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There were more teachers at school than pupils back then, but truancy wasn't the reason why the pupils were absent; to be fair, it was probably the perfect way that I would have preferred it to have been had I had still been embodied within the system. In reality, I had left school for just over a year and a quarter by the time the summer of 1995 had arrived - it was a warm summer with light evenings come the final week of June, and it was nearly a decade since I was last at Infant school with a month to go before I reached the age of seven and the next stage in my educational career. In the then present tense, it was was half way into my first full year as a civilian and it almost felt great, save for it being the same old area that I was still living in. I first found out about it in the local newspaper on the day after the spring Bank Holiday: ex-pupils needed for a 25th anniversary reunion, and saw the name of my school, named after someone quite famous, hence my lack of name-droppng on here. I was indeed an alumnus of that place, so I decided to take the plunge and attend. Firstly, in just over a year, I had completely forgot about the structure of the school terms since I left the system in March 1994 and they were still on Half Term break to complement the Bank Holiday on the Monday. On the Wednesday I telephoned the school, and the caretaker answered; he knew nothing about the reunion plans (or even read our local newspaper for that matter), and invited me to ring back first thing on the following Monday when the secretary would be in attendance. Perhaps the newspaper announcement should have been published the following week?
The following Monday morning, I rang up again and received further details about the reunion; we had a five minute chat, namedropping former teachers, and we were in business. I was delighted that my former class teacher was there; in fact, four out of the five of the main teachers attended, while one of them had since had a change surname via marriage since leaving - probably the fifth one might have been like that as well. It was mostly kids that were the main reason why I had school refusal, and I know that there weren't going to be any kids there, and even then, the kids of the early to mid 1980s would have been close to being adults by then. The school was marking 25 years of existence in 1995; I am certain that they probably would have done a 50 year celebration in 2020 had it not been for coronavirus, although as I no longer allow local newspapers in my place due to its depressing content, I wouldn't have known about it from there. However, the school existed before that under another name as two former pupils from the 1950s also attended. I did get the secretary to send me a copy of the people who attended so that I could see who from my era was there, and there were some familiar names on there as well; I also signed that list as well.
It's amazing that when one is travelling on a bus, walking down the street, having a bath, or even sitting in bed, things in life triggers off memories of the past, but the problem is that one can easily forget them in an instant before it can be written down, and now and again, one has to do association in the mind and eventually come back to what you are thinking of originally. I wasn't going to risk all this, and so the weekend before, I racked my brains using around three sheets of A4 paper, writing down various school memories, mostly from my stint there of 1983-1985 (1982 if the nursery year was counted in which I had often overlooked), before I forgot them; I ended up with around 30 memories on paper, with more added on in the days to come as more had come to mind. Highlights included a trip to Twycross Zoo; a Friday evening jumble sale at school in which I was quite precise with the date and time of it; and actors visiting from a theatre company that was to perform a show for us - a vague memory. Television also played a part, and in addition to schools programmes like Words and Pictures, I remember seeing Mary Poppins for the first time in the school hall at Christmas 1984, a week or so before it premiered on BBC 1. And a nativity play.
The day of the reunion arrived: a pity that it wasn't held a week before as it would have been held on the longest day of the year had that been the case. It was going to be a long evening with daylight extending beyond 9.30 pm; the reunion was scheduled for between 6.30 pm and 9.00 pm, but actually ended just after 9.30 pm; I still lived within the catchment area of the school in those days and only had a quarter of a mile to walk home again afterwards. I left home just after Children's ITV that afternoon (How 2 more specifically); caught a bus to the City Centre and went and sat on the bench where the Brian Clough statue is now situated, thinking for a few minutes about returning to a place that I had not set foot in for nearly a decade. Should I chicken out and go back home again, or should I go ahead with my plans? I was a bit nervous rather than anxious, and certainly I would be made welcome. After all, I did say that I was attending. I still feel that without an official invitation to any place, my prescience to any place might not be honoured positively by those who are running and attending it. I caught another bus and travelled the mile to the main road close to the Infant School; the same main road where I had "escaped" from the school gates at least twice over a decade since, and attempted to play chicken before the crossing patrol woman could find out. And they said that education was actually within school itself? Probably the embryonic stages of my early 1990s school refusal? One thing I saw when I approached the front of the school gates was the reunion sign with a couple of balloons attached to it - very welcoming indeed.
