Family Of Four: 51 - Boarding School
...The morning dawned, and soon we were on our way. For the first time I wore my full uniform of navy blue coat and hat, the hatband being worked in a scroll, S.S.S. Over the white blouse hung my gym tunic of heavy serge, bulky with pleats and calico lining, all of which made me look like a ship in full sail. It was vastly unbecoming I feel sure, but neat and businesslike, and with hockey stick in hand I felt the complete schoolgirl....
Mrs Vivien Hirst recalls leaving the security of her family home to go off to boarding school.
Mrs Hirst's memories were gathered into a book, Family Of Four, by her nephew, Raymond Prior.
I was about to venture into the new sphere of boarding school, and my happy childhood, with its unity of family life, was soon to be tucked away in the recesses of my mind, to be lingered on only in unexpected moments.
Never again was I to experience the same sheer delight which the child feels when holding a fluffy, yellow chick gently between her palms; as she watches a frog in his smart yellow waistcoat and bright green jacket hop into the air; as she follows with a finger the delicate fern and leaf tracery on a frosted window pane, pressing her nose flatly against the glass to see the effect with her downcast eye. The absorption in ordinary, familiar things was passing with the increasing vigour and activity of the growing girl.
For some time Rex had been at Eastbourne College, and Doreen and my friend, Mu, were away at school at Southlands, Seaford, Sussex. Before I joined them I had an unexpected term's holiday for it so happened that Auntie Elsie died from a stroke, after only a few days' illness. This was a bitter blow for Auntie Flo. She, herself, had developed high blood pressure, and her doctor forbade her to continue running the school in the present difficult circumstances. So it was closed down.
I welcomed this unforeseen holiday, but in the event, it was disappointing, as Bobby and my friends were at school so that I found it rather dull and lonely. It was fortunate that our new Lady Help, Miss McCarthy, came to us at this time for she gave me companionship.
From the first we called her Mac. She was a great success, being young and lively, with an Irish wit, and with such pretty, curling auburn hair that we took her into our hearts immediately. Mac gathered Bobby under her wing. He had been growing difficult to handle, but she so won his affection and respect that he was soon pleading with her not to marry until he was old enough to marry her himself!
The weeks passed quickly, and as the time for my new experience drew nearer and Doreen had told me of the discipline at school, I persuaded Mummy, not without some persistency on my part, to write to Miss Pannett, the headmistress of Southlands, to warn her I was high-spirited and not so amenable as was Doreen, so that she would not expect too much from me! "Tell her I am not very good," I begged Mummy. I would think that this unusual proceeding must have caused the headmistress some amusement.
The morning dawned, and soon we were on our way. For the first time I wore my full uniform of navy blue coat and hat, the hatband being worked in a scroll, S.S.S. Over the white blouse hung my gym tunic of heavy serge, bulky with pleats and calico lining, all of which made me look like a ship in full sail. It was vastly unbecoming I feel sure, but neat and businesslike, and with hockey stick in hand I felt the complete schoolgirl.
I had luncheon on the train, took my first glance of London and sniffed the air which, to me, always smells different from any other place.
It was exciting joining the school train at Victoria, but very embarrassing meeting such a flood of girls, all exuberant and all seemingly such tremendous friends. Doreen and Mu were greeted by the others; Daddy said parting words to us and ran along the platform as the train puffed out, wearing his worried expression: no doubt he wondered how I would settle down, being such a home bird.
On arrival at the station at Seaford we found cabs waiting to convey us to the school at Birchington. I discovered later that it stood on the edge of the Downs, which was very pleasant as we were allowed to break crocodile formation and walk over the gentle slopes; other walks being taken along the roads, very firmly in line, two by two.
The gym seemed enormous where all our trunks lay around waiting to be unpacked in the morning. Girls rushed along the endless corridors, talking and sliding, bumping into one another with cheerful laughter. It was only the first and last nights that this noisy bustle was allowed, sliding being expressly forbidden. It certainly seemed a happy school, I thought; but I wondered, also, whether I should ever become accustomed to this new life. It felt very strange. I went unreluctantly to bed, a tired, and by now, a rather confused new girl.
