June 1969

I was pleased with the table top I’d made in woodwork. Twelve square feet of formica-topped plywood, neatly finished off with black edging was something to be proud of, even if had taken months. Mam was chuffed when I told her it was finished, but how was I going to get it home?

‘Get David to help you carry it,’ said Mam.

My brother Dave, an Upbury first year, met me at the craft block after school. Carrying it was easy, at first. But at Canterbury Street we had a problem. Crossing at the junction of Vicarage Road was hazardous at the best of times and timing was crucial if we were to avoid the kind of mishaps seen in The Plank. We made it, but the magnitude of the task dawned as we shuffled our burden down Trafalgar Street. We were still a long way from home. Taking a breather and swapping ends at regular intervals, my brother and I huffed and puffed down Gillingham Road, along Livingstone Road, Canadian Avenue, Cornwallis Avenue, Beechings Way and all the way home, where Mam was ready and waiting with a screwdriver.

Dad came home to a dinner waiting on an upgraded, extra large dining table.

‘Gerard made a good job of it, didn’t he?’ said Mam.

‘Mmm,’ Dad grunted, through a gob full of dinner.

Summer sports…

We’d not played cricket in PE before. Not ever, but after a muck-about in the practice nets Mister Charlesworth led us to the cricket square, not for a proper game, but for a light hearted session with everyone fielding around people he nominated to bat and bowl.

‘Come on Lynch, let’s see you bowl.’

Oh shit

I couldn’t bowl to save my life. I didn’t have the co-ordination, but I did my ungainly best and managed to bowl a maiden over before Mister Charlesworth replaced me with someone who could drop a ball within ten feet of the stumps.

‘Right Lynch, have a go with the bat.’

Bloody hell

Four balls later the stumps went flying. Without hitting a single ball, I was out. Hit it? I didn’t even see it.

Summer was here and so were summer sports. On the upper school field, the hockey pitch had made way a running track. ‘Off you go, four laps,’ said a cheerful Mister Charlesworth. 

Four laps? Gordon bloody Bennett, that’s a mile!

Mister Charlesworth wasn’t kidding. Tough as it was, it wasn’t as hard as I expected. Though I finished way behind the natural athletes, I completed it with a sense of pride.

The natural athletes shone again in another PE lesson, this time on the top field where we raced over the hurdles. As usual, I was average. At the end of the lesson Mister Charlesworth sent us off with a reminder. ‘Right lads, go and get showered… and don’t forget your jabs. The nurse will be waiting for you.’

‘Is she a nice nurse, Sir?’ asked a leering Trevor Hickson.

With cries of ‘wahay!’ the lads dashed to the changing room.

The nurse, a visitor for the day, was not unattractive but she was hardly a dolly bird. She was an experienced professional who’d set up a clinic in the school nurse’s room, off the first floor, where she vaccinated one kid after another with the aid of a helper who ushered us in from a queue in the corridor.

‘Just relax and try not to twitch, or the needle will go in further than it has to,’ she said, when it came to my turn. That was the last thing I needed. Till then I’d been fine, but hearing that had me shaking all over. Ouch!

Still yearning…

I still hadn’t spoken to Lindsay. I badly wanted to but she was always surrounded by friends and doing a pretty good job of pretending she wasn’t interested in me. Not once did she return my hopeful gaze.

Buying a polo shirt and some hipsters for the forthcoming school trip had swallowed the money I’d been saving to take her out but acquiring the dosh was only a matter of time. A bigger problem was Lindsay’s popularity. Sooner or later I’d have to catch her alone and as the best chance of that would probably be after school, I decided to some reconnaissance.

3:50pm: When the bell sounded to end the school day I didn’t join the usual stampede. Instead, I dilly dallied; deliberately eating up the time my mates would wait at the gate before going on without me. The plan worked perfectly. There was so sign of them when I stepped out on Marlborough Road but Lindsay was there, a little way ahead, with Ann Howe. Strolling along at a leisurely pace, they turned down the alleys that led to Vicarage Road.

From there they crossed Canterbury Street and set off down Trafalgar Street. I’d seen them walk that way many times before but it was their next move that interested me. Separate ways, I hoped. Together they crossed Duncan Road and turned down Gillingham Road but when I reached that same spot a couple of minutes later and walked down Gillingham Road I saw Ann in the distance... alone.

Blast! I’ll have to get closer next time.