I recently received an E-Mail from a Lady called Rhonda Crane who was a former pupil at Hafodunos Hall in the days when it was a Girl's Boarding School. Here are some of Rhonda's memories of those days: Memories of Hafodunos Hall as a School in the 1950s My family arrived in England from the USA in late 1956 and set about finding schools for my brother and myself. They wanted us to experience the full boarding school experience. I cannot remember exactly why they chose to send me to North Wales except that it was nine hours by train at that time from where they first lived, in Crewe, England, and that was considered fairly close. I was accepted to Hafodunos Hall in the Spring term 1957 which started in January, and I remember leaving my parents for the first time and walking down an imposing hall by myself. As I said good bye to my parents, I hung on for dear life to a grand piano that dominated the hall. As I climbed a massive stone staircase, I was scared, crying and homesick and had no idea what was going to happen. My uniform had not arrived and for several weeks I wore "home clothes" making it even more difficult to assimilate, as I always looked different, not wearing what everyone else wore, but also, wearing clothes from another country. It was freezing and the heat was poor, and I remember clinging to radiators. The uniforms were made of gray wool with trims of turquoise. They looked smart and tailored. The school had less than a hundred girls if I remember correctly. I think there were only about 10 or so in my class. We were the youngest group and ranged between 8-11. Nice girls. One girl was called Lynette Gosling, there was also a Gillian someone and another who lived locally. If I give it some thought I may remember names. We all shared rooms, about 4 of us were assigned to the same rooms. Meal times were torture as the food was horrendous. We were forced to eat everything on our plates, sitting at long tables in the dining room. The food used to make me choke. When the person assigned to watch that I ate the food, left the room briefly, I remember dumping oatmeal and stuff into huge potted plants. I often wondered if I was killing them. All mail was censored. When I wrote my parents about things that bothered me, one of the headmistresses, Miss Bullock and Miss Jacobs, would write along side it that it was not true, or things were better, or they would black out what I wrote. It isn't that I was deeply unhappy, but that they were concerned that no criticism should be made about their running of the school. I remember being intrigued by the interior structure of the old splendid mansion. It seemed to call out to me. I was certain there were hidden and secret places, and that I could find them. I was always asking girls if they knew of any, but all I was ever able to find was the well-known loose floorboards under one of the staircases, and it was obviously not so secret. We were prohibited from going near the clock tower. At night girls told tales of people and things that had happened during the existence of the old mansion, but my recollections are hazy at best. I do vividly recall the night an outer building, where we had dance lessons, caught fire. The building was used for something else but I no longer recall what that was. We watched from our bedroom window as it went ablaze. It took so long for help to come, we were all convinced that Hafodunos itself would burn down. We all felt a sense of loss in the wake of the disaster, though no one was hurt. Two months after I was there I came down with measles I think. Whatever I got, I was quarantined in sickbay. Now I was truly alone and isolated. However, I do remember getting a lot of things to play with and read, and I remember some of the girls would sneak past the supervisors and visit me. By the time I was released, I was fully accepted by the girls and sort of blended right into the school. In the summer term we went swimming in Rhyl I think. There was a big outdoor swimming pool and we all splashed about in the water, listening to Pat Boone croon on the loudspeakers. Every time I have heard him since, I always remember that pool and "Writing Love Letters in the Sand". The trips back and forth to the pool were in buses and the girls would sing old ballads "Over the Sea to Skye" and the like. On weekends we were forced to go on walks. The whole school would assemble and we would be paired off, marching along the roads and through the mountains. As a very small in stature child, these were arduous for me. I struggled to keep up, but often, I would collapse from exhaustion and have to be carried back. Those were some of the worst memories of my life. My lack of physical endurance did not endear me to those in control, and they were not the type to take pity on someone who could not keep up. I think military bootcamp would not have been harder to endure. I remember that Hafodunos had the most glorious terraced gardens, and that plants and flowers were abundant. I am not sure I ever saw all of it, as the gardens seemed enormous. Walking along the paths was wonderful, especially as we were taught nature classes as we walked. We were expected to draw things we found and press things into books. It was such a pleasant time. Mid morning we took our "breaks" around 11 AM or so, outside when the weather was nice, near that old Monkey Puzzle tree. Many of the younger pupils' classes were taught in the Conservatory as there was a lack of "real" classroom space. I can remember very clearly being there and learning about the British alphabet. We were doing some spelling and dictation, and the teacher kept talking about "Z". The British pronounce it "zed" and Americans pronounce it "Zee". However, I did not know this at the time and no one seemed to be able to explain it. I was so confused. I kept trying to write three letters "Zed" for "z". I know I was in the Conservatory at that time. I left the school after a year. The main reason was that I was doing so well, the teachers told my parents I would be ready for University at age 14. I won all sorts of prizes, and still have the books given to me at that time. My parents decided I needed more challenge and sent me to an academically tough school, which I adored, and where I stayed for the next 6 years, called Malvern Girls' College. It was also only 3 hours from London, where my parents now resided. I eventually lost touch with friends I had made at Hafodunos. But I do remember the warmth and the kindness of the Welsh people, the friendliness of the students, and the self confidence I learned at age nine by having to cope on my own in a foreign country, so far from my parents and things familiar. I will also never forget the haunting beauty of that glorious mansion which housed the school and the fabulous gardens. Rhonda Crane, January 2002 |