'I wish we were neater. Nothing can beat a walk on the sands, or on a cliff top.'
'My walk,' said Harold, 'was much less exciting. Just along Lulling High Street to get some half-inch screws. Still, I did bump into the Lovelock sisters.'
'And what were they doing?'
'Going into the Fuchsia Bush for their lunch, I gather. We had quite a gossip. They were very good about lending me that pamphlet of their father's.'
He began to look rather uneasy, and cleared his throat before speaking again.
'I thought — er — I wondered if it might be nice to invite them up for tea one day.'
'Nice for whom?'
'Oh, come on, darling! Don't be awkward. I just felt we should do something about them as they helped me with that essay abut Octavius.'
Isobel smiled forgivingly. 'They can come, but you know how I feel about those dreadful old harpies. We shall have to hide all the bits of silver from their beady eyes.'
'Oh, and I saw Charles. He and Dimity are going to a concert at the Barbican.'
'Good heavens! How dashing of them!'
'Robert Wilberforce has invited them. Evidently he's down in London for a day or two on business.'
'I hope Charles isn't thinking of driving. Parking's bad enough in Lulling, let alone London.'
'No. They're going up by train, he said, and Robert is meeting them at Paddington. I'm so glad for them. They get away so seldom. They seem really excited.'
'Well,' said Isobel, yawning. 'I think it's bedtime. It's been a long day, and I've a lot to do tomorrow.'
'Don't forget to ring the Lovelocks,' Harold reminded her.
'I'm not likely to forget that,' Isobel told him tartly.
8. Plans Go Ahead
A S THE summer term progressed, preparations for Thrush Green school's centenary celebrations started to take shape.
Few preparations were necessary for the school's part in the church service, or in the general joint celebrations, in which it would participate with even greater fervour, one suspected, but the Victorian day at the school needed more particular care.
Alan Lester called upon the Parent-Teacher Association to co-ordinate the plans. It was as well, he thought, to get the formidable Mrs Gibbons on his side without more ado, and in any case it was only right and proper that they should take an active part.
Many of the parents were old pupils. Some grandparents were, too, and although of course, there was no one alive who could remember the school as it was in 1892, there were a number who had heard their own parents and grandparents talking of their schooldays. This sense of continuity in a small community touched Alan Lester deeply.
He was delighted at the general enthusiasm for the idea of a Victorian schoolday when he spoke to the assembled company one evening.
Mrs Gibbons, in the chair, occasionally raised a query, but he felt it was more as a way of reminding them all that she was in charge, rather than from a genuine desire to alter the arrangements.
'The daily timetable for that period,' Alan told the gathering, 'is clearly set out in the first log book, and I have left it open on the desk, in front of Mrs Gibbons, so that you can have a look at it later.'
Mrs Gibbons tapped the stout volume in a proprietorial manner. 'Only three at a time,' she said. 'Otherwise it will be difficult to study it. And after these proceedings, of course.'
'Of course,' agreed Alan, giving her the smile which disarmed even such dragons as the present chairman.
'The biggest problem,' he went on, 'is finding the right furniture of the time. There were long desks for six pupils then, and of course most of them vanished long ago. I have discovered a couple at Nidden school which closed some time ago, and I think we can borrow them.'
'There's one in my dad's garage,' said one mother. 'He bought it off of the chap as was at the sale years ago.'
'And the chapel's got a couple in the back kitchen,' called another. 'They keeps the tea urns and china and that on 'em.'
'They did have one up the cricket pavilion,' said a third,
'My walk,' said Harold, 'was much less exciting. Just along Lulling High Street to get some half-inch screws. Still, I did bump into the Lovelock sisters.'
'And what were they doing?'
'Going into the Fuchsia Bush for their lunch, I gather. We had quite a gossip. They were very good about lending me that pamphlet of their father's.'
He began to look rather uneasy, and cleared his throat before speaking again.
'I thought — er — I wondered if it might be nice to invite them up for tea one day.'
'Nice for whom?'
'Oh, come on, darling! Don't be awkward. I just felt we should do something about them as they helped me with that essay abut Octavius.'
Isobel smiled forgivingly. 'They can come, but you know how I feel about those dreadful old harpies. We shall have to hide all the bits of silver from their beady eyes.'
'Oh, and I saw Charles. He and Dimity are going to a concert at the Barbican.'
'Good heavens! How dashing of them!'
'Robert Wilberforce has invited them. Evidently he's down in London for a day or two on business.'
'I hope Charles isn't thinking of driving. Parking's bad enough in Lulling, let alone London.'
'No. They're going up by train, he said, and Robert is meeting them at Paddington. I'm so glad for them. They get away so seldom. They seem really excited.'
'Well,' said Isobel, yawning. 'I think it's bedtime. It's been a long day, and I've a lot to do tomorrow.'
'Don't forget to ring the Lovelocks,' Harold reminded her.
'I'm not likely to forget that,' Isobel told him tartly.
8. Plans Go Ahead
A S THE summer term progressed, preparations for Thrush Green school's centenary celebrations started to take shape.
Few preparations were necessary for the school's part in the church service, or in the general joint celebrations, in which it would participate with even greater fervour, one suspected, but the Victorian day at the school needed more particular care.
Alan Lester called upon the Parent-Teacher Association to co-ordinate the plans. It was as well, he thought, to get the formidable Mrs Gibbons on his side without more ado, and in any case it was only right and proper that they should take an active part.
Many of the parents were old pupils. Some grandparents were, too, and although of course, there was no one alive who could remember the school as it was in 1892, there were a number who had heard their own parents and grandparents talking of their schooldays. This sense of continuity in a small community touched Alan Lester deeply.
He was delighted at the general enthusiasm for the idea of a Victorian schoolday when he spoke to the assembled company one evening.
Mrs Gibbons, in the chair, occasionally raised a query, but he felt it was more as a way of reminding them all that she was in charge, rather than from a genuine desire to alter the arrangements.
'The daily timetable for that period,' Alan told the gathering, 'is clearly set out in the first log book, and I have left it open on the desk, in front of Mrs Gibbons, so that you can have a look at it later.'
Mrs Gibbons tapped the stout volume in a proprietorial manner. 'Only three at a time,' she said. 'Otherwise it will be difficult to study it. And after these proceedings, of course.'
'Of course,' agreed Alan, giving her the smile which disarmed even such dragons as the present chairman.
'The biggest problem,' he went on, 'is finding the right furniture of the time. There were long desks for six pupils then, and of course most of them vanished long ago. I have discovered a couple at Nidden school which closed some time ago, and I think we can borrow them.'
'There's one in my dad's garage,' said one mother. 'He bought it off of the chap as was at the sale years ago.'
'And the chapel's got a couple in the back kitchen,' called another. 'They keeps the tea urns and china and that on 'em.'
'They did have one up the cricket pavilion,' said a third,
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