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The article below
was published in the New Zealand Barnardo magazine. Michael was one of the
first few old boys to contact the web site 03/05/08
The article below was sent 13/03/10
Hi
Robyn
I have in my possession a Holy Bible presented to me by the Captain
Superintendent of Parkstone Sea Training School when I left that home in
1957 It is the only tangible item I own that represents the time I spent
at Barnardo's: No photographs, no written records. Nothing but memories
that have been distorted by the intervening 50 odd years. Indeed my wife
Molly, who is a keen collector of family souvenirs and photographs, has
never seen a photograph of me as a child.
It was if the first sixteen years of my life were unrecorded and that I
never existed until we met in 1958. But suddenly and after all those
years, that has changed my life. Molly can now fill in a few gaps in the
family scrap book with photographs of yours truly during my time at PSTS.
Thank you very much for putting me in touch with Roger ( Titch ) Wilding.
In the past week Roger has kindly sent me several photographs of the time
we were both at Parkstone. Studying the old black and white prints,
memories of events long forgotten have been stirred and, although a trifle
cloudy, names and faces recalled. Strange as it may seem, one event that
has stayed with me all these years was the time the schools PT instructor
(Charlie Woods) introduced me to to the "noble art of self defence
(boxing)" I had never before been in a boxing ring and as the pugilistic
PTI helped lace on unfamiliar boxing gloves he advised me that my opponent
was a young chap weighing 54 lbs but of my size ( must have been a scrawny
little devil ) who was a member of the school's boxing team.
No doubt his words were something like, "Get stuck in lad, he's only
human. :Whatever, I was scared, but the bell for the first round sounded
and I gingerly met my opponent in the middle of the ring. We touched
gloves and the contest began.
A few left jabs to the head, and a wild right hook lands harmlessly on my
opponent's gloves as he ducks and weaves like the trained boxer he was.
This wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. We sparred, neither landing a
telling punch. No blood. No broken bones
.
The bell rings to signal the end of round one. Only two to go. I move to
my corner where Charlie Woods wipes my face with a damp cloth and mutters
a few words of encouragement. What had I been scared of ? This boxing lark
is quite good fun and I think I've got my opponent worried .
Ding, Ding. The second round starts. My opponent is off his seat fast and
waits for me as I charge in, arms waving like a windmill in a naive
confidence as I move in for the kill, but my fists hit nothing but thin
air. Then I felt them ..... BANG, BANG, BANG. Three rapid punches land on
my unprotected face.
Tear flood my eyes and I can feel blood streaming from my nose. The bell
rings several times and someone steers me back to my corner. The damp
towel pressed up against my very very sore nose. Through the mist Charlie
Woods say's, " We had to stop the fight but yer did well, lad." I didn't
think so, nor did my nose.
I remember my opponent because he came over to shake my hand and check
that I was alright. His Name? None other than Titch Wilding ! It's a small
world, eh?
Again, thank you and your team for all your good work done on behalf of
all that have gone through Barnardo's over the years.
Yours,
Michael Flaherty PSTS, EX RN, now retired.
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