Paul Hyder (RGS 1975-1982)

Memories of RGS by Paul Hyder (1975–82)

2025 marked the 350th anniversary of the founding of Reigate Grammar School. Having seen so many stories, events, and celebrations appearing in my inbox and across social media, I thought it would be fitting to contribute a small snapshot of my own time at RGS, beginning 50 years ago.

It was March 1975, and I had just returned to my middle school following a short stay in hospital for minor surgery. I was told that I needed to sit the Eleven Plus (11+) entrance examination—something I knew absolutely nothing about at the time. I was taken to the small school library, where a teacher was waiting with papers and a desk. I sat the exam alone, as the rest of my year group had completed it during my absence. I remember little about it, except that there were Mathematics, English, and Science questions, all to be completed within a set time. I did my best and finished within the allotted time.

I thought little more of it until my parents received a letter from the local Education Department informing them that I had passed. They were overjoyed and had to explain to me what it meant. I already had one cousin at RGS and another who had recently left after completing the Sixth Form. I later discovered that nine pupils from my year group had passed: three girls went to the County School in Reigate, three boys to Dorking Grammar School, and three boys—including myself—to Reigate Grammar School that September.

The summer holidays soon arrived, and preparations began. We attended an introductory morning at RGS with the Headmaster and were shown around the school—an experience I found quite bewildering at the time. Priorities quickly turned to uniform and equipment, so it was off to Knights in Bell Street, Reigate, to be kitted out with PT kit, rugby kit, and uniform. Many photographs were taken of me in various outfits for the family album.

September arrived, and I began the journey from Merstham—bus to Redhill, then on to RGS. We assembled in the main playground, and after roll call by surname (the first time I recall being addressed in that way), we were divided into three classes and escorted by a prefect to our form rooms in the old Friends’ Meeting House. My classroom was upstairs, reached via a dingy, dark, wood-panelled staircase, leading to a similarly dark room. There we met our form master, an elderly gentleman with a kind face, who also taught us Latin. I can still recall the little rhymes he used to help us conjugate nouns and verbs.

We were allocated desks in alphabetical order, presumably to make identification easier. Our first task was to complete the six-day timetable on the back page of our notebooks—detailing subjects, timings, locations, PT, and sports afternoons. At the time, I remember wondering what I was doing there; it all felt like a blend of Goodbye, Mr Chips, Tom Brown’s Schooldays, and The Winslow Boy. Most of our lessons took place in the Friends’ Meeting House.

We soon made friends, and I was struck by how many pupils came from across the borough—from as far as Oxted and Capel—and that many had attended preparatory schools and were already familiar with the routines. We were issued textbooks for each subject, collected from the Deputy Headmaster’s book depository—a small cupboard-like room opposite what is now the school office. We were expected to keep them in good condition for the next year’s students, although many did not survive the wear and tear of lockers, desks, and school bags.

Lunch took place in the dining hall: traditional school meals of meat, potatoes, vegetables, and dessert. There were two sittings, as there were eight houses at the time. We sat by house and year group, with two senior boys assigned to each junior table to serve food. Older boys, wearing white jackets, worked as waiters, bringing food from the servery, clearing plates, and serving the masters’ tables.

As we progressed through the school, we moved down the dining hall hierarchy and eventually took our turn serving others. Over time, things changed—pizza, pies, burgers, and chips began to replace traditional meals. Some pupils paid daily, while others had prepaid meals and carried numbered discs to present at the servery.

The Headmaster was a wonderful man—rather like Mr Chips—and seemed always to know your name. His secret, we later discovered, was that he kept our registration cards with photographs in his office and regularly studied them. That said, you did not want to fall foul of him; occasionally, one might see a line of boys waiting outside his office. I once had the honour of being invited to his house for tea and biscuits, though I can no longer recall why.

Assemblies were usually held in the gymnasium at the top of the main building, with younger boys seated at the front on the floor and older pupils behind. One assembly remains particularly memorable: a single daffodil stood in a glass vase on the grand piano. During the hymn To Be a Pilgrim, the daffodil slowly rose out of the vase, lifted towards the ceiling, and then descended again—cleverly controlled by a senior boy using a fine thread strung across the roof beams. The entire school struggled to suppress laughter. Only the music master, accompanying on the piano, could see what was happening; he was visibly seething but carried on playing without missing a note. The rest of the staff, including the Headmaster, were oblivious—at least initially. The culprit was eventually identified and dealt with.

