|
|
It
was different in my day Frank Grimshaw |
|||
| Back
Chapter 10 Chapter 11
|
Introduction ........... My blissful early school life at the Misses Wibberleys’ ‘Friargate House School for Girls and ...... (implied surely on sufferance), Boys to eight years old’ ...... comfortably and unobtrusively situated within the Georgian Terrace on the North side of Friargate, west of the LNER railway station, lasted until I was eight. By then, I was nearly as well an educated girl(!) as the rest of the class. Any juvenile academic ability was equalled by a facility in the more mundane, but thoroughly enjoyable, feminine accomplishments of needlework, knitting, and the basics of culinary art.... I gather I had a desirably light hand with pastry! All indeed would prove of inestimable value during the rest of my life – though of course, in male company, the source of my expertise was never to be divulged! So in 1937, of no surprise to my mentors, as it was the very least they expected even from their ‘boys’, with flying colours I passed the Entrance Exam for Bemrose Grammar School’s Preparatory Form. Mum’s initial choice for my academic career was clearly vindicated. At first, the biggest change was life without girls to look after me! And it was much more formal. At Friar Gate we’d sat on the floor on cushions or wandered round the room to tables when needed. Two teachers were constantly available – a younger one who, from recent experience, anticipated our infant needs, and an older one who could mother us when things went wrong! Now we had our own form classroom with our own desk, traditionally within six rows of five with just strict ‘Miss’ at her desk in front of the blackboard. Beneath the hinged lid of our own desk, we kept our possessions – text books, rapidly-filling exercise books, pen and nibs, pencils, crayons, rubber, and daily till lunchtime, our sandwiches. A weekly-filled ink-pot for our ‘nibbed’ pens was cradled in its round ‘well’ in the right hand top corner... it assumed there were no ‘keggie-handers’ in life! Mr Biro was yet to produce the fool-proof, blot-proof saviour for us all! It would be the fifties before an affordable leak-proof ballpoint dominated the market, courtesy of Papermate and Schaeffer. Lessons now were more structured and in clearly defined subjects. Strict timetables replaced the more flexible nature of the kindergarten. But the eagerness to learn encouraged at Friar Gate remained. I also met farmer’s son John Buxton who would later play such an important role in my life..... A story in itself and subject of my second book! Amongst many new opportunities which delighted me, we had access to the fabulously stocked and impressively oak-shelved School Library to which, under strict supervision, we were allowed once-weekly access. In ‘English’, a ‘compilation book’ from the library was |
recommended to us as a source of examples of different writer’s styles to see which we most enjoyed. It comprised short extracts from many children’s classics and included the opening paragraphs from ‘Swallows and Amazons’. I discovered Arthur Ransome. I wasfascinated by the portrayal of the Swallows assembled on their own ‘Cape Darien’ looking longingly over the lake to ‘Wild Cat’ Island, hoping soon to be allowed alone to sail there to camp. They await their Royal Navy Father’s approval of their request. They see Mother up the meadow waving a piece of paper, and ‘Boy’ Roger ‘sails’ back to get it, nautically tacking back and forth up the hill – and at the same time easing the gradient! The telegram message – ‘Better drowned than Duffers. If not Duffers won’t drown.” – is interpreted by Mother as “Yes”. With the joyous news, he sets off tacking back again, only to be reminded by Mother that he needn’t tack both ways, and can sail ‘goose-winged’ straight back to the others. Their adventure could begin! I was hooked and couldn’t wait to get the whole book and read the rest of the story. That introduction from the school library started a long association with Arthur Ransome (and others) and the adventures of the many children in his books as well as a high regard for the written word! Some of their adventures I would try to emulate later in my life with John on the farm! We were introduced to ‘extra-mural’ school-based activity. With girls no longer ‘ruling the roost’ with their wickedly hurtful hockey, and skilful netball, weekly we played loosely organised games of Football and Cricket. To ensure the School had an annual supply of competent replacements for the ‘Big School’ teams, we, with varying degrees of aptitude, were coached in the ‘outdoor activities’ considered essential for a ‘rounded’ education! I loved it. Never a star, I could still ‘make’ the team and it laid the foundation for a lifetime’s interest in competitive sport. But I couldn’t wait to be a Cub! I’d be able proudly to wear my green jersey and yellow corded quartered green cap, with leather woggle retaining Bemrose School’s definitive maroon with white edged neckerchief of our 55th (Bemrose) Derby Pack. At our weekly meeting, in the garb of Akela, Bagheera and Baloo, unfamiliar ‘Big’ School teachers patiently instilled a Cub’s responsibilities and the rudiments of teamwork. I learnt the Cub Promise and Country Code, how to look after myself in adverse situations, how to perform numerous survival tasks, elementary first aid. How to tie all manner of strangely-named safe knots – bowline and sheepshank, clove hitch and figure-of-eight, all with their specific use and suitable to equip me for any situation. Sadly, the vital Reef Knot – tied behind my back, desperately making sure it wasn’t a Granny – Left over Right and Right over Left... is the only one I can
|
||
