Geoff Stead, of Kendal, recalls his final day at school in 1960

In my last year at school in 1960, I was awarded the Science Prize and, with other pupils, was taken in a teacher’s Morris Minor to the ‘bookroom’ in town, where all the prize winners were allowed to choose something up to the value of £2.

I selected W Heaton Cooper’s ‘The Tarns of Lakeland’, at 45/-, so had to ask Mam’s permission to contribute the extra 5/- from my earnings as a newspaper delivery boy.

George, the teacher, as he pulled up outside our cottage for me to make that request, queried: “You have to ask your mother’s permission to spend your own money right?”

The prize was eventually presented by Sir Len Hutton, a notable cricketer of that era.

My last day at school finally dawned. A trestle table was set up in the main hall and, at 3pm, a ‘farewell party’ of biscuits and lemonade took place.

Percy, the headmaster, gave a short, but stirring, speech enjoining leavers ‘to do nothing base, or mean, and to always ‘play the man’. (The girls had their own leaving party).

A certificate, testifying to each pupil’s hard work and achievements during their time at the school, was presented to each pupil and a firm handshake given.

I don’t remember any tears being shed, although I may have felt a momentary pang of regret at leaving the secure, regulated atmosphere of school, to go out into the world of work to earn my living.

As I left those familiar surroundings that July day, in my grey flannel trousers and school blazer, I was excited at the prospect, feeling, although only just turned 15, almost a man.

Also, Mam had truly said, “Well, Geoffrey, your Dad and I have kept you long enough; it’s time you got a job and paid us something back”.