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Shaun McSweeney (OE 1970–1977) is now volunteering regularly to support QE Collections, working with the School’s archivist, Jenni Blackford, with his personal knowledge of his era already proving valuable in the cataloguing.

Shaun is a History graduate and qualified as a History teacher, even doing some supply teaching at QE in 1983. “Obviously I have a love of history, and I have always been grateful for my education at QE, where I had seven happy years,” he says.

The Headmaster welcomed his involvement: “It is great to have OEs as well as current students with interest in helping with the important work of archiving, and I am sure Shaun’s first-hand knowledge of some of the events he is cataloguing will be helpful in ensuring that QE Collections remains an authoritative source of information on our history.”

Notwithstanding the fact that he personally enjoyed his School years, QE itself declined while Shaun was a pupil, he says. “I entered the School in 1970, which was the last grammar-school entry before the School went comprehensive in 1971. Sad to say, I witnessed an obvious deterioration in behaviour and academic standards in the following years, such that when I was in the Lower Sixth, I was one of the sixth-formers who volunteered to help with remedial English classes for the more junior boys.” The School reverted to a fully selective admissions system under Headmaster Eamonn Harris in 1994.

“In my last year , a very young teacher took my A-level English class. His name was Eric Houston. I wonder what became of him!” Shaun took his degree at London University and initially embarked on a teaching career. “But the 1980s were a difficult time to be a History teacher and in 1988 I joined HM Customs and Excise – which eventually became HM Revenue and Customs – then Border Force, spending a total of 35 years before retiring in 2023. I had many jobs, including plain clothes work for five years. Without going into too many details, I uncovered a link between bootlegging (i.e. the smuggling of alcohol and tobacco products from Europe into the UK) and the funding of terrorism in Northern Ireland which resulted in a security alert of the highest level and I was advised to check underneath my car for bombs!

“I was stationed at Heathrow Airport from 2006 to 2023, spending most of my time dealing with cargo ‘exams’. Freight is where the majority of smuggled goods are found, not the passenger terminals. I had plenty of seizures of drugs and cigarettes, and huge amounts of counterfeit goods. Work continued through the Covid lockdown  – no working at home for us – and that resulted in vast quantities of counterfeit face masks and Covid test kits being seized.”

The archiving work does have its emotional side, he says. “Looking at old documents, I can’t help thinking that nearly everyone I knew in them is now dead. There was one teacher who tragically took his own life, and another who ended up in prison. And those two events happened while I was still a pupil. Rather depressing! But reading these documents also recalls many stories about my time at QE, some of which bring a smile to my face.”

Eighteen years after leaving QE, Warren Balakrishnan is loving family life in New York, from where he is growing an international insurance business.

“I’ve wanted to contribute to the School in a meaningful way for some time, and living in the US makes it a bit harder to join events there, so it felt serendipitous to receive an email for the 450 Club.” (The club, which was set up ahead of QE’s 450th anniversary last year, was for those making a contribution to the School of at least £450.)

Warren (Warendra, OE 1999–2006) says he has good reason for gratitude to his alma mater. “I screwed up my first year A-level exams – not turning up to class and assuming you know the material is a high-risk / low-reward strategy, no matter how intelligent you are! Eric Houston took me into a meeting and told me it would be a complete waste of a line on the UCAS form to apply to Oxford with those first-year A-level results. Needless to say, I took the bait, and stormed off in indignation, telling him I’d prove him wrong. I think Eric knew me better than I knew myself at that point, and that this is true for a lot of the teaching faculty at QE – that’s what made it such an incredible formative experience.” Warren duly went on to get the grades he needed to read Law at St John’s College, Oxford.

Graduating in 2009 in the midst of the great financial crisis, he counts himself fortunate to have received the offer of a training contract at a US law firm. “I thoroughly enjoyed being a corporate lawyer focussing on the significant amount of financial services M&A activity as a result of the crisis.” After qualifying as a solicitor, he was seconded to a private-equity-owned insurance business headquartered in the UK to help them raise capital, set up their fund, and carry out their initial acquisition of an insurance business in the US. The secondment turned into a job offer involving Warren leaving his legal role and joining the business unit. (“Side note: If the notion of being principal, not agent, appeals to you, being a corporate lawyer may not be the best long-term career path.”)

