Most weekends I stayed at Nanny Mitchel’s house.
Although at times she could be somewhat of a tyrant, I was comfortable there and I at least felt at home.
As well as having me stay over most weekends, at times Nanny Mitchel would have my cousin “Karen”, her other granddaughter, stay over for the weekend as well.
Although, in a fashion, Karen and I got on well enough, like all youngsters we fought at times like cat and dog.
Being a year older, it appeared I would always get the blame if we argued, and I would be the one either threatened with a smack or given a smack.
It was no great secret that Nanny Mitchel favored cousin Karen over me.
For cousin Karen was her little treasure.
She pronounced her words properly, did well at school, and was a credit to her parents.
I on the other hand had a minor speech impediment, did not do well at school and was not really a credit to my parents.
It was also no great surprise that Cousin Karen took full advantage of this favoritism.
If I did anything that upset cousin Karen she would not hesitate to tell on me.
If cousin Karen struck me, I was ill obliged to strike her back, for if I did, she would cry crocodile tears, tell on me, and I would be for the high jump.
If cousin Karen wanted to go on the swing when I was on it, I would have to give it up, or again she would cry crocodile tears and tell on me.
If cousin Karen wanted to play a certain game, I had to play that game, or once again, you guessed it, she would cry crocodile tears and tell on me.
And so on
In fact, at times, it is safe to say that cousin Karen was not very nice at all
Most of the weekends we spent together at Nanny Mitchels were taken up with cousin Karen crying crocodile tears and telling on me.
However, apart from all this oversight, we got on well enough.
It was on one particular weekend that cousin Karen decided that we were going to play a dress-up game.
Nanny Mitchel was busy in the Kitchen baking a wedding cake for a couple who were about to be married.
As it was pouring down with rain that day, and Nanny Mitchel did not want us under her feet, we were told to go to the bedroom and play.
We were also told in no uncertain terms to play nicely, and that she did not want to hear any squabbling or there would be big trouble.
Big trouble normally meant big trouble for me, and cousin Karen getting off scot-free.
This weekend Karen had proudly arrived at Nanny Mitchels early on a Friday afternoon wearing her school uniform.
This uniform consisted of a green gingham dress, white school ankle socks, a pair of brown T-bar sandals, A dark green blazer, and a straw hat.
Karen had long ago decided that when she grew up she wanted to be a school teacher or a Headmistress.
When asked why she wanted to be in this occupation, she would reply,
“Because I want to be in charge of everyone and smack people when they are naughty.”
Unlike me, Cousin Karen went to a private school and so far she and her parents were very proud of her academic achievements.
Although as I say, Cousin Karen was a year younger than me, academically she was ahead.
This afternoon it was decided that we were going to play schools.
Cousin Karen was going to be the teacher and I was going to be the pupil.
If this was not bad enough, to add to the humiliation, cousin Karen decided that I was going to wear her school uniform.
I informed cousin Karen that this may not be a good idea as I was a little bigger than her and the uniform may not fit.
Naturally cousin Karen was not having any of this.
“Make it fit” was her tort reply.
She went on to tell me that she was going to go to Nanny Mitchel’s clothing cupboard, to find something suitable for her as a teacher to wear and that I had better be dressed by the time she got back.
Once again I tried to tell cousin Karen that this was not a good idea as Nanny Mitchel forbid us to go into her bedroom, let alone help ourselves to items of attire for our dress-up games.
However it was too late, cousin Karen had already gone.
Being a little more easygoing than Karen I decided that rather than protest it would be a lot easier if I just went along with things.
However, one thing was for sure.
I was going to draw the line at having to wear cousin Karen’s underwear.
With dread, I looked at the garments that Karen had laid out for me on the bed.
I thought to myself in my young mind,
“How on earth do I get myself into these situations?”
“Maybe I would have been better off staying at home.”
However, on second thought, staying at home with my stepfather’s constant bullying behavior was a lot worse than my current situation at Nanny Mitchells.
So like I say I just went along with it all.
Slowly but surely I put on cousin Karen’s green school gingham dress.
The gingham dress itself was not of the soft cotton variety that I had imagined it would be.
It had been ironed and starched, thus the fabric was fairly stiff and rigid.
I felt this rigidness as I put the gingham dress on.
Next were her clean school socks which were a little on the tight side as cousin Karen was a size smaller than I.
I imagined if the socks barely fitted, I was going to have some trouble fitting into her Brown T-Bar Sandals.
I picked up one of cousin Karens T bar sandals and tried to push my foot into it, but alas it would not fit.
