WIRRAL GRAMMAR SCHOOL FOR GIRLS
On 3rd September 1953, having passed the 11 plus exam, I nervously stepped out, resplendent in the uniform for the Wirral Grammar School. Not just the basics for me : Mum had acquired a clothing grant from a local charity so I was fully rigged out in blazer with badge, scarf and, instead of a beret which most girls had, my headgear was a velour hat with brim, much more expensive than a beret, less likely to blow off, worn mainly by posh girls – only the best for me. The hat/beret had to be worn going to and from school. If a girl was seen hatless outside, there were penalties to be paid.
The school was a two storey building built round a quadrangle with a staircase at each corner which caused me much anxiety, especially after break times. My space awareness and orienteering skills were negligible. I didn't know which corner was which, so I would have to keep my eye on a classmate during breaks to follow back to the appropriate room. Rather difficult with 600 girls milling around. We played lacrosse and there was a very good choir, run by Doris Parkinson, which always ran away with 1st prize in any competition: I auditioned for the choir but was so nervous couldn't even sing a nursery rhyme in tune, so failed. English, French and Latin were my favourite subjects, but I was rubbish at Maths.
There were two notable incidents in my first year which changed my life completely: Mum had a fever (rheumatic or glandular – not certain which, but serious) and kept me off school for a few weeks to care for her, the house and my brother: Then I was caught in a test situation with an exercise book on the back cover of which was a series of mathematical tables. We had been asked to take in an exercise book to lean the test paper on: although I had checked through to make sure there was nothing in the book which could help me I had failed to to scrutinise the back cover. I believe these two incidents, plus the fact that it was thought by the teachers that I wasn't achieving as well as was expected, came to the attention of the headmistress, Winifred Ashton. My mother was summoned for a discussion on the situation at home, and I was referred to a child psychiatrist at Alder Hey Children's Hospital in Liverpool.
Miss Gurney the Psychiatrist was, in my opinion, quite mad. At one appointment she gave me models of animals, trees, a house, and people and asked me to create a scene in a sand pit. How childish! The trees and animals I clustered together to form a jungle with wild animals on one side of the tray and the house and people on the other side. From this she deduced that this represented hatred of (I thought she said my mother, but it may have been brother): however I was really angry and upset by this suggestion, and refused to go again. The outcome of her report was the suggestion that I should go to a boarding school. So commenced the biggest battle and sacrifice my mother ever had to deal with on my behalf.
Cheshire Education Authority recommended an Authority run girls’ boarding school in the county and agreed to pay the fees, but Mum wasn't at all impressed by the prospectus (It may have been a school for maladjusted girls). By now, having had several meetings with Miss Ashton, Mum must have made a favourable impression and made clear what sort of education she wanted for me. Miss Ashhton's secretary had a prospectus for a co-ed independent school in Yorkshire, run by a Quaker couple, Kenneth and Frances Barnes; she wondered if Mum would be interested in it. Mum studied the prospectus for Wennington School, was impressed by the ethos, the size (90 children from 8 – 18 yrs. from a broad range of backgrounds including overseas), the subjects offered, including pottery, woodwork, music, as well as a good range of academic subjects. Mum decided this was the school for me. I agreed. There were opportunities galore and there were boys! But Cheshire would not agree to pay the fees for out-of-county education. We visited the school, were interviewed by Kenneth and Frances, I was accepted and hoped to start at the beginning of the school year, September 1954. There was then a three month battle with letters flying between psychiatrists, Cheshire Education and Finance Departments, Wennington, and waiting for committees to meet and make decisions. Eventually Cheshire relented, agreeing to pay the fees for Wennington until the age of sixteen. Whilst waiting for a favourable decision I had continued at the grammar school in a state of limbo. When the agreement came through I was excited, there was a rush to find a second hand trunk, and to assemble the items on the clothing list. No more velour hat and blazer; instead, an anorak with a hood, a green overall for woodwork and pottery, strong outdoor shoes. Many an evening, after Mum had come home from work, we sat sewing Cash's name tapes onto bed linen, underwear, white airtex shirts, bottle green jumpers and skirts. All indoor and outdoor clothing had to be labelled.