master and was a remarkable teacher of History. I remember hearing his wife being asked, when he retired, if they were ‘…going on a cruise?’ She replied they couldn’t, because Mr Rees would get lost! At this time, I had to represent the pupils as Head Boy, when I attended the funeral of fellow student Eilwyn Morris at St Mary’s Catholic Church in Pembroke Dock. A talented rugby player, who always had an infectious smile on his face, Eilwyn (or ‘Soapy’ as he was nicknamed) had developed Osteomyelitis and had his leg amputated in a vain attempt to halt the spread of the disease. That was one of the saddest duties of my schooldays.

The ethos of the school at that time can be illustrated by the fact that 6th formers were expected to give talks to the school from the stage at Assembly. I gave a talk on ‘The Act of Union with Scotland’ – some of it ‘borrowed’, I must admit, from The Listener – now a defunct periodical. It was, I suppose, something of an ordeal, but it was invaluable in giving me confidence for the future – especially for mine as a lecturer.

Naturally, it was the friendships I made at school which were so important in my development. Then new friendships took over when I went up to Cambridge in 1959, but my school record has always stood me in good stead. When I was interviewed for my post in Aberystwyth University, Sir Thomas Parry referred to my ‘brilliant school record’ achieved under Mr Mathias. Without his impetus, I wouldn’t even have considered going to university. My parents were astonished at my Cambridge Scholarship and I like to think it gave my father some joy before he died at the age of 43 in 1962, when I was only 21.
John Trice