“New Eagle” comic from March 1982, with the free space spinner which I lost…
Six years before this photo was taken, and after moving up the road from St. Gregory’s primary school in Yorktown, I learned to swim in the icy outdoor pool in front of the middle building, played with toy cars in the sand and roots of the reddish tree in the middle of the picture, lost a Dan Dare “space spinner” on the roof of the building behind the trees, and skirmished to the obelisk in the woods on top of the hill without permission.
The school was re-located and re-named to St. Augustine’s in 1996, whereupon the buildings were demolished and replaced by a housing estate.
Credit: photos from Camberley Memories on Facebook. unless credited otherwise.
Main school buildingCamberley Obelisk in 2017; photo by Stephen Poole on FlickrAncillary buildings, one of which featured a large brick cross as part of a tower constructionThe swimming pool in 1980, in which I learned to swim and where I was frequently berated for taking too long to get changed because I insisted on drying myself properly.The playground. I remember French lessons with Mr. Bruce in the language lab contained within one of the buildings to the left.One of the trees, beneath which I used to play with toy cars amongst the sandy roots.The same view as the image above.Entrance sign formed of brick and metal lettering, with a Christian cross as part of the design.Advertisement, presumably from a brochure, quoting building modernisation costs of £3,000.The private house before it became a school.The private house before it became a school.Mrs. Moss’ class, circa 1970. Photo provided by Nathalie Shillito. Names available by direct request.
I have very fond memories of this school, sister Placidus was the head Mistress supported by sister Bartholemew. Mr Spellman was the science teacher and of course the Legendary PE teacher Mr Bruce. What a lovely gentle school it was, the quiet before the storm, the storm being All Hallows
Oh my god, Brian McCann! I’m sure you were in my class all or most of the way through- Were you a skinny blonde haired kid with a north (?) Irish accent? I can remember Mrs Cole’s class -C3… And Sister Bartholemew took D4. I was the fat kid who sat next to a bad lad called Jon Baldari & used to hang out with two other James’s-Knight & Prendergast. Mr Bruce picked me up by my ears once but tbf is veg him 10p he couldn’t.
Mr Spellman was brilliant in his white coat! Ms Cole, English teacher? Mr Bruce wsys was Father Christmas! St Placidus..
Very strict and Sister Bartholomew ….I loved her …she used to say to me in a thick Irish accent ” Well you’re not trying hard enough now are you Vienna?” …..she was right..I wasn’t! :))))
Only just found this – definitely need more photos of St. Tars! Brian, James, Vienna, I remember all of you, good memories – Mr Spelman, Mr Bruce – “x-country” runs up to the Obelisk! James- I remember you reciting Shakespeare at breaktime before anyone really knew who he was!
I remember you James and Jon Baldari. All the names here are familiar…. I definitely remember the teachers and does anyone remember Timothy Spelling???
I remember a Christmas play where some of us were dressed in green paper tree outfits!!! They didn’t make enough and I had to go on stage without one. !!!
Brian, those were the teachers who were there when I was around. I was there from 1969 to 1976, just before St Gregory’s became the first school. My sister, just two years younger, went to St Gregory’s.
Hi Brian
That’s possible. She was Dominique. Her time at St Tarcisius wasn’t a particularly happy one. I loved it though (apart from that freezing pool and ghastly changing shed). Where else would you get cookery, woodwork and metalwork, music and science lab lessons in primary school?
Yes I was that skinny northern Irish lad. I remember you well James and John Baldari. I mostly sat with Paddy Flattery. Mr Bruce was a legend. My most common memory was standing on the landing area outside the school office and sister placidus office in detention. How are you doing these days James?
I have looked for info online for years about St. Tarcisius as i went to school there but left as my dad was based at Sandhurst military for his final station and her retired from the military. I also went to st Gregory’s too. Sad that cant find more photos as would love to show my children more of the school i went to before moving to where we still live today. Thank you
I was there between mid 60s to early 70s, when I was sent to St John’s in Woking.
Mr Mackay was the Head Master, less said about him the better.
My memory is shot by too many years of pleasant over indulgence, but I vaguely remember a Hirons, was it Alistair or Albert, apologies if I’ve got that wrong :)
I’m Richard Naef – “Naefo” or “that weird kid over there”
If you’re subscribed to comments on this post about the former St. Tarcisius school in Camberley, you might like a couple of new photos I’ve added today.
I’m looking for anybody who might have know my mom or my aunt. Last name would have been gramlich. I’m not really sure what years she would have been there but she was born in 61.
I was barely six years old at St. Tarcisius in the early 1950s. My older sister Liz remembers being taught Maths by a rather severe bike-riding, beret-wearing Miss Plummer.
We faced taunts and even stone-throwing from the non-Catholics at the local state school. Once, after we’d had to take shelter behind a low wall, my mother instructed me to always protect my sister.
Not long after a fire broke out at the school and we all set off early to the church hall where we had lunch. Teachers with croaky voices insisted that we eat in silence. My sister and her friend, an American girl called Jenna Owen, and I were caught whispering and were instructed to stand on our benches in different parts of the hall. When the meal was over the teacher in charge. Mr Curran descended from the stage and made Jenna cry with a remark about her pigtails then administered a sharp smack across my sister’s palm with a ruler.
He then strode around to me in the hushed hall and I got the same punishment. Fighting back tears I landed a punch in his face: “That’s for hitting my sister!” I declared.
Surprised if not shocked, he lifted me up and carried me out through the fire exit to an alleyway where a wagon wheel was leaning up against the wall. Everyone else was in the school playground by the time he took me back. Rumour had spread that he had tied me to the wheel and whipped me. It was not true – but I had become a folk hero nonetheless. I remember being sat up on a window ledge in the playground and made a fuss over by the girls.
My mother must have been mortified when she heard what happened, and I wonder now how the teachers managed to keep straight faces.
Ooh, I wonder if Miss Plummer is the same Miss P. who became headteacher of the first school I taught at in the late 1980s. I can imagine her being severe and riding a bicycle.
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