Bradford Lad: Dirty Knees And A Red Face
Mike Coatesworth recalls embarrassments of the footwear kind.
I was shopping in a city centre when I noticed a young lad and his mother. He was wearing Wellington boots, a good idea because it looked as though the weather was about to take a turn for the worse. The tops of the boots were rubbing against his legs and he appeared to be uncomfortable. As I watched him I was remembering my own childhood.
I remembered a day of bad weaher when I was wearing my Wellingtons. The shool rule allowed us to arrive wearing protective gootwear, but once inside the building it had to be shoes or slippers. Wellingtons had to be left in the cloakroom, along with the coats. This was fine in theory, but in my case it presented problems. I was only allowed to go to school with one set of footwear; whatever was on my feet. My parents feared that if I would lose a second pair, and they would not be able to afford to replace them.
I walked into class in my Wellingtons and explained the situation to my teacher. He took me to the gym and showed me a large cardboard box containing lots of plimsolls, telling me to choose a pair which fitted me. and informed me to choose a pair that fitted me. I was quite surprised at how many kids had lost their P.E. footwear and not bothered to claim them.
That afternoon our class were due to play football. That was my cue to sneak out of school and go to play in the park, as I usually did on sports days. I had no sports kit. On one embarrassing afternoon I had been forced to play football in my school shorts and Wellington boots. I got a good belting when I arrived home for getting my shorts muddy. That was when I decided it would be best not to be around on sports afternoons.
I was cheesed off. I enjoyed playing football. I talked to my aunt about the problem, and she said she would see what she could do about it. A week later she gave me a brown paper parcel tied up with string. It contained sports kit. Second-hand, of course.
On the next sports afternoon I proudly changed into my "new'' kit and ran out onto the football pitch. The teacher came up to me and asked in his loudest voice what I thought I was doing.
I told him I was there to play football.
"We're all here to play football,'' he said "but you're wearing rugby kit.''
Oh dear.
And it was too late to sneak off to the park.
