My Best Friend Died.
Without Prejudice
It's been a sad day. I just found out my best friend from School died. In Yorkshire where we both terrorised Thornes House Grammar from the ages of 12 to 16. Malcolm let me know by email. He and two other boys from school are organising a reunion in Yorkshire this year. I would love to go but the flying !
My friends name was Caroline Holmes and as girls we were inseparable. Best friends that walked through Thornes Park arm in arm, our wicker baskets full of schoolbooks. Sometimes we would stop at the kids fun park on the way and swing for an hour or so until I had to catch the last bus. We loved the "ranty" a cheese cutter or just a big plank with handles at either end. We could crank that thing up high, she swinging one end and me the other.
That "Ranty" was to become important, later.
And we talked of so many things. Me of Australia and homesickness, she of her errant Mum that ran away with a black man, leaving the kids to the drunken Irish father.
Her house was an eye popping, nostril clearing dark and damp place. She made me a cup of tea once with " sterri" milk. I will always remember trying to drink the tea with the most incredible smell of ammonia wafting up my nose. I thought it was disgusting and asked her how she put up with it.
"Used to it ", she said and just shrugged it off.
I sat there little Miss anal and breathed through my mouth.
She was cool, street smart. I was a whimp. She was smart and smart mouthed and taught me to swear and curse like a Sailor. Smoke too. We could buy singles in those days and dinky little packs of ten. We dressed alike, we spoke alike. She befriended me on the first day I was at Thornes House. Lunch time in the home room was like Bedlam on speed.
Noisy, fast. I had last attended school on the Gold Coast a far cry from the grim realities of February in a very posh Grammar School in England. It was my Mothers old school and my brother George and I were allowed to go there just because of that fact. It had a swimming pool, undercover of course. Gyms, lunch hall, stage, theatre, massive auditorium.
On the first day I was lost. These kids in thick accents and thicker jumpers could out smart me in everything except English. They had already been in Form One for six months. Were doing French and Algebra. While we as a family were swanning over the ocean in a Greek Liner, taking our time getting to the place of our birth, these smart tough, worldly kids were studying.
I did Physics, Chemistry, Drama, Movement, Swimming, History, Spanish after French, Maths,English, Biology and Domestic Science. It was full on. But that first day, that very first day as I cowered away in a corner of the dim home room, the sky outside gloomy almost black. A girl approached me.
" I like your accent", she said.
She had a group of friends with her and I immediately saw that she was a leader. From that day we were firm friends. I would wait outside of her house, after that first initial visit, Wait for her to come out so that we could go "Laking" on Saturday afternoons. We went to the Mecca Lucarno and danced in our sixties outfits to groups like The Who, Manfred Mann, Lulu, The Beatles.
After, we would go to the rides behind the Markets where a swarthy "Carny" would give us free
rides. He would hang on the outside as we whirled round and round, flexing his biceps in his white tee. The small building smelt of hot engine oil and greasy chips.
Caroline was a woman before her time, reckless, cheeky and always loyal
to herself. She sometimes hung out with another girl who was older and had already left School. A
big girl.
She was to become important later too..
To be continued......
It's been a sad day. I just found out my best friend from School died. In Yorkshire where we both terrorised Thornes House Grammar from the ages of 12 to 16. Malcolm let me know by email. He and two other boys from school are organising a reunion in Yorkshire this year. I would love to go but the flying !
My friends name was Caroline Holmes and as girls we were inseparable. Best friends that walked through Thornes Park arm in arm, our wicker baskets full of schoolbooks. Sometimes we would stop at the kids fun park on the way and swing for an hour or so until I had to catch the last bus. We loved the "ranty" a cheese cutter or just a big plank with handles at either end. We could crank that thing up high, she swinging one end and me the other.
That "Ranty" was to become important, later.
And we talked of so many things. Me of Australia and homesickness, she of her errant Mum that ran away with a black man, leaving the kids to the drunken Irish father.
Her house was an eye popping, nostril clearing dark and damp place. She made me a cup of tea once with " sterri" milk. I will always remember trying to drink the tea with the most incredible smell of ammonia wafting up my nose. I thought it was disgusting and asked her how she put up with it.
"Used to it ", she said and just shrugged it off.
I sat there little Miss anal and breathed through my mouth.
She was cool, street smart. I was a whimp. She was smart and smart mouthed and taught me to swear and curse like a Sailor. Smoke too. We could buy singles in those days and dinky little packs of ten. We dressed alike, we spoke alike. She befriended me on the first day I was at Thornes House. Lunch time in the home room was like Bedlam on speed.
Noisy, fast. I had last attended school on the Gold Coast a far cry from the grim realities of February in a very posh Grammar School in England. It was my Mothers old school and my brother George and I were allowed to go there just because of that fact. It had a swimming pool, undercover of course. Gyms, lunch hall, stage, theatre, massive auditorium.
On the first day I was lost. These kids in thick accents and thicker jumpers could out smart me in everything except English. They had already been in Form One for six months. Were doing French and Algebra. While we as a family were swanning over the ocean in a Greek Liner, taking our time getting to the place of our birth, these smart tough, worldly kids were studying.
I did Physics, Chemistry, Drama, Movement, Swimming, History, Spanish after French, Maths,English, Biology and Domestic Science. It was full on. But that first day, that very first day as I cowered away in a corner of the dim home room, the sky outside gloomy almost black. A girl approached me.
" I like your accent", she said.
She had a group of friends with her and I immediately saw that she was a leader. From that day we were firm friends. I would wait outside of her house, after that first initial visit, Wait for her to come out so that we could go "Laking" on Saturday afternoons. We went to the Mecca Lucarno and danced in our sixties outfits to groups like The Who, Manfred Mann, Lulu, The Beatles.
After, we would go to the rides behind the Markets where a swarthy "Carny" would give us free
rides. He would hang on the outside as we whirled round and round, flexing his biceps in his white tee. The small building smelt of hot engine oil and greasy chips.
Caroline was a woman before her time, reckless, cheeky and always loyal
to herself. She sometimes hung out with another girl who was older and had already left School. A
big girl.
She was to become important later too..
To be continued......
