John Michael Mills – 28 February 2015
Oundle School Chapel
We meet here today to pay our tributes to my father, Michael Mills and to offer a thanksgiving for
his life and work at Oundle and for what he contributed to each of us individually to enrich our lives.
On giving an address at a similar occasion, he once wrote that a thanksgiving involves gladness – not
gloom: and while we each feel much sadness at having lost someone who meant so much to us, I
know my father would wish us to remember him and to say our collective thank you with laughter
and cheerfulness…. though I can just hear him saying “Well, I don’t know what all the fuss is about!”.
John Michael Mills was born on July 27th1921 in Birmingham. He lived in Edgbaston with his mother
and being an only child from a broken home, boarding school provided a secure foundation as he
arrived as a pupil at Oundle in 1935, almost 80 years ago. He described his school academic career as
singularly undistinguished and he obtained three higher certificates in French and German, with
slightly lower marks each successive year. He was in New House where he met lifelong friends
including Gully and Dick Wilson. He became head of house under John King whom he described as a
very eccentric housemaster, but clearly one that he had the utmost respect for. John King was
distinctly unorthodox, for example, he hated hair cream and was known to have used an iron
warmed up over a Bunsen burner and a sheet of blotting paper to remove grease from an offending
pupil’s head. One encounter my father recorded took place at a house supper during the summer of
1937. While top table were being served a three course meal he was given a plate with a slice of
ham and some wilting lettuce. There were some tiny white things moving about on his ham and he
did what he later described as perhaps the bravest thing he had ever done. He took his plate up to
top table, showed it to John King and said “please Sir, there are maggots on my ham”. King looked at
it briefly, handed back the plate to my father and said “Very well, I suppose you can leave the
maggots.”
It was on the sportsfield that my father excelled, particularly at cricket where he played in the 1st XI
for four years from 1937 to 1940, being captain in the last two of those years. His last season saw
him take 46 wickets with his leg breaks and googlies at less than 13 apiece, plus 461 runs with the
bat. He played in the school fives team in 1939 and was captain in 1940 during a period when
Oundle’s fives record was almost as distinguished as that of its rugby. He scraped in to the 1st XV for
one season in 1939 and lost the Bedford match by getting offside under the Oundle posts and
missing two easy conversions. He remained on very good terms with Frank Spragg notwithstanding.
On leaving Oundle in the summer of 1940, he had wanted to sign up for the RAF but was persuaded
not to by his mother. Instead he volunteered for service in the Indian Army which at the start of the
war was expanding rapidly, eventually becoming the largest volunteer army in history -but it was
desperately short of officers. An intensive recruitment campaign was launched by the War Office to
attract suitable young men as officer cadets. Around 600 were eventually selected, including my
father, and they were assembled at Aldershot just before Christmas Day in 1940. Most of them were
19 year old boys whose only military qualification was Certificate” A” in their school Officer Training
Corps. They set sail for India in a hastily converted meatship called the Highland Chieftain, calling in
at Durban on route where there was time to play a competitive two day cricket match on the test
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ground at Kingsmead. It was also on this journey that he was advised that it was going to be a very
dull war if he didn’t smoke, and so he took up his pipe which barely ever left him thereafter. He was
commissioned into the Indian Armoured Corp in 1941 but then caught the tropical illness Sprue and
was medically downgraded. While Sprue was obviously unpleasant, it ensured that he stayed in the
relative safety of India where he was attached to a service corp, initially in Poona as staff captain
where he recalled having two very enjoyable cricket seasons. He failed in attempts to get himself
medically upgraded and so remained in a very pleasant semi-hill station in southern India until he
became eligible for his first home leave just after Victory in Japan Day in August 1945. Most of his
home leave was taken up attempting to get himself discharged, which after several medical tests he
achieved so that by January 1946 he was finally able to take up his place at Corpus Christi College,
Cambridge, for which he had been accepted before the war.
Three happy years followed at Cambridge as he read French, German and in his last year economics.
Again his sport flourished. He had learnt squash for the first time in India, playing left handed. He
reckoned he lost every day to the local Indian professionals, so arriving at Cambridge he had no idea
that one was actually allowed to win at this game which he discovered he was actually rather good
at, getting his Blue in 1946 and being captain in 1947, later gaining his county squash colours for
Warwickshire. He got three fives blues but his most notable achievements were saved for the cricket
field where he got Blues in each of his three years, being University captain in 1948. In only his
second game in May 1946 he took 7-69 against a strong Yorkshire team, his best first class bowling
figures. His 1948 University side was one of the strongest Cambridge sides of all time containing four
future England test players in John Dewes, Hubert Doggart, Trevor Bailey and Doug Insole. However,
they succeeded in losing to Oxford by an innings before taking on Bradman’s 1948 Australians and,
in fact, my father was the last surviving captain to have played against those tourists, who became
known as “the Invincibles”.
