Cosy Corners in Depression and War
Autobiography of
Joan Hughes
The story of one person's nests
Star School, London, 1933? to 1939
SCHOOL
The school was situated in Greyhound Road, but was oddly named "Star
Road School". Star Road was an adjacent street. At first I did not query
this name, but before I left, at the age of eleven, I heard a teacher
discussing this with our class. The school badge was a star, not worn by
many on clothes, but used as a symbol, in awarding marks. We were divided
into four houses, red, green, blue and yellow, and for good work were
awarded one star of the appropriate colour. On totalling 5 stars, we were
awarded a gold star. For bad behaviour, we were given "order marks", but
these did not affect our total of stars.
When discussing the school's name, the teacher concluded that the
school was named Star Road, because a star made a good badge. Occasionally
stars were appliqued to a school navy-blue "tammy". There was no official
uniform, but in winter, we were expected to wear navy-blue gym-slips.
The teacher remarked that it possibly should be Greyhound Road school,
as the greyhound would also make a good badge. However, I wondered about
the difficulties of cutting out small greyhound shapes!
We started in the infants school, in which there were about six
classes, and successful pupils moved up one class each term. From the very
start we were made to sit in old -fashioned rows in small desks. At first
we did not use ink, but sand and Plasticine to model shapes, progressing as
soon as possible to pencil and paper. In three months I was able to read,
and thereafter enjoyed most reading books on my own at home. I read
voraciously all the fairy stories, previously read to me by my mother at
bedtime, and soon asked for more books.
As soon as possible, I joined a children's library, which I visited
once a week after school. My mother was delighted to take me as she also
enjoyed reading novels, mainly detective stories, by authors such as Edgar
Wallace. I started with "easy books".
In the infant school, there were no formal tests. We were all
considered ready to be divided into boys and girls at the age of seven. I
remember being friends with someone called John Platt. In infants school we
sang a song called "Oh, no, John, no John, no!". That was the refrain. Each
girl stood beside a boy, turning to him and singing the refrain, over and
over again, so I thought it wonderful that the little boy next to me was
actually called John.
At the age of seven, boys disappeared from our lives in school. I had
done quite well, by this time being able to read and write, probably still
printing in pencil. We also used slates with chalk, but principally for
writing down answers to short questions, often in arithmetic. There were no
other lessons, except possibly chanting multiplication tables, but that may
not have started until later, and art. Drawing in coloured pencil started
quite early on. I cannot remember the shape of the room in the infants'
school, but the colour of the walls was uniform, dark green and cream, the
standard institutional colour which was meant to be calming.
Once I was attending "Big Girls" school, work started in earnest. There
were "examinations" which were pencil and paper tests, at the end of every
term, and there were three terms a year. Pen and ink was introduced as soon
as writing in pencil reached an acceptable standard. There were inkwells in
each small desk which had a
groove for pens; these were wooden with steel tips, split into two
sections. Constant dipping into the ink was necessary and the result was
messy if due care had not been taken.
I think the introduction of the
ball-point pen around 1945 was a major improvement, leading to speed in
writing. I would never have been able to take copious notes throughout
years of evening class attendance without it.
At junior schools in the 1930's, end-of-term tests were informal,
lasted perhaps half a day, and were confined to testing writing, spelling,
English composition and arithmetic. The term "English" was not used widely
as it is today, but the tests simply called composition, spelling, writing
and so on. Reading aloud was practised frequently, but not subjected to
formal tests.
At the end of every term, we were given a chance to rise a
class. The result was that within two years I arrived in Class Five at the
age of nine. I remember Class Five vividly, partly because I spent two and
a half years in it, arriving probably in April 1937, and staying until July
1939, just before the outbreak of the second world war. My experiences in
the preceding classes have become shadowy in my memory.
