that I'm not at school any more.
Damp January mornings in a freezing, crumbling Victorian building with one lukewarm radiator per classroom. The smell of cold, wet mud on a rugby pitch as your face was ground into it. An elderly man of dubious sexual predilictions shouting at you for failing to conjugate Latin irregular verbs correctly.
The past truly is a different place, thank God.
Mondays were especially shït in winter. We always had rugby on Monday afternoon. The pervasive reek of of Deep heat and sweaty teenage boys and Mr Dodd (a convicted pedofiddler) 'joining the scrum', 'keeping his hands warm' down the front of his tracksuit trousers and 'making sure we'd showered'.Originally Posted by Sir C
Character-building, mind.
Last edited by Burney; 01-08-2018 at 11:17 AM.
I think it's the cold I remember more than anything. Freezing when you arrived, freezing all day, ridiculously freezing on the rugby pitch / gym, and then... the joy of an arctic changing room in which to shiver, secure in the knowledge that some **** would flick you with a towel and raise a weal like a buboe on your bottom.Mondays were especially shït in winter. We always had rugby on Monday afternoon. The pervasive reek of of Deep heat and sweaty teenage boys and Mr Dodd (a convicted pedofiddler) 'joining the scrum', 'keeping his hands warm' down the front of his tracksuit trousers and 'making sure we'd showered'.
Character-building, mind.
And the most you had to look forward to at night was boiled mince and Coronation Street.
Yes. The odd thing, though, is that I seem to remember enjoying school very much. Obviously, the individual elements were shít, but taken as a whole it was tremendous fun. I've never really understood these chaps who like to bang on about how school made them miserable. i always think they must have been doing it wrong.
Last edited by Burney; 01-08-2018 at 11:33 AM.
names. Food that had been prepared almost hatefully without the slightest attempt at flavour or quality.Mondays were especially shït in winter. We always had rugby on Monday afternoon. The pervasive reek of of Deep heat and sweaty teenage boys and Mr Dodd (a convicted pedofiddler) 'joining the scrum', 'keeping his hands warm' down the front of his tracksuit trousers and 'making sure we'd showered'.
Character-building, mind.
An RI teacher with a suspicious tendency to flog only blond boys on the flimsiest of pretexts.
You've disinterred some painful memories
True that. Once we got to the fourth form, boarding school was like having a hundred brothers and no parents around to spoil it.
We had no heating, carpets or curtains in our dorms and when it dropped to freezing outside a saucer of water placed on a windowsill would form a layer of ice. (none of us died however ).
For anyone who wasn't monumentally stupid or hideously deformed, had a modicum of social skill and (ideally) some facility for sport, public school was tremendous fun.
Fúcking hell, were you at my school between 1976 and 1982?names. Food that had been prepared almost hatefully without the slightest attempt at flavour or quality.
An RI teacher with a suspicious tendency to flog only blond boys on the flimsiest of pretexts.
You've disinterred some painful memories
Not in the 1970s, it wasn't.
It was fúcking brutal.
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