Dreaming of the moon at seventy

Discipline

I’m one of your classic late-developers. I was not very strong at school. I had a lot of time off and was very slow. Then one day, I suddenly realised I was just as intelligent as anyone else and decided to do something about it. I went to night school, and when my son was old enough to go to school, I went to college and got my five O-levels in eight months. Quite frankly, I couldn’t see what everybody was making such a fuss about. I found them quite easy. It was a lot of hard work, but I passed every one of them.

I was born in Worcester, over seventy years ago – I’m not saying exactly when – and I used to work as a teacher. I was very fortunate, actually, because I got a job straight away. I had a neighbour who was chairman of the governors. He’d known me for years. Like most things in life, it was a case of not what you know but who you know. But it really helped me to get started. I might not have had the chance otherwise.

I’ve been retired for ten years now. But I’m still a very busy person. I used to teach English and computer skills. Now I teach dyslexic pupils and over-fifties about computers. Most of them don’t know anything at all. One lady didn’t even know what the keyboard was for. Actually, I could make a fortune, because they all want to pay me! But I try to make teaching fun. We have a laugh. It’s very rewarding.

A lot of children see teachers as a threat to their liberty, when they are only trying to do what’s best for the children. My own school was very strict. The teacher had a “sit up and beg” desk – a very tall desk with a high stool. At the top was a groove where the cane would rest. But she didn’t need to use it. The threat was enough.

I was caned once. I was five. It was a very primitive school and the girls’ and boys’ toilets were back-to-back, in a separate block. We were running round and round them in a circle, just like children do, just running. The teacher stood there and watched us. She didn’t tell us not to do it. She just stood there, taking all our names. We were all called in to the head teacher’s office and given the cane. We didn’t know why. We didn’t know what we’d done.

But it’s a mistake to discard corporal punishment altogether – although it shouldn’t be used unless it’s a very grave offence, like bullying. But these days, teachers can’t touch the pupils, and that’s why there’s such a lack of discipline in schools.

Years ago, I had a boy in one of my classes who I could tell was being bullied. So I kept him behind and asked him if he was being bullied. “Yes,” he told me, “he’s waiting for me now with his gang and they’re going to beat me up when I leave here.” So I said, “No, you walk with me.” I reported the bully to the deputy head and she called him in and caned him in front of me.

If it was a case of bullying, I would have no difficulty administering the cane myself. I’d give them a taste of their own medicine. I would bully them. I’d say, “See how you like it?” I wouldn’t like to do it, but in extreme cases, I think I could.

When I was at school myself, the teachers were very caring of me. I had diphtheria when I was three and nearly died. I was very, very delicate. Children are always very cruel to one another, and they were certainly cruel to me, because I was delicate. But I wasn’t physically attacked like they are nowadays.

My grand-daughter is fifteen, and she’s been physically attacked. The school can’t do anything about it until she’s injured. It’s ridiculous. She’s just a typical rebellious teenager. But she’s a very pretty girl, a model, so she gets all the attention from the boys, and the girls get jealous.

There’s not enough discipline in schools and there’s not enough parental discipline either. Parents have delegated their responsibility to teachers, who don’t have the authority to discipline their children. You can only do it by talking to them and setting an example, and trying to socialise them. Actually, one time, a boy came up to me and said, “Miss, my mum wants to know when you’re going to teach me some manners?” That’s the honest truth.

The war was fantastic

I came from a poor family. My father was a very clever man, but he had rheumatic fever. He died when he was forty-five. Because he was always ill, my poor mother used to go out to work to keep the three of us. She was a waitress and often worked until three o’clock in the morning. I would be on my own in the house quite a lot. Quite a lot indeed. She had to work very, very hard to keep the three of us.

I was about seventeen when my father died. I lived in the centre of Worcester, in a very small house, with no bathroom, and an outside toilet that was shared with the neighbours. It was horrible in the winter, because it would freeze and of course when it thawed it was just awful!

Worcester was touched very little by the war. There wasn’t much bombing. So we had a lot of evacuees. I was working for the Maple Dairy Company, and when they moved back to London, they took some of us with them. I was in London for two years, and it was hilarious. There were about twenty of us young girls on the top floor of a house called the Ada Lewis Hostel for Business Girls, which was right next to Holloway prison. Sometimes we were mistaken for the prisoners.