Class Five was divided into an upper and lower division, partly because
it contained about fifty pupils. Like everyone else, I started in the lower
division. The subjects taught were reading, writing, spelling, composition,
mental and written arithmetic, history, nature study, art, physical
education called "drill" and games, singing and needlework, as in the lower
part of the school. As a startling innovation, a subject called hobbies was
introduced in the Upper division of Class Five, when the girls were free to
do what they liked, provided it did not involve talking. Most girls chose
knitting, embroidery, art or reading from the school library. Quietness was
the universal rule, and was expected to continue, even when the teacher was
out of the room. We were not expected to talk to each other at all while
seated in the classroom. Gossip was tolerated in school corridors while
queuing up to enter another classroom for some specialist subject like
history. History was dignified by not being taught by the class teacher,
but by a specialist teacher, called Miss Cunliffe. who taught throughout
the school.
Aside from games, and drill, in which I was awkward, needlework was my
worst subject. I could not use a small needle, and besides neatness was not
my strong point. But I liked knitting and embroidery with a large needle.
Even games always seemed interesting when compared with drill, which I
detested. I don't know whether I ever succeeded in touching my toes! But
running in a race was a joy. This took place once a year on Sports Day. We
practised these races for a few weeks before the event in the school
playground.
There was another sport which took place regularly, perhaps
once a week during summer months. This was dancing round a maypole. Up to
twenty girls, each holding a coloured streamer, in red , white or blue,
running in groups in different directions in circles were able to weave the
streamers in a variety of patterns. When complete, the coloured ribbons
were intertwined in the form of a web, or alternatively, wound tightly
round the pole in a regular pattern. By changing the numbers of girls in
each circle, the patterns could be varied, and our class teacher was very
skilled at this.
[history
In spite of history having a specialist teacher, it was not very well
taught in Star Road primary school. All I can remember from these early
lessons was something about King Alfred burning the cakes, and perhaps the
figure of a crusader and a knight in armour. Queen Elizabeth 1 in her
elaborate dress, and King Henry 8th must also have been prominent, if for
no other reason than that our history lessons were based on illustrations.
We were provided with books filled with blank paper and told to buy
"history pictures" from our local newsagents. This was the reason for my
poor marks. Every history picture that was bought and correctly aligned and
pasted into a page reserved for a set period in history, for example, the
Elizabethans, the Tudors or the Stuarts was awarded a mark in the form of a
star. These stars were pasted on to a card. The colours of the stars were
green, red, yellow or blue, depending on which house the girl belonged to,
but whatever the colour, each star had the same value in the marking
system. Stars of course were awarded for subjects other than history, and
it was for these other subjects that I got my stars. I obtained no stars
for history because my parents could not spare any money to buy history
pictures. I cannot think of a more unfair marking system. However, perhaps
it was meant to encourage parents to take an interest in the children'
lessons and give the money for the pictures; and perhaps to encourage
children who were poor in arithmetic and English to think, "Well, this is
one subject in which I can succeed." For me, this meant a definite
disincentive for studying history in my early school life. Fortunately,
this was not a permanent effect. In later life I have often read historical
books, especially on social history, which I have found fascinating.
[arithmetic
I never received any turn-off against
nature study, and this was always
my favourite subject, apart from arithmetic, which I enjoyed, until I got
bored with the repetition. Arithmetic was the subject in which I could
achieve top marks and rarely made a mistake. This meant I was number one,
top of the class in this subject, which the class teacher also favoured,
and an object of jealousy for the less numerate. My friend Fay Nicholls
however, was equally a candidate for top of the class in arithmetic;
sometimes she held the position and sometimes I did. Fay and I were both
members of Green House. Two monitors were chosen for each house. These were
meant to show an example to the rest of the school, not only in school work
but in good behaviour. In the last year at school, in 1939 Fay and I were
the monitors for Green House. We were called Captains or Green Captains.
Beryl Thomas, a daughter of the local newsagents, where I often bought
papers or cigarettes for my father was one the Blue Captains. I remember
this because she was the one and only Captain who was demoted. Captains
wore coloured sashes in their house colour. Blue Captains wore blue sashes
instead of the usual black through the loops on the gym-slips which were
our winter wear. Beryl was demoted for bad behaviour, but I did not realise
it was bad behaviour, but thought it was fun. Beryl was also one of my
close friends.
