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I was at Trinity from 1959 to 1963. I never made it to the
fifth form and left at the end of the fourth year. The photos show
me trying on my uniform when I started at the school.
I am now living on the Costa del Sol with my husband Bernie, we have
been here ten years! We moved to Cornwall first where we ran a
little B & B. We loved it but it wasn't big enough to be profitable and
he had always wanted to move to Spain so eventually I relented. We
live East of Malaga between Nerja and Torre del Mar, in an apartment
just across the road from the beach. Lately I have become a bit
restless about being here, it is not so much that I want to go back, I
would just like to have the option, but property is rock bottom and not
selling, so I feel a bit trapped. The weather is fabulous for much
of the year, but terrible in the Summer, which is made worse by the
hoardes of noisy Spanish tourists taking over our little town.
I have written three books in the last three years, two of them
published. The first one is called Leaving England and it
documents our move from Northampton to Cornwall and all the experiences
we had in setting up and running our little B & B. The second one
is a novel set among the ex-pats of the Costa, called Not Joined Up
(surviving retirement on the Costa del Sol), which uses observations
made during our time living here. The third is called "A Girl's
Best Friend" which is subtitled "A Northampton Childhood". I have
just finished this and I am dithering as to whether to have it published
in paperback like the others or go straight to Kindle. The first
two are available from Amazon and Play online.
On reflection I have decided that the only thing I learned at Trin which
has been any use at all was Latin. This may seem surprising, but
it is true. I have used it when I worked amongst the medical
profession, when I was a very keen gardener and when I learned Spanish.
Nothing else has been any use to me except in the Pub Quiz department,
where I manage to remember odd trivia like Hargreaves' Spinning Jenny,
the Capital of Australia and the chemical symbol for Argon. Come
to think of it after the first year I don't think I learned anything at
all, and yet I was still considered a possible University candidate.
Most of the time I spent at Trin I was miserable, I don't think I ever
connected with the place. I liked singing in the choir, I really
liked Mr Chester (as did all the girls), and I liked dancing, but the
majority of the lessons were either boring or incomprehensible. I
absolutely detested hockey and netball. The only proper teacher we
had was the one who taught us history and I don't remember her name.
Lessons with Taffy and Tarquin (Mr Bennett, Latin) were always more
concerned with keeping order than imparting knowledge. In English
we never seemed to get past Scene One in Henry V, and were expected to
read the most boring books, it put me off reading for years.
For somebody artistic like me it was a nightmare having to choose
between Art and Music. I was in the language stream yet I still
had to do Phys and Chem (surely the hardest of the sciences) whilst the
Science Mob did Spanish and Human Anatomy. That didn't make sense
to me. The one thing that really got my goat though was the fact
that the fabric of the school and its playing fields was more important
than we were. We could be sent out to play hockey in flimsy aertex
shirts and freeze to death but if there was danger of "damaging the
pitch" we were kept indoors. If human blood would have improved
the surface of the hall floor, somebody would have been sacrificed so
that it could be used as polish.
I also thought that the moth eaten gowns that the teachers wore were
pretentious, as was the way that they always seemed to be copying a
Public School, with houses that meant nothing to anybody. Still,
that was just me, I suppose. When I was fifteen I got a job and
left. Gunner interrogated mum and suggested that she was forcing
me out to work for my wages. I only got four quid a week. I
never regretted it for one minute.
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