Pike’s skirt?”
I really did look up Danielle’s skirt. We were something of an item at Addison Gardens Primary School, but I was still a little sheepish about displaying any affection for her. We would all play kiss-chase in the playground and Danielle would lead a posse of her friends in pursuit of me. When they cornered me – and some of them were quite aggressive about it – I would fall to the floor and curl up in a ball to protect myself from the kisses that would rain in. Whilst on the floor, though, I could sneak a peek up the skirts of the chasers, and Danielle’s was always a treat because she was the one I loved. And her knickers were always pure white, not grey and rumpled like some of the other girls’. I was heartbroken when she was taken to live in the country somewhere and left me stranded, to be chased by the remnants of her posse, none of whom I peeked up the skirt with as much relish as I did with Danielle. I knew looking up a girl’s skirt was bad, naughty, and probably sinful, but I was unworried by the price I might have to pay for it in the everlasting, so I offered it in the confessional.
I never said the Hail Marys I was frequently ordered to recite. Our inability to grasp the tenets of the religion was almost exclusively down to the zealous way in which the nuns sought to inculcate us with the principles of Holiness, Goodness, Righteousness Or Else. As with all fundamentalists, they had neither the wit nor the will to present the benign face of their religion for fear it would lack impact. Controlling and turning us into mini-zealots, afraid of our own shadows was their over-riding aim. Given the opportunity to be washed of all sin for another week, we were more prepared to allow it to build up ceaselessly and hope we could cut a deal with Him when the time came. I would hate you to think me ‘anti-religion’; I’m not really, but whenever I hear a serious debate on one issue or another, the introduction of a religiousviewpoint has the effect of reducing the matter to silliness, like farting at a funeral. Apparently sane individuals, with obvious intellect, will apply the teachings of Jesus to the travails of single mothers. It leaves me wondering why they even bothered with an education. Anyway, there you are.
Our seemingly endless capacity for misbehaviour, and the resultant trials and worries, distressed Mum. It just wore her down, and there were evenings when it all got too much and she would march out of the house, vowing never to return. It would take my brothers several minutes to convince me that she had only gone next door to the neighbour to cry and get a break. I’d be crying too, convinced she had left us.
Woolverstone must have arrived like a beacon of light, a lifeboat in the storm, a big, whopping helping hand. As boys at risk of taking several unseemly paths in life, Serge and I certainly needed it – but Mum needed it more. For two years after Serge went away to school, she had the relative luxury of just my two older brothers and me to worry about. One of those – Matt – was providing plenty of anxiety on his own and would continue to do so for decades, but the thought that her two youngest would soon be established, safe and sound, at one of the best schools in the country must have been a balm for her over-worked, on-the-edge life. Of course, I had to actually get into the school and I sat the eleven-plus to that end. I wasn’t aware I was sitting the test, nor that it was being used to judge my suitability for Woolverstone, but I did well enough to be invited to meet the headmaster in a room at County Hall. I wasn’t daunted by the interview, but I was always wary of being called into offices where stern men would speak to me. Paddy wasn’t stern at all, and I liked him immediately. The narrow office had a window that looked out onto the Thames and when I wasn’t gazing over hisshoulder at the Houses of Parliament, I was telling him I wanted to be an
I really did look up Danielle’s skirt. We were something of an item at Addison Gardens Primary School, but I was still a little sheepish about displaying any affection for her. We would all play kiss-chase in the playground and Danielle would lead a posse of her friends in pursuit of me. When they cornered me – and some of them were quite aggressive about it – I would fall to the floor and curl up in a ball to protect myself from the kisses that would rain in. Whilst on the floor, though, I could sneak a peek up the skirts of the chasers, and Danielle’s was always a treat because she was the one I loved. And her knickers were always pure white, not grey and rumpled like some of the other girls’. I was heartbroken when she was taken to live in the country somewhere and left me stranded, to be chased by the remnants of her posse, none of whom I peeked up the skirt with as much relish as I did with Danielle. I knew looking up a girl’s skirt was bad, naughty, and probably sinful, but I was unworried by the price I might have to pay for it in the everlasting, so I offered it in the confessional.
I never said the Hail Marys I was frequently ordered to recite. Our inability to grasp the tenets of the religion was almost exclusively down to the zealous way in which the nuns sought to inculcate us with the principles of Holiness, Goodness, Righteousness Or Else. As with all fundamentalists, they had neither the wit nor the will to present the benign face of their religion for fear it would lack impact. Controlling and turning us into mini-zealots, afraid of our own shadows was their over-riding aim. Given the opportunity to be washed of all sin for another week, we were more prepared to allow it to build up ceaselessly and hope we could cut a deal with Him when the time came. I would hate you to think me ‘anti-religion’; I’m not really, but whenever I hear a serious debate on one issue or another, the introduction of a religiousviewpoint has the effect of reducing the matter to silliness, like farting at a funeral. Apparently sane individuals, with obvious intellect, will apply the teachings of Jesus to the travails of single mothers. It leaves me wondering why they even bothered with an education. Anyway, there you are.
Our seemingly endless capacity for misbehaviour, and the resultant trials and worries, distressed Mum. It just wore her down, and there were evenings when it all got too much and she would march out of the house, vowing never to return. It would take my brothers several minutes to convince me that she had only gone next door to the neighbour to cry and get a break. I’d be crying too, convinced she had left us.
Woolverstone must have arrived like a beacon of light, a lifeboat in the storm, a big, whopping helping hand. As boys at risk of taking several unseemly paths in life, Serge and I certainly needed it – but Mum needed it more. For two years after Serge went away to school, she had the relative luxury of just my two older brothers and me to worry about. One of those – Matt – was providing plenty of anxiety on his own and would continue to do so for decades, but the thought that her two youngest would soon be established, safe and sound, at one of the best schools in the country must have been a balm for her over-worked, on-the-edge life. Of course, I had to actually get into the school and I sat the eleven-plus to that end. I wasn’t aware I was sitting the test, nor that it was being used to judge my suitability for Woolverstone, but I did well enough to be invited to meet the headmaster in a room at County Hall. I wasn’t daunted by the interview, but I was always wary of being called into offices where stern men would speak to me. Paddy wasn’t stern at all, and I liked him immediately. The narrow office had a window that looked out onto the Thames and when I wasn’t gazing over hisshoulder at the Houses of Parliament, I was telling him I wanted to be an
Similar Books
