Dear Prince George,
A quick warning before you step through the gates: the Burning Bush is not ablaze, and it is not a shrub either. It is a lamppost outside the School Library. Judy’s Passage and Nolan’s Crack are not cheeky innuendoes, but handy routes leading to the English and Maths departments.
And The Bill has nothing to do with settling accounts. At Eton College, it means the roster of boys due to face discipline from the Deputy Headmaster, known as the “Lower Man”, who might decide to hand you a “Georgic” — the punishment of copying out 500 lines of Latin hexameter.
Still, there is no need to be too alarmed. When you arrive today for your first day at Eton, joining around 250 other 13-year-old boys, this famously unusual school will seem strange to every newcomer. Whether a pupil has grown up in a palace, a country house or a council flat, Eton is very much its own universe.
Naturally, some traditions have faded since I first arrived in 1981. In those days, “capping” was still part of daily life — boys would lift a finger in salute to masters they passed outdoors, a lingering echo of the old custom of tipping one’s top hat.
Yet for all the changes, much of Eton has deliberately and proudly endured. That is why every new Etonian must tackle the Colours Test, a detailed examination of his grasp of school life, from the names of historic buildings to the 25 house colours, flags and, inevitably, the highly particular language of Eton itself.
You will quickly discover that teachers are “beaks”, classes are “divs”, weekends spent at home are “short leave”, and the three terms — Michaelmas, Lent and Summer — are known as “halfs”. A mid-morning snack is “chambers”, the mid-afternoon meal is “mess”, and the evening gathering is called “prayers”, though religion is not especially central to it.
“College” refers not to the whole school, but specifically to the house for the roughly 50 scholars. The rest of the boys are “Oppidans”. Agars and Dutchman’s are playing fields. Dry Bobs are those who pursue land-based sports such as cricket, while Wet Bobs are the rowers.
‘When you arrive for your first day at Eton College today, along with 250 other 13-year-old boys, this most extraordinary of schools will feel foreign to you all’, writes Will Nutting
Fourth of June is a major celebration of George III’s birthday but is almost never actually held on June 4. A Keeper is the captain of a sport or club. Pop are prefects. A Reader is when a boy doesn’t have a div. And so it goes on. But don’t worry, because by Long Leave, it’ll all feel perfectly natural. Long Leave is half term.
Etonspeak is a language of its own; you will soon be fluent and it will never leave you.
You will be joining F Block, known as Year 9 to the rest of the country. All being well you will progress up the alphabet each year to B Block. As you come to terms with this new world, lean on the experience of the older boys, especially those in your house – after all, they’ve been through it all themselves. Respect ‘block priority’. The archaic practice of ‘fagging’ in which younger boys acted as servants to older boys, even warming their loo seat, may have been abolished, but F Block is still expected to show reverence to their elders and carry out chores including delivering newspapers and cleaning the B Block common room known as Library.
You will already have had your uniform fitted at one of the three tailors on the High Street: Tom Brown, Billings And Edmonds or New & Lingwood. Never annoy your tailor. They’ll come to your aid when you lose yet another collar stud.
Tourists will take pictures of you in uniform. Not because you’re heir to the throne, but because you’re dressed like a penguin in a black tailcoat and waistcoat, pinstriped trousers and a stiff collar you attach to the shirt with two fiddly studs.
Ascend to a position of authority in your final year and you’ll be able to wear stick-up collars and maybe even a coloured waistcoat and different trousers along with a bow tie, too.
People will mock your uniform. But traditions matter. Not because they are old, but because they connect people who otherwise would never meet. Enjoy them without becoming impressed by them. Wear the uniform. Do not let the uniform wear you. Every boy is assigned a house. There are 25 houses, each with around 50 students, ten in each Block. The House is led by the House Master. Listen and respect him, even when you believe he is wrong. For many years later, you’ll realise he’s seen it all before and was probably right all along.
Keep your bedroom clean or endure the wrath of the Dame, who looks after the pastoral side of the house. Never mistake the Dame’s inquiries for nagging, for when everything feels like it’s going wrong and you miss home, she’ll be the one to comfort you.
Your house is your home. You will do almost everything with those nine other boys in your year, including sports. On which note, try the Wall Game once, a violent rugby scrum against a wall, but beware it is within the rules to scrape your opponent’s face against the brickwork.
Play the Field Game, a cross between rugby and football, not only because it’s enormous fun but because – except for some POW camps during the war – it’s never been played elsewhere.
It doesn’t matter whether you were raised in a castle or a council flat, Eton is a world unto itself
Throw yourself into some of the 80 clubs on offer, known as ‘societies’, which are run by boys and bring in some of the best speakers in the world on topics from sport to politics, theatre, engineering and design. Don’t fail the swimming test in your first week – when new boys are thrown into the pool fully clothed.
If you drown, you will be forbidden from rowing on Dorney Lake, which was used for the 2012 London Olympics.
Tread the boards in the 400-seater Farrer Theatre – where Damian Lewis, Eddie Redmayne and Tom Hiddleston took to the stage as schoolboys – make noise in the professionally kitted-out recording studio and don’t spend too much time in Tap – Eton’s boys-only pub for sixth formers.
Its ancestry stretches back to a Victorian cellar club in which boys were initiated by drinking from a yard glass.
Back in my day, Bulmers, Brew XI and Pils could be combined into something exceptionally fierce, and exceptionally unwise. That particular horror may have disappeared, but its lesson remains: what is permitted and what is sensible are not always the same thing.
Work hard in your ‘divs’ and at least make an effort with Latin and Ancient Greek, for you’ll quickly realise this is where everything else begins. While good work is praised generously, bad work results in a ‘rip’ in which the beak will literally rip your paper in two.
Don’t be late to lessons or you’ll be placed on Tardy, meaning you’ll have to get up early and report to the College Porter, likely missing out on the best of the bacon in the school dining hall, known as Bekynton.
Above all, learn to think for yourself. Read beyond the syllabus. Listen carefully to people with whom you disagree. Beaks at Eton will regularly set homework – known as EW – which has no bearing whatsoever on the GCSE or A-level syllabus. One day you will realise this was the whole point of going to Eton in the first place.
They say the Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing fields of Eton. Whatever battles you face in your life, your ability to meet them will in no small part be defined by what you take from the next five years.
Make friends. Make mistakes. Laugh at yourself and laugh with others. Write home to your mum and dad. They will miss you more than they will ever let on.
Eton began as a place intended to educate poor scholars. Remember that. Being fortunate is not something for which to feel guilty. It is something for which to feel responsible.
And if the collar feels unbearably stiff on the first morning, remember that thousands of boys before you thought exactly the same thing.
Good luck, Will.
Will Nutting is the founder and CEO of Nutstuff, a no-nonsense, investment newsletter read by leading fund managers and investment advisers.
