of any personality, much
like any hospital ward.
Sister MacDonald was a large, fierce lady who
rustled as she moved. Her white uniform was starched so stiffly
that it surprised me that it allowed her to walk at all, and I was
sure she couldn’t sit down.
Sister MacDonald’s main purpose in life seemed to be
to track down malingerers and send them back to school immediately.
Unless a girl had a broken limb, or a ridiculously high
temperature, or was covered in spots that the doctor pronounced
contagious, she was perfectly fit to go back to school, in Sister
MacDonald’s opinion.
Sister MacDonald had a fool-proof test she would
apply to all suspected malingerers. It went like this:
Sister MacDonald: Would you like a nice bowl
of ice cream?
Patient: No, thank you.
Sister MacDonald: Poor dear, lie down and get
some rest.
or
Sister MacDonald: Would you like a nice bowl
of ice cream?
Patient: Yes, please!
Sister MacDonald: Right, up you get and get
dressed. I’m discharging you now. If you hurry, you’ll catch
afternoon lessons.
* * *
School Report
English: Victoria is keen
but her work is spoilt by carelessness.
Mathematics: If Victoria
made more effort to concentrate instead of staring out of the
window, we would all see better results.
Victoria has made a disappointing start. She
must learn to set a good example, always behave in public and not
be a leader in rule breaking. Her untidiness is proverbial.
Mrs Driver (Housemistress)
* * *
Boarding school wasn’t a bit like Enid Blyton had
described it, but I still quite enjoyed it. We didn’t have many
midnight feasts as the threat, if caught, of sleeping in the
isolation room with Emily the scullery maid, was not
attractive.
There was also another strange tradition that was
never mentioned in Enid Blyton’s books: namely, GOs. The
abbreviation GO stood for Gone On, and each new junior was supposed
to choose a senior girl to be ‘gone on’. That meant you had a crush
on her and you were supposed to write her little notes and swoon
every time you saw her.
I chose Shirley, a friend of my sister’s. I don’t
remember who Snort chose, but you were only allowed to choose
somebody that nobody else had already chosen. It was a strange,
rather pointless tradition, perhaps a little akin to ‘fagging’
without the harshness. Fagging, in many boarding schools, meant
younger pupils were required to act as personal servants to senior
pupils and were often disciplined severely. Thankfully, as far as I
knew, nothing like that happened at TH.
Some girls in my dorm suffered terribly from
homesickness, but I wasn’t one of those. Of course, I couldn’t have
Prince Snowy Twinkletoes with me, which was sad. I wished our
school was like some others that allowed pets. But I did have Snort
as a friend, and my older sister, should I ever need her.
We looked forward to exeats, when we could go home
for the day, but these were over so fast there was barely time to
do anything. During these visits, I remember how small my house and
bedroom seemed as I’d grown accustomed to the long corridors of St
Mary’s and our large dorm. I was so used to sharing a dorm that, in
the holidays, it felt strange to be the only person sleeping in a
room.
But Enid Blyton described the camaraderie well. We
girls grew very close and Snort and I were inseparable. Our days
were crammed full and we were never bored. Almost every minute was
accounted for in some way, right down to Thursday evenings when we
were allowed to watch part of Top of the Pops in the portacabin,
the only room with a TV, apart from Matron’s and Mrs Driver’s
rooms. We could only watch part of the show as it coincided with
bedtime, which was set in stone.
I’ve always been a good sleeper and in those days, I
was usually asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. The ghost of
Emily the scullery maid could have danced a highland fling on the
end of my bed and I probably wouldn’t have woken up. One time,
Snort had a
like any hospital ward.
Sister MacDonald was a large, fierce lady who
rustled as she moved. Her white uniform was starched so stiffly
that it surprised me that it allowed her to walk at all, and I was
sure she couldn’t sit down.
Sister MacDonald’s main purpose in life seemed to be
to track down malingerers and send them back to school immediately.
Unless a girl had a broken limb, or a ridiculously high
temperature, or was covered in spots that the doctor pronounced
contagious, she was perfectly fit to go back to school, in Sister
MacDonald’s opinion.
Sister MacDonald had a fool-proof test she would
apply to all suspected malingerers. It went like this:
Sister MacDonald: Would you like a nice bowl
of ice cream?
Patient: No, thank you.
Sister MacDonald: Poor dear, lie down and get
some rest.
or
Sister MacDonald: Would you like a nice bowl
of ice cream?
Patient: Yes, please!
Sister MacDonald: Right, up you get and get
dressed. I’m discharging you now. If you hurry, you’ll catch
afternoon lessons.
* * *
School Report
English: Victoria is keen
but her work is spoilt by carelessness.
Mathematics: If Victoria
made more effort to concentrate instead of staring out of the
window, we would all see better results.
Victoria has made a disappointing start. She
must learn to set a good example, always behave in public and not
be a leader in rule breaking. Her untidiness is proverbial.
Mrs Driver (Housemistress)
* * *
Boarding school wasn’t a bit like Enid Blyton had
described it, but I still quite enjoyed it. We didn’t have many
midnight feasts as the threat, if caught, of sleeping in the
isolation room with Emily the scullery maid, was not
attractive.
There was also another strange tradition that was
never mentioned in Enid Blyton’s books: namely, GOs. The
abbreviation GO stood for Gone On, and each new junior was supposed
to choose a senior girl to be ‘gone on’. That meant you had a crush
on her and you were supposed to write her little notes and swoon
every time you saw her.
I chose Shirley, a friend of my sister’s. I don’t
remember who Snort chose, but you were only allowed to choose
somebody that nobody else had already chosen. It was a strange,
rather pointless tradition, perhaps a little akin to ‘fagging’
without the harshness. Fagging, in many boarding schools, meant
younger pupils were required to act as personal servants to senior
pupils and were often disciplined severely. Thankfully, as far as I
knew, nothing like that happened at TH.
Some girls in my dorm suffered terribly from
homesickness, but I wasn’t one of those. Of course, I couldn’t have
Prince Snowy Twinkletoes with me, which was sad. I wished our
school was like some others that allowed pets. But I did have Snort
as a friend, and my older sister, should I ever need her.
We looked forward to exeats, when we could go home
for the day, but these were over so fast there was barely time to
do anything. During these visits, I remember how small my house and
bedroom seemed as I’d grown accustomed to the long corridors of St
Mary’s and our large dorm. I was so used to sharing a dorm that, in
the holidays, it felt strange to be the only person sleeping in a
room.
But Enid Blyton described the camaraderie well. We
girls grew very close and Snort and I were inseparable. Our days
were crammed full and we were never bored. Almost every minute was
accounted for in some way, right down to Thursday evenings when we
were allowed to watch part of Top of the Pops in the portacabin,
the only room with a TV, apart from Matron’s and Mrs Driver’s
rooms. We could only watch part of the show as it coincided with
bedtime, which was set in stone.
I’ve always been a good sleeper and in those days, I
was usually asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. The ghost of
Emily the scullery maid could have danced a highland fling on the
end of my bed and I probably wouldn’t have woken up. One time,
Snort had a
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