PARK GROVE FIRE REMEMBERED: 'A night burnt into my memory'

SOMETIMES it takes a question from a 10 year old to finally put everything in perspective.

I’m facing a class of them at Park Grove School, the York primary that burned down in a spectacular blaze 20 years ago, and one of them just asked a question that made my neck hairs stand on end.

The fire is the reason I’m here. In 1997, on the February night when an electrical fault sparked the fire that consumed the heart of Park Grove, I was the young Press reporter on the scene.

Arriving around midnight, I watched as the first visible flames that appeared at the school’s windows become giant plumes of orange billowing into the sky.

It was a heartbreaking sight. I remember being awestruck by the scale of the both the destruction and the responsibility of reporting it.

I remember Mike Tipping, the laconic Press photographer whose images captured the drama of the night for the front page of the next day’s newspaper, giving me some characteristically pithy advice: “Big story this one. You should probably call the editor and let her know.”

And when the dozens of firefighters had done their work and extinguished the flames, I remember being led by one of them into the ruined school to inspect the damage.

That was my final glimpse of Park Grove — a charred skeleton, reeking of smoke and dripping from the gallons of water pumped into its blazing heart. A bleak sight.

Firefighters battling to control the flames

I trudged back to the Press newsroom to file my reports, and then home to bed. In the days, weeks and months that followed, other colleagues picked up the story of the school as it scrambled to find emergency classrooms and teaching equipment for its children.

By the time the school was rebuilt, I’d already left York for London — an ambitious reporter lured by the big city and promise of adventures that inspired me to become a journalist in the first place. In subsequent years I went on to work in far-flung places like China, Afghanistan, Iraq and Indonesia.

I never forgot about the school and the fire though. It remains one of the most extraordinary stories I’ve worked on. The sight of the school’s Victorian architecture silhouetted against the flames is seared into my memory.

And, it seems, Park Grove hasn’t forgotten me.

When the Press re-printed some of my old stories to mark the recent anniversary of the fire, teachers at the school used them as study aids, encouraging the children to write poems based on my feverish descriptions of the night.

This, says teacher Deborah Carr-Brion, whose own experiences as a staff member at the time of the fire inspired her to organise the poetry project, prompted a rather blunt line of inquiry from one pupil.

“Is Barry Neild still alive?”

Still alive - Barry Neild (left) with children from Park Grove School and teacher Deborah Carr-Brion (right)

A few Facebook queries later, Mrs Carr-Brion established that I was, at the ripe old age of 46, still breathing and still a journalist, now working in London for an American news network.

We exchanged a few messages and, having piqued my interest in the children’s poetry, she sent me some examples of their work -– incredibly inventive pieces that vividly brought the emotions of the night back to life.

Some dramatised the moment when the school’s then-headteacher Andrew Calverley, rushed towards the fire, crying out in horror -- a moment memorably photographed by Mike Tipping.

Another poem saw the events from the perspective of the fire itself: “A sudden burst of life hits me, and, with darkness and hatred in my heart, I attach myself to the nearest brick and begin my dastardly work…”

Head teacher Andrew Calverley on the night of the fire

Most news reports are fleeting things, evaporating within hours of being written. To have one of mine revived after 20 years in such a wonderful way was an unexpectedly uplifting experience.

Not only because of the significance the Park Grove School fire in my journalistic career, but also because the children’s work for me marked a renewed connection with York – the city I grew up in.

I spent my formative years in the York suburb of Dringhouses, attending a primary school that was designed by celebrated local architect Walter Henry Brierley, the man who also created Park Grove’s distinctive redbrick structure.

So, when the invitation comes to head back to York to meet the children who’d been writing the poems, I jump at the chance.

I enjoy a fascinating day reacquainting myself with Park Grove School. The structure I last saw as a ravaged skeleton is now a beautiful, light-filled atrium that looks as modern as Brierley’s design must’ve when the school opened in 1895.

I meet the young poets: Laura, 10; Mollie, 11; Annabelle, 10; Elle, 11; Oscar, 11; and Beatrice, 10. We discuss how they decided to, as Annabelle put it, “magpie” my reports for descriptive language to bring the scene to life.

“It was very cool because everybody tried a different thing,” Annabelle tells me. “Some tried writing from the point of view of a fireman, or from Mr. Calverley’s view point or from the fire’s.”

Elle adds: “I liked how we had to recreate the atmosphere, like Mr. Calverley putting his head in his hands, and imagine what it was like for the people who were there.”

Then I spend time with larger groups of children, talking about the night of the fire and my career as a globetrotting journalist – and answering a lot of incredibly good questions.

Including the one from a 10-year-old boy that stops me in my tracks: “What part of your career would you like to go back and do all over again?”

My first response is working in Afghanistan in 2002 and 2003 after the fall of the Taliban – an exciting time in a magical country during which I met my future wife.

Then I think harder, and the actual answer takes me by surprise: My time working as a reporter in York.

Because this question has made me realise that, driven as I was by my ambitions to leave York and see the world, I didn’t made the most of my time here. And it was only once I was out in the world that I really began to fully appreciate where I was from.

Of course, I wouldn’t like to go back and see Park Grove School burn down all over again, but just as the fire helped create the fantastic place that the school is today, it’s also helped shape my career and yet still keep me connected to a city I’m immensely proud to call home.