Last time I stepped back into the past, I was talking about deaths and how I responded to them. Not a particularly upbeat sort of subject, though one that can't be avoided. Someone who used to be the closest friend I ever had, recently experienced a vicarious bereavement and I know that it will have been painful for her, because it will have opened up wounds that have barely healed. I feel for her, I am finding it hard to stop caring.
Today I will go back to the last days at school and see where we go from there. I have never been a great planner and tend to go for things head on, never knowing where I will wind up. Maybe if i was a better forward thinker, I'd have done better at school and perhaps I'd be better off now than I am.
The last year at Grammar School, was probably better than most of the others. By this time, I'd got to know a number of people and could drift in and out of any number of social circles. The main problem however was geographical. I still lived out in the wilds and had limited means of getting around. One of my friends from the village had bought a car, and we did get around quite a bit with him, but that was only the one social group, and many of my friends were those from school.
Through Mike, at the youth club, I got to hear of a scooter that someone wanted rid of. It was an old Lambretta LD150, and although it worked, it was not in great condition and I had little money. He settled for a princely sum of Two pounds and ten shillings - all that I could muster, and i proudly wheeled it home. The next few days were spent, buying paint, helmet and the rest of the gear that was necessary. I really wanted huge rear view mirrors and an aerial with a foxes tail attached, I wanted a parka with a fur hood, I wanted to be a Mod!
What one wants however is not always in keeping with what one can afford and so I had to settle for the paint job and the helmet. I think that the helmet cost several time that of the scooter, and come to think of it, the paint probably did too. Anyway I did a fair job and painted it two tone blue and before long it was ready for the road. I still remember the first ride, when i had to take it to get it MOT tested. The sense of freedom was amazing, even though the sense of speed was sadly lacking. The engine was not at its best and I never exceeded 40 mph, but it was mine and now I could go places. (As long as they were not far away!) It passed the test, and from that day I rarely used buses. I even took it to school, which I thought was pretty cool.
My social life improved enormously and I could get to parties that were not on a bus route and finished after ten at night, I could disappear for hours, exploring the wider area, and I have visions of escaping once more. There were one or two girls that came into and went out of my life that year, but one that could have shared a long term relationship, had circumstances been different. She was two years behind me at school and very petite and pretty. We began to see each other very frequently, and I could now get to her house with no difficulty. So our relationship grew and I experienced feelings that I had never had before. I guess that she was the first love of my life, and our relationship became as close as it could be. Although I loved her, I still had to escape. I could not live in the village, I did not want what long term residents seemed to settle for and so I continued to work towards my getaway.
Careers advice in those days was simple. If you were smart and worked hard you went to University, preferably Oxford or Cambridge. If you were less smart or didn't do the work, you went to Teacher's training College, if you were even less smart you went into nursing or the Police force, and that was that. It was suggested that my A level performance may not be up to standard for the first option, and so i was steered into applying for Teacher Training.
ME? a teacher? I was the scourge of most of mine, so why should i become one? Well I did think long and hard about it and decided that if nothing else I could get away from home for three years and then? Well who knows? Three years then seemed a lifetime away. So I applied. I chose three colleges on the basis of - 1. Distance away from home 2. Proximity to Caving areas 3. Being close to the sea. I filled in the forms and off they went.
In what seemed days, i was offered an interview at Portsmouth, and friend offered to drive me down there. That was very good of him and I don't think I ever returned the favour. I was not familiar with the big cities and the experience was exhilarating. I recall the interview well and in particular being asked questions about aestivating snails. My natural history interest came in handy and I seemed to make a good impression. I must have done, as I was offered a place - unconditionally!
Now that was a bad move in some ways. I did not need any A levels at all to get where I wanted to go. What was I to do? Work like a demon to get through? or enjoy my last year? It wasn't a hard choice to make.
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