School Reunion

Dear diary...looking back on the year 1990, I was reminded of an unexpected letter that arrived asking me if I'd like to attend a school reunion. Due to the fact I'd been picked on at school, I did have reservations at meeting class members that made life so unbearable.

After giving it much thought, curious as I was to know how the others turned out, I made up my mind to reply with: yes I would be present, getting quite excited at the thought of seeing old friends as well as the school itself.

Friday 14^th September arrived. I made a decision to have a seaweed wrap – that's when you're mummified from head to foot in bandages soaked in special seaweed to loose inches off your body, and left to vegetate for an hour, very relaxing it was too.

Having kept in touch with an old school friend Julie who still lived in Bristol at the time, we arranged to go together. The nearer to Friday, I became nerves yet exhilarated.

Finally the day arrived. Packing an overnight bag, as I was staying at mum and dad's, I set off in the car, driving up the M4 to Bristol with high expectations of an intriguing, fun evening.

Mum and dad welcomed me and said I could have my old bedroom for the night. My memory was crushed, it wasn't at all how I remembered on my last visit. Gone was my bed, wardrobe, dressing table, even the carpet, curtains and wallpaper had changed. Dad had been decorating again. There was a camp bed in the corner of the otherwise empty room, which was fine, but there was no echo of that much loved homely feeling.

Julie arrived on time as she always did. I was already raring to go. We both chatted about who we thought would turn up, deciding we'd walk to Portway school rather than drive, as we both wanted to drink, and Julie was quite happy to get a taxi home.

It was still quite light, so we sauntered up the back road which was a short cut beside the woods that I used to walk all those school years ago. I remembered setting fire to my school books on that last day up in the woods, and having no remorse. It was good to be free at last, looking forward to what the working future would have in store for me.

Portway school although not changed that much, felt weird. The tennis courts where we also played netball and the playground were still there, but the playing fields felt so much smaller than what I recollected. I remembered the time we were playing rounders and I got hit between the eyes with the ball while batting, that was an agonizing experience, those rounders balls are painfully hard.

Inside; school hadn't really changed that much. Julie and I walked the corridors recalling the science classroom with its long wooden tables where boys messed around with bunsen burners when the science teacher wasn't about, those flames could get quite high, how the boys didn't set fire to the classroom amazed me.

Then there was the gym which seemed to have become smaller than I recalled, with those horrible ropes Miss Clements used to make us girls climb, I never did have strong arms, even to this day I can't do press ups.

Also the changing rooms were still there. Memories of girls ripping stockings off each others legs came tumbling back, why they did it I don't know, a pretty expensive prank to pull which I refused to be a part of, yet on many occasions had mine torn from my legs. The amount of tights I went through was staggering. I would have to spend my dinner money on new ones from our local Woolworths. I would never tell the teachers what went on for fear of being attacked after school.

Me and Julie came to the main entrance leading to what was the dinner hall. I had the shock of my life when I saw a familiar face in a wheelchair. It was an old class mate Jenny. She was always very thin in school, but extremely popular with the boys. Making a beeline towards Jenny, I gave her a big hug and asked how she was.

“I'm married with children,” she told me. It was hard to see her in that wheelchair, and the fact she had children, I wondered how she managed, as we continued to tell each other our news.

Then there was Graham who became a chef aboard a cruise ship. He was always shy and quiet, keeping as far away from trouble makers as he could. I was fascinated by his mustache and how much it changed his baby face, he'd been so short and skinny as a boy.

Paul in his glasses I'd seen before, having worked as a receptionist where he held a position in the warehouse, so there were no surprises there. Julie used to have a crush on Paul and I got the feeling she was pleased to see him again.

We all wore name tags, so there wasn't any problems remembering names. Many of the kids that were always in trouble, didn't turn up...thank goodness, I really didn't want to get drawn into those bad times. In fact out of the fifteen or so in our class, only five of us turned up, so it turned into a great evening with food, drink and a disco where we danced and enjoyed each others company.

With the evening wearing on, we chatted about the teacher Miss Evans. She must have been in her late 50s, or so it seemed to me at the time. Miss Evans made us girls walk round the classroom with books on our heads, to teach us posture and how to walk like ladies.

She'd take us out of school which made a change, we'd go up to some tearooms in Clifton Bristol, where we'd sip tea and eat cucumber sandwiches with the crust taken off, and scones with jam and cream. It was supposed to educate us in the art of etiquette.

She would come into class with all manner of hair colours, all shades of pink and blue rinses. When checking our homework, her glasses would sit on the end of her nose, attached to a chain which hung around her neck. Yes Miss Evans was very posh, but also a good teacher, with all she had to put up with.

That evening me, Julie and Jenny laughed about the notes we'd pass under the desks when Miss Evans wasn't looking, writing about who was meeting who when they fancied a boy, or what we were thinking when we couldn't speak in class – funny how it was always the girls that did this and not the boys.

Our classroom was on the second floor, the boys were terrors for looking up the skirts of girls as they climbed the stairs, some girls found it flattering, while others were humiliated.

I recall Pat who would cake her face in makeup. Back then that horrible stuff was allowed in school, but I never wore it, always worrying about teenage spots and how makeup would make them worse.

There was a time when for a year I had to wear braces, which made my life a hundred times harder with the rude and silly remarks about how I looked. I thought! One day I'll show them I'm not ugly, even if I have to wear these horrible braces forever.

There was a girl who used to threaten to cut my tongue out, because I wouldn't fight or speak to her, it wasn't in my nature to fight and I refused, even when she caught me off guard when walking home from school. I was petrified, but wouldn't show her, or stoop to her level.

I left school with sad memories, but by coming to the reunion, I managed to rekindle some great times too, that came just at the right time in my life.

Photo is my own.