The Superior Sex

Though the interaction between the boys and girls of 2A1 was generally cordial, it was still guarded. Eddie Adams and Richard Pascal might have eroded an intellectual barrier or two but overall, we boys had little in common with an enemy three steps ahead in maturity and sophistication. Our girls weren’t slow to put a male upstart in his place. ‘It takes one to know one,’ was one snooty put-down they used.  Another was ‘Little things please little minds.’ Delivered with mixture of resignation and pity, these barbs were usually aimed at Brian and Raymond, who cheekily laughed them off and came back for more.

Our classroom was full of sensible girls. Jean Myles, Pat Foad, Carol Walker, Valerie Farrow and Hilary Austin were the pick of a bunch that excelled at most things. And they read grown up books: To Sir with Love being one favourite.

I was developing too, a fact that came into focus on the day Miss Lake decided to take our occasional  staggered rendition of Frere Jacques a step further. Instead of having half the class singing a few seconds behind the rest, she split us into three groups; sopranos by the window, baritones down the centre, basses to her left.

Every single one of us had to stand, in turn, and warble a bit of the song for Miss Lake, who classified each voice. All was going smoothly until I stood up and started croaking like a bullfrog. When people stopped laughing Miss Lake gave me a special dispensation. ‘Just join in where you can Gerard.’ 

I could be grown up and sensible sometimes. In another French lesson Miss Lake brought a record player into class and played a piece of music. When the piece ended she asked each of us what images had come to mind. My answer – can-can girls – was met with much derision, but I had the last laugh. Once everyone had answered, Miss Lake singled me out as the only one who’d correctly associated the music with burlesque.

Fresh out of the showers after PE one afternoon, a bollock naked Trevor Hickson led a bawdy rendition of By the Light of the Silvery Moon whilst drying himself with a towel.

‘By the light of the silvery moon, she dropped them down for half a crown…’

‘Two and six, two and six’ chorused the lads around him.

As a measure of our sophistication that was about our mark, though we sank lower still with a dirty rhyme about a man’s occupation. Only boys laughed at things like that, I believed. Not so. It shocked me to hear Vicki Crook, one of our crème de la crème recite the whole thing to another member of the female elite.

‘A man’s occupation is to stick his cockulation up a woman’s ventilation to increase the population of the younger generation!’

Dirty cow

The boys of 2A1 and 2A2 usually joined together for PE, likewise the girls of our classes. But with 2A2 away on a school trip, a surprise lay in store when we arrived at the changing room. We couldn’t believe it when a grinning Mister Charlesworth told us we’d be playing hockey against our girls. Oh how we laughed and rubbed our hands. Though we’d never played hockey before, we’d wipe the floor with them, surely.

But the dirty tricks started as soon as we got outside…

On the field perimeter, Raymond Wright had just worked out which way to hold his hockey stick when Toni Walters saw an opportunity she couldn’t resist. An impish grin spread across her face as she sneaked up behind Raymond, who never had a chance. Before he could react to the curly end of her hockey stick appearing between his knees, she’d hooked him in the knackers.

As for the game, Jean Myles, Ann Howe, Valerie Farrow and the rest of those ankle bashing cheats took full advantage of our low sided football boots and our collective failure to come to terms with a hockey stick. 

Final score: Girls 2 Boys 0

Stupid game anyway