[school playground
Fay, Beryl and I often played and talked together during
school outdoor playtimes. These playtimes were inflexibly outdoors whatever
the weather. There was a shelter in one corner of the playground which we
stood under, when it rained. In a few local schools in Hackney, where the
same building is still being used that was probably there at the turn of
the century, these shelters still remain. They were very solidly built, it
appears. This shelter was known colloquially as "the shed", though it was
open to the air. It was a flat roof on pillars, mostly brick-built stout
pillars.
In 1939 the Girls' playground was re-asphalted. In those days
asphalt remained soft for several days, but could be walked over. This was
the occasion of Beryl's bad behaviour. Many of the girls found that by
turning their heel in the soft asphalt, they could make a circular
indentation. They thought it was fun to do. I saw these indentations one
playtime and asked Beryl if she knew how they were made. She showed me by
turning her heel in the asphalt. I was going to make one also, but she
stopped me. "No, if you haven't made one, don't do it now" she said. "We
are going to get into trouble".
Sure enough, we did get into trouble. Our class, together I suppose,
with those lower down the school, were asked to put hands up if we had made
any dents with our heel. Beryl, together with half the class put up their
hands. Beryl was the only one of the eight school captains who raised her
hand. The class was reprimanded as a whole, then Beryl was singled out for
a special telling-off in front of the class and made to hand in her blue
sash. For the rest of that term there was only one Blue House captain, but
I don't remember her name. Fay and I remained firm friends with Beryl.
[music
Music was taught inexpertly by the class teacher. There were no musical
instruments available in those days, except for percussion instruments, but
I never looked on this as "real music". However it was fun, and unlike
singing, was something I could take part in, with minimum standard of
performance. In an old box were kept two drums, two cymbals, and a large
number of castanets, triangles and tambourines. The class teacher was our
conductor, and I was given what was considered the easiest instrument, the
triangle, because of my previous utter failure at singing. But in the
percussion band we could not be out of tune. These performances were a rare
treat, at the end of term, probably combined with sports day, which I shall
describe later. In music, the usual lesson was called singing. We did not
use the word music, which I believe was reserved for lessons on real
instruments, which were only undertaken privately, by those girls whose
parents could afford and were willing to pay, and such lessons had no
connection with the school. For some years I had been singing
unselfconsciously, along with the rest of the class. In the infants school
nothing wrong had been noticed with my singing of "Oh, No John!" However on
arrival in Class Five, higher standards were expected. The singing lesson
was often devoted to practising the song "Nymphs and Shepherds, come away".
Class Five was to take part in massed singing by combined school choirs in
London, probably at the Albert Hall, or some other large hall, in 1938 and
1939. The teacher came close to every girl to listen to her singing. Three
of us were picked out as singing out of tune. We were not able to improve.
I could never tell one note from another at that time. So we were told not
to sing as we were putting the others off. This was a disappointment for
the three of us, as it meant that we did not go out with the class on the
appointed day for the concert. School outings were very rare. I can only
remember three or four during the course of the year, so this was a major
disappointment to me, not because of my keenness for singing, but because
of my keenness for outings.
The other outings were attendance at St.
Andrews Church at the bottom of May Street on Ascension Day, a visit to a
grassy playground for School Sports Day, and a visit to a film show in a
room under a shop in North End Road. The main film was called "The Story of
Coal". North End Road was the site of a busy street market, and contained
our nearest large shops.
School Outings
Once a year on Ascension Day, the girls were taken to St. Andrews'
Church. Probably the boys went too, but I did not notice them. The
under-sevens however were not, as far as I recall, taken out at all. No-one
asked if we were members of the Church of England. Nobody opted out, so the
Methodists, Baptists and the non-believers also attended. My parents had
never suggested that I go to Sunday School, though I knew that I had been
baptised as a Roman Catholic. As I knew no more than that, I went to St.
