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This account of this incident in
1963 was written by Peter Douglas.
 At
10:45, Roderick Farey was sitting by me. As the minutes left
of mid-morning break ticked away, the vociferous cries of the school
could be heard from the playground. The rumour over the last few
days had been that Farey, next year’s Deputy Head Boy, and not a
very popular prefect throughout the current year, was going to be
thrown into the fishpond. The cries that we could hear were
summoning Farey's presence in the playground. Naturally he was
reluctant and declined, despite Ian McIlravie's efforts to pull him
out.
I went into the Library where I had a perfect view of the sea of
green turmoil which jostled and shouted as it moved from the
playground, below the cloakrooms, into the grass quadrangle.
Then, to my right, through the window I saw Farey appear, with
several prefects about him, on the top steps leading from the Music
Room. Amid the cries of the tumult beneath, two or three fifth
year boys went up towards him. He was grinning nervously.
They seized him and dragged him down the steps and across the grass
towards the fishpond, which was murky and weedy. He now began
to struggle and fight, and his expression was now one of incredulous
fear and vain terror.
 There
was a
writhing mass of bodies that surrounded the victim. There was
then a muffled splash, but the crowd hid the incident from me. The
deed accomplished, the crowd quickly dispersed and there emerged
from its centre the sorry and bedraggled figure of Farey.
Behind him I saw Adrian Hoffman swinging punches at the fifth
formers about him. Farey, though the centre of attraction
still, was now a solitary figure, accompanied only by the amused
gazes of the retreating mob. We did not think that they would really do it – but they
did! He walked sloshingly and clumsily in our direction with
an expression of amazed disgust on his face. His twisted
clothes were totally wet through. He turned and went up
the steps towards the Library entrance, and his sloshing footmarks
went up the steps and then right towards the Science Block, this
side of the lavatories. It seemed that his quick yet undecided
walking was preventing him from losing his temper.
Pooley went home to fetch
some dry clothes for poor old Farey. Farey showed himself
after break, changed and almost proud now, as if some kind of hero,
worthy of praise and honour for undergoing what he had.
To read Peter's
full account of his last day at school, [click
here] |
