| 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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