Of Different Times

by Agnes Kirkwood

  ‘Who the bloody hell left that bagatelle on the floor.’ Mr Nobody of course.

  I loved the school dinners, we had our own dinner hall in this school, not like the junior school where we had to eat in the gym hall, and we always had a lot of spare time after dinner, and would sometimes spend it down the local shops. In the summer we would go down to the orchards and plunder for apples to sell at school for a penny each. One day we were in the middle of the orchard, our schoolbags full of apples and decided it was time to get back to school. We no sooner fastened our bags up ready to go when we heard the gamekeeper. Quickly we grabbed our bags and slid under a bush. With hearts beating like a drum we lay flat on our belly like soldiers in combat. The gamekeeper decided to stop and have a smoke of his pipe right in front of the bush we were hiding under, and to make matters worse his little dog made a beeline for us wagging its tail and yapping like a puppy playing with a child, it even joined us under the bush licking our faces and whimpering, but we kept hold and stroked it to keep it quiet. The gamekeeper seemed to be there for ages, and when he finally decided to move he shouted, ‘Come on Harry let’s get going.’ the dog slid further in the bush and started to bark. We were so relieved when we heard him shout,

  ‘Harry get out here and stop teasing them bloody rabbits.’ Of course we were about half an hour late for school, and to make matters worse it was old misery guts we had for knitting that afternoon.

  We had to think of a mega excuse, because having our dinner at school made the situation worse; we couldn’t very well say we missed the bus.

  We had to cross a little bridge that ran over a fast flowing stream on its way to the River Forth. As we looked at the water rushing underneath us we saw a log floating.

  ‘That looks like a body floating there, doesn’t it?’ said my pal. I agreed, then we looked at each other and decided to tell the teacher we saw a body and was frightened to come over the bridge, so we had to walk to the next one and cross there and that was why we were late. She accepted our excuse without any questioning, she just told us to go and sit down. We sat down and grinned thinking we had got away with it. She excused herself and disappeared for a good fifteen minutes, and as soon as she left all our class had our usual carry on when left alone. When she returned she shouted out our names, ‘Nan and Betty go to the Headmistress’s room she wants to see you both.’ Thinking she had looked through the window and saw us playing about, or worse still reported us for being late, the grin on our face changed. On our way to the Headmistress’s room I said to my pal, ‘Huh! So much for thinking we fooled the old bat.’ Then as we turned the corner, there were two police cars outside her office, we gulped and didn’t know whether to run or stay and face the consequences. We decided to stick to our story, and quickly checked that we had the same one. We were shaking with nerves, but I suppose it fitted the occasion. The police thought we were nervous at seeing a body, little did they know. One at a time the police took us into the room and questioned us. They took us outside where a police car waited and told us not to worry, that they were taking us down to the bridge so we can show them exactly where we saw the body. When we arrived at the bridge, we got the shock of our lives; the place was full of police, and divers with breathing equipment on their backs. Of course we had to stick to our story and stand on the bridge to show them where we saw the body. I mean log.

  My head was banging with questions being asked, we were terrified to say anything in case we slipped up and said the wrong thing. We were so glad when they took us back to school, I was never so pleased to see that hated classroom in my life than I was then, the teacher even commented on how quiet I was for the rest of the afternoon.

  When the bell rang at four, we looked at each other and sighed with relief thinking it was all over, but no; no such luck. On the way to the bus after school, crowds were gathering around us asking us all kinds of questions. Thank god it was Friday, maybe things will calm down over the weekend we thought. Even at home I had to stick to the story, because my brother had already told my mum all about it. My mum was worried in case it was someone that had been murdered and they were going to come looking for us, so I was grounded. Was I not glad when our neighbour came running in next day to tell mum that they had found a body, seemingly it was a soldier’s body that must have been trapped in the river for years. Creepy, we never went back to that orchard again. We started going to the skating in Falkirk every Saturday morning instead of the pictures, which I loved; and with doing the paper round I could pay for it all myself, so my mum could not threaten me by saying ‘You can’t go to the skating this week I can’t afford to give you the money,’ which happened a lot. My pal and I loved skating and really looked forward to it every week. We’d spend a lot of time next to where people paid to have private lessons which was cordoned off with a huge thick rope along the bottom of the rink. We picked up a lot of tips, then we’d make our way to the other side and practice what we learned. As the weeks went on we got really good at it, I think it was the competing with each other to see who could do what the best. Before long we were skating backwards, twirling round and jumping, there was nothing we couldn’t do on them skates. One day we thought we were good enough to start wearing skating skirts, so between us we bought an old taffeta dress at a jumble sale for sixpence and I made us both a skating skirt out of it. When I’d finished my pal came round to our house and because my big sister was out we disappeared upstairs to her bedroom that had a full size mirror and tried them on for the first time. We were pleased with the results, especially when we twirled round, and the white knickers against the black skirt looked great. So we thought.

