Wishmore Cross
Wishmore Cross was a large red brick building with a military background.  It was a residential school for maladjusted kids.  It was situated on the London Road at Camberley, Surrey, just 300 yards or so from the famous Jolly Farmer roundabout at Bagshot.  This was a terrific school with very caring teachers, most of whom were real characters. 

Jim Mothersole was the Headmaster, a very caring man who I held in very high respect.  He was a diamond.... and had a very beautiful daughter, Jane.  

David Maclean was the math’s and sports teacher, he was  a one-armed war veteran.  He again was very caring.  If you asked 'for a hand' whilst working he used to walk past your desk and leave his artificial hand on the desktop.  If you weren’t paying attention he would throw a piece of chalk at you with the accuracy and velocity of a bullet.  Another diamond geezer.

Eric von Berg. He lived in a house on the premises and was a keen caravanner.  Von Berg was our science teacher and apart from that I remember very little about him.  But he obviously left an impression.

Mr. Ng was our art teacher, I remember him only because of his unusual name, he left very soon after I arrived.  His replacement was Mr. Budd.  Mr. Budd I remember very well.  Again a very caring man with a big bushy beard.

Mrs. Beaver was the school matron.  She too was a war veteran and had lost both legs during World War 2.  She was caring and not easily fooled by 'random sickness' when we fancied a day in bed.  She also used to live in the 'loft' above our dormitory and if there was any noise made after lights out that disturbed her she used to descend upon us with a hell of a temper.  More than one boy was caught in bed with another by one of her surprise visits too.

For quite a while I settled down at this school.  I enjoyed sport, playing football, softball, and cricket.  I used to enjoy some athletics and cross country running.  Mind you the cross country running was mainly because it took us up by the girl's school and because it was an hour or so out of school with as many stops as we wanted for a fag break.  Unfortunately our cross country running was stopped for a term or so because someone used to take potshots at us with an air rifle.  Those pellets did sting!!

I also found myself attending St. Martin's Church of England Church on the Old Dean Estate which was just a stones throw away from the back of the school.  I do not recall how I came to be involved there - unless it was to be close to a girl who I used to call Diana Bolognese.  I called her that because I couldn’t remember or pronounce her surname. 

Diana was my true love of the time and we used to meet on the bus which ran from Old Dean Estate down to Camberley town usually on a Saturday.  But we used to meet up as often as possible.  Her home was near the Old Dean parade of shops and I used to hang around by the shops to try to speak to her and make plans for when we could get together.  We often would often walk back towards the school together and spend sometime in the play park behind the houses and just by the school. 

Rev. Cave was the boss at the church and I became involved in their youth group.  In 1967 (I think) I was baptised at the church and a local couple were my godparents.  I never saw them again.  A few months later I was confirmed by the Bishop of Guildford at St. Michaels Church in Camberley.  This felt quite important to me at the time.

Dens
This school was no different to any of the schools or homes I had been to.  It had dens.  Dens were the places where teachers never came.  Where we could smoke and be ourselves.  Dens were also a hive of sexual experimentation.  By this time I was enjoying sex with boys, whilst also fancying girls.  I hadn’t yet had sex with a girl though.  The question of sexuality or understanding about sexuality never arose though.  We all just enjoyed the experiences.

I once got caught when I was unwell in the sick bay, in bed with a boy.  I had been confined to the sick bay for some reason and Barry came in to visit me.  I don't know how it happened but we ended up in my sick bed together and in came Mrs. Beaver.  "What is going on?" she asked.  I wonder what it looked like if she had to ask.  "Nothing miss"  we both said.  Barry rushed out, bright red.

I had not been at this school very Long when I was raped in the dormitory.  One night after lights out 5 or 6 boys came over to my bed.  I was a little concerned, I wondered if I was going to be beaten up.  I couldn’t think what for though.  Most of the boys jumped on me and held me down, I struggled to get free but couldn’t.  Whilst they were holding me down another started fondling my genitals.  I was soon erect and the boy continued masturbating me, whilst I pretended to struggle.  Eventually I orgasmed and the boys left me alone saying that was my initiation.  I never complained about this, and the thought of it being rape never occurred to me because I actually enjoyed it, but later in life it caused enormous problems for me. 

I ran away from this school a lot.  I  was never away for very long, usually no more than 3 days.  One occasion I was away for about 2 months though.  I travelled to the Isle of Wight and got a job on a fairground on the green at Ryde seafront.  I couldn’t believe it at the time; I was 12 years old and in charge of a fairground ride.

I slept on the seafront and turned up for work each day.  After about 3 or 4 weeks I got bored with life and decided to move round the coast.  I went to Seaview and slept under boats on the beach.  I stole food and milk from the hotels and eventually met up with a young gay chef from one of the hotels.  I stayed with him for a couple of weeks until I had begged borrowed or stolen enough money to move back to the mainland.  I travelled back to the school just a couple of weeks before the next term started.