He played his county cricket for Warwickshire for whom he played four first class games in 1946,
batting as high as no 4 and bowling plenty of legbreaks in tandem with the great Eric Hollies. The
county match he played against Glamorgan was to have an important bearing on the future of
cricket at Oundle. The Glamorgan side contained Arnold Dyson, Allan Watkins and was skippered by
the legendary Wilf Wooller. Following various conversations, Arnold Dyson very soon became the
cricket professional at Oundle, and on the back of that Wilf Wooller sent his boys to School House,
where by then my father was housemaster. When Arnold Dyson retired it was Wilf Wooller who
suggested to my father that perhaps Allan Watkins might be poachable from Framlingham College
and Allan and Mollie duly arrived in Oundle in the early 1970’s.
So on leaving Cambridge at the age of 27, there was the problem of what to do with his life. He had
met Graham Stainforth, then headmaster of Oundle when playing some Rovers cricket; he suggested
giving teaching a whirl so in September 1948 he was appointed to the staff as a junior form master
teaching French and English together with current affairs and a subject called civics, a precursor to
economics which he gradually introduced as an A’Level, starting with one candidate in 1949. It took
him another 20 years before Economics was given the status of having its own separate department,
but it was a department that he was very proud of and by the time he retired there were nearly 60
A’Level candidates each year.
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After spending five years as resident house tutor in Dryden, Graham Stainforth appointed him to be
housemaster of Laxton House in 1953. Initially he was a bachelor housemaster, but as he was always
the first to acknowledge, he was then mercifully rescued by my mother, Anne, having met her at a
Christmas Police Ball in the Great Hall in Oundle, a blind date set up by the then assistant bursar and
his wife. They married in the Easter holidays of 1957 in a service taken by Hugh Williams with Bill
Carter of School Tuckshop fame producing the wedding cake. The honeymoon was most unusual and
revolved around a two day cricket match at Fenners where my father had committed to captain the
Cryptics against the University. They had nowhere to live, but Dick Knight had promised that if he
ever did take the plunge a little house would be built beside Laxton, and that little wooden bungalow
duly arrived next to the swimming pool in which Penny and I also started our lives.
After only nine years my father was moved from Laxton, and started a new 15 year term in School
House so that by the time he came out of School House he had completed 24 consecutive years of
housemastering combined with being master in charge of both cricket and fives. Some record! His
move to School House was a plan devised by Dick Knight, largely because in those days the
housemaster’s wife was responsible for everything to do with staffing and feeding of the boys and
my mother’s talents were being clearly wasted in Laxton where the Crosby matron covered these
duties.
If teaching was my father’s profession, then housemastering was his vocation. Laxton and School
House were obviously very happy boarding houses and, if I may, I will quote from the many lovely
letters my mother has recently received which reflect those sentiments:
“If there was a definition of what a good housemaster should be then it would have to be modelled
on Mike. My five years at Oundle were probably the happiest of my life: To find myself ensconced in
Laxton surrounded by such normality and calm was so re-assuring – one of the most important
people in my life.“
“He taught me not only economics, but also cricket, life and how to be a decent man – I couldn’t
have had a better tutor.”
“Scrupulously fair whilst maintaining humour at the most trying of moments - most of what I have
achieved after leaving Oundle is down to the confidence he had in me.”
“Michael was a rare man, rare for combining kindness, a fine mind, excellent judgement of people,
the ability to teach, great skill at running a house and unusual modesty.”
“I think of him as being somewhere between a good friend and a favourite uncle.”
And further tributes to the important role my mother played:
A head of house in School House wrote: “Anne , we remember you so well and how much you did
for everyone in the house by way of being surrogate mother to us all and always there to help and
comfort - a bit of a pin-up too!”
“That School House was a home away from home is very much a tribute to you Anne, as well as to
Mike. You were both an oasis of calm in a confusing world”.
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And for a view from a colleague, I would like to quote Jeremy Firth who said these lovely words at
my father’s funeral in November. He said “I was fortunate enough to succeed Mike in two areas of
life at Oundle: the first was running the cricket, the second was as housemaster of School House. In
both capacities I inherited an order and organisation that was first class. Mike liked order and he
achieved it probably more consistently than most school masters. He had a capacity for keeping
ahead of events and usually in control of them. Not always of course, but most of the time. And if
things didn’t go quite right he had the gift of making others believe that everything was essentially
tickety-boo even if there were one or two minor matters to be sorted out. He had a gesture that
frequently punctuated his conversation - He’d pause in what he was saying and then there would be
a fluttering of fingers that might have suggested that he was calming troubled waters. In reality it
probably gave him time to think, so that what he said next had the desired calming effect.
