Hey Gedrick, wadderyou mean, you aint seen me in the flesh yet! so how do you know!!!!!
Hey Gedrick, wadderyou mean, you aint seen me in the flesh yet! so how do you know!!!!!
In Mr Whitby,s class I started doing better. English went from me being 18th in class to 4th in class and maths, well I was a right tinhead in arithmetic. I did,nt know my times tables at all except the five times table which was easy. Other subjects I was interested in and not bad at was German language and science. Physical Education was always a nonstarter with me, I was next to useless in the gym and nearly broke my neck trying to do a somersault on the trampoline and I could never get to the end of walking across the beam. Mind you I did get to see the gym teachers naughty bits when he asked me to hold his legs straight whilst showing the class a handstand. Mr Hardon (didn,t) was his name and was small in all senses of the word.
John Schober was one of the young teachers at the time who took us for science and I loved this topic and took a steady interest throughout the four years in school. I think it helped a lot ifyou could get on with the teacher and liked them and not be scared of them like Ted Makin in the third year. Uncle Ronnie warned me about him. He was a very strict teacher who liked to use the cane a lot and put the fear of God into his pupils.
It was after the summer of 1966 that we were all dreading going back to school to be in Ted,s class. Ted the Terrible, a slight balding man with a half halo of slipped hair round his neck who always wore the same blue suit since we started school till we finished four years later. We were all trembling as we went into class for the first time and we were still trembling when we left for the last time a year later. I got caned a few times in his class but he instilled in me a sort of discipline that at least made me learn my times table and get even better English results.
Life was pretty grim in this period. I couldn,t bring any friends back to our house with the state it was in and they wouldn,t have been allowed in anyway. Any bonds I had made with other pupils had to be either in school and remain in school or go to their house or back to Heyworth Street School,s play centre and socialise there instead.
We started going on trips out in the third year. One day we went to see "The Mikado" operetta in the Royal Court Theatre which not only got us out of the stuffy classroom but showed us a bit of culture of Japan. It turned out to be a very enjoyable day out by me anyway. Most of the other lads didn,t appreciate it as it didn,t have a football in it, or was too prissy, but I followed it quite well and was uplifted by it at the end. I can still remember songs from it now. We went twice I think it was to the Philharmonic Hall to hear various pieces from Mozart and Strauss of which I can,t possibly remember now as classical music always put me to sleep. I,ve got a note that we also visited the Everyman Theatre but can not remember what iconic play we went to see there.
It was the summer of that year that I had saved up enough money from my weekend job as a greengrocery delivery boy at the corner shop of May Dreaper and Harry Howarth, and was allowed to go on the schools summer camp to the Isle of Man. Oh what a trip, I,d never been away from Liverpool up till then and was looking forward to it immensely. I had to buy a tin mug and plate, get a sleeping bag and have fresh clothes to wear.
The day arrived and I was excited as anything, like a kid with a new puppy ready to go on my big adventure to a foreign land, away from home for the first time, what a thrill. The trip over on the Manx Maid was brilliant, no land for hours and a tuck shop on board where there was sweets galore and fizzy drinks. The voyage was like a holiday in itself. A team of staff and lads had gone over the week before to set up camp in a field outside Peel and it was all ready for us when we arrived after getting a bus from Douglas. We were allocated a huge bell tent for about eight or ten of us, and the fun just begun.
I remember the stream where we were to wash in the morning and swim if we could stand the cold running water, the hot mugs of cocoa or drinking chocolate on alternative nights before we settled down for bed, the comraderie with the rest of the boys from the whole school and not just our class, the teachers in their mufti and being civil to us although still clearly in authority, the laughter and tears, the adventures, the days out to see Radio Caroline transmitting illegally in "foreign" waters, The Laxey Wheel, the Calf of Man, Castletown, Snaefell the highest hill on the isle and many more memories of delightful times that come to mind every now and again.
And then there was the bad times.
One of my pals fell over his suitcase and the lock on it cut open his right shoulder ripping his skin wide open and revealing white muscle underneath, yak. He had to be whisked away to hospital right away to be stitched up and made better. It didn,t ruin his holiday though as he was a bright and cheerful soul who grinned it away and got right back into his holiday.
Then there was the night someone in the tent was telling jokes and making fun of the teachers. In the middle of one really dirty joke that a big hairy hand came into the tent from under the flaps and grabbed hold of my head and shouting "Got yer, it,s you, get out now!" everyone fell silent and I got up in me birthday suit and went outside. (well where was I going to get a pair of pyjamas, me who never even had underpants because my gran was so poor) I was asked was it me who was telling filthy jokes to which I relied the negative, so the whole tent had to parade outside till the joker owned up. He or they never did so we all got whacked with a rubber pump or plimsole across the bum and went back to our sleeping bags and never uttered another word that night.
The last bad thing or blot on the holiday was when a group of us went into Peel and visited the castle. Some of the group were rambling over the cliffs and some were swimming and mucking about. One of the lads, George Taylor got into difficulties on the rocks climbing onto a rock near to the cliff. He couldn,t get from the rock back to the cliff and the tide was gushing in all around him, he was scared and began to cry. Some other lads were trying to help but they too were beginning to get scared because of the oncoming gushing swirling current just below them. I was high above them and shouted that I would run for help but fear had gripped me on the cliff and found it very difficult to pull myself up off the cliff to the top. I had frozen in a panic and was mortified that my arms and legs were stuck in fright. I looked at the three boys on the cliff, I looked at the swirling waters, I looked at George in mortal fear and I dragged myself up with all my joints clenched in fear and lay on top of the cliff in relief. After a few seconds I got up and ran, but stopped after a shout from below, "He,s done it, he,s o.k." Crickey I was relieved, but not as relieved as those three lads climbing back up from the cliff and out of danger.
Nothing was said about the incident back at camp, but the following school term there was stories and jokes about it for a few weeks untill we knuckled down into our final year. The last year in school then we would be free to go out into the big wide world and join the workforce and be men.
Chippy,you're a natural born story teller, I was stuck on that rock face with you ,no shame in being scared ,we're all that at times . Keep it up!
Cheers,
BrianD
Now Philip I might have expected that from you, but thanks for the comment and you Karen, my mentor Brian, and Tony and Lindy. I am pleased the way the whole thing is going at the moment. Looks like one more year to go at school and then I have to continue and finish my life story on another channel after all the filth in my childhood, here is even more filth to come. But enough of me visiting massage parlours, ha ha. It was a joke, honest!
The feedback gives me more confidence to do more thank you all. I wonder is Mrs ChrisGeorge still reading it or has her pinz nez clouded up!
Cheers all. xxx
Last edited by chippie; 01-16-2008 at 10:18 PM. Reason: name change
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Thank you for the 'walk to school' Your story has been very moving. I was in the Olive Mount hospital in 1945 and I remember the little cottages there with children 'who had no family' as I was told.
Chippie,
I enjoyed your work. You write with honesty, which is a joy to read.
Ed
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