My First Day - by George Watt
I started my first day at JCS, two years late and I wore the wrong uniform. My blazer was royal blue. Everyone else was in dark green. Not exactly an auspicious start you might think. However, my delay was the result of living in one district and receiving an education from another. This was not allowed and I had to transfer from a similar school in Gateshead for which my parents had performed financial miracles to kit me out. This phenomenon was not to be repeated, hence me standing out like the proverbial sore thumb in a jacket against which the wearing of eye shields would have been appropriate.
Following a short meeting with the headmaster, a lovely gentleman by the name of Youngson, I was introduced to my form master, Mr Casey and then to the class of 3T.
I was placed next to a chap who, when I asked him his name, looked away from me and clenched his right hand into a fist. God! I thought, he’s going to hit me and I have just arrived. The fiend of a teacher had placed me next to the class thug. It would be better, I thought, to let proceedings take their course and accept my punishment for being so forward. After all, what business was it of mine? His name was his.
The thug slowly lifted his clenched fist to his mouth as if to play an imaginary trumpet and began huffing and puffing in short bursts. With eyes tightly closed, I waited for my nose to be broken. When no blow was struck, I slowly peeped from one eye to see my opponent still huffing and puffing into his clenched fist. This, I thought, was some secret communication system for which I had received no training at my previous school. However, things were not as they had seemed. In the months to come I learned that Les Maddison , my co-pilot that first day, frequently performed this peculiar ritual whenever he was confronted with anything or, anyone, out of the ordinary. Les, I was to find, was a lovely fellow who was more nervous than I. I don’t know where he is today – I wish I did.
George
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Editor's comment:- I agree with you George. Les Maddison was a very reserved chap in a school where there were few introverts. You mention his playing an imaginary trumpet well he did, honestly, play cornet in a brass band (it may have been a Sally Dosher outfit.)
I was interested to read your comments regarding your blazer. I cannot recollect ever wearing any form of school uniform other than a tie.
Getting back to Les Maddison and the clenched fist. I seem to remember that, after being caned, one would clench ones fist and blow into it as a means of alleviating the pain.
Lance