Collins.
There must have been a lot of work behind the scenes to arrange it, but Mum only gave me the news a little bit before Miss Collins arrived for the first time, so that my excitement wouldn’t become dangerously magnified by a long wait. I had time to ask, ‘Is she a governess ?’ Granny had had a governess, who had marked her nose with a piece of chalk if she got her sums wrong. She hated that, and so would I. Granny’s governess would tie her thumbs behind her knees if she fidgeted. Would Miss Collins be allowed to do that?
Once I was reassured that Miss Collins wasn’t a governess, I was mad keen for lessons to begin. Someone was coming to the house with only one object in mind: to teach me everything she knew. I couldn’t wait. There was never a pupil so willing.
After the first lesson, though, I asked Mum, ‘Is Miss Collins a lady or a man?’ I was genuinely puzzled. My tutor was at a rather mannish stage of later life. She had whiskers of a rudimentary sort. Mum laughed rather uneasily and said Miss Collins was definitely a lady, but she could see why I needed to ask. After that we gave Miss Collins a nick-name which we used with much guilty pleasure. To us she became the Collie Boy.
This wasn’t the first time I had been puzzled by the marks of gender . For a long time I worried about the status of nurses, who seemed to be in some strange way intermediate. Finally I asked Mum, ‘Are nurses ladies?’
‘Whatever do you mean, JJ?’
‘Are nurses ladies or are they men?’ I wasn’t thinking in terms of male nurses, not yet knowing that such things existed.
‘They’re ladies, of course! Why would you think anything else?’
‘Well, nurses have ears and ladies don’t.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
What I was talking about, really, was that nurses were the only female persons I had seen who wore their hair pinned neatly back, so that I could see their ears. I had always thought the hair-do was all part of the lady. Normal ladies wore their hair permed and shaped, so that they had waves of glossy hair where their ears would have been if they had had them.
‘Men have ears, but I’ve never seen a lady’s except a nurse’s so are nurses ladies?’
‘Everyone has ears. I have ears, you know I do.’
‘Will you show me?’
‘Of course I will, silly. There’s one, see? And there’s the other.’ So the nurse question was settled, just as the Miss Collins question would be. It turned out that nurses and Miss Collins were all really ladies.
Not long after that Mum told me the facts of life. She was remarkably direct about it. She warned me that people would try to tell me about babies and everything, ‘and they’ll get it wrong’. So she told me. This sudden surge of frankness represented an underside of her character, the medical professional in a hurry to dispel ignorance. Other children were kept in the dark, even when they were obsessed with knowing where babies come from, and here I was being overwhelmed with knowledge well ahead of schedule, and without having to ask a single question.
She used family words for the parts involved, saying ‘taily’ rather than penis, but otherwise she was fairly frank. I was outraged. I thought she must be making it all up. ‘But you told me it was all to do with storks and blackberry bushes!’
‘No, John, I never did. I said that some people say it’s to do with storks and blackberry bushes. That’s what some people pretend to believe, but now I’m telling you the truth.’
She might at least have come up with a better story.
‘But that’s rude . Why do mummies and daddies have to be rude to make a baby?’
‘Well when they do it, it’s nice. So if it’s nice, it’s not rude.’
‘Nice? Nice ? What’s nice about putting your taily in a hole between a lady’s legs? I bet it hurts!’
‘No, it doesn’t. The lady likes it.’
‘ I DIDN’T MEAN THE LADY . I meant, I bet it hurts the man !’ My concern
There must have been a lot of work behind the scenes to arrange it, but Mum only gave me the news a little bit before Miss Collins arrived for the first time, so that my excitement wouldn’t become dangerously magnified by a long wait. I had time to ask, ‘Is she a governess ?’ Granny had had a governess, who had marked her nose with a piece of chalk if she got her sums wrong. She hated that, and so would I. Granny’s governess would tie her thumbs behind her knees if she fidgeted. Would Miss Collins be allowed to do that?
Once I was reassured that Miss Collins wasn’t a governess, I was mad keen for lessons to begin. Someone was coming to the house with only one object in mind: to teach me everything she knew. I couldn’t wait. There was never a pupil so willing.
After the first lesson, though, I asked Mum, ‘Is Miss Collins a lady or a man?’ I was genuinely puzzled. My tutor was at a rather mannish stage of later life. She had whiskers of a rudimentary sort. Mum laughed rather uneasily and said Miss Collins was definitely a lady, but she could see why I needed to ask. After that we gave Miss Collins a nick-name which we used with much guilty pleasure. To us she became the Collie Boy.
This wasn’t the first time I had been puzzled by the marks of gender . For a long time I worried about the status of nurses, who seemed to be in some strange way intermediate. Finally I asked Mum, ‘Are nurses ladies?’
‘Whatever do you mean, JJ?’
‘Are nurses ladies or are they men?’ I wasn’t thinking in terms of male nurses, not yet knowing that such things existed.
‘They’re ladies, of course! Why would you think anything else?’
‘Well, nurses have ears and ladies don’t.’
‘What on earth are you talking about?’
What I was talking about, really, was that nurses were the only female persons I had seen who wore their hair pinned neatly back, so that I could see their ears. I had always thought the hair-do was all part of the lady. Normal ladies wore their hair permed and shaped, so that they had waves of glossy hair where their ears would have been if they had had them.
‘Men have ears, but I’ve never seen a lady’s except a nurse’s so are nurses ladies?’
‘Everyone has ears. I have ears, you know I do.’
‘Will you show me?’
‘Of course I will, silly. There’s one, see? And there’s the other.’ So the nurse question was settled, just as the Miss Collins question would be. It turned out that nurses and Miss Collins were all really ladies.
Not long after that Mum told me the facts of life. She was remarkably direct about it. She warned me that people would try to tell me about babies and everything, ‘and they’ll get it wrong’. So she told me. This sudden surge of frankness represented an underside of her character, the medical professional in a hurry to dispel ignorance. Other children were kept in the dark, even when they were obsessed with knowing where babies come from, and here I was being overwhelmed with knowledge well ahead of schedule, and without having to ask a single question.
She used family words for the parts involved, saying ‘taily’ rather than penis, but otherwise she was fairly frank. I was outraged. I thought she must be making it all up. ‘But you told me it was all to do with storks and blackberry bushes!’
‘No, John, I never did. I said that some people say it’s to do with storks and blackberry bushes. That’s what some people pretend to believe, but now I’m telling you the truth.’
She might at least have come up with a better story.
‘But that’s rude . Why do mummies and daddies have to be rude to make a baby?’
‘Well when they do it, it’s nice. So if it’s nice, it’s not rude.’
‘Nice? Nice ? What’s nice about putting your taily in a hole between a lady’s legs? I bet it hurts!’
‘No, it doesn’t. The lady likes it.’
‘ I DIDN’T MEAN THE LADY . I meant, I bet it hurts the man !’ My concern
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