It was not all calm and he could get irritated. For instance he got very tired of being greeted every
morning by a new young member of the Economics Department: “Good morning, Mike. How are you
today?” Well after a fortnight of this Mike replied: “Until further notice, Christopher, you can take it
that I am perfectly all right”. The enquiries ceased.”
Actually perhaps his greatest anger was saved for the golf course. Although every golf theory was
tried and tested, most of them on the drawing room carpet, he never quite conquered a gentle fade
which could develop in to a more threatening slice. However, golf was such an important part of his
life and some of his greatest friends were his Luffenham golfing partners including Alec Payne, Tony
Lewin, Allan Watkins and always his great friend and best man, Dick Chignell.
When my father retired from teaching in 1984 he used to joke that he had got out just in time. I
think what he was quietly saying was that he loved the teaching profession that he was in, the staff
common room, the boarding houses, it had all been a lot of fun. He felt that he had been terribly
lucky to have taught at a time when perhaps there was just a bit more time and space for everyone.
Parents were of course in those days largely at a safe distance and this was very much the era before
modern communication, human resources, risk assessments, health & safety, computerisation of
reports, constant examinations… a different age.
So settling down to retirement along the Cotterstock Road, allowed him to concentrate on his two
other great passions; The Old Oundelian Club and the Oundle Rovers. It was Graham Stainforth who
in 1953 had persuaded the OO Club to produce its own magazine and gave the job of editing it to my
father who subsequently edited either himself or jointly the first 45 editions. When the OO magazine
started he had 15 regional corresponding members and just three sport sections to contact. By the
time he finished, he had found, or coerced, 35 regional corresponding members basically covering
the entire globe and 15 sports secretaries, and in his last edition, 1,000 OO’s got a mention by name
in the area news section. He was the Old Oundelian Club’s honorary secretary and treasurer for 22
years and organised a highly effective and efficient administration, mentoring numerous OO
Presidents and he always enjoyed catching up with the steady stream of OOs who came back to
Oundle or who he would meet at the many OO dinners he attended.
In retirement came a wider family with the arrival of grandchildren, two daughters, Harriet and
Olivia for Kerry and myself, and a son and daughter, Jamie and Kate for Penny and Nick. Each
grandchild entered the world with their own song and lyrics composed by my father who on top of
everything else was a brilliant pianist, particularly enjoying playing the music of Billy Mayerl.
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He maintained his eccentricities well into later life too, and one of my abiding memories of him will
be watching him walk out of the Cornish surf clutching his ancient wooden surfboard and wearing a
string vest with the young generation staring at his madness from the warmth of their wetsuits. And
then there was the motorbike which he loved and used regularly well into his mid 80’s, with his local
chums taking the decision never to wave to him as he was very likely to take his hands off the
handlebars and wave back.
Dad’s other great love was, of course, the Oundle Rovers which had been resurrected after the War
thanks to the efforts of Lovel Garratt who organised the first Rovers Week in 1946. These cricket
weeks were generally for 30-40 players who came back year after year to play good wandering club
cricket in Oundle with great friends. I particularly think of early stalwarts of the club including
Marcus Beresford, Eric Conradi and Chris Reichwald. There were several tours to Guernsey, but it
was the old boys knockout competition, the Cricketer Cup, that meant most to him and he was
manager of our Cricketer Cup side from 1982. After a couple of near misses in the late 1970’s,
success in the competition finally arrived in 1985 in a low scoring, scrappy game at Vincent Square
when we defeated the Repton Pilgrims. I am not sure I ever saw him look happier than he did that
afternoon. Successive victories followed quickly in 1988 and 1989 against Shrewsbury. The highlight
of these victories was the prize with the sponsor, Moët & Chandon, flying players, wives and officials
in the company jet to their Chateau in Epernay where we enjoyed the finest lunch imaginable, a tour
of the vineyard and cellars followed by as much of the sponsor’s product as one could possibly
consume on the return flight to Gatwick. It was a great period for Oundle Rovers cricket and we will
be celebrating those three victories at a special dinner to be held at Lords this September when I am
sure there will be a special toast to our manager.
The last years of Dad’s life were more challenging, but with my mother’s incredible support and with
the help of Penny, wonderful neighbours and the Oundle community he maintained a life and his
spirits despite failing eyesight and increasing frailty. While getting out of a chair became a great
battle and walking was more precarious he was determined to succeed without any assistance apart
from his favourite walking stick. Over the last few weeks of his life, my parents would take the car up
on to the school playing fields and have a very gentle walk – my father therefore saw the demolition
of the old cricket pavilion and the foundations of the new one which will open in May and which the
school have very kindly named after him. For his many friends and particularly for his family it will be
a permanent and reassuring reminder of his immense contribution to the school. He was a
wonderful husband, father, grandfather - a great man that typified the spirit of all that is good of
Oundle.
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