“I have never felt so terrified in my work place as I was when I started my new commercial role, taking out a blank piece of paper and staring at it very hard for over two weeks, as I contemplated: ‘Well, they hired me to make money, right? Now, how exactly is it that I make money for the company?’ Thankfully, you learn as you go, and after over a decade at the company, I am sure I have a long way to go before I can drop pearls of wisdom, but I have had a tonne of fun being a founding member of, and growing, an international insurance business with over $100bn of assets.” Warren is today Chief Development & Strategy Officer with that company, Resolution Life, a giant of the insurance world.

“In all of this, one thing has stuck with me as I reflect on my career: when you decide to do a task, do the best you can at it, and success, plaudits and recognition often follow,” he says.

Life in New York with his wife and children has a major benefit to counter the disadvantages: “It forces individuals and families to utilise public outdoor spaces to gather. We have met many of our friends in the kids’ sandbox in the public gardens and playgrounds. The food, culture, and, of course, the career opportunities are incredible in New York, and there really is a neighbourhood for everyone. My wife and I are, however, confronting the sad fact that our children are learning American English.” He has made it his mission to police their pronunciation of ‘water’ – “I will correct them till I die!

“For any younger OEs, I’d strongly recommend living and working in at least one different country. I am a firm believer that it firstly helps develop a world-view based on a broader set of experiences; secondly, it enables you to be a better leader of people across cultures and values; thirdly and most importantly, it is a lot of fun and should be seen as a great adventure!”

Warren knows of a few OEs dotted across the States – and is confident there are more. “I randomly met Jonathan Cohen (OE 2000–2004) in the elevator of a Bermuda hotel last year when he had just moved back from the US to the UK.” The photo above shows Warren with Sunil Tailor (OE 1999–2006) and Neil Yogananther (OE 1999–2006) in November 2023.

Retired since 2020 from his position as Professor of Family Medicine at the University of Calgary, Canada, Roger Thomas (OE 1952–1960) continues both to teach medical students and to conduct research – his current work is a study of 230,000 patients aged 65 and over.

The winner of multiple awards, including 19 teaching awards, Roger taught firstly at Yale, then at various universities in Canada over a 53-year career, with 1980–1983 spent at a hospital in Malawi. QE, he says, had a large effect on his life: he has penned his memories of the years he and his brother, Andrew, spend at Queen’s Road.

Roger’s account

“Mr Ernest Jenkins was a unique and highly motivated and excellent History teacher and Headmaster . I had no idea what a mentor was: I realised later how important his encouragement was, because he arranged for me to take the admission tour through Oxford and Cambridge colleges that he selected. His goal was to get as many boys as possible into Oxford and Cambridge. Due to the calibre of  his teaching, I achieved Scholarship-level History, an A in A-level History, a State Scholarship and an Exhibitionship at Magdalene, Cambridge.

The students were generally extremely obedient. Mr Jenkins told the School one day that a lady had written to him and ‘three boys had walked along the pavement and forced her thus into the road’. No-one owned up, so the entire School of 650 boys attended one Saturday afternoon and stood on tables for three hours with their hands on the tops of their heads. Mr Jenkins had absolute control by force of personality. He played the grand piano every morning for prayers, and when singing Bring my spear, O clouds unfold [from the hymn, Jerusalem], the boys tried once to slow down on the “O clouds”, but a look from Mr Jenkins said: “Don’t try that again.”

Mr Jenkins’ prize day featured orations in Greek, Latin, German and French (I was assigned to memorise a speech from General de Gaulle’s memoirs): Mr Jenkins reminded boys who forgot a line, sotto voce.

We paraded on the sports field annually for Founder’s Day. There was a speech which always mentioned “a fishmonger of Barnet”. Boys inevitably fainted in the heat despite instructions to rise regularly on their toes. We marched to the parish church for the service.

