Ducks!



This is what I have felt like for the past month, along with most of the rest of the country! What bright spark decided to call a drought in the year when we had the Queen's Jubilee AND the 2012 Olympics? That was just asking for trouble. A couple of days ago, when the North East really caught it, we thought we were badly done by here in leafy Warwickshire. On a visit to the local Waitrose we got trapped in the store when the heavens opened and the thunder and lightning crashed overhead. By the time we got out (all of 5 minutes!) the car park was 4 inches deep. The journey back home, though short, was pretty hairy. Thanks are due to all the hard work done on the drainage recently in Alcester. Serious flooding is now much less likely.

I am now in serious mourning after the departure from Wimbledon of my main man! For Rafa to lose at this point is a tragedy of Homeric proportions. Okay, so I exaggerate a little, but only a little! I love my tennis (to watch not to play I hasten to add). It's a fantastic game to shout and yell at. Much better than golf, which I do play. Thought the weather has played havoc with that in recent weeks. Every time I put my name down to play the heavens open - or so it seems. The problem with golf is the aftermath of a 'shower'. Unlike a tennis court a golf course tends to stay wet for some time. Result, a sea of mud to plough through - if the course is open. But to get back to Wimbledon. With Rafa out I have to find someone else to support. (No point in yelling to no good purpose!) The obvious one would be Murray, but I do find him very hard to warm to. The smug Swiss one is a complete no-no. So that really only leaves Novak. Unless we are in for a complete upset. That would be interesting. Perhaps Del Potro?What I do love is the way the commentators get so excited when one of the British players actually manages to win a match! The poor sods then don't have a chance. All eyes are on them, they get stuck on a televised court, and buckle under the weight of expectation.

I have decided that laughter really is the best medicine. We went to the Roses Theatre in Tewkesbury again last night, (it really is a cracking little theatre) to see Dr Phil. His humour is - robust I think is one word for it, rude is another - but he is funny. I haven't laughed till I cried for quite some time, and boy did it feel good. It helped just a little to make up for the depression that sets in at the sight of yet another wet and windy day. We even got a lesson in CPR at the end. Apparently the tune to use is the Archers theme tune!

I am feeling a little guilty at the moment though. It is the holidays from Latin until October, and I had told myself I must do at least an hour a day, for at least five days a week. This has not come to pass! It's at least five days since I last did any. I don't even have the excuse that I have been too busy. I'm retired for heavens sake. I can find time for anything if I really want to!  I have been trying to read a book about Roman Law. And I do mean trying. I get a real bee in my bonnet about writers who spoil a fascinating subject by trying to be too clever. They use great rolling periods and convoluted sentences. And don't even get me on the subject of using the most obscure word possible. So the book is currently on the shelf waiting for me to have another go at it. It will have to be soon because it has to go back to the library soon. I am just so glad I didn't actually buy it! I will finish it - really I will. If I can stay awake long enough. Communication is a vital part of academic literature. If you send your audience to sleep that is not communicating.

The Olympic Torch is due in our small town tomorrow. I will end on the subject I started with. Please can we give the rain a miss - just for a while?

Up girls and at 'em!

This is my old school motto! The school song is even more uplifting. The chorus goes:-

                                "Up girls, Truest fame lies in high endeavour,
                         Play the game! Keep the flame burning brightly ever!"

Hill House, Otterhampton

Hence the title - Up girls and at 'em! In an Olympic year this seems particularly apt. But the reason I have been thinking about my school days, back in the dim and distant past, is the biannual school reunion a few weeks ago. St Hilda's School for Girls was (it closed in the 1970's) in Otterhampton, Bridgwater in Somerset, and was run in exemplary fashion by the Misses Lilian and Mary Burridge.  It started in Westcliff-on Sea but evacuated to Somerset during the war, moving into Hill House, where it stayed until it closed. I arrived, aged about 8, in the early 1950's. This picture, taken recently, does not do it justice. In the days I was a pupil it was 'held up' by a magnificent covering of Virginia Creeper.  The building was, with the surrounding park, at the heart of the school. I can't remember a time when we stayed indoors when there was the slightest excuse to get outside into the fresh air.

