Thursday afternoon was filled with foreboding for me when I was at school, for that was the day not that the teddy bears had their picnic but when we trooped unwillingly over to the Ambulacrum to practise being in the Army. Uniform of any kind has always hung uneasily on me and a certain lack of timing has made it difficult for me to distinguish between left and right when marching. Added to that, I could never get my parade boots, badge and belt up to the requisite level of shine. I was not an unmilitary soul by any means and I very much enjoyed army life, admittedly experienced at a distance, while my stepfather was stationed with the BAOR in Germany, but for me and many of my contemporaries Thursday afternoons were something to be endured rather than enjoyed.
Field Days were like Thursday afternoons but much worse inasmuch as they lasted ALL DAY! In my memory it is a raw February's day clad in a thick, dank fog. It is the sort of day that we in my family would nowadays describe as being inhabited by Druids. I am weighed down with dread at the prospect of a day taken up with marching, semaphore practice, map-reading, shooting and preparing for the Cerificate A Part I exam. It is not unbearable by any means but it is yet another obstacle to be overcome in the long survival course of school life.
Field Days were like Thursday afternoons but much worse inasmuch as they lasted ALL DAY! In my memory it is a raw February's day clad in a thick, dank fog. It is the sort of day that we in my family would nowadays describe as being inhabited by Druids. I am weighed down with dread at the prospect of a day taken up with marching, semaphore practice, map-reading, shooting and preparing for the Cerificate A Part I exam. It is not unbearable by any means but it is yet another obstacle to be overcome in the long survival course of school life.
I wonder if anyone, ever, has come out from the English school system without having picked up some dread of other.
ReplyDeleteFor me, it was Fridays. School pervaded with aroma de Cod, my soul cringing with the sure and certain knowledge that I would too soon be sat in front of a cooling portion - and remaining there until (a) I managed a mouthfull and was then promptly sick, or (b) some kindly though no doubt disobedient nun removed my plate and gave me an orange.
Happiest days of our lives? Only some bits.