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Jim Taylor (36-42) takes a long view
ahead... THE 5OOth.
ANNIVERSARY Of PRESCOT GRAMMAR SCHOOL
The
powerful 'greenhouse' sun rose early on
Founders Day morning 2044 A.D. At least
the days ol early October would afford
some respite from the sub-tropical summer
just past. Such summers had become
frequent since the global warming that
began hack in the 198os and the rise in
sea level whith followed it. A beautiful
autumn day was in the offing to crown no
less than the 500th anniversary of the
founding of Prescot Grammar School, first
established in 1544 towards the end of
the reign of King Henry VIII and now
enjoying reconstruction following its
temporary stage as a comprehensive sdiool
in the late twentieth century. It all
began with the reconstitution ol Penrith
Grammar School back in early March 1993.
It had since happened domino-stylee up
and down the country.
Later.
that Founder's Day morning, a very
special service of thanksgiving was held
in Prescot Parish Church in the Royal
Presence of King William V, symbolising
the fact that Prescot Grammar School is
one of the few schools remaining in
England which has enjoyed royal patronage
from its very beginning.
In the
afternoon a computerised Founders's
Day-style football match was held which
the Omegas won by a record of 24,678
goals.
In the
evening the 63rd Annual Reunion of Old
Prescotians, both ladies and gentlemen,
held in St George's Hall, I.iverpool
attracted a record attendance of more
than 2000 persons including guests.
Following a time-honoured tradition
dating back to the 11th reunion of 1992,
the seating arrangements adopted were
according to age groups. A small gaggle
of octogenarians and a few nonogarians
were allocated to an inconspicuous corner
table. They talked of things past,
recalling the temporary demise of the
late twentieth century Grammar School but
not its communities, and savoured happy
memories of the glories of reunion nights
at the Statham Lodge Hotel. This worthy
building was now alas submerged following
the rise in sea level as the Mersey
Valley had become an arm of the Irish
Sea. Prescot Hill, however, had survived,
overlooking the mosaic of small lakes and
islands beyond which lay the large
elongated Southport lake, a vast natural
body defining the south-eastern edge of
the city and belittling its minute
man-made twentieth century fore-runner.
The early days of the city of Southport
had long since been recorded by that
eminent historian, little recognised by
his contemporaries, Francis Bailey. The
city itself, surviving on its own island,
no longer searching for the sea but
artificially protected from its
destructive incursions by massive,
adjustable Dutch-type dykes. The
tremendous cost of their construction and
maintenance has heen amply justified by
the city's round-the-year revenue not
only as a continental resort ol
unequalled tropical splendour but also as
the European mecca for water sports and
recreation.
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