| Green
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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