Ken Turrell (RGS 1968-1976)

Running Wild: Memories of Reigate in the Late 1960s and 70s 

Ken Turrell (RGS 1968-1975) 

When I think back to my days at Reigate, it feels like stepping into another world — one that was more formal, more regimented, and yet, in many ways, wonderfully free. 

I arrived in September 1968, the same month that Mr Ballance became Headmaster. He made quite an impression from the outset. Determined to know every boy personally, he set himself the challenge of learning all our names — and by Christmas that year, he had done exactly that. It was a small detail perhaps, but it said a lot about the kind of school he wanted to lead: disciplined, certainly, but personal too. 

The masters in those days were largely shaped by the Second World War. Most had served in the forces, and even though many were only in their forties or fifties, they seemed ancient to us — formal, strict, and unmistakably old-fashioned. They wore gowns as they walked the corridors, and we wore caps. There was a clear sense of order. 

We weren’t allowed calculators — not that many existed in schools then — and everything was written with fountain pens. The school stationery cupboard stood opposite what is now the porters’ desk, and if you needed supplies, that was the place to go. The physical layout of the school has changed over time, but in my mind it is still exactly as it was. 

One of the more extraordinary features, looking back, was the armoury on the ground floor — where the PE department now stands. We used .303 rifles on the rifle range, which was improbably located up in the rafters of the school. It sounds astonishing now, but at the time it felt entirely normal. That was school life. 

Mr Ballance liked to keep the school in the public eye, and it was a period of transition. During my time at the school, it was still purely a grammar school. My year was the last year it was still a non-fee paying grammar school.  I stayed on for a seventh year — as many did — either to focus on sport or to aim for Oxbridge. 

Sport was central to my life at school. I was a keen rugby player and loved cricket just as much. At one stage, I was convinced I would become a PE teacher. We had coaching every afternoon, and with a six-day rota system — Monday as Day 1, Tuesday as Day 2, and so on — your timetable constantly shifted. Lessons never quite landed on the same weekday twice in a row, which kept you on your toes. 

Some lessons, especially in my first year, were held in the old Quaker House next door to the school. Forms were named after the Master in Charge, which added to that sense of identity and belonging within a smaller group inside the larger school community. 

Certain classroom moments remain vivid. I can still picture Room 19 and our Latin master, Keith Louis. One day, he asked whether the homework had been done. Michael Kirby (RGS 1968-1973), sitting at the front, solemnly explained that he hadn’t completed it because he’d lost his budgie. It was delivered so earnestly that it became one of those small, absurd memories that never quite leaves you. 

There were adventures beyond the classroom too. PGL trips with teachers like Alan Reed and Dave Watkins saw us canoeing and exploring. In 1974, we went to France — a big adventure at the time. I also travelled to Canada on a school rugby tour. The bonds formed on that trip have lasted a lifetime; I’m still in touch with many of the lads who went. I later spent two weeks playing rugby union with the Old Reigatians, which reinforced the sense that RGS connections don’t simply end when you leave. 

We liked to think we were pushing boundaries in our own small ways. I had long hair at school, which felt mildly rebellious at the time. Nothing outrageous — just enough to feel that we were part of a changing world beyond the school gates. 

Friendships were forged long before RGS for some of us. I had friends from Holmesdale School who continued with me all the way through Reigate, and many of those friendships have endured throughout my life. That continuity — from childhood through adulthood — is something I’ve always valued. 

Although I once imagined a future in PE teaching, my career took a different turn. I went into logistics, primarily in the brewing industry, and later spent nine years in the Netherlands working in distribution for PlayStation.  

Reigate itself feels like a different place now. It has grown and changed, as towns do. My mum still lives in Horley, so I return from time to time, and each visit brings a mixture of familiarity and surprise. The buildings may have shifted and the routines evolved, but the memories remain sharp. 

What I remember most clearly is the feeling of us running wild — within limits, of course, but with a sense of freedom that felt expansive at the time. We were shaped by strict masters in gowns, by fountain pens and six-day rotas, by rugby pitches and rifle ranges in the rafters. It was structured, disciplined, occasionally eccentric — and full of character. 

Looking back over more than three hundred years of the school’s history, I feel fortunate to have been a small part of it. Those years didn’t just educate us; they formed us. And even now, decades later, the spirit of that time — the friendships, the laughter, the shared experiences — stays with me. 

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