I thought some of the masters could have had academic careers if they had wished and had there been more opportunities in universities at that time. We knew very little of their personal lives. We also wondered if the catapults and other toys apprehended from the boys and placed in the master’s desk drawer, if not returned, perhaps went to those masters who had children.

We did exactly what we were told. The teachers were all highly motivated and prepared lessons carefully. Having taught medical students and registrars for decades, I know how much thought and preparation have to go into any presentation if it is to have any lasting teaching effect. The Physics and Chemistry laboratories were well equipped and we did many useful experiments.

My memories of lessons include the following:

• The Physics master one day decided we would all write a 100-page essay and we were issued a book. I unfortunately decided to write The history of the universe and carefully illustrated it. Some cleverer boys chose instead topics like The motor car and, for example, stretched a picture of a piston over two pages;
• I remember one lesson when the Headmaster threw the map of Europe on to the table and took us through Napoleon’s campaigns. He was reported to have been the captain of a minesweeper in World War I;
• Mr Wingfield had been a tank commander in Italy and could easily be redirected to stop the Latin lesson with a request to “Please tell us about when you attacked Anzio”;
• We wondered from where the Biology master got his supply of dead cats for dissection;
• The Greek master, “Tiger” Timson, had only to look at a student to get obedience;
• In contrast, kindly Mr Woodbridge, the German master, offered to mark my German O-level exercises as I decided to take it as an extra subject from home;
• Two of the French masters for some reason had the poorest luck with control. On Saturday mornings, we read the magazine La France, with enough copies only for one per two boys. The master’s command to change them over led to the uncontrolled shunting of desks for about 15 minutes. He was reported to have left due to a breakdown. Another master tried to make lessons interesting with small French objects in envelopes that were passed round the class for us to name them in French. However, the boys deliberately mixed up the objects and “lost” the handle for the gramophone which signalled to move the objects round.

Lines were a key way of enforcing discipline. They could be either prose (no poetry, as it could be remembered and written more easily) or equally spaced tiny dots.  One could get 200 lines just for turning round in class. If required to write more than 600 lines per term, you would probably be caned with ‘six of the best’. This was in the Masters’  room: the rule was the cane could not be lifted higher than the master’s shoulder. We were asked to write  a magazine: one boy drew a person on a bicycle and a sign ‘to the bogs’, but this reference to toilets got him caned.

My memories of ‘illegal’ activities amount only to some boys secretly smoking in the World War II anti-aircraft gun emplacement, one boy offering to steal pens from a stationery store, and another offering to rent out a magazine, Health and Efficiency, with pictures of naked ladies, for sixpence a night.

Sports were compulsory, and included Saturday afternoon. Getting to rugby required a three-mile trek through fields full of cattle and cowpats, and jumping over brooks. There was also cricket, swimming, track and cross-country. The cross country was over the area of the Battle of Barnet 1381. “Sid”, the Chemistry master supervised the cross-country, but chose to do so by bike and did not observe the short cuts the runners took. Swimming included plunging in November into a freezing pool full of green vegetation.

There was no careers counselling. All my family members left school at 14 except my uncle. He wanted to study engineering at Birmingham University, but the fees were greater than my grandfather’s annual wage as a shunter. My uncle was a self-taught engineer who rose to be head of BSA and one of the key Brockhouse engineering firms, and sold machine tools to Mercedes, Volvo, Renault and in the US. When I was at Yale, he regularly wrote me to obtain engineering books from the bookstore. My mother thought I should be a Post Office engineer (she had been a telephone receptionist and worked her way up to be office manager of an engineering firm) or a rock star.  I mention this because there may be many current boys who have no career counselling from their families, and counselling would open their eyes. Some may have very bright and motivated parents who are blocked by an inadequate education.”

David Taylor (OE 1961–1966) here gives his candid account of his key role as the organiser of the 1966 fete. Although there had been occasional fetes at QE before, as it turned out, the 1966 event was to be the start of a tradition of annual fetes that continues to this day.