Andrews' Church with the rest. This was of interest as an outing, though
only five minutes walk away, between my home and school. The morning
service consisted of four hymns, two psalms, and prayers. There were no
concessions to children; it was in no way a "children's service" but was
also attended by those devout churchgoers who were not at work, mostly
women and the retired.
I think there was one other occasion when I attended St. Andrews'. This
was for a memorial service for a former teacher at Star Road School, who,
incidentally, we had never met. By the ancient but small St. Andrews',
which I passed every day on my way to school was a line of plane trees. It
was my delight in Autumn to walk through the fallen leaves, listening to
the rustle; this is something I still like to do, at age 64, when the
opportunity arises. I can never resist walking through a heap of dry
leaves.
Perhaps more well-remembered is the Class Five visit to the private
cinema in North End Road. This was merely a basement room under a shop,
leased for showing short films with a small projector. From the age of nine
I attended here, so must have seen "The Story of Coal" three times, as I
was still in the top class, Class Five, at the age of eleven, in 1939.
There were other short films in the programme. All were concerned with
"Nature Study". Apart from arithmetic, Nature Study was my favourite
lesson, and I still remember scenes from the Story of Coal. The trees were
shown falling into the swamp in a reconstruction of the Carboniferous Era.
This was my favourite well-remembered scene. No doubt we were also shown
images of dinosaurs, and other prehistoric monsters, but my favourite was
"Coal". It was connected to the black stuff burning nightly in winter in
our grate at home, our friendly coal fire.
At school our nature study lessons consisted of drawing sections
through flowers, such as daisies, labelling petals, sepals, stigma,
stamens, and perhaps drawing a section through a tomato, as an example of
"fruit" of the plant.
Another feature of the classroom were the tanks containing tadpoles and
waterweed on the windowsills. I never remember any of the tadpoles
developing into frogs, and our classroom would certainly have been an
unsuitable home for amphibians. What the teacher did with the larger
tadpoles was unknown to me. However, I gained the impression the tadpoles
grew into newts, and then the newts grew into frogs. This was a
misconception which remained with me a long time, as I studied very little
biology in later life. Nowadays, I am very much aware that newts and frogs
are quite distinct species, as I have had newts and frogs running about in
the long grass and nettles in my back garden, these last four years. They
walk over from my neighbour's pool.
[chemistry
We did no chemistry or physics, which I believe, is taught in today's
primary schools. This did not stop me making observations in my own time.
When taken to a chemist' shop, at the age of eight, I gazed at the three
containers of red, blue and green liquid, traditionally placed in chemists'
windows, and said to my mother, "That is what I want to do, when I grow
up". " What?" asked my mother. " Serve in a chemists' shop", I said. " I
hope you will do something better than that", said Mum. But I could think
of nothing better.
I have in fact never served in a chemists' shop, or as it is more
accurately called a pharmacists', but have spent many years working in a
chemical laboratory, or "playing with coloured liquids" as some people
might say.
At that time my mother went into the chemists' mainly to buy
cough-mixture, regarded as a necessity, but was not keen on the chemists'
and did not linger inside to chat, as she did in some shops. I don't think
cosmetics were sold there in those days, but in any case, my mother did not
use any. She had an old lipstick, which she said she had had since before
she was married. On rare occasions, for an evening out, she would use this.
When she put some on she usually rubbed half of it off and said "Do I look
as though I have lipstick on?"
"No" I would say, thinking "Well ,it is mostly rubbed off!" Apparently,
she wished to appear natural, without lipstick, as if the red colour was
natural.
