大象传媒

I played a game of two balls against the garden wall. It began fairly simply throwing the balls alternately and catching them then progressed through more complicated manoeuvres from grades of one to ten. I remember nines consisted of throwing the ball against the wall from behind your back and twisting full circle before catching it. I rarely managed to get beyond nines. It was an ideal game for a lonely girl and so was my swing which dad had made me for my fifth birthday. I would show-off when friends came to play performing tricks on my swing.

Mother鈥檚 old clothesline was great for attracting a crowd to play skipping. We would string it across the rise and all skip together singing 鈥淎ll in together girls, this fine weather girls, when I count to twenty this rope should be empty, one ,two, three, four鈥� and so on until someone inevitable snagged the rope and it would all begin again. Then we would play higher and higher. Starting with the rope on the ground we would all jump over. The rope would be raised higher and higher until no one could jump over it. Then the two holding the rope would swap with two more and have a go themselves.

There were seasons for games according to the time of year. Shrove Tuesday would see the beginning of whip and top, then came skipping ropes, battledore and shuttlecock and rubber balls. The boys liked cigarette cards and snobs. All these would appear in the local sweet shop as if by magic at different times. With the war they became scarce so we had to take good care of our toys and bring them out and revive them. Whips were re-strung and the tops revived with coloured chalks and drawing pins which looked pretty when spun. I could keep a top spinning for a long time and sometimes made it leap in the air. They weren鈥檛 called window breakers for nothing!

In the early days of 1943 the war seemed never-ending. News was bad, food and fuel were scarce. Fortunately we had one thing that was guaranteed to cheer us up and that was the radio.

There were some wonderful programmes and I would rush home from school to listen to 鈥淐hildren鈥檚 Hour鈥�. I remember Uncle Mac and Uncle David two of the presenters and a particular favourite Romany. Romany gave talks about the countryside and I would lose myself listening to him talking about flowers and animals and people who inhabited and worked in the country. I would be far away from the war and all its horrors. I would be allowed to stay up and listen to grown-up programmes like 鈥淢onday Night at 8 o clock鈥� which always started with the jingle 鈥淚t鈥檚 Monday night at 8 o clock, oh can鈥檛 you hear the chimes? It鈥檚 telling you to take an easy chair, to settle by your fireside look at your radio times, for Monday night at 8 is on the air鈥�. Then there was ITMA which was short for 鈥� It鈥檚 that man again鈥�. The man was Tommy Handley and the programme was a laugh from start to finish, peppered with characters like Mrs.Mopp who always introduced herself by saying 鈥淐an I do you now sir?鈥�,and a Colonel who was always tipsy and said in a slurred voice 鈥淚 don鈥檛 mind if I do鈥�.

Life went on, but in spite of mum鈥檚 and Kathleen鈥檚 efforts to be with me as much as possible, I spent long hours by myself and often got into trouble. I had a bad temper and argued with my sister and was unpleasant to my brother Eddie鈥檚 friends. I tried going to a number of Sunday Schools at this time but not for long. Then I joined the Brownies which were run by two friends of my mum鈥檚. They were very kind to me and I would meet them at their house and then we would walk to St. Catherine鈥檚 church hall on St.Ann鈥檚 Well Road. Later on Kathleen helped with the group and eventually became Brown Owl. I enjoyed the Brownies and with the influence of this wonderful group and the kindnesses of Miss Wood and her sister I began to calm down. When later on I was entered for the Entrance Examination to the Nottingham Bluecoat School I believe the connection with this church was a help. Kathleen and Bob had gone to the Bluecoat School and had been able to go because of the family connection with St. Mary鈥檚 Church, Nottingham. At one time St.Mary鈥檚 church had six members of my family in the church choir and my mother and my sister and myself were regular attenders. Bishop Talbot was a good friend to our family. This was before the war and before my dad was killed, but after that my mum stopped going as she couldn鈥檛 bear to be there and not see my dad in the choir, she said it was too painful. The choir was much reduced with members leaving to join the armed forces, which left only two members of my family in the choir 鈥� my grandfather and my uncle Percy. Kathleen went when she could but it became more and more difficult during the war.

The Bluecoat School was a Church of England Grammar School and all the applicants had to be members of the Church of England and recommended by a clergyman. This was the trouble with my application, I wasn鈥檛 a regular attender, but St. Catherine鈥檚 supported my application through my being a member of the Brownies with occasional attendances at church parades. Was allowed to take the entrance exam and duly presented myself one Saturday morning. The school was familiar to me and so was the Acting Head Mistress,(Major Mearles the Head Master having been called up for the war. effort). Mrs Kendall was a jolly looking fresh faced woman whom I had seen before on visits to the school. She was strict but kind and I warmed to her straight away. I liked the other children too and I tried very hard to do my best, especially with the reading aloud which I was good at. We had to go in front of the class and read from a book handed to us while Mrs Kendall listened attentively. I thought I had read well, then another girl went up and I listened with rapped attention. She had auburn hair in two pony tails and read with such confidence and skill it was a joy to listen to her.

The weeks afterwards were such a strain, how I longed to go there, how proud I would be to wear the uniform and be a Bluecoat girl! It was an anxious time. Then mum had a letter saying I had passed, then a few days later another one to say I hadn鈥檛. I went from ecstasy to despair. I don鈥檛 know what happened, but then another letter came to say I could go , but mum would have to pay the fees. The fees were three guineas per term, the same as mum was already paying for my music lessons. I was given the same choice as Eddie a few years before. Bluecoat School or Music Lessons. Eddie with his great love of the piano had chosen music, but I wanted to go to the Bluecoat School more than anything else in the world. It was a lot of money in those days, but in 1943 mum was earning good money at the Post Office. So I got what I wanted and looked forward to September.
During the school holidays I was shopping for my mum on Carlton Road when I saw a girl in a shop. We both recognized each other and eagerly asked if we had passed. When we both said yes we were so excited and looked forward to seeing each other very soon. She said her name was Hazel and she was the girl with the auburn hair who had read so beautifully. She became one of a group of very special life-long friends and it was the beginning for me of a time of great happiness . The school was small and the staff caring and the rules based on Christian principles. It was more like an extended family than a school 鈥� just what I needed..

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