Swimming was only on the
timetable for one term during my time at Wombwell Hall, a fact that until I
thought to check those dog-eared school reports I still have, had been
completely forgotten. The greatly
loathed activity seemed to me to stretch over years. It was during the summer of 1954 and was
signed off at the end of term by one SMS – Miss Stella Smith who I came to be
wary of. Over time the wariness morphed
into a dislike that was almost as robust as my aversion to the subjects she
taught, from memory mainly French, but a great deal of the time Team
Games. I never got to grips with French, the entire
language defeated me from the very beginning so much so that I mumbled my way
through the compulsory Question & Answer Time for several years. Other girls seemed quite at home answering
briskly that it was Toto who opened the door and Coco who closed the window but
these characters and their obsession with trivial activities made no sense to
me at all.
I did not fare much
better with the Games sessions that most of my classmates were so keen on and
failed to see the point of Team Spirit.
It was clear from the beginning that I was going to do no better with
Swimming. Strangely my mother was quite keen on the idea
and that was because my father who had died two years previously, had always
maintained that every child should learn to swim. She at once began knitting me a forest green
swimsuit which although it was of school colours, made my heart sink to the
floor because we all knew what happened to hand knitted swim suits when they came
up against water. My Grandmother meanwhile seemed
uncharacteristically of the opinion that being brought up in a children’s home
was inclined to leave you with strange ideas and Poor Bern couldn’t be blamed
for that. As he had been deemed since
his death to be to blame for the majority of the more distasteful crosses we
had to bear, this in itself was odd. Anyway,
suffice to say that from the moment I saw Swimming on the timetable and the
knitting began, I was on high alert.
I wondered how our Form
Class was to be transported to the terrifying venue that so far in my life I
had never entered. I had, however,
walked past its lengthy and intimidating walls with my father some years
previously, listening in horror as he regaled me with how vital it was to master
the art of swimming. As was usual he
required little input from me whilst waxing lyrical about the original oriental
design of the place, the separate bathing areas for men and for women and how
at one stage there had been plans to redevelop the Gravesend waterfront into an
elegant spa. He added that had the plan
come to fruition there would be little need for us to go quite so regularly to
Southend-on-Sea, if at all. I was quite
happy with the Southend trips and so far nobody had suggested that I or any one
of the Constant cousins should embark upon swimming. We were more than satisfied with paddling in
five inches of water. As we reached the
extent of the seemingly massive perimeter he was talking about how King Edward
VII had been a frequent visitor to the area when he was Prince of Wales and at
that time seating was provided for visitors in front of the baths where those
convalescing from various illnesses could enjoy a view of the river. I thought they were probably simply looking
at the Prince and didn’t really blame them since I had along with Molly from No
31 recently developed an enormous desire to get a close up view of Princess
Elizabeth and her family.
As the specially hired
bus carried Form 1SC along Perry Street towards Clifton Baths and our first
swimming lesson on a chilly June morning in 1954 my mind wandered back to that
day. Shivering we were directed towards
the changing rooms by Miss S Smith and a previously unknown young woman Helper
who was called Miss Landseer. Julia
Hill said she was reputed to be Miss Smith’s cousin and was staying with both
Miss Smiths in the house near the Green at Meopham for an extended holiday
after suffering a Nervous Breakdown.
She knew this because her aunt’s closest friend was temporarily working
for the Miss Smiths doing cleaning and basic cooking three days a week for the
duration of Miss Landseer’s stay. We
were of course, fascinated.
We discussed this
exciting and unusual gossip in whispers as we loitered in the changing rooms,
not needing much time to change as most of us wore our swimsuits under our
uniforms. My forest green one was
already itching uncomfortably and I was planning how it could be quickly and usefully
lost as soon as possible. Sally Warnett wore a bright red satin affair
with uplifted cups that was far too big for her. Shirley Munro observed rather unkindly that
at her slow rate of development she would never actually grow into it which
remark Sally was not meant to hear but it was clear that she did.
Miss Smith and Miss
Landseer appeared together at this moment to lead us to the baths. It was bitterly cold and my heart was beating
far too rapidly so much so that I did nothing at all when we were told to lower
ourselves into the water and had to pretend that I didn’t quite hear the
instruction. Miss Smith asked how many
of us could already swim and after a small pause Julia Hill and Joyce Williams
raised their hands, the latter rather cautiously. They were then instructed to demonstrate
this skill so that the rest of us could see what we were aiming towards. Julia was far more adept than Joyce but then
this wasn’t altogether surprising as she was more competent than most of us at
most things which was tedious. She was
still streaking through the water, minutes after Joyce had given up to have a
coughing fit instead. The demonstration
had mercifully taken up more time than we had expected and it was then
comforting to hear Miss Smith urge us to grasp the side of the pool whilst
vigorously paddling our feet and that this pre-swimming exercise was all we
would have time for that day. Most of
us did not need a second bidding to get out of the water, which we did with
much more alacrity than had been demonstrated when we entered it.
On the bus ride back to
school Joyce Williams, with whom I was to grow very friendly over the next few
months said that if she had realised Julia Hill was quite such a show-off
Esther Williams look-a-like she would never have offered up the fact that she
herself could swim. What’s more the
whole debacle had proved to be far worse than any Monday morning Double Maths
lesson and definitely not worth the free iced buns that would be distributed
when we got back to Wombwell Hall. I
said I didn’t realise we were going to get free iced buns but in any case I was
in total agreement. We began to plot
how best we could avoid the following week’s lesson.