The St Hilda's Fellowship have a 'big' reunion every two years, since being reformed due to the impact of Friend's Reunited! They are popular enough for old girls to come from as far afield as New Zealand and Canada. When we get together there is a lot of talk (the decibels have to be heard to be believed!) and a concerted effort to do something that 'we used to do'. One year it was a school sports day (my husband still cherishes his medal for the 'not so little visitors' race!). Another year the school nativity play in Bridgwater Arts Centre on the hottest day of the year. I still smile when I remember the conga to Country Gardens (the tune we came out of the last assembly of the term to) out onto the pavement in Bridgwater, to the amusement of the passers by. What on earth were these 'ladies of

Riding in style!

a certain age' up?

This time it was to be a picnic and a bus ride around the Quantocks seeing old haunts. What made it really special was the bus! It was pure art-deco, beautifully maintained, and painted bright yellow! The drive was absolutely splendid, causing quite a sir amongst the local population. We stopped for tea, for a walk on the beach at Kilve, and a stroll up on the Quantocks. All the time the chatter went on. My husband, Paul, and Jean's husband David, had wandered off for the afternoon, but got back before we did. The look on their faces when they saw the bus was a picture to behold!

What really struck me was the values we had been brought up on by the two Burridge sisters that were apparent in all my old school fellows. Education was fairly important, but who we were as people was much more so. I've already mentioned the 'outdoors' nature of our lives. What I haven't yet mentioned is the almost complete lack of Elf and Safety! We were expected to learn the difference between 'stupid' and 'testing oneself''. We were allowed to go down to the pool for a swim before breakfast if we so chose. But we were expected to let someone know we were doing so. We were allowed to climb the huge fir trees in the garden/park, but not alone. We were taken out in the school minibus in small groups on fine Saturday afternoons, dropped 3, 4 or 5 miles from school and expected to walk back. All these things would be expressly forbidden today. We had rabbits we were expected to look after properly. (Breeding was forbidden, but it was amazing  how often the rabbits 'got out'! How else were we to learn the facts of life?) For those, including me, who chose, there were horses in the stables. Some girls even brought their own. It was all about taking responsibility for your own life. And the 'girls' I met in Somerset recently had all done just that. Not bad Miss Burridge and Miss Mary.



Gill with the school bell!

I can't miss the opportunity to post just a couple of pictures of my old friends! This first one is Gill Duckham, who, I have to admit, is the one friend I would have absolutely no difficulty recognising after any number of years. Gill, you haven't changed a bit! She is ringing the old school bell, the method by which everyone knew where they had to be at any given time. Gill rescued it when the school closed, and brings it to every reunion.                                                                                            

Always smiling Linda

Denise on the right

Linda, who came over from Canada with her sister, was always at the centre of everything. And continues to be! Even the story about Denise and one of the nights we were allowed to take our mattresses up onto the roof to sleep! I won't repeat it here just to spare Denise's blushes. But what school now would let it's pupils sleep, unaccompanied, on the school roof! And have a midnight feast up there!

Paul and I stayed at a hotel in Holford, where we used to go on school picnics. The morning we left we made the time to walk up to Holford Glen so I could show Paul one of our old haunts. It just reminded me how lucky we all were. We had a proper childhood, full of love and care. Something a lot of today's children are missing. They grow up so early, and miss such a lot.

I must just mention the splendid Clive and the Latin lessons. The last one with Clive was last Wednesday, but I was very happy to discover they will continue in October, with a new teacher. I just hope he is half as good as Clive, who will be sadly missed. It took me a very long time to find a suitable Latin class - I am so glad I don't have to start looking again!