School, continued

In retrospect, and through rose tinted glasses, our schooldays in Dunblane evoke warm memories of fun-filled carefree days. (Notwithstanding the eternal, or should I say 'infernal' spectre of Miss Hunter looming over us!)

We tend to forget the many hours spent gazing wistfully out of a window and dreaming of running free and wild through the woods or alongside the river. Instead, we sat in our classroom learning joined up writing with real ink and a scratchy pen. We learned fractions and geography, local history about the battles of Sherrifmuir and Bannockburn, declensions of nouns and adjectives, conjugation of verbs.

Outside of Miss Hunter's classroom we would learn other things. In woodwork I constructed a kite which never flew  and a boat which sank on first contact with the Allan Water. I constructed a balsa wood aeroplane but sat on it (unintentionally), before I could attempt to get it airborne.

I made a sugar spoon out of copper which, if I had been stopped by the local constabulary, would almost certainly have resulted in a custodial sentence for yours truly on the grounds that the spoon's sharp edges and jagged corners (Yes, it had corners!) constituted a most deadly weapon in the wrong hands! I gave the aforesaid spoon to my parents as a gift but it mysteriously disappeared after a decent, but brief, period.

In the gym we had as our PT instructor the famous Davy McCainsh. He had a very appropriate name as he was the only teacher I ever met who actually used a cane to punish pupils. A la Billy Bunter style, he would get us to bend over and give us a resounding whack on the bottom. Davy didn't have the best eyesight however and, believe it or not, I once slipped a jotter down my shorts before receiving a couple of strokes and he didn't notice!

We would trot into the gym, wondering what awaited us. Sometimes we were allowed to play 'Pirates' which was very popular. We used all the gymnasium's apparatus - wallbars, ropes, benches and so on and would climb, swing, jump and chase each other, hopefully without touching the floor as that represented the sea and the end of your participation in the game.

More often than not however, instead of fun and games like 'Pirates', Davy would set us to doing pushups or knee bends, running on the spot or rope climbing. Not as much fun.

When Christmas party time approached, it was time for the dreaded Scottish country dancing.  Instead of the 'Twist' or 'Hitchhiker' it was the 'Gay Gordons'. Instead of the 'Stones' it was Jimmy Shand. Looking back, it was a lot of fun but for us wee boys it was dreadfully embarrassing.  We were lined up on one side of the gym barechested and shivering in dark shorts while the girls, in navy blue knickers (but, alas, not barechested) were lined up on the other. Then Davy, or sometimes our other gym teacher, Aggie Aitken, would order us to pick a girl and we would most reluctantly and hesitantly shuffle across the floor to choose our partner for the 'Dashing White Sergeant', the 'Gay Gordons', 'Strip the Willow', the 'Eightsome Reel' and others.

We were shy wee lads and didn't like to pick a lassie we liked too much as that could give the game away to the others that we were keen on her.

As a nine or ten year old lad, admitting you were in love with a girl invoked ridicule from the other boys and teasing from the girls. However, one day as we waited in line in the playground, I plucked up courage from some well of inner strength and told Patricia Smith that I loved her. Imagine my astonishment and delight when she told me that she loved me too! Oh, happy, innocent days!

Art was another class where we could escape from the clutches of Miss Hunter. We could draw and paint, make collages and cut figures out of paper. I can't remember who our art teacher was but I know I disappointed them. You see, inspired by John Wyndham's 'The Kraken Awakes', I had a tendency to draw or paint the same recurring theme. In every picture a huge tentacle ripped a railway bridge apart with the result that a train (steam of course!) plunged from the wrecked bridge into a gorge whilst small figures were thrown out to helplessly meet their deadly fate. I seem to remember that some of the other boys like Ewan Simpson, Colin McClaren and Ewan MacMillan were suitably impressed by the carnage and horror but the teacher was not. I was subsequently ordered to draw something else, like a face or an animal,for example, and so I set to work.

I presented my masterpiece to the teacher but was surprised when it wasn't positively received. On one side of the paper I had drawn a face, and not a bad attempt either though I say it myself. The face was looking at what was happening  on the other side of the paper where, you might have already guessed, a huge tentacle was engaged in pulling a railway bridge apart!

We were divided up into 'houses' at Dunblane Primary. the four houses being named after four local mountains in the Trossachs namely, Venue, Ledi, Lomond and Vennacher. If I remember correctly the colours attributed to the houses were respectively blue, green, red and yellow.

You were assigned a house and that was the end of the matter. There was no personal choice. I was in Ledi and it was just too bad that your best friends were in other houses or that you would rather be blue instead of green, or red instead of yellow. Disappointing though it might have seemed to us at the time, the indiscriminate placement in houses avoided the formation of cliques and encouraged us to compete alongside teammates we might not otherwise have chosen. Good experience for the future.

When sportsday arrived, the whole school would decamp to the Laighills and battle would commence between the houses. I could never understand why I should run a 50 yard course with an egg balanced on a spoon. I've never seen that discipline in the Olympics nor the three-legged race nor the sack race. (Must be something to do with developing something or other.) However it was great fun and I think most of us enjoyed the day.

The Fairy Bridge leading to the Laighills

We had other competitions and games in the playground. We played football and had the scabs on the knees to prove it. It seemed to be a sign of honour or a condition of membership of the young boys' club to have a permanent scab on the knee. The girls played at skipping or games where they bounced tennisballs off the wall. There were some communal games which involved both sexes. I dimly remember one called something like 'Raleezo' or 'Releaso' which involved huge numbers of schoolchildren rushing from one end of the playground to the other with lots of adherent shoving and shrieking. Perhaps one of my readers can enlighten us more.

Then, of course, there were personal duels which needed to be settled. One I remember well was between Ewan Simpson and Tony Pieda. Each maintained that they had the hardest head and in typically schoolboy fashion, in order to settle the matter, they charged at each other from respective sides of the playground. Like two raging bulls they ran at each other, egged on by the rest of us and met head on (literally) with a resounding 'crack'.

Neither flinched or collapsed. Both looked a bit woozy but otherwise fine and the competition was declared a draw. Disappointing for the rest of us who were hoping for lots of blood but, in hindsight, we were glad our two friends did no permanent damage to themselves.

Personal duels might be construed as playground fights but, in all honesty, I don't remember many. I think that, in our class, we were a really good bunch of kids who got on well together almost all the time. Nice to have good memories of them.