Saddened to hear of Charlie's demise: I offer a few memories.
Charlie and I met up for the first time in early September 1953 when we began in the first form at St Boswells. I cannot remember if Charlie was involved with the farm in those early days; I know I was, since my manual work task in my second year was to look after the 3 pigs under the diligent eye of Bother Didicus. Ever after our time in Scotland, Charlie would have been up to the top of his wellies in the diffuse doings of the farms at the Priory and Blacklion. This was Charlie’s avocation. He revelled in it, whether it was: sanding eggs smooth for the market, mucking out the byre, or helping in the farrowing of the sow.
On one occasion, Charlie had been less than attentive to the lecture of ‘Pancho’ O’Mahoney, looking out of the study hall window at the comings and goings of the farm – Bother Paddy tending the turkey flock with Hickey at his heels. Pancho, who had been talking about diffusing tension by not letting small things build up and cause a big reaction, asked Charlie to stay behind for a chat at the end of the period. The rest of us filed out into the corridor only to hear our lecturer explode “ You’ve been looking out at the farm for the whole term and I’ve had enough”. Whooops!
We played fullback on The Priory 2ND eleven in our sixth form, 1958-9 season, Charlie on the left. It was the heyday of the Real Madrid ascendancy in the European Cup so we took to addressing each other as Carlos and Miguel. Charlie was an uncompromising tackler much in the mode of Santamaria, the famous Real centre-half of that time.
In the Summer of 1961, we went on a hitchhiking holiday in France together. Charlie wore a kilt, which led to us getting plenty of lifts, the “Auld Alliance” still strong in those days. When we arrived at the house of a friend of my family, the housekeeper left us on the step while she reported the presence of “a man and a very funny-looking lady”. Our return ferry journey took place during a huge Channel storm. Charlie was completely unaffected by motion sickness while all the other passengers suffered mightily. As he strolled about smoking the last of his Gitanes, a Glaswegiam gent called to him “D’ye ‘hink we’ll ever see Scotland agin?” Chalie’s response “Oh sure” did not seem to convince him. We landed in Newhaven after a trip of 5½ hours – normal crossing time was three hours.
When Charlie left Gap, he came down to London to work for HM Customs & Excise. We had a good time maturing, together with Paul Tait, after the restraints of ten plus years of seminary life. We shared the angst of dealing with the radical change in our lives in a situation for which we had little preparation, supporting each other in heartbreaks. Pints of Youngers helped us through these tough times.
So Charlie has gone to the big farm in the sky. May he rest in peace. Among his many talents, I will remember him for his sharp wit. An example: when told that a former student was planning on joining the RAF ( National Service was still in effect) Charlie commented, in his gruff Bathgate accent, “ the only raf that will have him is the riffraff”.
