Open Writing

At ten years of age everything seemed possible to me, and that is the way I used to think. The world was my oyster, I told myself. All I had to do was to become grown up.

Well I was not grown up yet and the next best thing I could do was to pretend to entertain my friends .

So “When the Poppy’s Bloom Again” would be sung at the top of my voice while wearing my red tap shoes, with some old lace curtains draped around me. I would dance and sing, thinking I was Ginger Rogers or Judy garland, and the children would sit on the cold pavement to watch me.

Star Struck. That is what I was. but I was not alone as this was the time when most little girls felt the same way. A time when
film stars dressed beautifully and would never be seen unless they were made up, wearing the very latest n fashion.

Photos would show them smiling, looking glamorous, with beautiful furs draped around them and jewellery worn to excess. This was the way it was in those days and fashion was from head to toe. Hats, matching gloves, handbags, shoes, and hair never out of place.

This was also the time of the Eugene Permanent Wave,fabulous furs, powder puffs, compacts, cigarette holders and silk stockings . Nylon had not been invented then and it was pure silk stockings for those who could afford them or lisle stockings for those who had to make them last.

People tried to present themselves with a good image and I loved to see my mother dressed smart, looking like a film star.

Of course how you dressed made an impression in those days, and it is a sad reflection to know that the poor were already stigmatised by this style of living.

Mum was very conscious of being clean and I can recall the day when she called me to the window, then, with an air of secrecy, opened the curtain and told me to look out.

‘See that Indian man selling the candy floss. Well you watch him. See now how he has just licked his fingers and now he is touching the floss which he is selling to that child. Now you can understand why I do not want you to buy that stuff from him, can’t you?’

That picture was worth more than a thousand words to me. Mum was clever and that was sure.

I dare not think what she would have said if she had found out about ‘The Locus’ we ate off the ground.

My school was at Millwall and to get there it was necessary to go on a bus and cross over a bridge. This was an enormous swing bridge which opened to let ships pass through. Many times our bus would have to wait while a big ship passed by. Sometimes there was more than one ship,and this would make us very late for school. This was not a real problem as teachers and other people were used to it happening. All we had to say when we arrived late at school was ‘Sorry Miss, we had a Bridger''. That was the term we used. If we saw that there was going to be a very long delay we would get off the bus and walk along the docks, crossing a bridge further down which had not yet been opened, finishing our journey to school on foot.

I was really happy at Millwall Central School for I was free at last from the name calling I had suffered at my other school. ‘Chinese Eyes, Chinese Eyes' they would call after me. The bullying and name calling spoiled those early years for me, but somehow I still managed to do well at school, considering how unhappy I was.

My parents were very proud of me and they saw I was a good student and always did my best. My marks and position in exams was always very good and once I came top of my class. I was very happy and proud of my new school and I looked forward to at last being able to be free to study without having to cope with the unkindness I had been subjected to.

My uniform in the summer was a Panama straw hat with blue and white check gingham dress, a navy blue blazer, with white ankle socks and black shoes.

In the winter I wore a navy blue velour hat, matching gabardine coat, a striped blue and white tie, navy blue gym slip and a white blouse. Around my waist I wore a girdle which matched my tie. Black woollen stockings and black shoes completed the school’s regulation uniform, and I felt privileged and proud to wear it.

The school emblem was an enamel badge with a design of a windmill on a wall. This was worn on the front of your hat.

I can remember being very worried up the night before I started my new school. Mum and Dad had fulfilled all the requirements laid down by the school. I had for the first time a brown leather satchel, and my name was written inside with ink and all the necessary equipment was inside it. However there was one thing missing - a fountain pen. I had wanted so much a Conway Stewart Dinky pen. This was small fountain pen. I really wanted one. I am sure had I asked Mum and Dad they would have got one for me but instead I was given a big fountain pen the night before I started school.

I was so worried that I would not have a pen at all that it was a relief when I was given one. In those days children were aware of the financial strain it was for parents to buy the school uniform, so you did not ask for a special sort of pen. We could not be disappointed about anything for long, as we were taught to appreciate and be thankful for what we were given. I counted my blessings and forgot about the little pen I had wanted.

French lessons were a breeze and I learned very quickly, I had a flare for the language, so I was told. I remember after the first few days at school one girl asked me if I could roll my rrrrrrrr’s. I thought she said roll my eyes. It was quite funny when I said “Yes” and proceeded to roll my eyes. This made us laugh and I have never forgotten it. I enjoyed the indoor sports and was made Vice Captain of a team.

At my previous school I was chosen to swim in the London Schools Swimming Gala. I swam Breast Stroke Style and won a bronze medal. I was a good swimmer, having already three life saving certificates by the age of ten. My Aunt also came to watch me with Mum and Dad. She and my Uncle were so pleased with me that a few days later they took me to across the water to Peckham Market and told me to choose whichever doll I would like. I chose one that was not very expensive and they told me to choose another, ‘It doesn’t matter how much it costs’ I was told. We had been brought up not to be greedy so I stuck to the one I had chosen, even though there were dolls so much more beautiful. I was about ten at that time.

I called my doll Rosebud and my Uncle made me a rocking cradle. I used to have it at the bottom of my bed with a piece of string tied to the cradle and to the head of my bed. I would pull the string gently as I was going to sleep and rock the cradle.

I loved babies and my life would have been ruined if I had found that, like some women, I was not able to have children. Happily I married and had two sons and a daughter, but that’s another story.