Old Belmontonians Club (OBC)

The Old Belmontonians Club (OBC) exists to enable past pupils to remain in contact with their old school and with former pupils.  Events are organised from time to time both here at Belmont and by former pupils who also organise local and regional events.

Please contact us on obc@belmont-school.org

Social media:

Join our private Facebook group - Old Belmontonians or follow us on Twitter @OBCBelmont

 

Memories of Belmont provided by our alumni

 

Philip Bodie

Arriving on day one in 1973, wide eyed and eager, as a 10 year old son of English ex-pat parents from Australia; on the cusp between Ozzie rules and Cricket; wandering past 'Q', to the smell of Spanish cooking, carbolic acid and a heady mixture of wonderment and thrill.

I was in awe of seeing scholars names listed on the wooden board in the old dining room (now the library) to illustrious schools and thinking my name would never be there. Then in the late 70s it was with absolute pride to see it there, only to witness it burn in the fire and be lost....humility learned.

Friends made, some retained and some lost but happy memories ingrained and loved forever.

 

Viktor Kesler

Arrived in 1971 and almost every aspect of life at Belmont was amazing to a nine year-old from socialist Yugoslavia. From getting kitted out at Kinch&Lack, to the trunks in the basement, my Eagle uncle (I remember you Sir) who dutifully showed me the ropes, probably frustrated at my limited English and incessant astonishment. Boys addressing each other by their surnames, shorts all year round and nobody stopping me from climbing the very high fir tree next to the detached classrooms for 1st and 2nd year pupils.

The looks of horror of my table mates at my holding my fork the wrong way up still haunt me to this day!

My English soon improved (thank you Miss M), so I was transferred from first year to second (where I belonged to by age) but luckily stayed in that outbuilding next to my favourite climbing tree.

Writing a letter to the Headmaster in order to gain permission to go to Holmbury St. Mary and spend the 12.5p of pocket-money that your parents were allowed to give you.

Conkers, the marathon (I got lost and a farmer pointed me in the right direction), cricket, Byron dorm and learning to fold my clothes properly - Matron instilled more fear than any teacher. Sir’s slide-projector assisted French classes; I can still see the slides of l'hiver in my mind's eye.

I could go on and on…