Ther's Nowt So Queer As Folk (School Days Remembered)

Fra  t’ vantage point o’ t’ top o’ Snoggers Hill, an’ wi mooare than a touch o’ sadness in us ‘earts,  Big Ron, Joe Sykes an’ me wer’ watchin’ t’ caancil diggers knockin’ daan our old village school...
 

“Ee, tis such a shame” says Joe, “ah spent many an un’appy owwer in theyer. Nivver thowatt ah’d miss t’ place!”

“Not enuf kids attendin’ equals a shortage o’ brass f’ payin’ t’ bills”, ah says.

“Ah reckon it’s allus bin that way” says Joe sagely. “Even wen ah wer’ theyer, ther’ wer’nivver enuf local lads an’ lasses ter fill mooare ‘an one class. In fact, ah remember a number o’ occasions wen ah wer’ t’ only one theyer – an’ even t’ teacher, Mrs “Tweety” Bird, ‘adn’t turned up. On them days, ah’d call aat register ter me sen, write stuff on t’ blackboard an’ give me sen lines if ah wer’n’t payin’ enuf attention. Appen mi mam cudn’t be bothered wi’ school holidays. Took yeears fer mi ter find aat they existed at aal.”

“Back then it wer’ mooare important ter help aat  at  t’ mill ooer on one o’ t’ farms” added Big Ron. “Most parents considered schoolin’ a waste o’ time! Mi dad used ter say: ‘Tha waint learn owt wi tha heed stuck in a booak’; ooer, ‘If tha can swing a sythe tha dunt need ter kno’ what t’ Chinese eat!”

“Ah remember Tweety Bird” ah says. “ Five foot dead, spinal deformity, wi a club foot. Used ter lollup daan t’ corridors like t’ Hunch Back O’ Notre Dame. Allus ‘ad a string o’ kids followin’ ‘er doing Quasimodo impressions. Ivvery time she rang t’ school bell, ther’ wer’ pandemonium.”

“That’s ‘er” says Joe. “Allus let us mek as much noise as we liked - on account o’ ‘er bein’ ‘alf deef. Spent ‘er time in class knitting endless cardigans, wi’ balls o’ wool cleverly balanced on ‘er ‘ump! Her finest hour cum wen Fats Dalby nearly choked on a Dorset Knob raand t’ back o’ bike sheds. She marched straight up to ‘im an’ stabbed ‘im in ‘is goolies wi ‘er needles. Fats coughed that ‘ard, t’ half chewed biscuit flew aat o’ ‘is mouth like it’d bin fired aat o’ a catapult, an’ knocked t’ Deputy Head’s mortise board clean off in t’ process! Appen t’ look on aal o’ theyer fissogs wer’ priceless.”

“Wer’n’t she eventually sacked f’ feedin’ a whole class o’ ‘juniors’ laxative chocolate?” asked Big Ron.

“Aye” says Joe, “an’ t’ shiny toilet paper t’ school bought fra t’ paand store wer abaat as absorbent as glass; an’ as affective as usin’ a trowel. Ah know, coz ah wer’ one o’ them pooer little sods!”

“Wunder wot possessed t’ daft mare ter do summat so cruel?” ah says.

“It wer’ t’ shiny toilet paper” says Joe. “Ah heard atterwards like, that she’ wer sick o’ us kids wrappin’it araand us combs ter mek us own kazoos, then followin’ ‘er ivvery wayer hummin’ t’ Adams Family theme tune. We aal thowatt she cudn’t hear like, but she said she cud feel t’ vibrations ooer summat.”

“Ah reckon she ‘ad a kind ‘eart really” ah says. “Probably just snapped!”

“Not like that bastard Mr. Sellers then!” says Big Ron wi real feelin’. “Appen ‘e didn’t enjoy ‘is job  unless ‘e wer’ handin’ aat punishments!”

“Nah ‘e WER’ rotten!” ah says. “Ivvery week ‘e’d tell us abaat t’ school master oo flogged a kid ter deeth, sayin ‘ow ‘e’d luv ter deal wi us urchins in t’ same manner. Ah personally thowatt that a bit harsh like, as we wer’n’t naughty until ‘e started shaatin’ wen we spoke wi aat raisin us hands ooer simply got things wrong.”