It was in April 1966 that I first became aware of what being “volunteered“ meant. Tim Thorpe and I were summoned to the study of Headmaster TB Edwards (TBE) in our roles as School Captain and School Lieutenant respectively. We were informed that it had been decided that a School Fete would be arranged to raise funds for the covering of the School’s open-air swimming pool. We were asked to be the organisers. It would be, he suggested, a good opportunity for us to develop our skills and enhance our record of achievement if we were to accept the role of Fete Organisers. It was clearly an honour, and therefore not to be turned down lightly, so we accepted, despite the fact we were also due to take our A-levels in June.

What we had not appreciated was that this was something of a poisoned chalice. Five years after the retirement of the legendary headmaster, Ernest Jenkins, TBE still had not totally won over the hearts and minds of the teaching staff. They had  made clear to him that fete organisation was far down their list of priorities, and it is fair to say that, with a couple of exceptions, they maintained this position.

Additionally, the swimming pool project was not popular. None could dispute the fact that improving the facilities would be of benefit. Countless classes of goosepimpled schoolboys had endured the rigours of an English summer as they shivered on the verruca-infected concrete edge fringing the water, trying to delay the moment of immersion in the icy depths. The fact that so many of us passed our Bronze Life Saving Award was a tribute to some form of inner strength not usually apparent. The problem was that the fund-raising had been started some years earlier. The initial enthusiasm had waned as the growth of the fund failed to keep up with the rise in building costs.

Blithely unaware of all the background issues, we launched the project at the start of the Summer Term. We had the target date of Saturday 23rd July. By now the principles of being “volunteered” were understood and we managed to assemble a working committee with representatives from each class. It was agreed that each class would take on responsibility  for an activity or stall.

There was a lot of haggling about who should do what. Face-in-the-Wall, Pick-a-Straw, a coconut shy, Crazy Kitchen, Bingo, bran tub, darts, hoop-la, roll-a-penny,  raffles, catering, helium balloon race, the list seemed endless. What was actually in short supply were the willing hands to run the activities. Tim Thorpe, my colleague, was a serious cricketer and Captain of the First XI, so increasingly I found more and more of my time taken up by the fete.

Gradually, however, things did start to fall into place, with the production of the fete programme emerging as one of keystones of the project.  It didn’t just publicise the activities of the day, but was crucial for fund-raising by selling advertising space to local tradespeople. In those days, Barnet High Street was blessed by some fine shops and businesses. In many cases the sons of the tradespeople had attended the School and were also suppliers of goods and services. Instead of delegating this aspect of the work, I decided that this was something I wanted to do, even producing the programme’s initial design. Fortunately Huw Purchas, the Art teacher, was one of the few staff members to agree to help in the completion of the final version.

I was then able to take the draft of the programme and start selling advertising space in the High Street. I remember the largely generous reception I received – and actually the advertising side was quite successful. In particular, I struck gold with J Robinson of the High Street Delicatessen who agreed to provide the barbecue, complete with hamburgers and two roasting pigs! After all these years, the names of the advertisers in the surviving programme [see below] bring back good memories.

What had initially seemed like a lonely endeavour became less so as more and more people stepped forward to offer help. Peter Felstead was in our year group and was the manager of a pop group, The Metronomes, and he agreed to arrange the dance in the evening. Peter went on to a successful career in the world of music. A fellow sixth-former, John Little, had a famous father, Trevor Little. He was known as The Balloon Man and he kindly offered his entertainment services.

Eventually key activities such as catering, setting up and taking down stalls, running sports and contests were covered by volunteers. The pace increased and A-levels seemed to pass in a whirl as the day of the fete approached. It was certainly a learning experience as I came to grips with booking a candy floss machine, hiring a coconut shy, and borrowing bunting from the local Scout Group. It was even decided that we should offer goldfish in bags as prizes, and so two boxes of fish and dispensing bags were duly ordered. It is wonderful what can be achieved with so little knowledge and understanding of possible consequences.

TBE was kept informed of developments at weekly progress review meetings and finally the last week arrived. A slight hiccup had been identifed, as the provider of the candy floss machine based in Berkhamsted had indicated that we would have to collect it ourselves. Without batting an eyelid, TBE turned to me, confirmed  I could drive, handed over the keys to his Bedford van, and gave me permission to go that afternoon and collect it. Accompanied by my friend, George Wormald, we set off. All went well until on the trip home I managed to dent a bumper on the van. As I returned the keys and confessed, TBE just smiled and said: “Ah well.” Not sure this would happen these days.

