I have good reason to remember, vividly, my first day as Head of Chichele School. Although I was to come to know, over the next few years, the vagaries of the springs and drainage on the school site, I was almost literally "thrown in at the deep end" that day. As the caretaker led me round the corner of the main building, I was greeted with the sight of a number of mobile classrooms rising from a gleaming lake, like large grey whales that had inadvertently entered shallow water. I cannot recall clearly how the staff and I tackled the logistics of housing the dispossessed classes, but it served to break the ice and by the time the day's final bell rang I felt quite at home.

That feeling of being "at home" and at ease lasted for the rest of my time at Chichele. Of course, we had our ups and downs, what school doesn't, but there was a fundamental stratum of friendliness that permeated all aspects of school life. I had inherited a very sound establishment from my predecessor and it was my task to build on those foundations. Gradually the intake numbers rose and, at the other end of the age range, it was very satisfying to watch the combined Sixth Form numbers more than quadruple over the years. When the first girl left to read civil engineering, traditionally seen as a masculine domain, I felt that the pupils had come to accept that, with hard work and dedication, there was nothing they couldn't achieve.

Today's emphasis on examination results, testing and league tables, however worthy the aim, fails to give a balanced view of any school. Luckily, I had no reason to be dissatisfied with the results obtained by Chichele students at all levels; but it was the efforts made by staff and girls in other aspects of school life that made it such a stimulating and pleasant place for pupils, staff, parents and visitors.

Who can forget the beautiful art work - pictures, pottery, textiles and jewellery - that graced the entrance hall and walls throughout the building? There must be a great many homes, locally and farther afield, whose record collection contains the two LPs made by the Chichele choir, or the tape of the Royal Albert Hall concert in which the girls participated. There are, I am sure, many parents who still remember their freezing feet and glowing hearts as they watched their daughters, together with the boys of Oundle School, give a splendid performance of The Dream of Gerontis' in Peterborough Cathedral. Music was an ever-present element in the school, from the rousing rendition of hymns at morning assembly, to the numerous successes at the local eisteddfods. Until I joined the staff of Chichele I had, like many teachers, suffered some agonising recorder recitals, only there did I come to appreciate the full range and beauty of the instrument.

Superb plays from the Drama Department; success on the hockey field, netball court, athletics track and field and even, at one point, in a five-a-side football match; succulent meals prepared under the guidance of the Home Economics staff; trips aboard, organised by the Languages Department, where, because of their exemplary behaviour and distinctive blazer, the girls were often deemed to have come from a private school. The list is endless of the times I was filled with pleasure and pride, there was no department that did not add to the overall good standing of the school.

Chichele School no longer exists and soon its name will be completely unknown to coming generations of pupils; but it would be a pity if the people of Rushden were to forget completely a school that did its best to broaden the horizons of its girls and to help them realise their full potential. It still inhabits a corner of my heart and, in this, I trust I am not alone.