It was a good evening to have the reunion on, and a good evening to switch the TV set off: look what I was missing on television, given a midweek evening in front of the box during the summer. Well actually, on that evening, I was only "missing" on BBC 1, a memory game show with Bob Monkhouse; Terry Wogan doing "a Judith Chalmers" and revisiting his native Ireland; a science show presented by Matthew Kelly which was one of his few shows for the BBC; and after the Nine O'clock News, a documentary about road rage. Wimbledon with Desmond Lynam all day on BBC 2, which was followed by cookery from Delia Smith and the Travel Show. On ITV, ironically after Central showed a Life Line programme on Child Safety, Bradley Walsh had the Midas Touch in the Emmerdale slot. Episode 3,875 of Coronation Street: storyline highlights included Jack Duckworth tries to forget about his brother Cliff's will; Raquel organises a party for Andy McDonald (not the future Labour MP) at the Rovers, and Deirdre returns home from Morocco after mourning Samir Rashid (remember him?) This was also when she moved into those old flats that were owned by Mike Baldwin and where we will get to see Roy Cropper for the first time in around three weeks later. A repeat of A Touch of Frost points us towards the direction of News at Ten. Channel 4 had Brookside and Lonely Planet. But that's what I would have seen had I stayed in that evening - the reunion sounded more interesting than the television that evening.
Back to the reunion, and I had met my former class teacher for the first time in a decade (she had taught some 600 children during her teaching career - it must have been a very big classroom), but the former Headteacher or nursery nurse didn't recognise me from Adam. Still, it was great that they had attended, and only one or two apologies from my era of that school. I immediately recognised my old classroom, and the couch that was close to the radiator in the book corner was still there; it was a real treat in cold or wet weather when the caretaker would put the heating on, so that anyone who was good had been allowed to sit back and be the first in the room to get properly warm! The incumbent staff were impressed with my list of memories, and they decided to have their own copy of them via the photocopier. After mingling (I was on orange juice because of my tender age), I got to meet so many interesting people. By 9.00 pm, it wasn't even showing signs of getting dark yet, and the cake was finally cut. I had a piece before going home, and then it got dark outside. Although my parents knew about the reunion (my late mother had namedropped had a former pupil's name the night before when she heard the announcement on a local radio station), they realised where I had gone any why I was late that evening, being a bit slow, eventually putting two and two together.
Just like the newish National Lottery, one had to be 16 years old at least and had left for ten years, so I was within that ballpark as my 16th birthday had occurred the previous August. As a matter of fact, I used to play the lottery back then until I gave it up around a year later when I had won £10 for matching three numbers when I played in Woolworths. I used to choose different numbers each week, and that week, I chose numbers around school reunion - I was in Class 3 at the time; it was a 25 year reunion; it was 10 years since I left; etc, giving me three of that week's numbers, but I didn't win anything. The following year, my local newspaper invited readers to say what the paper has done for them in recent times. I wrote and mentioned the reunion which was published soon afterwards. Well, my main point was that if I had not seen it in the local newspaper, I wouldn't have known anything about it in first place - all square.
The following Monday morning, I rang up again and received further details about the reunion; we had a five minute chat, namedropping former teachers, and we were in business. I was delighted that my former class teacher was there; in fact, four out of the five of the main teachers attended, while one of them had since had a change surname via marriage since leaving - probably the fifth one might have been like that as well. It was mostly kids that were the main reason why I had school refusal, and I know that there weren't going to be any kids there, and even then, the kids of the early to mid 1980s would have been close to being adults by then. The school was marking 25 years of existence in 1995; I am certain that they probably would have done a 50 year celebration in 2020 had it not been for coronavirus, although as I no longer allow local newspapers in my place due to its depressing content, I wouldn't have known about it from there. However, the school existed before that under another name as two former pupils from the 1950s also attended. I did get the secretary to send me a copy of the people who attended so that I could see who from my era was there, and there were some familiar names on there as well; I also signed that list as well.
It's amazing that when one is travelling on a bus, walking down the street, having a bath, or even sitting in bed, things in life triggers off memories of the past, but the problem is that one can easily forget them in an instant before it can be written down, and now and again, one has to do association in the mind and eventually come back to what you are thinking of originally. I wasn't going to risk all this, and so the weekend before, I racked my brains using around three sheets of A4 paper, writing down various school memories, mostly from my stint there of 1983-1985 (1982 if the nursery year was counted in which I had often overlooked), before I forgot them; I ended up with around 30 memories on paper, with more added on in the days to come as more had come to mind. Highlights included a trip to Twycross Zoo; a Friday evening jumble sale at school in which I was quite precise with the date and time of it; and actors visiting from a theatre company that was to perform a show for us - a vague memory. Television also played a part, and in addition to schools programmes like Words and Pictures, I remember seeing Mary Poppins for the first time in the school hall at Christmas 1984, a week or so before it premiered on BBC 1. And a nativity play.
