My Sixth Form house master at Pierrepont.
Lawrence Treeby was my Sixth Form house master from 1981 to 1983 at Pierrepont School in the small hamlet of Frensham, near Farnham, Surrey, England. He struck me as frightfully British, what with his accent, the mannerisms, and his fondness for his pipe which all combined to give him lasting character, so it was in a good sort of way.
I’m sure Lawrence didn’t quite know what to make of me at times, and I didn’t always agree with his decisions and conclusions, but with me having arrived at Pierrepont after four years of boarding school in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, I felt I deserved to let loose a bit.
I’ve a few stories where Lawrence is concerned. For instance one frosty night a Waterloo boy asked if I wanted to go to the pub (the school was divided into various houses, and though I resided in Sixth Form house I was a member of Waterloo for purposes of house competitions and responsibilities). I said sure, but since the Mariners, conveniently located across from the school, was off-limits we had to walk a mile or two to a different pub where we successfully consumed a few pints before heading back.
While we walked along the main road a car came along at just at the wrong moment. Like a deer in the headlights I froze as the car passed by, the driver staring at me in disbelief. I prayed for a miracle that he hadn’t seen me.
Shortly after I got back, Lawrence summoned me to his study. “Have you been out this evening?” he asked.
Hoping to bluff my way through without lying I said yes, that I’d been over at Waterloo house.
“No,” he replied. “I mean have you been outside the school grounds?”
There was no way out. I was caught. “Yes,” I said.
“And where did you go?”
“For a walk.”
“For a walk? Where?”
I eyed him wondering if he was being serious.
He stared right through me waiting for my answer.
With all hopes of a stalemate gone, I replied,“To the pub.”
“For what?”
What? Why else would I be at the pub except to imbibe in some trouble? But in that moment I wondered if he was giving me some way out that I didn’t see. I replied, “A couple of pints.”
Lawrence didn’t get angry, nor did he ask who I was with. Instead, he recited what sounded like a prepared admonishment, restricted me to school grounds until that Friday which, coincidently, was when I always went into Farnham to resupply, and sent me on my way.
Lawrence played an important part in my life at Pierrepont, and I have to be honest and say it wasn’t always favorable. But that’s the nature of authority, isn’t it? And yet he did the best he could in keeping me thinking straight, at least straight enough not to blow it.
I’ve often thought of Lawrence over the years and fortunately had an opportunity to speak with him when I visited my Waterloo house master, Richard “Budgie” Burgess, during a trip to Farnham back in 2001. Lawrence sounded as strong and as British as ever.
On September 23, 2010, Lawrence Neilson Treeby succumbed to cancer; leukemia I’m told. He was only 73, the same age my mom was when she died of lung cancer in 2002. He’d been diagnosed in late April and spent much of the summer as a patient at the Royal Marsden Hospital. But after he’d been told treatment had been unsuccessful, Lawrence opted to go home where he passed away peacefully.
I am glad I knew him even if only briefly.
Just found your comments about Lawrence Treeby. I found him a very inspirational teacher who helped develop my enjoyment of history.
Before he moved on to Pierrepoint School he was my history teacher at Liverpool College Upper School until his departure. This I understand had something to do with a disagreement with the poor head teacher we had at Liverpool College at time in the 1970s.
Lawrence’s wife, Penny, also worked at the Liverpool College and taught me Geography in my first year in the Lower School