School Sports Day was an annual outing. There were eight different
kinds of races possibly, which the girls had prepared for in games lessons
in the school playground. But I can't remember any ball games. We had
possibly not sufficient room to practice these. Races included such things
as the egg and spoon race, a three-legged race in which two girls had legs
tied together, a sack race which meant girls jumping along with their legs
in sacks, another race, or maybe a walk, with books being carried on heads,
some plain, straightforward races and finally a train race. The train race
was the finale, and the girls chosen only included those who had won other
races. It was very complicated and so had to be limited to about eight
participants. I qualified one year by winning the egg and spoon. But I was
last and perhaps disqualified in the train race. This was because I finally
ran back to the starting line instead of continuing to the finishing line.
Midway down the long grassy track were laid a pile of clothes, umbrellas
and small cases. They were all muddled up. The idea was that we ran as far
as the pile, and dressed "to catch a train", by grabbing and donning a
coat, hat, maybe a scarf and gloves, and an umbrella, which we had to open,
and a case held in our hands. When correctly "dressed" we ran to the
finishing line. The person who won this race received the top prize. Prizes
were usually books or needlework boxes; nothing related to sport was
available. The books and needlework boxes were also the standard prizes for
success in end-of-term exams.
INDOOR SCHOOL LIFE
Every school day started with assembly. The whole of the junior girls'
school, all five classes, aged between seven and eleven assembled in the
hall. This hall was also used for exercises or drill. The school was
addressed by Miss Tremeer, the headmistress, at 9 o'clock each morning. We
were probably urged to behave well and work hard. The assembly ended with
the Lord's prayer and some typical "Church of England" hymn. Those which I
can remember were "All people that on Earth do dwell" and "All things
bright and beautiful". This was the only religious activity in this school.
It was not religious instruction, because the words of the prayer and hymn
were never taught. It was assumed that we knew them, and if not, we picked
them up gradually.
Good news or bad news was also announced occasionally at assembly.
During the diphtheria epidemic, two seven-year-olds died. We were shown
their wreaths, and a cold chill stole over me. As yet, I had not thought of
death happening to the young, only to the old; people like my grandmother,
who died in 1936, She was over seventy and to me had always looked old. But
it was probably 1936 when the two seven-year-olds died. I did not know them
personally, as I was eight and in Class Four.
Luckily there were few deaths from diphtheria and none from Scarlet
Fever in those years in our school. Though immunisation was not available,
these two serious childhood fevers were not widespread. An epidemic meant a
few cases only. There were strict quarantine rules. Children when recovered
were not allowed out for many weeks afterwards; and I have been told, some
may have been kept in a kind of quarantine hostel, separate for each type
of fever.
Good news usually came at the end of a term, possibly at Eastertime,
when scholarships and special places for the Grammar school were announced.
The girls with these awards were required to stand up and go to the front,
and face the school. They were then clapped for a minute or two, in front
of the whole school. I wondered if that would ever happen to me. It would
be pleasant, but I dreaded facing an audience.
Examinations loomed over the pupils in Class Five. The "eleven-plus"
examination divided eleven-year-olds into a few who attended Grammar
Schools, a large middle group who went to "Central Schools"; these were
largely places where girls learnt shorthand and typing; and the "unlucky
ones " who went to "elementary secondary schools". After 1944, I believe
the latter were re-named secondary modern schools. There were also
technical and art schools, similar in status to the Central Schools. The
availability of these depended on where one lived.
The aim of the teacher who prepared girls for the eleven-plus was to
win scholarships or "Special places" for grammar schools. At that time,
girls who did not pass the eleven-plus, but who attained a reasonable
standard in an independent test done by the particular school could attend
grammar schools by paying fees.
The eleven plus consisted of tests in English, arithmetic and an IQ
test. From the age of ten, the girls were required to do weekly tests in
these subjects. For example, the spelling test required correct spelling of
twenty fairly difficult words. The marks were twenty out of twenty, and the
words were usually of three or more syllables. Likewise twenty questions in
arithmetic, graded from simple addition to long multiplication, fractions
and decimals, were done weekly. While this was being performed by the 25
girls in the upper half of Class five, the lower half, another 25 girls,
were sent to another teacher. The full class of fifty was only together for
"Non-examination" subjects, which was everything except English and
arithmetic. IQ testing was not a subject; the official view is that we
cannot learn to perform better in this. But practice can improve scores by
getting us used to the tests. Our class teacher was an enthusiast for this,
and personally, I found IQ tests were "fun". Doing little puzzles seemed
like play, not like learning. Late in 1938, the class of all the
ten-year-olds who had attained to Upper Class Five status took the
preliminary examination. Only those who passed this were eligible to take
the full "scholarship" examination. Out of twenty-five, eight girls passed.