The day of the reunion arrived: a pity that it wasn't held a week before as it would have been held on the longest day of the year had that been the case. It was going to be a long evening with daylight extending beyond 9.30 pm; the reunion was scheduled for between 6.30 pm and 9.00 pm, but actually ended just after 9.30 pm; I still lived within the catchment area of the school in those days and only had a quarter of a mile to walk home again afterwards. I left home just after Children's ITV that afternoon (How 2 more specifically); caught a bus to the City Centre and went and sat on the bench where the Brian Clough statue is now situated, thinking for a few minutes about returning to a place that I had not set foot in for nearly a decade. Should I chicken out and go back home again, or should I go ahead with my plans? I was a bit nervous rather than anxious, and certainly I would be made welcome. After all, I did say that I was attending. I still feel that without an official invitation to any place, my prescience to any place might not be honoured positively by those who are running and attending it. I caught another bus and travelled the mile to the main road close to the Infant School; the same main road where I had "escaped" from the school gates at least twice over a decade since, and attempted to play chicken before the crossing patrol woman could find out. And they said that education was actually within school itself? Probably the embryonic stages of my early 1990s school refusal? One thing I saw when I approached the front of the school gates was the reunion sign with a couple of balloons attached to it - very welcoming indeed.
It was a good evening to have the reunion on, and a good evening to switch the TV set off: look what I was missing on television, given a midweek evening in front of the box during the summer. Well actually, on that evening, I was only "missing" on BBC 1, a memory game show with Bob Monkhouse; Terry Wogan doing "a Judith Chalmers" and revisiting his native Ireland; a science show presented by Matthew Kelly which was one of his few shows for the BBC; and after the Nine O'clock News, a documentary about road rage. Wimbledon with Desmond Lynam all day on BBC 2, which was followed by cookery from Delia Smith and the Travel Show. On ITV, ironically after Central showed a Life Line programme on Child Safety, Bradley Walsh had the Midas Touch in the Emmerdale slot. Episode 3,875 of Coronation Street: storyline highlights included Jack Duckworth tries to forget about his brother Cliff's will; Raquel organises a party for Andy McDonald (not the future Labour MP) at the Rovers, and Deirdre returns home from Morocco after mourning Samir Rashid (remember him?) This was also when she moved into those old flats that were owned by Mike Baldwin and where we will get to see Roy Cropper for the first time in around three weeks later. A repeat of A Touch of Frost points us towards the direction of News at Ten. Channel 4 had Brookside and Lonely Planet. But that's what I would have seen had I stayed in that evening - the reunion sounded more interesting than the television that evening.
Back to the reunion, and I had met my former class teacher for the first time in a decade (she had taught some 600 children during her teaching career - it must have been a very big classroom), but the former Headteacher or nursery nurse didn't recognise me from Adam. Still, it was great that they had attended, and only one or two apologies from my era of that school. I immediately recognised my old classroom, and the couch that was close to the radiator in the book corner was still there; it was a real treat in cold or wet weather when the caretaker would put the heating on, so that anyone who was good had been allowed to sit back and be the first in the room to get properly warm! The incumbent staff were impressed with my list of memories, and they decided to have their own copy of them via the photocopier. After mingling (I was on orange juice because of my tender age), I got to meet so many interesting people. By 9.00 pm, it wasn't even showing signs of getting dark yet, and the cake was finally cut. I had a piece before going home, and then it got dark outside. Although my parents knew about the reunion (my late mother had namedropped had a former pupil's name the night before when she heard the announcement on a local radio station), they realised where I had gone any why I was late that evening, being a bit slow, eventually putting two and two together.
Just like the newish National Lottery, one had to be 16 years old at least and had left for ten years, so I was within that ballpark as my 16th birthday had occurred the previous August. As a matter of fact, I used to play the lottery back then until I gave it up around a year later when I had won £10 for matching three numbers when I played in Woolworths. I used to choose different numbers each week, and that week, I chose numbers around school reunion - I was in Class 3 at the time; it was a 25 year reunion; it was 10 years since I left; etc, giving me three of that week's numbers, but I didn't win anything. The following year, my local newspaper invited readers to say what the paper has done for them in recent times. I wrote and mentioned the reunion which was published soon afterwards. Well, my main point was that if I had not seen it in the local newspaper, I wouldn't have known anything about it in first place - all square.
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