  When Saturday arrived off we went to the skating rink with our new black skirts and white knickers which we thought were the bee’s knees. We must have looked a right sight for sore eyes standing there with our short taffeta skating skirts on looking like real professionals until you looked at the hired skates we had on, which were a grubby grey scuffed toed boots that had never seen a whitening brush in all the years of their life, and had a mind of their own when you walked on them, wobbling from side to side. We felt great as we stepped on the ice with our new skating rig-outs on.

  I remember my pal slipped and fell on her backside, and I was shocked to see that when the white knickers were wet you could see through them. Everyone passing her smiled as she twirled and twisted, she felt really proud thinking they smiled because she looked good.

  Me? I never told her, but just skated with great care not to fall. When I told her on the way home, she went in the huff with me, it didn’t last long. Needless to say we never wore white knickers again.

  I remember my first exams in my new school, what a difference with teachers that were nice to you, and where you were not afraid to ask questions in case you were wrong and got humiliated. The only lessons I hated were the ones that our Form Teacher taught us, cooking, domestic, science, sewing and knitting; it wasn’t the subjects I didn’t like because to this day I have done a lot of dressmaking and knitting for my own children. Was it any wonder my pal and I always got up to mischief in her class. She blamed us for everything that went wrong, I admit a lot of the carry on, was me and my pals fault but not all of the time. For English, Maths and History, which I loved, I was top of the class every year, and sat at the top corner desk in the classroom. I hated geography, and never seemed to be able to remember the lesson from one period to the next, and when it came to exams I really had to revise that more than any other subject, then about a week after the exam I’d forgot everything I had learned. Even to this day I am not that interested about what comes from where, and what the longest river is called, or where the highest mountain is. I hate driving to places I don’t know because I’ve never had the natural ability for directions, and get panic stricken when not knowing where I am. Thank goodness none of my children were like me in that way. My daughter is forever telling me when driving you do not get lost you only get delayed.

  The first year we were at our n
ew school we had to have a TB jab. The teacher told us she thought it was only a lump of sugar. Nothing to it I thought, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. We queued up outside the first aid room and according to everyone coming out it wasn’t a lump of sugar it was an injection, well, I panicked and kept moving to the end of the queue until there was no end, I was shaking like a leaf, I tried to act brave but as soon as the needle came near me I fainted. I was made to lie down on this long bed for about half an hour, I even got a cup of tea. My pal teased me for weeks after that, but all I could do was laugh along with her, what else. To this day I still have that phobia for needles.

  At school my pal and me; were well into sports. We loved running and high jump. I remember when the gym teacher took us all down to the sports field, and lined us all up, we had to run a lap to see who was going to represent our year for the school sports day, which involved all the schools in Stirlingshire competing in Falkirk. Because I won the race I was chosen alongside other girls in different years to run for our school in the relay race. I trained every night around the swing park, I even ran around the circle in our street. When it came near the sports day, all female competitors were given a run-down of what was expected of us from our Headmistress right down to what we had to wear.

  ‘School uniforms must be worn,’ she said. ‘I want to see everyone in their school uniform, black skirts, white blouse, blue blazers, white socks with black shoes that were cleaned so you could see your face in them, also not to forget our school berets.’ Now I bet there was not one girl who wore their beret after a few days at that school, they were horrible, royal blue with a yellow tassel that swung about like a canary on a rope. When I went home that night I looked everywhere for mine but couldn’t find it, so I took it to be one of the things that had been thrown out when we moved from the other house. My pal never had hers either, neither did all the other girls I asked, so the only thing that was left to do was borrow one of the Form Teacher’s pet that was always dressed prim and proper. Yes the one who’s basket we tied to the leg of the table.

  When the big day came, we all gathered in the playground and was told the coaches were on they’re way to pick us up and take us to Falkirk. On arrival at the Sports Arena I was flabbergasted by the size of it, it just looked like a large football ground with seating for thousands of spectators. We competitors had to meet in a large hall, and each school had to form a queue four abreast from the youngest up. Then we had to march round the ground each school with its own banner. The spectators were cheering as we marched. As we passed our school I caught sight of my pal waving her heart out with a smile that brought a lump in my throat with pride. Our school won quite a few gold medals for different races that day, but our relay team only came in second and won the silver medal, nevertheless our gym teacher was over the moon.

  We had our own swimming baths at our school, and pupils from other schools used to come and use them. I remember when there was a swimming gala, and all the schools competed against each other. My pal was picked for the swimming gala, so ever Saturday we used to go to Alloa on the train to the swimming baths with our rolled up towels and costumes that was another exciting period of my life I hold a few memories off. There used to be about twelve kids from our village used to go. It was a rowdy half hour on the train, where we would look for an empty carriage and all crush into the one, which consisted of a long seat at each side which held about five adults on each side, and sit as if butter couldn’t melt in our mouths, then as soon as the train set off and there was no adults there to stop us we all had a good old noisy sing-song. After an hour or so in the pool we had the same journey home again.

