It's not that I want to burden you with my problems, but you'll be doing me a favour if you let me iimagine you're going to read what follows. But I'll never know, will I? So if you'd rather go off and make a cup of tea or watch paint dry, please feel free. At the very least you'll have made an old man imagine he's happy having got it off his chest.
So now you know. I hated school.
Hate is a strong word and not one I use lightly. But the feeling was so strong in me that I still feel it strongly over sixty years later. The old saying, 'Best years of your life ...' were never so wrong as in my case.
Up until around the age of five my life was idyllic, free every day to roam the farm and do whatever I liked. I was, effectively, the only child in the hamlet. Babies started arriving as time went by, but I was so much older I took very little notice of them. I had total freedom within the life of the farm.
Then one day my mother mentioned something about school. I was not sure what it was, but soon learned that I was going to it on Monday. Next I was taken to our local clothes outfitter in Lechlade, 'Tommy' Powells, to be dressed up in smart clothes, not something I liked or was used to wearing. Back home I was given my own red Oxo tin, with an elastic band to keep the lid on. And this was to be carried in my new leather satchel. I was not at all sure what was happening, and then suddenly it was Monday morning.
I was dressed in all my new gear, given my satchel and Oxo tin containg an egg and lettuce sandwich and an apple, and put in the car. Off Mum and I went to Clanfield. All I could think about was what was what was going on, and when were we going home so that I could play boats and harbours in our brook?
We parked on the grreen in Clanfield and Mum led me along to this place called Clanfield Primary School. At the gate we were met by a formidable lady whom my mother called Miss Kinchin. Looking back, I think she was a really a kindly woman, but with her gruff voice and commanding tone she came across to me as terrrifying.
"Now you run along with Miss Kninchin," said Mum, "and she will look afer you. I'll be back to collect you this afternoon."
"This afternoon?! Aren't I comiing back with you?"
"No dear, not now. You go with Miss Kinchin. She will look after you and give you lots of interesting things to do. I'll be back for you at teatime.
The word 'Teatime' hit me like a sock full of cold wet sand.
Interesting things to do? I had a million intresting things to do on the farm, every day!
Mum turned and went, and as I gazed with horror at her retreating back Miss Kinchin's hand took mine very firmly and I was marched across the playground towards the door of doom.
Inside, Miss Kinchin took me to a seat and desk, row three fourth back, and told me to sit there, stay there and be quiet. Other children slouched sullenly to take their seats in the other desks aound me.
"What is all this?" I thought. "What's going on?'
The room was large, with high windows so that you could not see outside. It was filled with rows of desks facing forwards towards a high desk which, like a judge's bench in court, commanded the room from its raised position. Miss Kinchin was the judge.
"Now," she pronounced, "We'll take the register." She opened a large book on her desk and, pen in hand, called out, "Atkins!'
"Here Miss"
"Albright!"
"Here Miss"
Thank goodness my name was Wise. By the time it came up I had learned the routine.
"Yes Miss"
"It's 'Here Miss', and you must learn to speak up louder. Now children, I want you to meet your new classmate. His name is Patrick Wise. He'll be with us from now on. Stand up Wise."
All eyes in the room turned to stare at me. Coming from a hamlet where I was effectively the only child, I was shocked at being stared at by so many. I shrivelled and wanted to die.
So started my school life.
(The sorry tale to be continued ... )