Junior Class
Miss Frenzi was explaining the rudiments of algebra when Tamsin whispered “Why are we learning this stuff if we are going to be dancers when we leave college?” Actually, that comment was a continuation of a conversation we previously had discussing taking dance lessons at Miss Polly’s Dance Academy of Excellence, Happy Feet in Watford.It was the high kicking that appealed to me, you know burlesque stuff. Miss Polly also taught classical ballet and tap dancing. Fortunately, she did not teach hip hop, jitterbugging, people spinning on their heads and foreign dancing like cha cha, rhumba, paso doble and stuff. We could have both joined a gym, an assault course or the S.A.S if that is what we were looking for.
Miss Polly said before we learned the rudiments of ballet and the 5 basic feet positions we had to learn to ‘walk properly’.
After putting my costume and my ballet shoes on and not wanting to appear catty, I was concerned Tamsin looked a bit heavy on her feet to be a dancer. No doubt she was thinking the same thing about me.
Anyways, as I held onto the barre with my left hand and raised myself up onto the balls of my feet and delicately extended my right arm like a droopy, tired albatrosses’ wing, Tamsin who was standing behind me whispered that I looked more like a baby elephant learning to walk for the first time.
I suppose she thinks that is amusing.
At the end of the lesson, my feet and ankles were really tired. I just wanted to sit down. What was even more disturbing was that I found out there were more than 5 feet positions. We had actually paid money for this.
I have had enough of ballet; perhaps Miss Polly will teach us burlesque and high kicking or even tap dancing and other stuff, or even formation dancing which might be difficult with only two of us and stuff like that next week. We will give Miss Polly one more chance though.
Tamsin and I were not going home for the weekend so this evening 6 of us was going to the folk club in the high street. Rebecca, Tamsin, Phaedra, Candice that’s Candice Robertson, Rhonda and me. On arriving at the folk club we found Nathan full of himself.
He could not wait to show us a picture of his folk group “The Sheriff’s Men” which was featured on the front page of the Watford Observer alongside a photo of a trampoline team representing the Royal Masonic School for Girls who were to take part in a trampoline competition somewhere or other.
Nathan’s latest girlfriend, the one he recently broke up with, what’s her name Tara O'Flaherty or was it Sarah O’Flattery, certainly wasn’t Tiffany, is also in the RMS team, no doubt carrying the extra weight advantage needed to hold the trampoline/s down.
I cannot remember too much about that evening other than Nathan announcing that the first number of the evening would be ‘Where had all the Flowers Gone’’ for the oldies. I groaned. Candice surmised ‘surely by this late hour of 7pm all the oldies would have been at home, with their teeth in a glass, in bed with their bed caps on, for heaven’s sake’.
I did tell Nathan once that Peter, Paul, and Mary do not perform anymore. Perhaps he should invite Elton John round sometime.
Rhonda promised she would not get up on the stage and sing as she did on the last visit. You may remember a drunk was blowing strawberries at her. Hang on perhaps it was raspberries and was ejected; the drunk, not Rhonda.
I am not sure where I am going with this story as Rhonda did not get up on the stage to sing, no-one was thrown out, the kitchen did not run out of malted milk and Nathan told us he had learned a new chord. It was an E. Hang on I, tell a lie. It was E minor.
I should add Tamsin was on her best behavior hoping to catch the eye of Gregory…. er thingy that collects the money at the door. That was Saturday night taken care of.
Those boarders who were staying in the college over the weekend were required to attend Pastor Dickie’s Sunday morning church service in the school chapel. In the afternoon some of the girls watched television, others played table tennis in the games room or read in the library. Any or all of which were better offers than watching a CD of The Terminator with Tamsin.
Monday morning and Mr Crisis was taking science for the first lesson of the day. I thought he might touch on the Beginner's Guide to Quantum Physics, I hear a lot of talk about it these days. You may remember I told you once he applied for the job of science teacher when Miss Cribb resigned to get married.
The girls reckon Miss Sefton the headmistress only employed him only because she thought he was homeless, but I never believed that. He told us in confidence he was from Zeta One Reticuli. Hang I tell a lie, it was Zeta Two Reticuli. No, it was Epsilon Bootis.
Look it’s unimportant, neither here nor there. He also said life on this planet was a hologram so I asked him “Where am I then?” He replied ’’in the classroom Bridgette but it is not true reality”.
I was confused, even perplexed. Candice noted I had a frown on my face for the whole of the afternoon.
I think I may have mentioned a long time ago that Rhonda, my third best friend, received food parcels from her parents. She is still receiving regular food parcels. I remember at the time thinking perhaps this generosity was atonement by her parents who mistakenly thought they had accidentally booked their daughter into a Russian gulag. Well, it wasn’t as I found out later. She just has a vicious appetite.
It was the end of the month, ‘Uniform Day’. Normally the shop was open three days a week. It was also responsible for ordering new uniforms for the students, the repair of and the exchange of said uniforms. The exchange option was for girls who were growing quicker than anticipated. None actually shrank. Excuse my levity it’s been a long day. This arrangement suited mother as she never learned to sew.
I would like to add my sister Bridie never learned to sew before I came along, except I never did have a sister.
Tomorrow I will ring mother. Oh I must mention about the piano.
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