To my very great surprise I recently found myself attending an OM reunion. By several co-incidences I happened to be in the country at the time, it happened to be my year group, and somehow someone managed to contact me in Canada with an invitation. So I decided to indulge myself with a little nostalgia. Gathering my thoughts before meeting everyone again after 25 years (would the boy whose bed we threw out of a window be there?), I walked into the reception room where I recognised .... absolutely no-one. Correction. Almost no-one. The familiar smiling, cherubic face of JMB looked up. He furrowed his brow for brief pensive moment and greeted me: "Tom Bell .... yes, ... you were the one that smashed up the pair!". I was mortified. My glorious rowing past (glorious in my mind at least, clearly not in JMB's) which had been littered with regatta wins and deafening marches into the dining hall the following morning had been reduced to one rather unfortunate short outing.
It was a February afternoon, the river was high, and Andy Crawford (friend and bowman/steersman extraordinaire) and I had decided to have an outing in the pair.
We had just come off a highly successful Autumn term rowing mainly in order to avoid Rugby. Together we had formed a good team, coached by Irving Steggles, winning three Head Races in great style (though doubtless JMB does not remember them) and we wanted to maintain our small boats prowess. The pair, the only one in the shed, was one of the best boats in the fleet, an excellent, sleek and jealously guarded boat.
Once on the water it all happened very quickly. We set off upstream against a fast uneven current where we were immediately met by a novice eight on one side of the river and a fallen tree, presumably blown down by the recent storms, on the other. Yes, we knew that a novice eight coming downstream has priority over a recreational pair going upstream, but somehow that did not happen and we did not give way. Within seconds there was a mêlée of entangled oars, confused instructions and shouting, and very soon one upturned pair leaving two oarsman thrashing around in the water. Normally of course this would have been very funny for the novice eight: two sixth form rowing champs (oh go on, admit it JMB!) floundering around helplessly in the water. However it all turned nasty in short order. Although Andy was thrown away from the boat, I was trapped underneath it with my rugby shirt caught a rigger. Furthermore half of the pair had been wedged against the tree, leaving the bow to take the full force of the stream. Well 'accidents will happen' and the boat split right down the middle. My second or third hand shirt fortunately tore, freeing me from underneath the boat and we swam or drifted back to the rafts, followed by the broken bow section of the once-prized pair.
JMB remembers cmnd not done : **arriving at the boathouse with BSM in the coaching launch, to be greeted by two very cold, white faced, shivering boys on the raft and then arriving at the boathouse with BSM in the coaching launch, to be greeted by two very cold, white faced, shivering boys on the raft and then bell09_ww**[arriving at the boathouse with BSM in the coaching launch, to be greeted by two very cold, white faced, shivering boys on the raft and then] helping a bedraggled Andy Crawford and myself climb back onto the rafts, though my memory remains confused, no doubt addled by the freezing February water and the magnitude of having destroyed the cherished pair boat of MCSBC. In the generous spirit of the time, there were no recriminations, for which I was, and am, most grateful!
Tom Bell
Tom was a member of the 1979 1st VIII which won the Senior C pennant at The Head of the River Race. He did indeed contribute to some glorious results. The crew also won their classes at Bristol Ariel and Exeter Heads, going on in the summer to win three regattas. One member of the crew later rowed for Great Britain. The following article is transcribed from the coach's notes written in March 1979.