As the final week progressed the reality started to hit home. Where to store the coconut shy? Did we have enough coconuts? The Crazy Kitchen had seemed a good idea, but did we have sufficient supplies of chipped crockery to smash during the course of the afternoon? On the Friday, I was called to the School secretary’s office to receive a delivery of two large boxes containing goldfish, also tanks of helium and a supply of balloons and labels. What had seemed incidental details some weeks ago now emerged as major challenges.

There were several aspects to the goldfish problem. Each box contained a large clear plastic bag filled with approximately one hundred small fish. The bags were sealed and topped up with sufficient oxygen to last for two days. These bags had to be opened and the fish put into individual prize bags. Two heroes volunteered (were volunteered?) to be in charge of the fish situation. They decided that the large communal bath in the changing rooms would be the ideal venue for this operation. This appeared to solve the problem, and I was free to move on to other things.

We had been advised by the supplier of the candy floss machine that it was not quite as simple to operate as might first appear. Those who had chosen this as their activity had been given the opportunity on the Friday to practise their skills. They had anticipated unrestricted access to a tasty fair ground treat. In no time at all they were faced with the reality of how to restrict the sticky treat to the stick and not enmesh their  hands in the cobweb of pink sugar strands. The sight of an arm encased in candy floss remains vividly with me to this day. At least the practice session did give them the chance to prepare for the challenges of full production.

The day of the fete finally arrived, and, to be honest, I can remember little, as events took on their own momentum. The weather was not too bad, a typical grudging English summer’s day. The host of volunteers and a lot of goodwill made the thing happen. I managed to fail to schedule in our star entertainer, the Balloon Man, Trevor Little. Being the professional he was, once he appreciated my omission, he took charge of the entertainment section and soon had a delighted audience.

Somehow the balloons were launched for the distance race, with some form of prize having been offered for the balloon travelling the greatest distance. The operation of the helium tanks was quite a tricky task. These days some form of risk assessment would have been carried out, but those were far-off, and more innocent, times. Learning on the job proved a great way of developing skills. I have no idea of how far the winning balloon travelled, but it did prove to be a good fund-raiser.

Thank goodness there was someone used to handling cash and providing change in what quickly became a swift moving commercial whirlwind  Stall takings were logged and some form of financial control maintained. I may have developed many skills during the course of the fete experience, but this is one aspect of life I have never truly mastered. I have no record of the total sum that we actually ended up raising. [£600, according to the local newspaper report below – Ed].

At the end of the proceedings, a loyal group of helpers stayed behind to clear up the remains of the day. Just as I felt that things were coming to an honourable end, I was approached by a member of the goldfish team. My lack of experience in the goldfish department had led me to overestimate wildly possible demand. When I arrived at the changing bath, I was faced by an unopened box of goldfish. The oxygen supply was insufficient to last the weekend. We decided to fill the bath and pour in the remaining fish, leaving them to swim happily over the weekend.

This didn’t, though, solve the problem of what to do with the excess fish – the option of flushing them down the drains having been rejected after some discussion. On the Monday, form representatives were summoned and given a supply of bagged goldfish to distribute to class mates as a small ‘thank you’ from the Fete Committee. Whoever came up with that solution (not me) I am sure went on to better and greater things.

As for myself, in September 1966 I went with Voluntary Service Overseas teaching for a school year in Grenada in the West Indies. One lingering link with the fete were the regular notes from the Boy Scout Troop Leader asking for the return of the troop bunting. These notes were forwarded to me by my father, but I was unable to help. If anyone does find the bunting I would be grateful if it could be returned to the Scouts.

• Click on the thumbnails below to view the images.

Investment sector specialist Mipham Samten (OE 2012–2019) may be among the 450 Club’s younger members, but he is clear-sighted about why he needed to buy into the club.

After taking full advantage of opportunities to get involved in debating and public-speaking while at the School, Mipham secured a place to read Philosophy, Politics and Economics at Oxford.