We were ruled with a rod of iron, by an ex-ATS commandant. She was a very fat lady and she used to wear the most enormous bloomers, which she would hang out on the line. Down to the knees they were. Plus, from wearing the hard hat at the ATS, she’d got a bald patch. We would open the window when she was gardening and call out “Baldie!” and she’d turn round and we’d duck underneath the window.

We were allowed out on Mondays until 10 o’clock, and until 11 the rest of the week, excepting Saturdays, when we were allowed out until midnight – if we had a special pass. But it would often happen that if we were out late with boyfriends, we’d get them to force open this window on the ground floor – the sewing room window – and we’d just climb back in.

We used to have a whale of a time. We’d go to the Opera Houses and sit up in the galleries. I remember crying at La Bohème. We’d go to Hammersmith Palais, dancing the Quickstep and the Foxtrot. I was a good dancer. I was up to medal standard really, though I never took my medals. I didn’t have the money to pay the fees. All my friends got theirs. But to dance on Hammersmith Palais floor to these wonderful bands was absolutely lovely. Joe Lawson Band. Streatham Lacana. A whale of a time.

I had to come back to Worcester, as my mother was a widow and she became ill and was living on her own. It was conscience really that brought me back. I also had a very persistent boyfriend who wanted to marry me. But I didn’t want to marry him. So I thought the best thing to do was escape. I left town and didn’t give him my address.

I was in my twenties when I did get married. We’ve been married fifty-one years. I used to go dancing with his sister, and she said, “My brother wants to learn to dance.” He was in the fire brigade at the time. She said, “He goes to the fire brigade dances and he can’t dance, would you teach him?” So I said, “Yes, why not?”

Round at their house they had what was called “The Workshop”, where his father used to keep rabbits. It had a wooden floor. We used to take the wind-up gramophone up there with records and I’d try and teach him to dance. I wasn’t very successful. He can’t dance very well. But we could get round. It went on from there.

I know I shouldn’t say so, but the war was fantastic. All those dances! Before the war, Worcester people were very reserved. You’d go down the street and nobody would ever speak to you. But the war changed all that. People began to speak to one another. There was a community spirit. Of course, our soldiers fiercely resented the Americans. They hated them. You could understand it: the Americans had nylon stockings that they’d give us. They had better uniforms, better pay, everything.

There was one American who was very keen on me. He was a navigator on the bombers going over Germany. Perhaps if the war had lasted longer, I’d be in America now. But I’m glad I’m not. My husband is wonderful. He was in the artillery. He was over in France before he was eighteen, and he quickly became a sergeant. They wanted him to go into officer training, but he wouldn’t because he’s a socialist. In the fire brigade, he came second in the country in his exams, so he’s a very clever man. But he wouldn’t go into officer training. He was very insistent about that. He just refused to do it. And I’m proud of him for that. I share his political views. I’m a socialist.

It’s still all about class

I’ve been supporting my MP, Mike Foster, in his fight to have fox-hunting banned. I remember once discussing fox-hunting with a boy at a public school where I’d ended up teaching, though it was against my conscience – I believe education should be free for everybody. But I was there for the dyslexic pupils.

Anyway, they were all very privileged children, and I used to contrast what they had compared to what the pupils at some of the other schools had. And I’d think, “Life isn’t fair at all.” This one boy said how he liked to see the hunt going past his garden gate, because he liked all the colours and everything. What he didn’t like was hearing the fox scream when it was caught. “It just seems to go on and on,” is how he put it. And ever since then I’ve been dead against hunting. My husband is too.

At the Worcestershire Boxing Day hunt, we go along to support the anti-brigade. There’s been a lot of correspondence in the local paper, for and against, and I’ve been contributing to that. I’ve written to MPs. Mike Foster writes to me and tells me what’s going on.

I’ve also complained to the police about the antics of the Countryside Alliance people. Because when we went to the hunt last Christmas, there were barriers along the anti-brigade side, and no barriers at all for the hunt-supporters –even though there were more supporters than antis. So we had to stand there behind barriers that the Countryside Alliance had covered in their posters. It says quite a bit. The supporters were very vociferous and very vigorous in pursuing us.

