Probably Strangely Out Of Place At Hawthorns.

A Memory of Frinton-On-Sea.

It was 1952 or '53. I was one of a few young boys boarded at Hawthorns in those Post-War days. I was sequestered there while my parents toured the United States for a year. I didn't remember them when they returned. My grandmother taught at Hawthorns in those days, which is probably how I ended up there after some horrible experiences in London schools. Her name was Francis B. Ball and she had no inclination to have me living with her in Frinton. I was a difficult child.
Yes, the food was terrible. I distinctly remember gagging on breakfasts of drippings on toast which we were literally forced to eat.
I also remember Miss Regg, but much of the memories of that year are vague and ephemeral.

Cheers,

Phillip Naunton, now 73 and living retired as a widower in the United States, Chicago, Illinois

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