“For me, joining the 450 Club is about supporting an institution that believes in meritocracy, as I do, recognising that without responsibility, merit is meaningless,” he says. “From those to whom much is given, much is required. In that respect, joining was an easy decision to make.”

While at university, Mipham spent a year running the Oxford Alpha Fund – a student investment society.

“The game is to find out what everyone is thinking, and identify their potential mistakes. The biggest opportunity and challenge was developing an environment where the society can stay calm when the market is panicking or exuberant. This meant choosing to work with independent thinkers, people who are comfortable being wrong publicly and who change their mind with the facts, not with the crowd. Interestingly, this is not always correlated with ‘intelligence’ per se: separating your ego from your ideas is hard, but ultimately rewarding.”

Mipham completed a summer internship with Man Group, a London Stock Exchange-listed active investment management business, in 2022, and then took up his present role with the firm in September 2023.

“I’m early in my career as an Investment Associate. Everyone wants to know, ‘What’s x fund’s ‘edge’?’ or its advantage over others. Generally, it’s pretty clear that an edge is the product of working hard now, or having worked hard before. It pays to stress assumptions others take for granted, to explore topics others ignore. Opportunities come and go, but those who are able to take advantage are those who prepared when something was unknown or unfashionable.

“I hope to continue investing professionally, learning a lot, and, hopefully, developing a little edge of my own.”

Mipham is pictured taking part in last year’s Elizabethan Union Dinner Debate alongside Saifullah Shah (OE 2013-2020).

Alan Rymer and Nicholas Warren are Old Elizabethans from different generations who worked together in the property finance industry for several years, never suspecting that they had both been to the same school.

On learning of their shared history, the pair recently paid a joint visit back to Queen’s Road, thoroughly enjoying the chance to reminisce together, while also observing how much QE has changed.

Alan said: “My background is that, having left QE in 1970, I went to work for Nat West where I studied the usual banking exams (Accounting, Economics, Law etc) to achieve my ACIB [Associateship of The Chartered Institute of Bankers], and gained promotion working at various large London branches, until I had the opportunity to specialise in real estate. I then spent much of my career working with property developers and investors to put in place their borrowing requirements – and learning a huge amount about their businesses by doing so. When I left in 2016 I set up my own business, ADR Funding Ltd, through which I focus on arranging finance specifically for the house-building sector.

“As a result, I now have contacts with a very wide range of banks and specialist funders. One of these is United Trust Bank, who I do quite a lot of work with, mainly via Nick Warren. We had already completed a number of deals when we happened to talk about where we had been brought up, and on learning that Nick lived near Queen’s Road in Barnet, I said ‘that’s where my old school is.’ The rest is history.”

For his part, Nick (OE 1991–1998), who obtained a first in Public Policy, Government & Management at the University of Birmingham, said: “Developing relationships with people is the crux of any business. Paths cross at all stages in life and it’s great to see how, like other Old Elizabethans, Alan and I have managed to connect years after leaving.”

Thanking the Headmaster, Neil Enright, and Head of External Relations, Matthew Rose, who hosted them on their visit, Nick said it had been a “fantastic few hours down memory lane”, adding: “I owe a lot to Queen Elizabeth’s School, Barnet, as it was a place which instilled me with discipline, resilience and a fantastic start on my educational pathway.”

Alan (OE 1963–1970) reflected on how the School had gone from “strength to strength” in the past 50 years. His memories included “cross-country runs in Galley Lane and stone-picking on the Third Field (now a well maintained rugby pitch), followed by bread-and-dripping sandwiches in the refectory – but that was in the 60s!

“QE was and remains a superb school with a great academic history, and it is good to be able to connect/reconnect with past scholars who may now share similar interests and business roles.”

Both now look forward to meeting more Old Elizabethans working in property finance.

Alan also had some career selection advice for current pupils and recent leavers: “I would say make sure you choose something that you will enjoy. I always loved working for Nat West as it gave me plenty of variety, taught me new skills, and enabled me to meet and advise hundreds of different clients over many years.”