I remember this distinctly, as I had a quite formal birthday party for my
eleventh birthday. Dad, who was ambitious for me, urged me to invite the
eight scholarships girls. I agreed to this, even though some of these were
not my special friends. But I also included a couple of "extras", even
someone who was eleven but was still in Class Four, through "lack of
ability". She was quiet , lived near and I liked to play ball with her.
My preparation for the examinations was gruelling. My father never
thought I did anything quite well enough, and was always urging me to work
hard. In the six weeks of the summer holiday in August 1938, I took home a
book of arithmetic questions, and was expected to do one every day. I did
not like school work during holidays and preferred to spend all the time
out-of-doors. I even preferred weeding the garden! However, I knew I had to
complete the questions, so usually sat down and did a batch of ten
questions at one sitting. I found the questions easy; they did not stretch
me, but the teacher always insisted on lots of repetition. She was
terrified that her best pupils might "slip back". Each week, we had to send
the batch of questions back to the school by post. This went on for six
weeks.
In the autumn of 1938, we took our preliminary exams. I don't think the
results came in until January 1939. Eight of us were summoned to the
head-mistress's room and were told we had passed. Besides myself, there was
my best friend Fay Nicholls, also Beryl Thomas, and Christine Ormond.
Christine must have been one of the "better-off", as she said her parents
were going to pay for her at Grammar School if she failed the exam. I don't
remember the others very clearly. Some of them might have been Esther
Anderson, who was Scottish and wore a tartan skirt out of school, and Vera
Daly, who I met once more in later life, in 1950, when she had become a
secretary.
The head -teacher said, "Although you have all passed, not one of you
have done as well as last years' girls. You will have to work very hard
indeed if you wish for a scholarship, and you only have eight weeks to do
it in".
"Eight weeks", I thought," and I am not good enough. I will work every
day, at home." I knew my mother would not mind one way or the other, but I
felt I had to please my father too. He would not be pleased unless I
passed. But I don't know if this was the only reason. We were supposed to
have a better future if we went to a grammar school, and I thought "Maybe
it will mean that I can work in the chemist's shop, when I grow up."
This interview must have taken place some time in January 1939, because
on February 25th 1939, I was still thinking in terms of eight scholarship
girls, when I invited them to my 11th birthday party. This was, I think, my
only birthday party with formal invitations. Previously it was a case of
just inviting my cousin Leonard, 18 months younger than me, my third cousin
Stella, one year older than me, and maybe Fay Nicholls and some
school-friend living nearby. There were always jellies and cakes for tea,
the receiving of a small present from the guests, and afterwards, games. In
my home, living conditions were fairly restricted, as two rooms, or
sometimes a complete floor was let to lodgers; so games had to be quiet. We
could not run about the house playing hide-and-seek or "sardines" as we did
in Stella's house. Instead we played a pencil and paper game called
consequences, sitting together in the same room, and possibly a card game
or a board game. If Leonard was the only boy present, which he must have
been, he probably found it hard to concentrate, particularly, as on this
one day, the party included girls only, apart from Leonard; and some of the
girls had party-dresses, and were more conscious of their clothes than at
any other time. I was nervous because I had no party-dress, which was a
commercially bought dress, with a frilled skirt, usually in some bright
colour. Instead I wore a white dress, which had been hand-embroidered by my
mother; it had a plain skirt, which fell limply, unlike the standing-out
skirts of one of my friends. Most people would have said that this dress
was just as attractive as a shop-bought one, but it was not "fashionable".
