Tag Archives: loyalty

Dear Dr Gee

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Shrewsbury legend Dr David Gee turned 90 on 12th January 2024.

A walking almanac of all things Salopian, Dr Gee has seen Shrewsbury School change and grow over seven decades. He has observed the various efforts of eight Headmasters. Our ‘Everthere’, David has the long view on Shrewsbury. His optimism for the future is infectious.

Sitting next to David at his birthday dinner, I had the delight of listening to more stories from his treasure trove of Salopian tales. He told me of the time he was summoned to the study of his first Headmaster, Jack Peterson, as a trainee teacher in 1958. “Can I give you a word of advice, Gee?”, asked Peterson. “Please do”, replied the young Gee, politely. “Never, ever become a Headmaster”, said Peterson, wearily. David would have made a wonderful Headmaster but he did heed Peterson’s advice.

Dr Gee taught at Shrewsbury between 1958 and 2012 during which time he was Housemaster of both Dayboys Hall and Severn Hill and also Head of the History and Religious Studies Faculties. He remains active in School life as custodian of the School’s history. He is often to be seen taking a turn round Top Common. And at all the big moments in the school year, he’ll be there, somewhere.

The newly nonagenarian Gee is pictured here – with (one of) his birthday cake(s).

A man of phenomenal learning – he was a Major Scholar at Winchester College – with the memory of the most venerable of elephants, David is one of the great storytellers. With a twinkle in the eye, and just a hint mischief in his voice, he will roll out tale after Salopian tale.

Although I have only overlapped with David for a mere six years of his epic stint in Shrewsbury colours, he has been kind and encouraging from the start. Gentle wisdom flows from his choice of story. He would never be so crass as to offer advice – though it is tempting to seek it. A man of exceptional energy, both intellectual and physical, I remember encountering him on the Stiperstones, more than 20 kilometres into our whole school sponsored walk in 2021. He was 87 at the time.

Here he is sitting alongside the extraordinary and wonderful Poppy Anderson, widow of the late great Sir Eric Anderson (Shrewsbury Headmaster, 1975-1980; Eton College Headmaster, 1980-1994):



Every school, every institution, anything with deep heritage, needs its torchbearer. David is ours.

Happy 90th Birthday Dr Gee.

‘Thank you’ doesn’t even begin to cover it. But thank you.

For being our Everthere.

Dear Gerald

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News of your passing has reached me.  You went out smiling, I’m told, and at the very decent age of 81. 

You worked all your life at the same school.  As a caretaker, odd-job-man and general lifter-and-shifter.  You spent over 50 years serving the same school community.  Same in name, but – like a river – always changing and flowing forward into different times with different people.  Yet, you were a constant. 

I remember you from when I was a child, growing up with a teacher for a Dad, in a boarding school where the staff children roamed free in the holidays.  And during term-time, our teacher parents were busy looking after other people’s children.  You were one of the benign constants that held us gently in place.  You were an ever-there. 

With your trademark greeting, unerring in your cheerfulness, you would say to all you met: “Lovely to see you!”.  You’d bellow that greeting in advance from a distance; or boomed it as a valediction – a validation – as you rolled along to your next task, your next greeting.  You were utterly indiscriminate – in the best way.  You showed no judgement.  Yet this greeting did not feel cheap or empty.  It was a simple, joyful affirmation. Your famous wheezy laugh fizzed with gentle mischief.

You wore blue workman’s dungarees, with splashes of paint and oil and grease, over a white string vest (have I made that up?) and always, whatever the weather, a bobble hat.  Yellow, was it?  And lacking the bobble.  

One time, you dropped a large metal radiator on your foot.  It landed like a heavy blade, taking one of your toes off in your shoe.  You wrapped and carried it like a little bug in your huge hands, searching for someone to help you.  The first person you met was my Dad.  He drove you to the hospital and kept you talking.  Something you did willingly, as if you were sharing a routine trip to the shops.  They patched you up somehow.  And you never forgot the kindness. 

From time to time, some of the children at the school would try to find fun in you.  You defused their nuisance with your constant greeting and undefended heart.  Soon, everyone knew that there was no fun to be had in setting traps for you.  Rather, they saw that you were a treasure; an institution; a legend.  Your loyalty; your appetite for hard work; your unearthly strength; your trustworthiness; your sheer reliability: these were qualities that even the most bone-headed of us could see were golden virtues. 

Love came from what you did; and love was the source of it.  And you were loved for being you. 

Rest in peace, Gerald.

Lovely to see you.

Leo Winkley