MEMORIES, NOSTALGIA, .....
They keep rolling in.
Richard Jessop is sharing his with us:
Since I
can no longer remember what I did five minutes ago, but 60 years can be quite vivid,
I'll start very early, with Monaro Crescent Play Centre:
- There was the brown dog
(Bouncer?) who did laps for hours on end - he'd worn a track around the
fence-line ;
- the see-saw and swings, a
type of articulated chair, with arms ;
- finger-painting inside
the building;
- the fish-tank, the first
I'd ever seen ;
- and, of course, the
sand-pit near the gate, where I heard my first swear word ( "bugger"
as it happens).
Moving
on,
- who could
forget Mrs. Woods, story teller supreme - my favourite was "The Tinder
Box", and the dog, with eyes as big as saucers, which we listened to
sitting in a circle marked by cracking lino.
- Also
sitting in a circle, we played "Drop the Hanky" - this was also in
one of the same old rooms.
- Then
there were the road safety lectures - "Look right, look left, look right
again". It certainly worked - I still do it! Although Miss Carter used to
shepherd us across to the church hall - not that there much traffic in 1951.
In one of
those "where were you when" moments, I distinctly remember walking up
the ramp (Manuka side) and saying to a friend – “now we'll have to learn to sing
"God Save the Queen"”.
Standing
in rows, hands clasped in front, reciting (as a verse choir) "A chieftain
to the highlands boond cried "boatman, do not tarry", and I'll give
thee a silver poond to take me o'er the ferry".
And as a
singing choir, the Skye Boat Song (speed bonny boat, like a bird on the wing,
"onward" the sailors cry), not to mention "The Ash Grove"
(Down yonder green valley, where streamlets meander) and "Nymphs and
Shepherds".
All this
culture must have been in 1st or 2nd class.
I, too ,
remember the old tuck-shop under the north wing - mainly for the disgusting
spread that they used on the sandwiches - thin and white and tasteless. Give me
my butter and malted milk any time.
With some
regret I'll mention my least happy memory of school - being belted on the bum,
repeatedly, by a teacher named McFadgen, using what felt, at the time, like a
bit of 4 be 2 - it was certainly solid wood. Unlike the cuts in high school,
when I'd at least know what I'd done, McFadgen's torture seemed random - I'd be
sitting in class and suddenly realise that it was about to happen again. I'm
not sure where he fitted in, but I think my love for Mr.McShane was in reaction
to him.
Unlike
Sue, I have no memory of being forbidden hop-step-and-jump before school. The
boys did it in a sand-pit near the Manuka gate, and people came to school early
just to compete. It happened at lunch-time too, of course.
Speaking
of Mr. McShane, he once said that the correct answer to any question in the
Health and Temperance exam would be "Don't give alcohol". I still
have two (count 'em) merit certificates earned in these exams. Over the years
they have caused much mirth, particularly towards the end of dinner parties. "I
honour my God, I serve my Queen, I salute my flag" - we did too (salute,
that is).
