Primary endings

Reading through previous entries, I notice that I rather vaguely use the word "we", in reference to activities out of school. There were no close friends, the kids in the village would hang around as a loose bunch that varied in it's composition according to weather, time of day, or just whim. Brothers and sisters would associate, and the size of the gang would vary enormously. Much of the time I preferred my own company.

I had a fascination for fire, and most days a campfire was a focus. There were plenty of places to go, but mostly, social life was based on the banks of the river and inevitably we'd light a fire and try to cook any vegetable that we could find. Sometimes fires would get out of hand and I admit to burning down a tree as well as igniting a fallow field that burned beautifully.

For us the river was in two parts. The upper reaches, were above the old Mill race, and this stretch of river was largely shallow, and it flowed through agricultural land. The fishing in that stretch was not much good, though legends of brown trout were legion. I never saw one. The lower reaches, flowed on for about five miles until it confluenced with the river Avon. Here the waters were deeper, more accessible and better endowed with fish.

Where the mill race poured over it's small cascade, there was the mill pond, a square, reinforced holding area. A footbridge crossed the river at this point and this area, with its wooden boards and concrete platforms acted as a magnet for bored kids. Here there would ususally be a congregation, and from this place oiur adventures and mischief would begin. This was a favoured fishing spot too and many hours of boyhood were frittered away here.

In those days, we walked everywhere, and as I only had one pair of shoes, wellington boots were the norm. I lived in wellies and they were frequently wet, or filled with hayseeds or straw. I even played football in them, no wonder I was never any good at it. Have you ever tried running in wellington boots? To make matters more interesting, our wellies were always at least two sizes too big, in the vain hope that we'd grow into them. Mostly though they got punctured or torn within a few weeks of being new, so they never were outgrown.

I am sure that weather in those days was more extreme than now. I can recall snow that came over the tops of our wellies as being a regular event, as were scorching summers where the grass turned to tinder. Rain was real rain in those days. I can still feel the downpour that one day soaked me on my way home. My wellies really filled up with rain water as I walked, and that makes walking quite tough.

Summers were long and so were winters. Mostly the days were long too and some cold days it was a pleasure to come home and sit in front of the fire. This was rare though and mostly I would stay out until it was dark or I was hungry.

Food was traditional fare and dependent on seasonal availability of vegetables. There were no exotic treats, and no choices. There were no snacks between meals and no out of season fresh fruit. The only thing that always seemed to be abundant was the pappy white bread, potatoes, and pickles. We ate for fuel and at the meal table we'd listen to my father's opinions on things. We didn't have any! After meals, it would be a case of going out again until either the next meal or until darkness or the weather forced us home.

School went on and eventually we were told about the eleven plus. This was an exam that children would sit at the age of eleven. It was an intelligence test that had the effect of dividing kids into two groups. Those that would form the elite 20% of the population would go to the Grammar School, the rest to the Secondary Modern. Those of us on the top table were groomed for this test and four of us passed, and after interviews at the "posh" school were accepted. I was to be separated once again from the people that I had come to know. Secondary school was to present a whole new world to me, and one that I was not prepared for.