Anyway, I complained to the police. I asked them why we were behind barriers when the hunt supporters weren’t. And I got a letter back from the Chief Constable, supporting what I said. Apparently, the Countryside Alliance were told that if they wanted barriers, they had to be put up on both sides. But they didn’t do it. The police are thinking of taking legal action.

Pinney, the Chairman of the Worcestershire branch of the Countryside Alliance, is very arrogant. I haven’t met him, but I’ve attacked him in the newspapers. They are all extremely well-organised and determined. And think of the money that’s expended on these hunts. It’s still all about class.

At Christmas, there were seventy horses there, the riders and all their gear, plus a pack of thirty-odd hounds. There’s a lot of money behind it. And what really annoyed me was that after the hunt had gone, the hunt-supporters came across the road with their professionally made banners – we just had home-made ones – and stood about five or six feet away, waving them in our faces. It was quite intimidating. A lot of booing and shouting and insults were traded across that barrier.

But I don’t think hunting is a town versus country issue, because there’s a lot of farmers who don’t approve of hunting at all. I’ve got a friend whose father-in-law has a farm and he’s had many a tussle with the hunt because they’ve gone over his land. The hunters are so arrogant. Even pet cats have been killed in gardens by the hounds. If the fox came into our garden they’d make no bones about coming in and chasing it.

Animal welfare means a lot to me. No one is caring for the welfare of the poor animals in the foot-and-mouth crisis. All you ever hear about are the poor farmers this and the poor farmers that. What about the animals? I read a letter in the paper recently from a woman who’d just got back from one of the Far Eastern countries. She’d visited the markets there, and seen dogs being skinned alive and thrown in pots to be cooked and served up in front of her eyes. I had sleepless nights after reading about it. Can you imagine the terror of those dogs waiting to be skinned?

But even in this country, we’ve no idea what goes on in abattoirs. It’s all kept secret. I read a letter the other day saying that animals know what’s in store for them the second they enter a slaughter-house. They smell the blood. Their eyes roll and they get terrified. I’m seriously considering becoming a vegetarian. We’ve tried some vegetarian meals from Marks and Spencer and they were very tasty.

On the side of the underdog

I’m a town person really. But I do love the countryside. I love the Malvern Hills especially. Each year, we used to have a fun day in July when the whole school would go out on the hills. About 1,500 people. It was wonderful.

I’ve always been keen on music and drama, too. And in my last year teaching, I thought I’d really go for it, so I produced something called In Place of Grandmothers Day. It’s based on the Burston rebellion in the 1920s, where the school children rebel against the city councillors and go on strike after all their favourite teachers were sacked.

I had children going up to their grandmother’s attics to find out all about their great-grandmother, and reliving the past. I was working until 10 o’clock at night, five nights a week. Someone once said to my husband, “Your wife has got it cushy as a school teacher”, and he went absolutely berserk.

I’ve always been on the side of the underdog. That’s why I feel guilty having taught at that private school. It was so elitist. The children were very nice, as were the staff. But with my socialist principles I felt so guilty about teaching there and seeing what they’d got compared to the poor little devils in the secondary schools. They were all big strapping children at the private school. But at the secondary school I taught these two little lads who were obviously undersized, possibly under-nourished.

One day, I remember one of them had really black circles under his eyes. And I said, “You’re looking very white and tired.” “Up ‘til all hours, Miss”, he said. I said, “What do you mean?” And he told me, “My Dad’s a taxi driver, and we had to get up to go and meet a lady off a train in the small hours of the morning. Me mum didn’t trust him. And she wouldn’t leave us alone in the house, so she got us up, and we all went and met this lady off the train.” His brother was there too, and he was looking white and tired as well. He corroborated it. You just don’t get that sort of thing in private schools.

‘I am more interested in the future than the past.’

I think Mike Foster is very good, both with the fox hunting and when the floods came. I have a Christmas card from him every year. I’ve always been a socialist. I’ve voted Labour my whole life. They’ve been in a difficult position recently. It takes a long time to right the problems of eighteen years. They can’t do everything at once. They made a very bad mistake with the pensioners. But then we all make mistakes. The thing to do is learn from them.

