The 2025 Chronicle

ADDRESS BY THE GUEST OF HONOUR, MR JAMIE INGLIS

Chairman of the board, Rector, distin guished guests, staff and boys of Michael house. I would like to begin by saying how honoured I am to be speak ing at Rector Antony Clark’s last Speech Day. I know there will be other occasions to bid him farewell, but I would like to ac knowledge his remarkable contribution today. Antony has pre sided over 35 consecutive speech days at five different schools, a truly extraordinary achievement. In my opinion, Antony Clark was always destined to be a highly successful headmaster. What makes for a successful head master? In Antony’s case, it is his vast knowledge and expe rience as an educator, his deep understanding of the mindset and behaviour of young men, his proven strengths as an admin istrator, his leadership skills and his exemplary personal stan dards. It is little wonder that he has accomplished so much in his career, from revitalizing St Andrews, Grahamstown, at a time when the hinterland of the school was suffering from deep financial stress, to his highly praised headships at two English public schools, Gresham’s and Malvern College – where he left to unanimous acclaim from the governing bodies and the wid er headmasters’ association in the UK – and now at Michael house, where I believe he is leaving behind a more balanced, harmonious, confident and happy school where the growth of every boy is paramount and the way forward is apparent. A quick word about Antony’s wife, Brigitte, whose role in this accomplished partnership cannot be overstated. Brigitte is an impressive academic in her own right as a professor of law. She is very much her own person and can light up a room with her attractive personality. If I had to write up a school report on Bri gitte I would conclude by saying, “Definitely head girl material.” Antony and Brigitte, you have contributed so much to Michael house and we are incredibly fortunate that you made the de cision to come back to South Africa. It is our fervent wish that you will enjoy a richly deserved rest, with the freedom to pursue your own interests. Our deepest gratitude goes with you. I must make the point that my speech today is directed primari ly at the boys of Michaelhouse. As a prelude to what I am going to say, I looked up the guest speakers when I was a boy here. They were: • Sir John Maud – High Commissioner for the United Kingdom • Ronald Curry – legendary former headmaster of St Andrew’s and Rector of Michaelhouse • Field Marshal Viscount Montgomery of Alamein • General Sir Francis de Guingand – Chief of Staff of the Allied Forces in Europe. A real heavyweight group! Unfortunately, I can’t remember a single fragment of the advice that was dispensed by these au gust gentlemen. Talk about scattering seed on stony ground. What I do remember is that Field Marshall Montgomery gave us a full day’s holiday, and Sir John Maud gave us a half-day holiday. Now, before you boys get any ideas, I have to advise you that any similar generosity by me is way beyond my pay grade.

What was it like when I was at Michaelhouse some 60 years ago? Do you know that we wore starched detached collars that were fixed on to our shirts with large studs? Do you know that we had porridge twice a day, breakfast and supper, and when they tried to take away the supper porridge there was a riot as “the alternative was too ghastly to contemplate”? Do you know that we travelled to school matches as far away as Pietermaritzburg in the back of the school truck, which had a canvas hood but no protection from the wind? Return trips in the middle of winter were bitterly cold. Do you know that prefects slept in the dorms with other boys? There were no bedsitters. Do you know that we had cadets every Friday after noon, which was compulsory for all boys, and the poor cacks spent hours polishing the belts and boots of the student offi cers for the parades? Let me tell you the story about Field Day 1962. Every year the school’s cadet force took part in a military exercise called Field Day in order to test the “combat readiness” of the force. In 1962, the Master in charge of cadets was Major Goldie-Scott, whilst I had the dubious honour of being the senior student officer. Goldie put forward a fiendish plan for Field Day in which he conceived that terrorists had infiltrated the Balgowan Val ley and were now holed out in nearby Cairn Marsh. It was to be the mission of the Michaelhouse cadet force to flush them out. For some strange reason, Goldie thought that it would be a splendid idea that the flushers should be strafed by flour bombs dropped from an aircraft whilst attempting to go about their mission. I never quite understood why the flushers were to be bombed rather than the flushees, but Goldie told me not to worry as it made it like “the real deal”. Ten boys were asked to volunteer to act as the terrorists, and immediately 10 hard ened smokers and malingerers stepped forward delighted by the prospect of a day at leisure. The great day dawned and that’s when unmitigated disaster struck for me. My cack had brought back my army shorts from the laundry, but I soon discovered that they did not belong to me. They belonged to Arbuthnot 1906. (I was never quite sure whether this was Arbuthnot’s school number or the year that said shorts were acquired by the school.) Then, to my absolute horror, I discovered that the shorts were way too small for me. It was far too late to remedy the situation as the battalion was already lined up and ready to go. So, with a huge, deep breath and a little help from my friends, I squeezed myself into Arbuthnot’s shorts. The battal ion marched out smartly over the railway line on to the main road, led by a cack waving a red flag and the senior student officer marching with his legs spread as wide apart as possi ble, like a giraffe at a water hole. This was followed by Drum Major McCormick’s brass band, the fighting corps and the faithful school truck to pick up the stragglers. By the time we reached the turn-off to Cairn Marsh a couple of kilometres up the road, the school truck was full. Moreover, as we reached Cairn Marsh, half the battalion lay down in the shade. This was very discouraging as the men were meant to form up in line abreast to scour the area. The student officers were given whistles to control operations, but when the line was formed, it bore close resemblance to a writhing snake. No matter how many whistles were blown, whenever the men approached a difficult section, like thick bush or a donga where a terrorist

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