John Thwaytes

About the Author

I was born on 11th January 1931, the second of three sons of Lancelot Laurence Thwaytes and Grace Veronica Thwaytes (nee Caesar). Lancelot had passed out of Sandhurst in 1914 and joined the British Indian Army in Sam Brownes Cavalry (mostly Sikhs). He fought in Mespotamia under General Sir Stanley Maude. When

I was born he and my mother had come back to England for a course at Aldershot. He was then a Captain. Later he rose to be a Brigadier but retired after Independence in 1947 and took up local government, eventually becoming Chairman of West Sussex County Council and Deputy Lieutenant of the County.

My elder brother Philip and his wife Nancy now live at Waltham near Grimsby and have a whole parcel of grandchildren,plus one great grandson called Archie, who arrived recently. My younger brother Richard and his wife Vincenza

live near Canberra. Unfortunately his only son, Tom, died in a road accident at the age of sixteen.

In mid-1931 my parents returned to India accompanied by their two older sons, and a Scottish Nanny, Miss Cecile Milne, for whom I have the greatest affection. She often used to say: “You can’t get above God.” She saved my life many times.(When she died of pneumonia at Norwich in October 1973, I

was in bed with pneumonia in Bengal, and she came and cured me on her way to the first mansion world.) In 1935 we all went back to England, where my father was attending Staff College at Camberley. We stayed at Farnborough. After the course at Camberley,my father and mother put Philip and me in a boarding

school, Our Ladys Convent, Abingdon, Berks. and went back to India. They came back to England in 1939. For a time we lived at Wraysbury on the Thames, and later they bought Ivy Grange, Sidlesham, Sussex.

Soon after that World War Two started, and I still remember the voice of Neville Chamberlain on our “wireless” on Sunday 3rd September when he declared war on Hitler. Being eight years old, I ran out of the house expecting to see

battle scenes unfold instantly, but it was May 1940 before the real blitzkrieg started in the West.

My father was convinced that we could beat the Germans within six months because of their paucity of oil wells, but he reckoned without the ersatz products of the German chemical industry which managed to turn coal into oil and rubber and practically anything else they needed. Anyway, he decided to return to India immediately with Mummy, and left the three boys (by that time

Richard was three years old) in the care of Miss C.Milne, backed by our uncles Julius Caesar (changed to Father Leo Caesar, O.S.B.)and Harold Price (a London stock broker) and Aunty Angela Price.

Philip and I were sent to Hodder, the prep school for Stonyhurst, both in Lancashire. I went up to Stonyhurst in 1942 and stayed there till 1950, by which time I had won a place at Oxford. But I wanted to finish National Service first, so in March 1950 I started my basic training at Bulford on Salisbury Plain, and got transferred to the Royal Hampshire Regiment in the British Army of the Rhine, Seventh Armoured Division (Desert Rats),

along with the Welsh Guards, the Scots Greys, and sundry other odds and ends. We were stationed at Minden in the old Waffen S.S.Barracks of the Hermann Goering Panzer Division. It was like a five star hotel compared to Bulford. I was in the Anti-tank Section of Support Company.

In September 1951 I went up to St.Catherines, Oxford, to take an honors degree in History. I completed this successfully in 1954. While at Oxford I spent a lot of time learning judo,got a half blue, and became President of the Judo Club. Then I went out to India in September 1954 as an Assistant Manager in

Binny & Co (Madras) Ltd, and was just in time to play Rugby for South India as hooker. We won the all-India tournament.That was not entirely due to my personal efforts, but I did hook the ball back more than 50% of the time.

After my three year contract with Binnys I went back to England and picked up my M.A. at Oxford, and then applied for an M.B.A. course at Harvard. At that time there were only four Business Schools in the world, all in North America. I failed to get into Harvard, but managed to squeeze into Western Business School at London, Ontario, which is now known as the Ivey Business School. Since all the Professors were from Harvard, it did not make much difference. While undergoing the course I got a call from the Lord that was fairly close to what happened to St.Paul on the road to Damascus. My answer was “Yes”. So I dropped out after the first year with a D.B.A., joined Maryglade Seminary at Memphis, Michigan, and slogged through a year of novitiate, a year of philosophy,and four years of theology. I was ordained priest in June 1965.

In June 1966 I landed by air in Kolkata, and went up to North Bengal. Soon afterwards I was sent to Malbazar to become Headmaster/Secretary of Bartolo Longo Junior High School, now named St.Bartholemews Higher Secondary School. In 1973 I founded Boys Town and Caesar School about a quarter of a mile away from B.L.School (as it is widely known). I have been working here at Boys Town and Caesar School ever since, and have prepared a site for my grave in the Chapel garden where I hope , Deo volonte, to rest my weary bones in due course of time.

Half deaf from childhood, I lived mostly in my mind and heart, cut off from group conversation, from the teacher’s voice in class, from the voice of the lecturer at college; I was always a loner. I lived in the woods with Puck of Pook’s Hill, among daffodils, blue bells and snow drops; in the South Downs by Goodwood; on the slopes of Snowdon; in the woods of the Ribble valley; on the fells of Lancashire (across from the witches of Pendle); and in the hills and vales of Westmoreland.

I dreamed in a place of dreaming spires and impossible loyalties. I loved the music of Beethoven, who was deafer than I. I felt the call of the Great Spirit, Who lives by Himself in the land of ice and snow. I wept when they said He was dead. Even though I know that He can never die, it was a horrible thing to say. It almost broke my heart. That’s why I will not be sorry to

move on when my time comes. And, instead of moaning at the bar, please just drink a pint for me there, kind friend, and then my soul will surely be at peace.

My Faith

“I see his blood upon the rose

And in the stars the glory of his eyes.

His body gleams amid eternal snows,

His tears fall from the skies.

I see his face in every flower;

The thunder and the singing of the birds

Are but his voice, and graven by his power

Rocks are his written words.

All pathways by his feet are worn,

His strong heart stirs the ever beating sea,

His crown of thorns is twined with every thorn;

His cross is every tree.”

By Joseph Mary Plunkett OS, 1888-1916