Friday, 27 July 2018

No 37 - The Limping Badger

                                                                                         
      The Limping Badger


Like you, I also thought it was a stupid title and I don’t have to tell you who suggested it. You might remember the other ridiculous title she suggested once before ‘The Hallucinating Rabbit’. She commented that the title for this particular story was obvious, pointing out the fact it was an injured badger and because of its injury it was limping. She said it was a true story so it was no use trying to confuse the readers and dress it up to be something it wasn’t just to obscure the truth. I had no argument. 

It’s Gascoigne again; Phaedra Gascoigne. Always quick to criticize. I honestly don’t know why she doesn’t write her own stuff. It’s no big deal. 

Anyway to explain - it was not so much a cross country ‘race’ per se as a run to keep the girls fit and healthy and to keep the weight off them. I don’t want to get personal or name names but Chelsea Atwell springs to mind here. 

The event was classed as a sports lesson. As there was little for Briggs the caretaker to do around the college in the afternoon he was requested to help Miss Frenzi, the sports mistress, to shepherd the girls on the cross country run. 

The excitement started when Tamsin, while negotiating the stile at Badgers Bend at the bottom of Farmer Benton’s field, tripped in the undergrowth and almost trod on a badger. It had been injured and was limping; that’s the badger, not Tamsin. 

Rebecca alerted Miss Frenzi who requested Briggs carry it back to the college bus that was parked on the grass verge on the side of the main road, and to take Rebecca with him who was to nurse the injured badger while Briggs was to drive it to the vet. 

The vet said it was nothing serious just a sprained ankle or a pulled tendon or whatever. While it was recuperating the college adopted the badger and named it Bartholomew. I thought it was a really stupid name. I suspected Phaedra had a hand in that too. Personally I would have chosen Betty myself……... If it had been a girl that is. 

The news made the Rickmansworth Bugle, and the Watford Observer also sent a photographer down. 

Anyways to cap it off the BBC sent a local reporter Britney Duff who only covers the really big Rickmansworth news stories. This event just might make the BBC National News or even Current Affairs. Duff did a piece to camera alongside Briggs holding Bartholomew (how I hate that name). 

I am not sure who discovered its gender: I almost wrote sex there, a word which Miss Sefton might frown on were she to read these stories. Not that it adds to the story in any way. 

Giving credit where credit is due, Phaedra was right when she pointed out regardless of its name, it was neither here nor there, once released back into the wild it was perfectly free to divest itself of that ‘silly’ name (my description). 

Needless to say, there was a steady stream of girls traipsing back and forward getting pictures of Bartho… the badger for their Facebook page. 

More news for my gentle readers; Briggs made a really nice home behind the chapel while he was recuperating. I am referring to a home for the badger, not Briggs. I thought that was lovely of Briggs. I heard him suggest to Miss Frenzi the badger should be placed near the stile on its release as it may have a family waiting for him. 

I had Phaedra looking over my shoulder while I was writing this. There was no positive criticism like ‘lovely story Bridge’, just ‘do you know where you are going with this Bridgette?’ I will choose to ignore her. 

So much excitement and the week had only just begun. 

The highlight of the week for Candice was that Nurse Mayo has been given permission from Candice Robertson’s parents to take her to the dentist to have her teeth braces removed. At least Candice will be able to smile once again without attracting wretched, pitiful stares from the public when travelling on buses and things. What's more, boys might just start looking at her again as if she is a human being. It might also lift her out of her depression. 

There was not much else happening in the college during the week, although what did create a stir was that it was Miss Sefton’s birthday on Wednesday and unbeknownst to Miss Sefton, our headmistress, a pound sweepstake had been organized to guess her age. 

Tamsin reckoned Miss Sefton did not have birthdays any more but another furrow added to her brow. 

Knowing Charlotte she would put her age in her early hundred and twenties. It was wide open. The odds were in anyone’s favor. 

Remembering Miss Frenzi’s comment of it being a ‘dog eat dog’ world during the swimming competition with Pixie Hill Camp School last year when she decided not to let on we had a southern counties record holder swimming for us, I should have guessed the chance of monetary gain or even the chance of winning a pound, was going to bring out the very worst in people, as we found out. 

During the afternoon of the draw, it was discovered Bethany had asked her mother who knew Lady Cynthia, who was on the board of governors, to check with the college office ten minutes before the draw and check the records for Miss Sefton’s age. 

She discovered not only her age and the month and the year of her birth, but her birthstone, her sign of the zodiac, the phase of the moon on her birthday and a list of tide tables for Brighton on that day. 

It reminds me of the old proverb ‘The moving finger writes’, hang on that’s not it. ‘Praps it was ‘in for a penny in for a pound’. That sounds about right. Phaedra Gascoigne eat your heart out. 

I rang Mother at Inveraray Castle in the afternoon. She told me the castle manageress lady was beside herself with worry and stress due to tourist numbers to the castle being up because of the gorgeous weather. Father was due back this evening from Brazil and they were expecting the Carter-Browns over a little later. 

Mother had also invited Mrs Dalrymple for tea. When I think ‘Mrs Dalrymple’ I am not sure why I think of witches covens and things, and mother as an unwilling convert. 

By the way, Zanthe Perkins won the sweepstake guessing Miss Sefton’s age (well, she was closest).

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