Orwell High School
Originally written in March 2014 for the now-defunct Suffolk Sports Forum | Format updated May 2025
School rivalries are a staple of youth. From the hallowed halls of Eton vs Westminster to the fictional feuds of Grange Hill vs Brookdale or Hogwarts vs Durmstrang, the idea of competing institutions is rooted in both pride and mischief.
In Felixstowe, it was Orwell vs Deben. The two secondary schools sat at opposite ends of the town, named after Suffolk’s great rivers. In 2011, they merged to form Felixstowe Academy, and with the opening of a new purpose-built campus, the old buildings were set to close—Orwell for demolition, Deben’s fate undecided.
To mark the end of an era, the school organised a farewell event, giving former pupils a final chance to walk the corridors one last time. It was a chance for nostalgia, reconnection, and reflection. What happened next, unfortunately, turned into a cautionary tale.
From Fond Memories to Fire Alarms
The open evening at Orwell School started as intended. Hundreds of ex-students arrived, swapping stories, taking photos, and reminiscing over misspelled Facebook posts (yes, reminiscing really was the most butchered word of the weekend). Friendships were rekindled, classrooms re-explored, and for a brief moment, the spirit of the past was alive.
But then, predictably, it took a turn.
Photos emerged of former pupils smoking indoors, graffitiing walls, and triggering fire alarms—either manually or via the smoke itself, depending on which social media story you read. Emergency services were called, and the event was cut short.
Rumours spread like wildfire—gas taps turned on and lit, altercations with staff and students, and even assaults. While many of these claims remain unconfirmed, the confirmed damage was significant enough: lewd drawings, vandalism, and actual coursework belonging to current students destroyed.
The fallout was swift. The planned open evening for Deben School was immediately cancelled.
Who’s to Blame?
Some have criticised the school for poor planning, suggesting they underestimated the potential response. But that’s nonsense. Whether one person showed up or 1,000, the expectation was simple: behave like responsible adults.
“It’s being knocked down, so what’s the harm?” was a common comment on Facebook. The harm is this: the building was still in use. Hundreds of children still attended classes in those rooms, and now had to work amidst the smell of smoke, scorched books, and crude graffiti. These pupils—who already face more scrutiny than they deserve—were left cleaning up a mess created not by youth, but by adults who should have known better.
This wasn’t teenage rebellion. This was grown adults acting like entitled vandals, forgetting that memory lane isn’t an excuse to torch the place on the way out.
Where Was I? Not There.
No, I didn’t attend. Having seen photos of groups gathering at pubs as early as 2pm, I had a gut feeling things wouldn’t end well. After a long work shift, I opted for a quiet night and dinner instead. By the time I’d finished my meal, the whole thing had already spiralled out of control.
I haven’t included any unverified claims in this article. Only confirmed reports are cited. Social media rumour mills are bad enough without adding fuel to them.
My Time at Orwell
I went to Orwell. I have close friends to this day who shared that time with me. Any failures in my education were mine alone. I could have done more, aimed higher, tried harder. But I didn’t. And I don’t blame my teachers or the school. I made my choices—and I live with them.
That’s part of growing up.
A Final Thought
People often complain about Felixstowe—that there’s nothing here, that it’s the town’s fault. But have you ever considered that maybe… it’s not Felixstowe that’s the problem? Maybe it’s you.
We’re all entitled to our opinions. That’s the beauty of life. You don’t have to agree with mine. But if you do attend public events, and you’re supposed to be an adult, then act like one.