“’e used ter mek us kneel on us stools if we mis-behaved” grumbled Big Ron thru clenched teeth. “Didn’t need no excuse ter be mean! Wi in a few minutes it’d cut off t’ circulation in us legs, so wen we tried ter move at t' end o' t' lesson like, we fell ova an’ cudn’t get up agayen. We looked like a group tortoises on theyer backs! Course, then we’d get another bollockin an' extra homework at t’ next lesson f’ arrivin’ late.”

“Did’st tha ivver get tha own back?” asked Joe.

“Nah” says Big Ron, “Sellers ‘ad a sooart o’ sixth sense wen it cum ter sniffin aat our attempts ter get even. ‘e nivver sat on drawin’ pins; allus kicked open ivvery dooar so like it as not t’ bucket o’ pigswill fell on little Michael Pratt knockin’ ‘im aat; ‘e wudn’t eat t’ spotted dick made wi rabbit turds - an ‘e somehow avoided t’ trip wire across ‘is garden path so t’ postman copped f’ t’ cowpat in t’ face instead. Ah allus vowed ter get i’m back wen ah wer older - but fate beat mi ter it like.  Wen t’ Heinz factory up t’ street burst its boiler - seems ‘e got caught in t’ deluge an’ draaned in ‘undreds o’ gallons o’ red ‘ot Cockerleaky Soap!”

“Did anyone try ter save ‘im?” asked Joe.

“Well ter be honest” says Big Ron scrattin ‘is chin, “sum o’ ter local mothers wer’ shaatin’ at theyer bairns ter fetch buckets an’ pans – but f' some reason appen they only managed ter find knives, forks an’ tea strainers. Funny that!”

“Dust tha think that wi t’ school gone, that’ll be t’ last we see o’ gypsies?” says Joe changing t’ direction o’ us conversation? “As a nipper, ah used ter like it wen they’d suddenly show up f’ a week or so in early summer. Me an mi mate Jonny used ter sneak up ter theyer camp wen no-one wer’ lookin’. They ‘ad stonkin’ caravans - an’ if we took ‘em summat useful like coins or pertroleum jelly, they’d gi’ us chunks o’ roasted hedgehog ooer other unidentified animals. They once told us fortunes, an whilst ah didn’t f’ a moment believe that ah wud ivver build a railway on Mars, Jonny wer’ convinced ‘e wer going ter marry Queen Victoria. I tried ter tell ‘im that she wer’ long dead, but ‘e just stuck ‘is fingers in ‘is ears an’ stomped off unamused.”

“Aye” says Big Ron, “they used ter show up a week or so afore Appleby Fair – which wer’ perfect as far as t’ School Governors wer’ concerned. Each year, raand abaat then, ter local education authorities took a head caant an’ paid aat ter full years fundin’ based on t’ amaant o’ raggy arse kids ‘at wer’ in t’ school. Appen they benefitted ivvery year fra sudden swellin’ o' t’ ranks!”

“Not ivveryone welcomed ‘em though” ah says. “Abaat same time ivvery year one or two o’ t’ geese wud vanish fra village pond - an’ t’ allotments wer’ allus stripped o’ t’ largest carrots, much ter t’ nun’s annoyance. Lead an tiles went missin’ off ter church roof  an’ f’ months atter theyer visits, wen ivver it rained, ter choirboys wud get wet in t’ cloisters. Jacob Nimrod, t’ Verger insisted on personally towelling ‘em all daan at t’ end o’ each service.”

“Somebody somewhere allus ‘ad it in fer t’ gypsies” commented Joe. “tha cud guarantee a ruckuss at t’ school gate wen aal t’ little kiddies cum ter school on theyer osses. Yet them same folks ‘at complained wer’ allus t’ fust aat wi a bucket an’ spade!”

“Ther’s nowt so queer as folks!" ah says. “But if tha try an tell that t’ kids o’ today, appen they’ll not believe thee!”