TIM KING – RICHMOND SCHOOL ALUMNUS 1945-1953!
Last year we received an email from a Mr. Tim King, explaining that he was an ex-student at Richmond School and would be interested in paying us a visit to see how things had changed. The remarkable aspect of his request was that Tim wasn’t a recent student – in fact quite the opposite – he said he had been at the school from 1945 until 1953. We calculated that he would now be at least 90 years old!
After a series of email exchanges, which included him sending a fascinating series of annotated photographs from the early 1950s, we managed to arrange a visit, which happened very recently.
Tim made his way independently on public transport from, coincidentally, Richmond in South London. He stayed in accommodation on Frenchgate, then arrived at school the following morning for his visit. Jenna Potter, Headteacher, escorted him round the site as he reminisced about his schooldays. It transpired that Tim’s schooling in Richmond had happened at what he called ‘Big School’ – The Old Grammar School, plus in some classrooms in a house on Frenchgate. There were no school buildings on our current site in the 1950s. Tim told us he was born in 1934, making him 91. He was a little slower than he used to be, but still in good physical shape. His memory, though, was absolutely astonishing. His ability to recall details, names, places and timelines of events long-past was genuinely amazing. Jenna had scheduled an hour with Tim – she returned from the tour after an hour and 40 minutes and said that she could easily have spent all day talking to him.
A focus of Tim’s conversation with Jenna as they toured the site was his family. He recalled many happy memories with his late and obviously very much-loved wife Adrienne. Tim came back to Adrienne many times during his visit, explaining that what he achieved during his life wouldn’t have been possible without the love and support she provided for him and their family. Tim described proud times with his three children Nicholas, Matthew and Natasha. Jenna was amazed as he showed photos of his children, their partners and his ten grandchildren, recalling names, ages, occupations, schools, universities and anecdotes with unhesitating clarity.
After the tour, we spent some time with Tim looking at the photos he had sent, gaining some background into his time at school and especially his career afterwards. Again, his clarity of recall was amazing – we had scheduled 20 minutes to talk and took 50!
RS: Tell us a little about what you can remember from school, Tim.
TK: Sport, first and foremost – I was a member of the cricket 1st XI and the rugby 1st XV. One of the pictures shows the first XI with the Head of School, Clark Stones. He was a super guy – I was his Vice Captain. There’s another photo with him, too, and a boy called Hag Elliot. We called him Hag because he’d had his front teeth knocked out in a rugby game and he had a false thing which he used to click – we thought it was amazing!
Academically, though, I wasn’t particularly focused. I was held back in the fourth form for a year – a wise decision, I think. I passed my O Levels in the end, including French and German, then spent two years in the Sixth Form studying English and History.
RS: What about after Sixth Form – the pictures show you flying aircraft quite soon after school?
TK: I did very little schoolwork in my last year, I’m afraid! Essentially, I was preparing to go to the RAF college at Cranwell, which I did in September of ‘53. Before that, though, I went to India with the CCF, did a flying scholarship near Newcastle, then a civil service exam which meant I didn’t have to sit the entry exam to get into Cranwell. I had to do their four-day problem-solving interview, though – I was just a naive 18-year-old – I didn’t really know which way was up! I stayed at Cranwell until April of ‘56. We were flying in an aircraft called the Balliol – it had a very powerful piston-driven Merlin engine, but our entry at Cranwell hadn’t gained enough experience flying jet aircraft at that time. So, they sent us to an advanced flying school at Swinderby to gain more experience.
From there we went to Pembrey in Wales, to fly Hunters – single seat swept-wing jets. There were no twin-seat Hunters in those days. Ok, we had a simulator, but it was basically made of cardboard and taught you about emergency procedures, rather than how to fly. I certainly remember my first landing in one of those early Hunters!
In February ‘57, I moved from Pembrey to a NATO airbase called Geilenkirchen, behind the Rhine. The Minister of Defence, Duncan Sandys, then stood up in Parliament and said that aircraft are useless, and we must rely entirely on missiles. This decimated squadrons all over the RAF, including mine, 234 Squadron. ‘Ignem mortemque despuimus’ – that was our motto – ‘We spit fire and death’.
RS: So, did you just have to pack up and go home?
TK: Basically, yes. I was lucky enough to get onto another squadron at Duxford, though: 65 Squadron – a super squadron and super place to be – close to Cambridge. By this time, I felt as though I was actually learning my trade, but this was cut short in ‘61 when I was sent to Fighter Command HQ at Bentley Priory to become Personal Assistant to the Senior Air Staff Officer, Ronnie Lees – a super chap.
RS: So your role changed from being a pilot to being…
TK: …a desk. Arranging his diary and so on. When that ended, I went to Chivenor in Devon, re-converted onto the Hunter and joined 43 Squadron at Leuchars in Scotland. There was a rotation of Hunter squadrons being posted to Cyprus at that time – some Middle East problem, I think, so we also spent some time in Nicosia, using the airport as a base. After that we were deployed to Khormaksar, Aden in what is now Yemen. We were sent there to help morale – there were two squadrons there already, so they thought a third would help. The flying there was amazing – over Arabia, King Solmon’s mines – like a moonscape.
I left there in ‘63 to go back to Chivenor and this is when I met a girl – Adrienne, in London. Two hundred miles separated us, so it wasn’t easy. In fact, like many modern couples, we ended up ‘taking a break’. Her dear mother, however, stepped in to say she ought to get back in touch, which, thankfully, she did. We got back together, became engaged and were married in ‘65.
