I guess it was the same in most schools back then, it was a different time with a different ethos.
Of course, with the whole woke phenomenon nowadays, things have veered towards an opposite extreme where the lunatics have come to be in charge of the asylum, so to say.
However, one fond memory that I have from St. Gabriel's is of Mr. Hogan (a kind old-fashioned gentleman, a real teacher) introducing me to Wordsworth, through him teaching Daffodils in a first or second year class.
Have recently completed a book on Wordsworth, about his Anglican faith and flirtation with Catholic theology, which is evident in some of his lesser-known work (e.g. The White Doe of Rylstone and Ecclesiastical Sonnets).
While writing this book, I couldn't help but recall being introduced to Wordsworth by Mr. Hogan (a pleasant memory amongst a sea of more angst-ridden recollections from St. Gabriel's).
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