A taste of life in a Nissen hut - Tom Browne's Schooldays it ain't!

In 1957/58 I was in the 1st form at boarding school and we lived in a Nissen hut in front of a grand old manor house that contained many of the classrooms and other facilities. I remember we were all very small kids. I was about 4 foot nothing or thereabouts then (I'm not much bigger now!) but there was one kid who was a man-child! He must have been at least 6 feet.

Every morning rain or shine we would get up, put on our dressing gowns, grab our washing kit bags and then run the 50 yards or so from the hut to the shower block in a wing of the manor house.

The huts were very cold and so two rectangular heaters were mounted at strategic points in the gangway between the bottoms of the beds that ran from one end of the hut to the other. The heaters were solidly fixed to the ground and stood about waist high. They were each covered in a thick wire mesh to let the heat through the top and protect us from touching them with our hands. They used to get really hot! We would put shelled chestnuts on top of the mesh to roast them!

One night, one of the kids was messing about in his pyjamas before lights out and was running along the gangway between the beds, looking behind as he ran. Somehow, he bumped into one of the heaters and ended up spread-eagled on top of it.

For a few seconds, he lay there face down, stranded like a fish out of water before he started screaming and managed to throw himself off. For whatever reason, he was one of those kids that didn't wear pyjama tops, and there was a smell of burning flesh!

He had to be rushed to sick bay (or hospital, I can't remember). Years later you could still see crosshatch pattern scarring on his stomach!

Another night, it was after lights out and some of us were whispering to each other about this and that. We had been warned a couple of times by the dorm monitors, who were senior boys. Finally, they decided enough was enough and shouted out "Who was talking?" None of us said anything, so they repeated the question. Still no answer. "If no one owns up, you're all going to be in detention!" they thundered. Silence.

To this day I don't know why I did it, but after about 5 seconds I owned up and said "I was." Theirs was an empty threat but I didn't know it at the time. "Come here" they said. They lived in a corner section at the end of the dorm surrounded by a number of tall metal coat lockers to give them some privacy away from us lot.

When I got to them, one of the monitors thought for a few moments and then opened the door of a locker and said "Get in." I obeyed, meekly. The locker was empty and I could easily squeeze into it but I had to keep upright. Then he closed the door. I don't remember being very frightened, but he kept me in there in the dark for maybe 10 minutes. And that was that.

At one of the school reunions a few years ago, I met the monitor and mentioned the incident to him in front of a small group of people. He looked very shame faced and muttered something incomprehensible. I laughed.

I've never thought of it as a traumatic experience although I still remember it in detail to this day. He didn't slap me or punch me or anything so I don't think it did any long-term harm. Those were the (tough) days!