But in the excitement of the birthday party, I soon forgot my clothes,
which friends told me were "nice". This cheered me up. Fay Nicholls, being
the child of a widowed mother, likewise , could not afford a fashionable
party-dress.
This party I particularly remember because it was connected with my
school life. It was the only formal party I ever had. Before then, I had
been too poor, and wartime absorbed the rest of my childhood which changed
my way of life completely; I lost touch with former friends and there were
no more birthday parties, formal or otherwise.
Once the party was over, I resumed practising arithmetic and spelling
every day, in preparation for the big exam. It must have taken place in
March soon after the party, because there were only eight weeks between the
previous results and this exam. This subject filled my whole life; I had
never worked quite so hard at school work before.
A hall was hired for the exam. The eight girls were seated between rows
of strangers. We did as well as possible, but none of us had the confidence
to think we had passed. It was perhaps another eight weeks before the
results were published, and what intervened was the school journey. I just
forgot about the exam, because this was another bright spot in my life.
THE SCHOOL JOURNEY - [August 1939]
Usually, August holidays were spent with my grandmother, but in 1939 I
had an entirely different experience, two weeks away with the school. My
mother had anxiously considered whether she could afford the cost, which
was £2 / 10s. The teacher persuaded her that it would do me good. I
had
never been away on a school holiday before, and this would be my last
chance. She thought it would help me to overcome nervousness when with
strangers and as she expected that soon I would be going to a strange new
grammar school, she thought I needed all the help I could get. She
mentioned that the cost could be spread out in weekly instalments; so from
the beginning of 1939, I took one or two shillings per week to school, and
for each shilling, a stamp was affixed to a card. By the time the beginning
of May had arrived only about one pound ten shillings had been paid. "Don't
worry," said the teacher. "You can pay the rest when you return. It can be
spread out over the whole school year."
[Isle of Wight
Probably about thirty girls made the journey with two or maybe three
teachers to the Trouville Hotel on the Isle of Wight. It seemed that we
occupied the whole of this modest, sea-front hotel for the two week period.
The holiday was arranged for the first two weeks in May. It will be cold I
thought. "Nonsense!" said our class-teacher, Miss Bunce. "Not on the Isle
of Wight". Sure enough, when we stepped off the train and into the Isle of
Wight, the weather was warm and sunny. The older girls from Class Five
occupied rooms on the top floor. I shared a room for three with Fay
Nicholls, my best friend, so was well satisfied. Beryl Thomas was supposed
to be with us, but had been taken ill. We left an empty drawer below a big
wardrobe for her clothes, in case she arrived later. However we saw nothing
of her. Fay and I had one small chest of drawers each. When unpacked, we
were asked to go and help with the younger girls; the seven- and
eight-year-olds, who were on the lower floors. After this first day we did
not see much of these younger ones, as we were divided into two groups for
excursions. Class Five girls, about 15 in all, were accompanied by Miss
Bunce. A lot of our time was spent on the beach. We had competitions. One
was for the best model in sand. Fay and I did a model of Culver Cliff as
suggested, but it was a dismal failure. The prize went to Maisie Moffatt, a
younger Class Five girl, who did a model of a Roman mosaic
pavement, which we had visited earlier in the week. A lot of time was also
spent in collecting as many different varieties as possible of sea-shells.
In this, I think I had the most extensive collection. We were also taken
for country walks, where we gathered wild flowers for pressing. The
pressing between books had to be done the same evening. The idea was to
obtain one good specimen of each variety; to learn their names and label
them correctly. We used common English names.
A memorable outing one day was to Carisbrooke Castle, near Newport. On
the grassy slopes there were wild orchids. We were not allowed to gather
these.
"These are very rare flowers", we were told.
