As Annemount celebrates its 90th year, a former pupil and parent shares her family’s story of three generations at the school.

Annemount has been a magical thread running through my family for three generations.

My uncle Peter was among the first children to join the school when it opened, followed by my mum, Wendy, who vividly remembers celebrating the Queen’s Coronation as a pupil. Twenty-something years later it was my turn, closely followed by my brother Perry. Eventually the third generation arrived, perfectly turned out in little blue uniforms, in the shape of my now-teenage sons, Oscar and Zac.

Each of us has our own treasured memories of the school. In my day, it was the garden where imagination ran riot: sailing away in the wooden boat with my friends, or searching for fairies amongst the foxgloves. For my boys, the pleasures were more prosaic: pushing their thumbs into the soil to grow vegetables, whilst trying to avoid the woodlice.

Of course, what stays with you most are the people. My teachers, Miss Hearst and Miss Suzanne, even came to my birthday parties. For Oscar and Zac, after nursery with the wonderful Miss Maureen, Mr Griffin became a truly life-changing teacher, mentor and friend. He took the time to understand them, unlocked their potential and believed in them, and, best of all, handed out Tube maps as rewards.

It will come as no surprise that culture is shaped from the top. During my mum’s time, and later my own, the school was led by Miss Jamaiker: a diminutive force of nature who lived upstairs and drove a tiny brown car in which she was barely visible above the steering wheel. By the time my boys arrived, it was the incomparable Miss Geraldine, standing at the door each morning, rain or shine, to greet every child with a handshake and a smile.

It seems extraordinary that in ninety years the school has had only two Heads. I have no doubt that Annemount’s traditional yet timeless values are what have given it such enduring appeal, providing a reassuring sense of continuity and community in a little house in Hampstead Garden Suburb, while the world beyond has changed almost beyond recognition.

Now aged 15 and 16, Oscar and Zac still return whenever they can, and this year’s fête was no exception. My 80-year-old mum came too and, astonishingly, bumped into a former classmate she hadn’t seen in over seventy years.

That’s Annemount. A warm hug. A familiar face. A place that gives children the safest and most nurturing start in life. Somewhere you can return to after seventy years and still feel exactly the same extraordinary sense of love and belonging that you felt on the first day you walked through the blue front door at 18 Holne Chase.