The 1960s
This alternative, and
possibly more common than we like to believe, story was originally printed, much
to Bob Street’s amazement, in a 1966 Cygnet. He still writes – and sometimes
gets published.
Peter Brown
he
sunlight filtered through the curtains as the first stirs of wakefulness began
to rouse Peter. The birds sang forth in their tuneful morning chorus while the
rustle of the leaves in the trees added a percussive effect. The misty
rays highlighted the Beatle wallpaper, the alarm clock continued with the
familiar tintinnabulation, and the dreaded thought entered his mind. Today was
another day to be endured especially double Geography………………….
Another example of his 'horribilis annus' arrived. Assembly had passed without
incident except for the few boys told to have a haircut by the headmaster. Even
the boy who read the scripture from Romans 3 had done so in a reasonably clear
voice. The Geography master walked into the classroom and a silence begot the
fearful audience of 12-year-olds. Under his arm he carried the exercise books
containing homework from 3 days ago, and he proceeded to pass them to the
nearest boy to hand them back. After a couple of minutes of reverent silence the
master called out the first surname on his register expecting the homework mark
to be called out by the boy for inclusion in his compilation of term marks.
"Brown!" bawled the master.
"I didn't hand my work in, sir" Peter replied.
"Brown!!" came the highly audible vociferous interjection.
"I didn't hand my work in, sir" less confidently came the
answer.
"You're sailing very near the wind, boy. Mark!" the master
shouted.
"Nil, sir" squeaked Peter.
The rest of the two periods were a
matter of trying to stay awake for Peter, except when the Geography master
barked to Peter that he should give reasons for the difference in precipitation
rates between the Transvaal and Cape Province in South Africa.
The afternoon was spent with less
intellectual pursuits. A cross-country run was organised for the P.E. period for
the whole two hours until 4pm Although Peter set off well, he slowed to a
walking pace due to stitch and soon found himself strolling along at the rear of
the pack. At 10 to 4, he arrived back at the school gates in last position and
was frostily greeted by the Chemistry master who was supervising the run.
"Last again, Brown!" he said, "as you're reward for coming last I want to see
you run round the playing fields 3 times."
"No, sir" he replied, "My mother says I'm not to stay at school after 4pm".
"Ok" Mr Greenish said, rather annoyed, "for your inobedience and impertinence
I'm going to make sure you're not a prefect at this school."
Peter muttered an inaudible 'Yes, sir' and marched off to the change rooms………..
It was 7pm and Norma was due round any
minute. Peter knew he was young but girls had suddenly become an acceptable part
of his social life, and Norma was the first girl he'd had a crush on. She was
mature for her age and Peter had spent a couple of hours holding her hand whilst
watching TV. She left at 9pm and Peter sat calculating the hours until he could
see her again, when his mother came in.
"Peter, I don't want you to see her again. You're too young and you're not ready
to go out with girls yet. Besides, I don't like her. She's too gallous."
Mother's statement felt as if someone has punched him in the stomach. "Norma",
he mused, as he went upstairs to his familiar bedroom. He changed, climbed in to
bed, and tried to console himself with a can of Coke he kept a supply of in his
bedside cabinet……….
"Porky", a voice screamed as Peter made
his way along the school corridor between Maths and French periods. The voice
came from Anthony Darkday who proceeded to mock."I'm glad you're not
a girl. You're so fat and ugly that you'd be the last girl I'd go out with. No
wonder you're bottom of the class. You're as thick as two short planks."The
feeling of low self-esteem became worse during the french lesson. The master was
giving parts of the room in the language they were learning, and Peter decided
to share some of the words his mother had taught him.
"C'est la fenętre", he whispered to his desk-mate as he pointed to the window.
The master stopped, and bellowing like a bull, he marched over to where Peter
was sitting and proceeded to hit his hands with the plastic 12inch ruler he
picked up from the desk in front.
"While I'm speaking, boy, you do not!" he screamed, turning red in the face.
Peter could not offer an explanation as he was having trouble controlling the
pain in his hands.
'I'm so misunderstood', he thought, 'I was only tryingto show my
classmate I knew something'.
The P.E. period in the gym was worse.
All the boys were told to exhibit a hand stand against the side walls. Peter's
hands were a little crooked as he stood upside down against the wall. The P.E.
master saw the crookedness of the hands and shouting "Brown" he sadistically
stamped on the digits of Peter's right hand. The inevitable happened and Peter
came crashing down in a heap on the gym floor, much to the amusement of his
peers………
It was 8pm. His mother and
father had been arguing for about an hour now. "I don't want my son turning out
a weedy, girly poof", he heard his father say. Suddenly there was the sound of a
slap, silence for 5 seconds followed by a scream from his mother, the noise of
fisticuffs and then female moans.
After waiting a minute or so, Peter went down the bedroom steps to the lounge
and there saw his mother nursing a reddening bruise under her eye and a gaping
split in her lips. "Your dad's hit me", she moaned weakly, "Go to bed. It'll be
alright in the morning"………
Today was the big day when the
GCSE exam results would be announced. Peter decided he would go to school where
the grades would be posted on the noticeboard.At school, a cacophony
of shrieks of delight were audible whilst a melee of excited boys stood around
the noticeboard. Peter pushed his way through to the front and amongst the many
A and B grades of his peers was written:
" Brown. P Candidate Number A187456
English - F
Maths - F
French - D
Chemistry - F
Physics - F
History - F
Geography - F "
"One 'O' level. One miserable 'O' level in French. Bang goes my chance of doing
'A' levels. I'll have to get a job," he thought.
The sunlight filtered through the
curtains as the early sounds of birds tried to rouse Peter. The birds were
quieter than normal while there was no percussive effect from the tree leaves.
The misty rays highlighted the Beatle wallpaper, the alarm clock continued with
the familiar tintinnabulation, and the dreaded thought of a double period of
Geography failed to wake Peter up. On the bedside table a small bottle with the
lid off stood on its side. A closer inspection of the bottle revealed it had
yesterday contained 30 tablets.