  The day of our school swimming gala was exciting not because of the races but because our gym teacher slipped and fell head first into the water. She was running along the side off the pool blowing her whistle trying to get the attention of the swimmers, because it was a false start. Needless to say she got her whistle wet. But one thing I admire her for, when she finally got out of the water with all her clothes dripping wet, she threw her arms in the air and took a bow laughing. Everyone clapped her. What a Sport.

  For all the years I attended school I only played truant once. My pal and I decided that we would go and investigate Stirling High School which was at the other side of town, which was equivalent to a grammar school where all the clever pupils went. We sat on the wall outside the school munching sweets and shouted and whistling at all the clever clogs going in. Then we decided to go around town, we even visited the castle, but could not go in as we had no money. We walked around the shops passing the time away until it was time for the bus home, the whole day ended up really boring, the next morning my friend pleaded with her sister to write her a note for the teacher stating she was ill. I also asked my brother, who did with a promise to give him one shilling off my paper money at the weekend. When we gave them to our Form Teacher she went absolutely mad, and sent us straight to the Headmistress with a note that was sealed in an envelope, so we couldn’t read it. Seemingly she had spotted us at dinner time when she nipped into town for something. That was the end of our truant days. They were boring anyway.

  The only time we walked into town after that was when mum got a job because my little sister started school. She worked in a restaurant in Stirling working alongside the chef in the kitchen. Me and my pal went round the back of the restaurant to the kitchen door, and asked mum for money to buy sweets I knew she would give into me, just to get rid of me in front of all the other staff. It worked but boy, I suffered when I got home that night, needless to say that was the first and last, time I tried that trick.

  I liked science as well experimenting with all different chemicals, the fun we used to have with the Bunsen-burner makes me cringe now, it’s a miracle we never set the school on fire, or blew it up. The thing that sticks in my mind was when we had to use the microscope, we all had a little piece of glass and a pin, and we had to prick our thumb and put a spot of blood on the glass and put it under the microscope. When the teacher came around towards me he noticed I was not looking into my microscope and asked me why.

  ‘I just can’t put the needle in my thumb sir, I hate needles and injections I have a terrible phobia with them.’ He took the needle bent down and said,

  ‘Look into my eyes, what colour are they?’ I thought he was angry and as I looked waiting for the telling off, he pricked my thumb with the needle,

  ‘Right get on with it, tut, tut, you of all people,’ he said with a grin on his face, the whole class laughed and so did I because it really was funny thinking about it.

  Like I mentioned before, school dinners were great, especially the puddings, the chocolate sponge and custard was to die for, so was the currant slices and custard. The meals all came to the school ready cooked in huge metal trays like the junior school, but for some reason they tasted ten times better. I think it was the way we were treated more than anything. When we reached the second year of school we took it in turns to help the dinner ladies to serve the meals at dinner time, we had to wear a white apron that was all lovely starched and a white cap to match that slid on our hair like a hair band, then we’d stand in front of either the potatoes or the vegetables; never the main part of the plate like steak pie, which was my favourite, and many more varieties. The pupils who paid for school meals queued up outside waiting for the door to open. When it did we’d come in single file to the front of the counter, take a plate from the pile, and move along to each one who was serving and they’d put a scoop of whatever they had to serve on your plate. At the end of the queue they’d take a knife fork and spoon from the cutlery tray then make their way along the tables in rotation starting at the first one. All had to sit where their turn in the queue took them, until all the tables were occupied. If my pal and I saw we were not going to sit together we’d either skip one in front or move one behind depending what kept us together.

  If we were on help duty and everyone had been served, we could have seconds in anything tha
t was left; it was nearly always the puddings we went for, sometimes we’d have thirds depending on what it was.

  The beauty of school meals is that they gave you time to explore the neighbourhood. The history in Stirling goes back hundreds of years, and if you stood in our playground you were right in the middle of Stirling Castle and Wallace Monument, if you took a ten minute walk you would come across the old Stirling Bridge, walk the other way and you would come to an old monastery that was hundreds of years old, not to mention the famous River Forth that was said to spell its own name. Yes, Stirling truly does seep in history. The trouble with me I never appreciated it at the time, although I loved everything about it, I took it for granted when I lived there.

  I remember one day in particular, it was a lovely day, so our art teacher took us down to the river and gave us the opportunity to paint any scene we wanted. I remember painting Wallace Monument in the distance on one side and Stirling Castle on the other and added a huge stag standing by the River Forth with trees in the foreground to make it a bit more interesting. That picture was put on the wall and was still there the year I left school; I often wonder what happened to it. More than likely binned.

  We were always looking for something different to do, my pal and me. The walk from the school to the bus station was a fair mile, and we’d try all different routes to take the boredom off the same old journey every night. I remember one time as we passed the train station I was bursting for a pee, and the nearest toilets were at the bus station, which was quite a distance away, so we went into the train station looking for one there. The only toilets available were inside the waiting room for passengers only. We bought a penny platform ticket pretending we were meeting our granny off the train, then before he queried us, we ran down as if we were late.