A telescopic legacy

Keith Eyeons (Class of 1989) reveals how the Astronomical Society and a bold Sixth Form escapade left an enduring legacy at Queen Victoria Street.

“I recently had a surprise meeting with my old CLS friend Elliott Grant (Class of 1989), who appeared unexpectedly for a dinner at the Cambridge college where I work. He further surprised me with two pieces of news from a visit to the school. Firstly, that there is still a large telescope installed at the top of the main stairs to the concourse. And secondly, that no one remembers why it is there. I am partly responsible for the telescope being placed there temporarily in 1988, and was amused to discover that I had left more of a lasting mark on the school than I had thought.So I am delighted to take this opportunity to tell the story.

When we moved into the new school building in 1986, all sorts of long-awaited facilities became available, but not every hope was realised. There was, for a time, an ambition to build an astronomical observatory on the roof, extending the reach of the CLS science labs out into the universe. Sadly, the plan was abandoned, perhaps because of planning regulations in the vicinity of the more distinguished dome of St Paul’s, or perhaps because of anxieties about boys roaming the rooftops after dark. Nevertheless, the magnificent antique telescope had already been purchased and was waiting in a shop for its home to be built.

The person responsible was Dr Tim Metham, Chemistry teacher and Master-in-Charge of the Astronomical Society. My friend Julian Hensey and I were the joint Chairmen of the Society in our sixth-form years. Although we enjoyed talking about planets and watching NASA videos in our meetings, we were keen to do some actual observing. So Dr Metham came up with a plan which involved installing the telescope at a school outside London where his wife was working, with the idea that the Astronomical Society would be able to make regular visits and would get the benefit of their darker skies.  This seemed like an excellent idea to me, but the plan was blocked by our Headmaster, Mr Martin Hammond.

In those days, I knew little about the internal politics of institutions, and thought that this must have been a small misunderstanding which I could easily sort out. I went to see Mr Hammond, with a carefully prepared speech in my head. He cut me off abruptly saying, ‘Under no circumstances could I countenance the removal of school property to another location.’ Those words have remained etched on my brain as the definitive demonstration of how to bring a discussion to an immediate halt.

Nevertheless, we were reluctant to abandon our hopes. Mr Hammond’s edict seemed especially unfair because the school property in question was not actually in the school, it was stranded in a shop on the Farringdon Road. So we decided that we should go and fetch it. The telescope has an extremely heavy cast iron stand, making this an ambitious undertaking. Dr Metham borrowed the minibus after school one day, and recruited two porters by promising to buy them beer afterwards. Five of us managed to drag this vast piece of equipment in and out of the minibus and across the school without being spotted by the Headmaster. The closest we came to catastrophe was when the lift objectedto its unusually massive cargo by making anguished creaking noises and flashing red lights at us.

We chose what seemed to be the most prominent empty space in the school for the telescope, in the hope that its jarring presence there might inspire the authorities to find a more suitable place for it: perhaps out at Grove Park or at the City of London Freemen’s School.

Clearly, this plan was a total failure. Instead of feeling inspired to move it, everyone seems soon to have assumed that the telescope was always meant to be there. It cannot be used well for astronomy in that position, but we did manage to get a reasonable view of some tourists at the top of St Paul’s.

Meanwhile, the Astronomical Society bought a much smaller portable telescope, which we were happily able to use outside instead. Then, in the summer of 1989, Julian Hensey and I completed our A levels, and Dr Metham left the school. Mr Hammond left the following year. Our disagreements appear to have soon been forgotten, and the telescope remains serenely in its temporary position.”

Keith (left) and Elliott Grant (Class of 1989) after bumping in to one another in Cambridge, 2025