Open Writing

The annual party was a very lively affair. It was unlike other parties for, of course, we knew each other well, and had our own particular friends, so that there was not the usual shyness, which was wonderful to me.

The dining room was separated by large wooden panels which, when parted, folded back against the wall leaving a wide opening into the drawing room; a room of mystery which we seldom saw, dimly lit in daytime as no windows peeped into it, but bright and gay on party nights. This addition made a larger area for the jolly games we played, at which Uncle Jack was the presiding genie.

Uncle Jack was remarkable in his looks as he had no hair on either his head or face, no eyelashes, no eyebrows, but as we had always known him thus it excited no comment or jest. I never heard any from the pupils either, which in itself, I think, was remarkable.

Poor man! when quite young he had suffered from the disease, alopecia, and at some cost to himself, from the first he had pointed to his hairless state, laughing at himself, saving all from embarrassment.

He had a wide, humorous mouth, and a habit of standing leaning backwards in front of the fire at the parties, both hands lifting the tails of his long coat. From that position, with the greatest good humour and gusto, he would conduct the guessing games, or "Simon says thumbs up", keeping a twinkling eye on all of us seated upon the floor, receiving an instantaneous response to his plans.

The quieter games were followed by more active ones and we dearly loved "Follow my leader", to the tune of "A-hunting we will go". Twisting and turning behind Uncle's genial, laughing figure, along the hall, back through the kitchen and the schoolroom, to the drawing room, and again into the dining room. The long line of happy children, the girls looking pretty and the boys smart in the party clothes, sang repeatedly:

"Oh, a-hunting we will go my boys,
A-hunting we will go,
We'll catch a fox and
Put him in a box,
And never let him go,"

and on again

"Oh, a-hunting we will go my boys,
A-hunting we will go. . . ."

until the snaky line broke up.

Perhaps, after a breathing space, we would then dance the jolly "Sir Roger de Coverley".

The party supper made an unbelievable spread. All the desks were set end to end down the long room and covered by double damask tablecloths. The silver, shining and thin and old, the party glass so extremely fine that it was risky handling the dainty glass cups to spoon out delicious jelly, egg custard, and fruit and cream.

It made a wonderful sight, with the addition of dozens of plates of sandwiches and buns being set about, among them bowls of trifles and party sweets, the trifles being topped with fondants of pink, white, and yellow, which melted in the mouth. Trails of greenery enhanced the effect, and it was a glory to the eye as well as to the palate.

I think a good deal of the term's profit must have flowed away on these eatables, and the aunts had to work very hard to make their living. They often and often had the greatest difficulty in securing the full amount of the fees, many people procrastinating and some not paying at all. Competition was quite keen, and later came a very anxious period when private schools had to be inspected, and passed, by the Education authorities, or they would not be allowed to continue, or so the aunts believed at the time.

We were all primed for the event, running over recent work, told how serious it was that we should shine as bright pupils, and we tried our best, as the aunts were well loved. Auntie Flo took me personally in hand regarding mental arithmetic and I was thankful when my turn had passed and I appeared to meet with approval.

The Inspector, Mr Thornber, was genial. We had no fear of him, and all passed off well. The aunts thanked us gratefully for our co-operation. It would indeed have been tragic if all their long years of thought and care and labour had been brought to naught because we had failed to come through with flying colours.

Our singing mistress visited on certain days of the week, and worked hard over the annual concert. Miss Parker looked old, and was tiny in form and figure. She was very kind, and she laughed easily so that we all enjoyed the singing lessons, and loved preparing for the operettas and musical plays which we presented before our parents.

My closest friend, Muriel Clegg, played the part of Bo Peep in a play of that name. In a blue silk smock and carrying a heavy crook, she was a great success and looked appealing in the part, though I remember being a little jealous that I had not been chosen.

We sang choruses; perhaps these were in the intervals between the scenes of the bigger productions, but I enjoyed them, particularly one during the Great War which was called "Bluebell" (actually composed, I believe, during the Boer War). During this song we formed fours, very well in unison and with great efficiency; it was the grandest fun.

The small drawing room made the stage, the doors at either end being ideal for the exits and entrance, curtains separating the audience crowded into the dining-room.

The most popular and enjoyable operetta was a little Japanese piece, called, if memory is correct, "The Land of Lotus Blossom". It was quite enchanting in its music and colour. Our kimonos for this were made in the nursery, of beautiful stiff brocade. Doreen's was of a glowing red foundation with a pattern of flowers and leaves worked in gold upon it, mine the same, but worked in silver on an emerald green ground. They had wide sleeves and were finished with a deep sash fastening with a bow at the back. They were exciting and unusual.

The best part of all was the arrangement of our hair. For the first time we wore this brushed up on to the top of our heads, and twisted into a bun. Popped among the soft waves and this bun were miniature open fans, gaily coloured, and imitation chrysanthemum flowers falling gracefully over an
ear, or giving height and effect to the shape of the head.

We also carried paper fans, which were used often and with grace
during the piece. For weeks before the night we practised tiny, shuffling steps, which we had to remember to take during the whole performance. This was quite the best entertainment we ever produced.