Today I imagine we would
simply announce that Swimming wasn’t our Thing but back then that just wouldn’t
have occurred to us or been in any way, shape or form acceptable and so we
threw various ideas back and forth that revolved around avoiding the first hour
and a quarter of Monday morning school for the rest of the term. Joyce lived at Istead Rise so she felt that
she could if absolutely necessary simply miss the bus. Buses, she added were thin on the ground
from Istead Rise to anywhere at all. My
situation was slightly more challenging because the buses from Dover Road down
to Hall Road were all too frequent and even if I missed two or three I would
still be in danger of not missing the now greatly feared aquatic experience. In the end it was to be Sally Warnett who
provided the answer. The following
Monday she was absent from the subdued line-up for the bus to Clifton Baths and
Julia said she was in the library practising French verbs. Much as I hated French I longed to be with
her and Joyce who didn’t hate French nearly as much as I did, wholeheartedly agreed. We were again forced to endure a most
unpleasant forty minute interlude of foot splashing whilst holding as tightly
as possible to the edge of the pool’s shallow end. Meanwhile Julia Hill swam rapid lengths of
the pool and was rewarded with much praise from Miss Smith and Miss Landseer. The rest of us simply splashed and became
increasingly exhausted whilst doing so.
Once again the weather was unseasonably cool and we were blue with cold
when re-boarding the school-bound bus.
Joyce said she simply wasn’t prepared to put up with it again.
When we got back to Wombwell
Hall the other girls were already drinking their free milk and gathering in
chilly little groups in the playground, Sally Warnett amongst them. Joyce stood in front of her in a most
challenging manner. She demanded to know
how it was she had inveigled her way out of the swimming lesson. Sally said her mother had simply written a
note to be given to Miss Fuller the Headmistress that said she was Unwell. We spent the following two or three
lunchtime breaks perfecting forged Unwell notes and the following Monday found
ourselves in the library instructed to read two chapters of Pride and Prejudice
which we happily embarked upon. Joyce
even thought we might somehow be able to include ourselves in the free iced
buns when the other girls returned on the bus but I didn’t quite have the
required courage which in retrospect was foolish as my new friend demonstrated
it was easy enough.
We decided quite wisely
that we should be fit and well for the next visit to Clifton Baths and simply fail
to wear our swimsuits under our clothes, thus delaying the entry into the pool. This worked quite well even though Miss Smith
was irritated because Miss Landseer had to stay in the changing room
supervising us as we undressed at snail’s pace. Again, the main focus of attention was Julia
gliding through the water in a new pale blue bathing costume looking like some
exotic oriental fish. The rest of us
duly admired her prowess and made no progress whatsoever towards emulating her.
She sat behind us on the return bus
ride and Joyce observed that if she wasn’t careful she was in danger of being
invited to Meopham to the Smith household for Sunday afternoon tea to which
Julia haughtily responded that remarks like that sounded like jealousy. By iced bun time we had decided to once
again opt out of the activity the following week.
The pair of us had in
fact began to feel injudiciously drunk with power as we discussed the success
of our avoidance scheme and wondered if it could be somehow adapted to include
other curriculum topics that we found distasteful. High on my own list were of course the much
detested French and Mathematics classes.
Joyce also had Mathematics in the firing line but said she couldn’t
quite say the same of French because the structure of the language was quite
simple once you got the hang of it. I
couldn’t see how she came to that conclusion but I didn’t argue because by mid
term she had definitely become my new Best Friend and I was quite unaccustomed
to having a Best Friend of any description.
The next round of Unwell
notes were duly handed in to Miss Fuller’s part time secretary who opened them
before we could escape to the library and told us the Headmistress would want
to have a word with us and to come back to her office at morning break. She smiled as she said this which for some
reason made us uneasy and we exchanged uncomfortable glances. When we returned Miss Fuller had the forged
notes in front of her on the vast blotter that covered much of her desk. In what way were we Unwell she wanted to
know and neither of us said anything which clearly exasperated her. She asked the question again and eventually
Joyce, in a smaller voice than she normally used said that the water
temperature at Clifton Baths gave her severe stomach cramps. I hastily agreed adding that my mother had
the same problem when my father took her there to try to teach her to
swim. Miss Fuller said nothing and to
fill the silence I added that stomach cramps were common in our family and then
wished I hadn’t.
She told us we were
wasting an important opportunity and that special funds had been donated that
year to give Girls Like Us the same chances in life as others who were more
fortunate. She added that the weekly post-trip iced buns were also by courtesy of that very same benefactor. She did not under any
circumstances want to see further Unwell notes from us unless the swimming
lessons coincided with our periods. We
nodded, slightly shocked that she should mention what was in those days a topic
normally unmentionable between school staff and students.
Escaping into the narrow
corridor that led into the sunshine and crates of milk warming unpleasantly Joyce
said well she for one was going to have her period next Monday. She didn’t though and neither did we expand
the strategy to escape French and Mathematics as had been planned. In fact we attended the remainder of the
Swimming lessons though I never managed to release my grip of the side of the
pool and I still can’t swim.
