What I
wish to talk about in this blog is actually about school days. Were
they really as good or as bad as you remember them? Were you the cool
kid, or were you the punch bag and butt of all jokes?
Did
Monday mornings strike fear into your heart? Or did you plan all
weekend for Monday mornings?
I had
the strange experience of visiting my old junior school lately. I, in
my capacity of superstar writer visited as many schools as possible
in one day for children in need. My junior school, St Joseph's, in
Huddersfield, was one of them. I was shocked how small it was. I
suppose like all things as you get bigger your past gets smaller.
I have
to say that I loved being at school when I was at the juniors. I can
even remember my teachers, which is strange, because I often can't remember
people I met last week. Mr
Bowland Lee, Mr Dunkley; Miss Benzy was the teacher all the lads
fancied. But I loved Miss Kennedy. She was small, sweet and had the
patience of a million mortals. I wonder what happened to her? I was
an 'A' grade student until leaving junior school Then I don't know if
it was the hormones or sexually repressed nuns that finally put me
off school for life!
From my
very first day at secondary school I knew that school was no longer
for me. I was never bullied, owing to my love of fighting and my
psychotic tendencies. But I hated how impersonal and cold secondary
school was. We were taught by nuns. Some were evil, and I used to think,
'For Christ's sake just have sex, get it over and done with, and leave
me alone!' They loved to torture. One little bundle of joy who always
reminded me of a cricket ball because of her rotund figure and
leathery skin, actually stuck a compass through the hand of my friend
for writing on his desk. He told his father what had happened and
instead of a lawsuit he received a slap around the head and was told
to behave in future! I hated RE and was often told by one of the nuns
who I always suspected of actually being a man in drag, that I was
nothing more than a 'heathen child'! She/he was accurate in this
description, as whatever belief I may have had previously, they beat it out of me,
along with the love of learning. But fortunately for me, unfortunately for other schools they kicked me out, and I moved on to a different school.
I do
look back at my school days with a lot of affection, though, mainly because I
never went after the age of thirteen. The hormones also gave me a
superiority complex which caused my to think there was nothing anyone
could actually teach me! My wife claims that I haven't changed! I
loved history and I was designed for PE. I did however want to do
cookery. I know it's not known by this title now but that's how it was
known when I was a kid. I was told that this subject was for girls
only and that I should do metal work! I didn't, and still don't
see the point of this. I learned to make a small garden trowel. Now,
as an adult, I could plant dandelions in the most fertile of valleys
and they would refuse to grow. I have never ever had the urge to run
out and purchase a forge and scrap metal to fashion myself a small
gardening implement, but I have, however, had the urge to eat since
leaving school! What a waste of everyone's time. I now sell recipes
to various people and have a few published in books too. But as of
yet, there is no sign of any metal work projects on the horizon.
I know
it's common for people to claim that they are crap at maths, and I'm
quite good at the basic four: adding, subtracting, times, and
dividing. But what the hell is algebra about? I seriously don't
understand it! Because I visit schools on a regular basis now,. I have
made friends with quite a lot of teachers. Some maths teachers have
tried to help me with my lack of understanding, but alas to no avail.
I just don't get it. I am quite embarrassed about this, as it seems
that I have some sort of mental block over the subject.
I
hardly remember any teachers from secondary school. Except for Mr
Howe, who was my English teacher. I wrote about him in my book The
Man In The Skirt. My publishers said at the time that I should get
in touch with him to see that he was OK with it. I didn't know where
he lived and he had retired from work. So I asked my brother if he
knew where he drank. The plan was that my wife and I would meet with
my brother and his wife in the town centre, have a meal then go to
the pub where we believed he frequented. When my wife and I got on
the bus to go to town, I went to pay the fare and my wife sat down. I walked on and sat with my wife, who was laughing. She, too,
had gone to the same school as me, so she knew Harry Howe. I asked
what she was laughing at and she pointed to the seat next to us. By
such a strange coincidence he was actually sitting on the seat next to us
how's that for strange. He didn't remember me (I didn't go to school
often enough) but he was cool with being in the book.
This I
suppose brings me full circle, as when I did the Children in Need
event, I visited a secondary school and the lady that had booked me to
go in was actually Harry's daughter in law!
Strange old world, isn't
it?
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