One is true. 6 are laced with fiction.
Inspired by Piehole’s undeniable nerdy achievement. My claims to secondary school nerdiness at an English comprehensive co-educational, formerly Grammar all boys, school with approximately 1,400 pupils.
One item is a complete fiction from start to finish. Five items have inaccurate titles and warped truths in the detail. One item is accurate in title and detailed description. Which one is all accurate?
Headmaster nominated me one of 7 chosen in 1980-82 (17-18yrs). This actually meant that during my ‘study periods’ I could hang-out in the corridors of the main school and frighten the short people by making faces at them, chasing them up and down the corridors shouting “don’t run“, ”don’t shout“, “your mother smells of elderberries, “beam us up scotty” or miss-quoting a poem or two.
2). House cross-country team captain.
Elected captain 1978 (15yrs). Because of my unique talent for living near the school and making a stonking cuppa. Whenever the cross-country team had practice we would run out of the school ground. When out of sight we would start strolling, light-up fags, and gossip. We’d walk to my home and spend 2 hrs practice time drinking tea, listening to music and gossiping. Leaving my home we’d walk in pairs back to sight of school then run the onto the school grounds. My House team always did fairly well on cross-country times in practice. Less well in competition. A happy well socially bonded team. It all got a bit messy when, in 1980, we decided to have a re-union ’cross country practice run’ during a Maths class. Somebody dobbed us in. The Maths teacher. She had been a tad upset when no students turned up. She made us promise to invite her next time. We did, she didn’t come. Touche!
3). Poetry recital competition winner.
1975 (12yrs). Stand up infront of several hundred older, bigger, uglier children at my school while reading a soppy poem out loud? No Way! Mumzie made me do it. Darn clever people those mumzies. The skill came in handy for scaring the short people with during prefect duties.
4). School representative on British Youth Council.
1979-1981 (16-18yrs). Government (school) funded weekends away in fabulous management training course facilities with other ‘youth leaders’ (14 thru 21yrs) from all over the country where we’d discuss things like ‘preparing for the leisure age’ then all get drunk on scrumpy and snog each other while the responsible adults were also doing things they shouldn’t be doing, which we snooped on, of course! Shocking.
5). Simultaneously Drum Major in 3 marching bands.
1976-1980 (13-17yrs). These bands were all part of a National Christian Youth Organization who’s motto was ‘fight the good fight’. Rehearsals once a week for each band and Sunday mayhem as they all fought over who’s band I was going to lead for the Sunday service. Lots of going to trendy C of E churches and the occassional away match at a Catholic high-church to show good will to those hip incense swingers. It also gave me the opportunity to torture the brass section. If they got too cheeky for their own good I’d just call them in to play frequently until their lips were sore. I accepted beer to secure my favour and the soft lips of the buglers. Fond memories.
6). Only girl in sixth form Advanced Level Maths and Physics classes.
1980-1982 (17-18yrs). I had to hide from my English teacher because he had purchased the required Beer dosage to secure Wendy-loyalty and I’d subsequently betrayed him by choosing Nerdy boy-maths instead. The math teacher wore his Black univeristy gown to teach. Think Harry Potter style teacher gowns. I’m now so Nerdy I too have a full Ede and Ravenscroft gown. My distraught English teacher swore he’d never speak to me again which made everything, except my spelling and grammar, a bit easier. He emigrated to New Zealand soon afterwards.
7). 27th place in the annual 10 Tors race.
1977 (14yrs). Absolute nightmare. Training by running around at night carrying brick-laden rucksacks. Attempting to sleep in soggy clothes and ill-secured tents in the middle of Dartmoor during rainstorms while helicopters tried to find the less well-prepared missing teams. NEVER again.
November 28th, 2006
Please say number 5 is true. I can easily imagine you making boys blow their own horn’s until their lips are sore.
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November 29th, 2006
Is what Katy said filth?
I’d like to think it might be No 1, since I was a prefect too, and keeping little people in control, while still being magnanimous and modest, was good practice for my never being in a position of power over anyone ever again (which is how I’ve thus lived my life).
Or No 3, since that’s the year I first started making poetry (mainly ululative and/or into a potty).
But I suspect it’s No 6. I could never afford to keep my E&R gown, but would wear it out and often if I had.
…
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December 18th, 2006
I was There and dont reconiz any of it, but I can barely remeber my own name some days, you did live realy close to school.
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