I can’t begin to adequately explain the importance of Adrienne in my life from this point. She gave up a promising acting career to support myself, our family and my career in the Services. She didn’t have a background in Service life and the expectations placed on her were phenomenal. We were constantly moving around because of my postings and she cared for, loved and took absolute responsibility for our children – always, but especially during my often-long periods of absence overseas. I know that you’re asking me about my life, but I couldn’t possibly have had anything like the life I’ve had without Adrienne.
When we returned from honeymoon, the boss called me in and told me about my next posting – an exchange with a Royal Navy squadron. I converted to the Buccaneer at Lossiemouth, then went on board the aircraft carrier HMS Victorious. We sailed into the Mediterranean, through the Suez Canal, into the Indian Ocean, then via Singapore into the Pacific. Adrienne managed to visit when we were anchored in Hong Kong for the Christmas of ‘66 with our first child, Nick – a solid 6-month-old by then. Those visits weren’t easy for her, never mind with a baby in tow. Long-haul travel was challenging in the 1960s, and her destination was not a hotel, but often an air base or a ship or some MOD accommodation. She was always amazing, enduring hardships and challenges with the stoic smile of a Service-wife.
We were posted out there for some time – one memory that stands out is when I flew civil to Australia, ahead of the ship, then watched as Victorious came into Sydney Harbour – quite a sight.
Other memories involve the Buccaneer, especially taking off from the carrier. It was a 120 ft hands-off launch using a steam catapult. Our minimum launch speed was 103 knots. To that you had to add whatever speed the ship was going – about 26 knots, plus take into account any wind. The aircraft left the deck at 19 degrees and stalled at 28. As we launched, even with the stick fully forward, the nose crept up – 23, 24, 25 degrees. They sent a naval test pilot from the famous Boscombe Downe to try to make sense of it. The only person who was prepared to fly in the back seat with him was my RAF navigator, Colin. Their flight lasted 17 seconds – they both ejected safely, but the aircraft ended up in the water. He’d ordered eject at 26 degrees – he should have held his nerve!
The problem was that BAE had made some incorrect assumptions about the Mk 2 Buccaneer. I’ve never seen modifications arrive so quickly! They changed the artificial horizon, moved the trim gauge so you could actually see it, and changed the markings on the rudder so you could see what angle of trim you’d chosen. It was a bit better after that!
RS: So, this is 1967 – what stage are we at in your RAF career?
TK: Not far from the end. After Victorious returned, I went to staff college at Bracknell for a year and became Personal Staff Officer to the Air Officer Commanding-in-Chief, Lewis Hodges, at Uphaven. He was a great chap with some amazing flying experience – he flew some of the early Arctic flights when nobody knew what would happen to the compass as you approached magnetic north, as well as flying operations behind enemy lines during the war. He was a bit like me – taciturn – not good at idle chatter.
After that, it was back to flying for the last time. I did a refresher at Manby, then back to Chivenor on the Hunter, then to Honnington where the RAF Buccaneer conversion unit was. I was then sent to West Freugh in Scotland, where I did some test flying – dropping things on the ranges and doing some amazing low-level flying around Scotland. That was my last flying appointment.
I then headed off to Saudi Arabia on my first Attaché appointment. The British embassy was in Jeddah on the Red Sea Coast. I arrived in October ‘78 and Adrienne, now a mother of three, six weeks later. The two boys didn’t come because they were at boarding school – Nick was Head Chorister at St George’s Chapel, Windsor, and Matthew was the same at Christchurch in Oxford. Natasha came out with Adrienne, and we stayed out there until ‘81.
When we came home, I became Head of the Foreign Liaison Section – you have a photo of the Attachés with the Chief of Air Staff at the MOD in London. I remember going on to have lunch after that photo!
It was a posting to Switzerland after Saudi Arabia – just outside Bern, then to the Joint Service Defence College at a lovely palace building in Greenwich. I was the Commandant’s budget manager, head planner, and I ran the admin staff. While I was there, I gained my teaching diploma and eventually moved away from the JSDC to start teaching ‘Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages’ – TESOL – classes three times a week. I did that until I was 84 – 15 years. I stopped when Covid hit, and I’ve been an idler ever since! There – that’s my working life! I don’t have many regrets, but two stand out – firstly I should have married Adrienne earlier, and secondly, though she always carried the weight of being a Service wife without complaint and gave so much love and support to me and our children for so many years, I wish it could have been a bit easier for her at times.
RS: Thank you so much, Tim. It’s been a great privilege hearing you recall your career and life with Adrienne and your family with such clarity and detail. I know that Jenna could have talked for much longer, and I certainly could have too. Thank you for sending that email last year – it’s been lovely to see you.
Because Tim had not had a chance to see ‘Big School’, we drove down into town, turning round in the Station car park. As we turned, Tim reminisced about catching trains from there – certainly the first time I’d spoken to someone with first-hand experience of those times. We stopped at the Old Grammar School where Tim walked down the steps and had a good look at the building where he spent some of his early formative years. As you can imagine, he had some good stories to tell. I dropped him off in the market square at his request, immensely richer for spending the last couple of hours with a genuinely fabulous and inspiring person. Thank you, Mr. Tim King and, of course, to the absent lady to whom he owes so much, Adrienne.