At Carisbrooke, there was a very ancient well open to viewing. I
believe that we were allowed to throw a stone into it. The teacher had the
idea that we could gain an impression of the extreme depth, by listening
for the splash as it hit the water. An old guide-book tells me that the
well is 161 feet deep, and was sunk in 1150. The well-house dates from the
16th century. But I don't think our experiment was very successful! After
some attempt at historical instruction, scrambling up steep flights of
ancient steps to the Castle Keep and other well-preserved ruins made an
interesting day for active girls.
I don't remember much else about the holiday, except that the weather
was pleasantly warm and sunny, but not overpoweringly hot; and that our
last day was spent on a tulip-farm. I had about one shilling left to spend.
We had spent very little during the week, as excursion expenses were all
included. Our remaining money we were required to spend on flowers to take
home to our mothers. The tulips were three-halfpence each and the irises
were a penny each. After heeding Fay's advice not to buy fully open
flowers, I bought six tightly closed tulips and three blue irises for my
shilling, and thought how expensive the flowers were, not having ever
bought any before. But my mother thought this was a splendid present.
The holiday over, we settled down to a rather dull routine in the
summer of 1939. War was looming, but the adults around us were pretending
or maybe actually believing that it would not happen; in spite of the fact
that I had an Anderson shelter in the garden, I did not consider war
as a serious thing. My cousin and I used the
Anderson shelter as a
play-house during our daytime play hours.
But at school we could learn nothing more, but merely mark time. I was
bored with this, especially as the Scholarship results had not come in,
even by June 1939. Our teacher said she believed this was because no-one
had passed. This was a poor year she said. She thought this because one
result had already been received from the boys' school. David, my friend
Lois Eynon's older brother, about the same age as me, had won a
scholarship, but he was the only successful boy of his year, out of a class
of about 25 or 30. "Such a poor year," moaned our class-teacher.
Then unexpectedly, a result came through. "There is one Junior County
Scholarship awarded", said the Headmistress one hot summer morning at
Morning Assembly. "Will Joan Martin, come to the front of the school,
please". I stood up, and was trembling with nervousness. I stood transfixed
to the spot, while the school clapped. "You have got to go to the front",
people said , ignoring my protests. So eventually I stumbled up to front,
and looked out over a sea of young faces and heard the noise of clapping
hands going on for a very long minute or two. This was a moment of triumph
meant to be enjoyed, but I was glad to sink down again into the back of the
hall with my class-mates. I was upset because Fay Nicholls' name had not
been called. A few weeks later, I was glad to hear that she had been
awarded a "Special Place" at the grammar school. This meant paying no fees,
but there was no grant for clothing. I was sorry about that; as I knew
school uniform was expensive. But I did not see Fay Nicholls again. She had
been taken ill, and had to stay away from school for a few weeks. She had
not been too well on the day of the exam; that was why she had only a
special place and not a scholarship, her mother told my mother.
There were more exams for me. I had to take an entrance exam at the
school which my parents had selected. "I don't want to take another exam",
I protested. "I have already passed". But I went along to the school, and
was given a simple test in arithmetic and English. "It's all right. You
have done well in it", I was re-assured on the very day I took the exam.
There was not much formality. It was marked on the spot , while I sat in a
waiting room.
I also had to pass a medical exam at County Hall. This was run by the
London County Council in those days. "Do try hard to please the doctor",
said my teacher. "We don't want you to fail the medical exam"; as if by
"trying hard" I could do better in a medical exam. The reason was that I
particularly afraid of doctors and could not relax with them. The test I
feared was having my throat examined with a spoon inserted. I practised and
practised until I could display my throat without a spoon. This was the way
I passed the medical exam!
The preparations were all in vain. This I was not to know. The
preparations all took place before September 3rd 1939, and the grammar
school year started afterwards, and I was no longer in London to attend the
school. Instead I stayed temporarily with my grandmother in Manningtree,
Essex. Neither was Fay Nicholls there. I heard shortly afterwards that she
had been evacuated by sea to Canada. I never heard any more about her, and
missed her friendship for a long time afterwards.
This was the end of my primary school years, and on the whole I had
enjoyed them.
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