Happy to add to your abuse files:
I was there when JHM hit Lillja on the head with the school bell (!!!!!) and when JHM returned to classroom, Lillja had gone to have the bleeding staunched. "Where's Lillja?" he demanded. Where's Lillja? Where would he be if not in the sickbay with blood pouring from his head?
I was there, too for the Jesse Pryke incident. Jesse was running in the corridor one day, JHM intercepted him, threw him on the ground, kicked him in the face and broke his nose and then convinced Jesse's parents he was doing them a favour by letting them remove Jesse instead of having him expelled!
Oh, I was nearly forgetting me. JHM came into the sick bay one morning when I was the oldest (10) of 3 patients. Chorus : "Good morning, Sir". JHM: "I'm going to cane you. You were talking after lights out last night and so you can't be il". Formidable logic, when you think about it. Anyway, 2 canings later (in pyjamas, of course) came my turn. Me: "I won't accept it". JHM: " Oh yes you will". Me: "Oh no, I won't" Amusing repeat for couple of minutes followed by his grabbing me out of bed, throwing me against the door and demanding I bend over. I wouldn't. He beat me 9 times on the body, succeeding in cutting my wrist, so finally I bent over for the last 3. What happened to the Geneva Convention, prisoner's rights, the Pursuit of Happiness? Hey Ho. The interesting thing is that though I feared and loathed the man, I recognised that he had both charm and quite a considerable sense of humour...
Hawkes was my hero for being, as far as I recall, literally the only person ever to take A levels and, I think, winning a bursary to Oxford(?).
I ran away but JHM followed me in the car and caught me.
A memory (amongst so many): Sir Mortimer Wheeler was somehow induced to come and give a talk at the school and referred to "Gallery Tone", a method of artificially ageing paintings used in Victorian times. What he didn't know was that we had our own version which benefited the valuable Sir Peter Lely paintings in the Dining Room no end - we competed to see who could best flick butter pats at them off our knives - perhaps we deserve some attribution. School of Peter Lely, anyone?