Judy's Passage

It’s been a week now since we broke up for the Easter holidays, and whilst many of my friends have gone off skiing in sunny Courchevel or Val d’Isere, I’ve been stuck at home in drab England.

On Saturday my mum invited over one of her friends for lunch. It was meant to be a catch up, but turned into one long conversation about Eton, with me in the middle of it. My mum’s friend happens to have a son nearing the end of prep school, at the point of deciding where he wants to go next. So far, he has whittled down his options to Winchester and Eton, but apparently oscillates between the two on a daily basis.

His mum appeared equally undecided. She told me how she had visited both schools, been on tours and everything, but didn’t feel like she had a true idea of either. She therefore bombarded me questions about Eton, hoping for some kind of insider information that might better inform her .

This had me thinking about how future parents are supposed to know what a school is like. The problem with Eton is that, unless you have an old or current boy in the family, the only thing to go on is a very glossy snapshot. When you see gaggles of parents being taken on tours, for instance, it is only the best bits of the school they are shown around. The chapels for example. The theatres. The libraries. But not the uneven fields behind Masters astro. Nor the illicit smoking dens. And certainly not the toilets on my floor on any day of the week!

This is perfectly understandable of course. Eton, as a business, has to sell itself to its consumers. Without the income from boys’ fees, the whole place would soon be history. Which means the school tour is more of a sales pitch than an historical insight, a bid to entice future parents into signing on the dotted line.

As a pupil-to-be you get sucked into this one-sided view too. Eton is all but perfect in your imagination as you prepare for life in F block. Nothing will go wrong, surely. But give it a bit of time, and the varnish begins to slowly peel away. What was once spiffing now has a slightly rough edge to it.

I wonder, for instance, what prospective parents and their sons would make of Judy’s Passage during a change of divs? Shock and horror would be their emotions I imagine. And rightly so. Behind the pleasant-sounding name, and fairly innocuous appearance, Judy’s Passage is a scene of daily violence and pain.

I’m not sure exactly when it was decided upon that an alleyway was needed to connect Common Lane with the Eton Wick Road. Probably sometime during the 19^th century, but whenever it happened, it was surely a most fateful of days.

Like all the best highways or thoroughfares, Judy’s Passage is prone to congestion. Several times a day, hundreds of boys throng it in a bid to reach their next div. It serves all those travelling between the Alington area and James schools, beating any alternative route by several minutes. As the quickest route available, it is the only route available.

Yet what could be so threatening about an alleyway, you are surely thinking? It’s Eton, Berkshire, not Peckham, London. Unless haunted by a phantom, or with a giant manhole in the middle of it, how could it be daunting?

It’s only when you approach Judy’s Passage for the first time, however, that a potential problem arises. It’s narrow. Very narrow. Measure it across and you’ll find only eight feet separating NCSW on the left hand side and RS on the right. When dozens of people use it at the same time, it leaves little room for breathing.

Still, no worse than the tube in rush hour, surely. Pack in close to your friend and you can walk two abreast, with enough space on the other side for another pair travelling in the opposite direction. Just keep walking straight, make sure your elbows are tucked in, and everything will be fine.

This is what an F blocker thinks during his first forays into Judy’s Passage. And indeed, in those early weeks of term it is unlikely anything untoward will happen to him. Why all the fuss he thinks? A false sense of security descends upon him. And at this point Judy’s Passage bites.

It will be a September day. The sun is shining, the air sultry and the thought of football that afternoon in his mind. Alongside him is his friend from English, chatting to him about the latest EW. Life is good.

Then, out of nowhere, like a fly being swatted – BAM! He finds himself thrown into the RS fence! His files scatter. His glasses fly off. His shoulder feels broken. He crumples to the floor, and looks up to see the outline of two C blockers looming over him, laughing as they walk away. What just happened? It takes a moment to realise - as he was walking past these boys one of them barged him violently into the fence. Why, he doesn't know. But it just happened. Welcome to Judy’s Passage! We hope you enjoy your stay!

Everyone remembers their first time. For me, it was a D blocker who did it. I can picture his face now, smirking down at me. Whenever I saw him after that I instinctively shuddered.

For this, I can tell you, is what happens in Judy’s Passage on a daily basis – boys barging into each other, looking to inflict pain and embarrassment, because, well, it’s a laugh. It's savage. It's grotesque. And for the fledgling F blocker, it’s the moment Eton’s myth is dispelled.

You might presume that Judy’s Passage becomes some kind of no-go zone for younger boys. Perhaps it should be, but even if it were made one by the school, no-one would obey it. After all, who can be bothered to go the long way round? Best to take your chances and head down Judy’s.

Of course, getting barged in Judy’s is relatively rare. One in twenty maybe. Still, after that first barge you always approach it with a sense of trepidation. It’s like how Jason and his Argonauts must have felt when facing the huge Symplegades, the narrow cliffs which crushed anything that sailed in between them.

The trick, I believe, for any newbie is to feign indifference, whilst simultaneously being on the lookout. Beware the older boys, especially those in pairs. The most common barging technique is to push into your mate on the inside, who then tumbles into the boys opposite, creating a domino effect. Also, reserve caution for anyone looking vaguely mischievous, or known rogues. This, whilst not ensuring you protection from being hit, can at least prepare you for the collision.

Being in C block now, I thought all the rough and tumble in Judy’s might be a thing of the past for me. Apparently not though. During the last few weeks of term I was barged twice. Twice! To add insult to injury, one of them was from an ugly E blocker who swore at me mid-barge. I'm guessing he thought it was oh so cool mate to barge an older boy, but I can say now categorically that he’ll regret it. Via a bit of nifty detective work I managed to track him down, finding out his name and his house. My revenge, when it arrives, will be in the form of something pleasant left for him in the school post.

Which leads me to one of the pieces of advice I gave to my mum’s friend: ‘Tell your son that if he does go to Eton, be careful of the barging in Judy’s Passage. And be sure not to barge anyone else.’

Not unless he likes receiving poo letters that is, I might have added.