Once a week, assembly was held at St Mary’s Church, where we enjoyed the luxury of sitting on pews rather than the floor. House assemblies, held fortnightly, were more informal gatherings with our house master.

PT lessons took place in the gymnasium, with apparatus swung out from walls and ceiling and secured to the floor—something that would undoubtedly raise health and safety concerns today. Changing rooms were located near the main staircase, with showers accessed via a corridor leading to the old masters’ building. Facilities improved significantly with the later addition of the new sports complex and concert hall.

The school library was originally located at the bottom of the main staircase before being moved to the old gymnasium after the new sports hall was built. The original space became my form room for a time—so large that we would occasionally rearrange desks mid-lesson, much to the frustration of our history teacher. It was later converted into a lecture theatre (see image), complete with tiered seating and soundproofing, and named after the woodwork master who designed it. It now serves as the staff room.

Sports afternoons involved a long walk through Reigate—via Bancroft Road and Priory Park—to the council playing fields near the Old Reigatians Rugby Club. Facilities were basic, and winters were particularly cold. Rugby was a new experience for me, but enthusiastic Welsh masters made it enjoyable, even if I never reached First XV standards. One highlight came when I successfully kicked a last-minute conversion from the touchline to win a match—something I never managed to repeat.

Cross-country runs around Reigate Priory were a regular winter feature, often involving unofficial “shortcuts” over Priory Hill. Summer sports focused on athletics.

In 1975, the school celebrated its 300th anniversary, and we were all given a commemorative booklet covering its history, headmasters, and key events. At the end of the year, we each received a copy of the New English Bible, which I still have.

Celebrations continued into 1976, culminating in a summer fête at the Old Reigatians Rugby Club grounds, preceded by a parade through Reigate town centre. My father became involved, helping the woodwork department build traditional fairground stalls such as coconut shies and football games. The weather was glorious, and the parade—led by the Corps of Drums and CCF—was followed by pupils in fancy dress. Funds raised contributed to the new sports and concert facilities.

During construction, pupils were invited to purchase a white brick and inscribe their names on it, with the promise they would remain visible. In reality, they were plastered over—though perhaps one day, when the building is replaced, those names will re-emerge.

The prefects’ room at the top of the main building staircase was strictly out of bounds. During the 1979 General Election, they displayed live results from their window—marking the election of Margaret Thatcher as Prime Minister—and we seized every opportunity to sneak a look.

School photographs were always an event. In 1980, one pupil famously appeared twice—moving from the centre to the end of the back row between exposures.

Academically, I was never outstanding, though I did surprise both myself and my biology teacher by placing third in one set of exams. My strengths lay in practical subjects such as woodwork and metalwork. In the Sixth Form, I helped maintain tools in the workshop.

I joined various clubs, including an archaeology group that excavated a site near Broadfield, uncovering a large cache of historic glass bottles. These were later displayed in the school.

The curriculum evolved during my time, with subjects like Business Studies emerging. Sixth Form students even ran a tuck shop, which became extremely popular. Computing was in its infancy by 1980 and began to appear in lessons.

In the Fourth Year, I joined the CCF RAF section and thoroughly enjoyed it—learning about flight, military skills, and shooting. Highlights included attending remembrance services, RAF camps, a naval sailing trip, and gliding training, where I achieved my solo wings. I was later awarded the Mitchener Cup. After leaving RGS, I joined the RAF and spent 29 years in military aviation across the RAF, RAAF, and as a defence contractor.

There were many memorable masters—too many to name—but their nicknames remain fondly remembered: Fag Ash, Chopper, Di, Dickie, Ducky Jumbo, Dan, and Knobby, among others.

My year group was the last to enter via the 11-Plus. The following year, RGS became an independent grammar school and soon after welcomed girls into the Sixth Form.

I am sure many reading this will share similar fond memories of their time at the school.

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