SELF INTERVIEW 2

Unseen-photos-of-John-Lennon-and-Yoko-Ono--1980-3_670Why are you returning to do this?  Because I need to. I need all my sweet followers to see. My back is arched and my claws are out. I am sailing very close to the wind and may lose a few but I need to get things off my chest. I am “fitting to speak” as they say in the ghetto.

But first I want to mention some technical difficulties that are like a running gag oozing through my blog life.

Was there not a widget melt down despite a certain person’s guidance? Yes! I’m not blaming anyone either (lol). I wanted to put up some or most of the beautiful people who follow this blog on the main page. But we ran into problems, the main page went haywire (can’t explain really but most of it disappeared and the margins zoomed into the centre) and gave up. The certain person knew more than I but they were bothered by it too, and felt it better to leave things be for the time being.

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Was there more computer drama last night?  The culprits were Google Chrome and even updates on Firefox. My favourite tabs disappeared and everything was being blocked. It really got me down so I dropped the machine off at a technician’s place and he uninstalled both. The way my Google homepage was changed was repulsive. Google Chrome are dirty words to me now. Yuck! why are you laughing?

I’m not! *Cough* OK. Enough of these mundane matters, you smell nice today, mmm?   The scent of sandalwood, darling. Rub it all over, give the feet special attention. Especially after a long soak in the bath. I still find it hard to massage my own back though.

Why are you frowning at me like that?  Because you keep trying to look up my skirt! I don’t blame you. This tartan piece of cloth keeps riding up my thighs. Its enough to give naughty school boys and tired old men some very strange thoughts.

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Yet you were the sweetest boy in the world weren’t you? I was perniciously obedient, yes. Eager to please if adults made demands on me. (Anyone smirking in the back row can leave now) There was a young teacher named Miss Oates. We didn’t use Ms yet. I didn’t really fancy her but she was there in a top-heavy sort of a way. She rarely wore a bra. It was on one day, off the next in a kind of statement she was declaring to our 10 year old eyes.

In the late 1970s that was a sign of an emancipated woman! Yes. You could smell the essence of all those burning brassieres from the still-smouldering 60’s clothes line. Letting it all hang out was still an act of rebellion against the patriarchy more than it is today. If you (un)dressed for the part you were accepted as liberated. You didn’t have to make speeches, or write a book to explain yourself either. Most people just wanted to be ‘free’. They just ‘lived’ it. That’s the way to stick it to the Man. (Yes teenyboppers, they really did)

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You’ve probably lost or outraged some readers now… but what about Miss Oates?  There were a few odd incidents. Firstly, there was the “bouncing boobs” for want of a better phrase. It was probably in total innocence but when supervising our work she would bend over a child’s head. Closely. Then it was boom bounce boom on the unfortunate’s pretty little head. Usually mine. The child opposite would be copping an eyeful of what I couldn’t see but could definitely feel. At the time I convinced myself she didn’t know what she was doing. But it happened every week for the entire year. Every day to be precise.

Would she have played trampoline on a teenager’s head in high school? I think not. If she was aware of what she was doing she knew her audience/victims were too small and weak to protest or think ‘this is not ok’. I was thrilled but also upset in that heart-in-mouth-I’m-out-of-my-depth-here way. Sometimes she would just flop on me and there they were. In silent repose a top my cranium, like a pair of tired leopards resting upon a tree branch.

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So you were like a head rest then, just not for her head.  I suppose I was the nearest thing to hand if she wanted to get close enough to view the kids work. It was a case of  “We don’t have a spare ballet bar for me to lean on, so Geoffrey can support both pinky and perky. I mean, he’s just sitting there looking weaker than a fairy, and both my fellas need a secure base.” You know that attitude of why bother investing some money in upper body support when a very small part of the public education system (me) can provide it for free?

I hope no one reading this is tittering over such a rare glimpse into social history.  They better not be. This is serious. It was heavy going for one so young and fresh. So, in modern parlance, I became her bitch. Maybe someone can make a rap song out of my pain. I feel like screaming when the memory overtakes me though.

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People will think you are making this up but I know it is true. What else about her?  There was a nasty incident where the largest boy in class punched her in the stomach and she fled to the principal’s office in tears. I was away sick and heard about it when I returned. I hated him for that but was glad I didn’t see it. The headmaster beat seven bells out of the kid so I suppose justice was served. I’m sure his name was David Honey. (the boy, not the headmaster) We still had corporal punishment to keep us all bent over. It was hard to stand up straight! Whenever the headmaster came inside I was usually on my tip toes.

What? I don’t even have the energy to bother trying to decipher those final sentences that just came through your lips. And what lips! You have quite a pretty mouth too, if you don’t mind me saying so.  Well, actually, I do mind you saying so old boy but its too late for that. We can’t go back into the past and make you un-say it now can we?

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Did any other sordid events happen?  Oh (shocked). She knew I knew what my friend Karl had done in the shower beside the swimming pool. Just a pee, but she went up the wall about it!  She made me stay after school with a tone of voice so grim and threatening I seriously thought “goodbye life”. I was shaking when she demanded I tell her, so I had to grass him up. She took me in to the cloak room and said I could have a reward for my information and I can’t say any more on a blog like this. But I still wash my mouth and tongue far too much to this day; and I keep checking for any stray hairs between my teeth. I can’t remember if he got punished though.

 

You’ve already said too much. But she was both abuser and saviour that weird year wasn’t she?  Thank you for fetching up that memory.(sigh) Under some trees at the edge of the massive sports field. There were other people around but a little far away. This guy named Raymond said would I like to play a game? Yes please! (too scared to say no in my pre-teen days) It involved me pretending to be a horse. And, just like a real horse, he needed to ride me. Like the cowboys do, he said, but without clothes. How far? I asked. To kingdom come, he replied. At least I think that’s what he said. As matters nearly became tragic Miss Oates shouted at him to dismount forthwith.

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Phew. That was a close one. Are you pleased with this interview?  Yes! We’ve moved from the misery of today’s computer woes to some dark child hood memories. But the point I wanted to make was that whenever an adult has a child in their power the child can just be thankful that (s)he is allowed to survive at all. An adult has your life in their hands. I can make light of it now because it was so long ago, and the few bruises she inflicted on me quickly healed. But at least I had an education about what some grown-ups were all about. You are still helpless at that age though, even if you do consent.

Sum up the impact Miss Oates had on you’re life and is there a moral to any of this?  She was/is my unique personal stain. I don’t blame her for anything that happened. We are all human and we all have our weaknesses. As for a moral perhaps there are two: beware the ghosts of school yards past, and it is better to have been a teacher’s pet than to not be one. To be on the receiving end of jeers and boos for sucking up to a lady most students hated, was, at times, an engulfing experience.

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Comments

  1. Nice post!! Be sure to check out my blog if you get the chance😋

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thank you very much… I’m on my way to your blog right now. 🙂

    Like

  3. The best line of this post has to be “So, in modern parlance, I became her bitch.” – hilarious stuff! Excellent self interview, keep ’em comin’! 😀

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Thank you my dear. Btw congratulations on your successful comic convention. 🙂

    Like

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