What pensioners would really like is to be on a par with other European countries and not have to rely on these handouts – to have a pension where they can live comfortably and not have to scrape all the time. After all, people complain these days about having to pay high taxes, and I’ve read many letters where people complain about having to support pensioners, but we had to do that in our young day. I had to pay tax and insurance for years and that money supported the pensioners, but I didn’t complain about it. It’s the modern illness really, it’s just self, self, self.

It’s only natural for young people to think of themselves as all-important. We all did, didn’t we? But young people just think old people are a bit of a nuisance, and think, “I’m not going to support the stupid old gits.” But it is very short-sighted. It all comes down to parents abdicating their responsibility. There was this woman who wrote to me and complained about the lack of publicity for my play. I was working ‘til 10 o’clock and she wrote in to complain that I wasn’t doing enough. Unbelievable.

The trouble for the Labour Party is that they can’t afford to have all these business people go against them. They’ve got to do a very careful balancing act. They could do it better. They must get the pensioner issue right. The population is ageing. There are more of us than ever. They should give teachers the chance to exercise more discipline. And sometimes you need to discipline the parents as well. Parents can become very aggressive if you lay a finger on a child.

Labour is still a socialist party. And the Conservatives are still so arrogant. They are of the class of people who are convinced that they are right. They are brought up to believe that they are the ruling class and that they’ve got the right to rule. They can’t see any other point of view.

I don’t approve of the House of Lords, obviously, especially when they’re opposing the fox hunting bill. And I don’t like the way the Conservatives always bad-mouth the Labour Party without being constructive. They’re always trying to put them down, but never admit to their own mistakes. They never will.

Tony Blair has got the common touch, but he should be stronger in some contexts. My husband is a bit disappointed with some of the decisions. He is an out-and-out socialist. I take a softer view. I can see the difficulties they face, and I’ll happily vote Labour next time.

The monarchy is a different matter. They don’t do a bad job, but they do lack the common touch. I wouldn’t shed many tears if they had to go. On the other hand, what would we have? I would hate to be under a dictator like Thatcher. She was an awful woman.

The holly tree and road charges

I don’t like to be told what to do. I’m very stubborn. Take the road this house is on. It was just a track when we came here. An ancient highway. Then the council built a road and took fifteen feet of our land away to do it. Then they made us pay road charges. The whole lane went to court. We were all up in arms about it. We had a century old holly tree, which was laden with berries. They started building the road just before Christmas, and the contractors came and cut the tree down without telling me.

I went storming out and this lorry with my tree on it was going down the road. So I raced after it and said, “How dare you cut down my tree?” And he said, “It isn’t yours. The council has said I can have it, and tomorrow, I’m going to come and take your hedge up, too.” I said, “Oh no you’re not.” He said, “You can’t stop me.” I said, “You just watch me.”

So I got my car out and I blocked the lane so they couldn’t get at the hedge. They sent for the police. By the time I’d finished telling the police all about it, they were on my side. The police went to fetch some councillors and we had photographers here and everything, and there were photographs in the paper. In the end I said I’d deduct the value of the tree from the final amount of the road charges. But I forgot to do it. I bet they took all the holly off that tree and sold it for Christmas decorations.

It was a lesson for us all. You lose your land. They charge you road charges. And then they put your rates up.

A lot of people don’t know what they want. Some years ago I was doing a survey. The responses I got were amazing. Some women wouldn’t talk to me. They’d say, “I don’t talk to anybody unless my husband’s here.” Then they’d shut the door in my face. They were so submissive. Being an independent person and having my own ideas, I just couldn’t understand it. So many women said, “Oh, my husband always answers those questions for me.” And I’d say, “Haven’t you got any opinions of your own?” “No”, they’d say. And that would be that.

So I wouldn’t say I was average. Worcester Woman was supposed to be the average woman. But I’m too stubborn to be average.

Things have worked out well for me. When I think of the home I’m in now and what I was born in, I’ve come a tremendously long way. Seeing what my parents couldn’t give me, I was determined that if I had children, they’d have those things – like an inside toilet!

I am more interested in the future than the past. My husband likes history, but I hate going to museums. I don’t like looking at dead things. If somebody asked me if I’d like to go to the moon, I’d go.