Page 46 - She's One Crazy Lady!

Dad took me o“
of Victoria and
sent me to – wait
for it...
...a ballet
had made the decision to move to Wellingborough, so I was, against my will, taken out of Barton and moved to Victoria Junior School in Wellingborough where they had been practicing for the new Verbal Reasoning Tests and the tests were imminent – and where, coincidentally, Mr Kemp also transferred to at the same time.
Sadly, he was not my teacher and I heard later he returned to Barton Seagrave. Of course, I had no real understanding of what was required and found the Verbal Reasoning tests baffling and was deemed to be a ‘border line’, meaning I had to take the test again. Second time round I was still classed as a ‘border line’
and I remember Dad going along to see the Headteacher, Mr Clarke, and my class teacher, Mr Worrell, putting a case forward that, with such good school reports and references from Barton, I should be High School material. Mr Clarke disagreed so Dad took me out of Victoria and sent me to – wait for it...
...a ballet school!!!!! A BALLET SCHOOL!!!! What was he thinking of? Me, ‘Tubby,’ me a tomboy, at a ballet school? This was disastrous! I had no say in the matter, there was no discussion. We lived across the road to a family who also owned a greengrocery business in Wellingborough, so, as friendly as they were, there was competition there. This family’s daughter, Lisa (who was petite and very much a dancer) already attended Pitt Draffen Dancing School in Northampton, so I had to go. Dad said he wanted me to become more ‘ladylike!’ I hated it. I was SO, SO unhappy. I could never find any ballet outfits to fit me so had elastic extensions sewn in everywhere. The whole day at school was dance – tap, stage, and ballet. There was no learning – very little education. There were several dance teachers but only two academic teachers – ‘Mr H’, who made us chant our tables over and over again and ‘Mrs P’ who taught English and who always wore huge,
baggy pink or blue bloomers and always sat with her legs apart. I was told off so many times for giggling. I never had a school report. There was no sport – certainly no rounders and no art – just maths and English and dance – so much dance. The only ‘nice’ part was the uniform – brown, salmon pink and pale turquoise with straw boaters. In my unhappiness I used to hide in the toilets so I was late for lessons, and I would defiantly go over to Abington Park opposite the school to waste time. I even sat on the bar in the dance
ut
46
schoo”
l!!