Whilst I was trying to fit the T Bar sandal on my foot Karen walked into the room wearing one of Nanny Mitchel’s dresses.
“God forbid,” I thought to myself,
“If Nanny Mitchel catches us both there will be tears before bedtime”.
The dress itself was of the plain brown variety with some kind of hearing bone design in it and a white collar.
Cousin Karen had also helped herself to one of Nanny Mitchel’s broaches, which would mean further trouble if we were caught.
However, none of this seemed to register with cousin Karen who was already well and truly emersed in her role as a school teacher.
“Why are you not ready for school girl” Cousin Karen barked at me.
“Karen” I replied, “Your shoes do not fit me.”
“Well make them fit” she replied sharply.
At times, even though cousin Karen was academically bright beyond her years, I truly questioned her sanity.
Not only did she want me to dress in her school uniform,
Not only did she want to help herself to the contents of Nanny Mitchel’s wardrobe, to make herself look more grown up, something that was definitely sure to get us both into trouble.
She now wanted me to magically make a pair of T-bar sandals that were a size too small, fit me.
Cousin Karen decided that she would kindly, or unkindly, whichever way you look at it, help me squeeze into the ill-fitting footwear.
She proceeded to snatch the sandal from me and push my foot into it.
Cousin Karen was not one to give up easily.
However, as much as she tried she could not get the sandal to fit.
Finally defeated she grabbed the sandal and bought it down with a very hard whack to the tops of my thighs.
I was now used to being smacked and had trained myself not to make too much of a fuss, however this smack that cousin Karen had delivered nearly made me howl.
It certainly made me wince.
“Stupid girl,” cousin Karen hissed through gritted teeth.
“Next time you come to school, bring shoes along that fit you.”
Even at my young age, words failed me.
These were not my shoes.
However, cousin Karen was truly emersed in her role.
“We have wasted enough time already,” She continued.
Put your plimsols on Patricia and go and sit at your desk.
“Patrica!”
I thought out aloud.
In cousin Karen’s emulation of a school teacher, she had already decided in her ultimate wisdom to change my name from Peter to Patricia.
However, as per usual, I gave in to her demands.
Under the chest of drawers in the bedroom were a pair of my black school pumps which I duly put on.
On reflection, I think cousin Karen must have thought this game up well in advance.
In the bedroom at Nanny Mitchel’s house which we youngsters stayed in was a small adjacent bedroom.
Karen had already taken it upon herself, well in advance to transfer this room into a mock school room.
In this room, there was a chair and a table, which were to be the teacher’s chair and table.
I on the other hand was to sit on the floor, so that cousin Karen could peer over me in her national health spectacles.
Cousin Karen led me into the mock school room and told me to be seated.
The floor itself was wooden and had not been swept for some time, thus it was a little dusty.
Cousin Karen seated herself at her mock teacher’s desk and announced that her name was now Miss Wright and I was to address her as this from now on.
Myself, I just sat their dumb-struck.
Cousin Karen or Miss Wright as she was now to be known went on to inform me that she was now going to take me for a remedial Maths lesson.
It was no great secret throughout my family that although my school work was fairly abysmal Maths was by far my worst subject.
Cousin Karen had obviously gotten wind of this fact and was going to use it to her full advantage.
Naturally, cousin Karen knew all her timetables off by heart and was even starting to learn algebra.
I, on the other hand, even struggled with my two times table and had no idea what algebra even was.
Obviously, Karen being somewhat spiteful at times, wanted to make this lesson as painful as possible.
She informed me that we would start with something simple.
“Our Seven times Table”.
Cousin Karen gave some form of an evil grin as she announced this.
For she knew that if I struggled with my two times table, I was not going to stand a chance with any of the others, let alone seven times table which was the hardest of all.
At times Nanny Mitchel had told us, youngsters of her school days.
Back in her days, there was no such thing as modern teaching methods, it was the three ars.
These were
Reading
Arithmatic
and Writing.
The majority of these were taught by repetition.
Cousin Karen decided that it would be a truly superb idea to attempt to teach me my seven times table by means of repetition.
Carrying a ruler in her hand, which would soon almost definitely be used as a weapon she started to recite her seven times table in an angelic voice.
“One seven is seven”.
“Two sevens are fourteen”
“Three sevens are twenty-one”
“Four sevens are twenty-eight”
“Five sevens are thirty-five”
“Six-sevens are forty-two”
“Seven sevens is forty-nine”
“Eight-sevens are fifty-six”
“Nine-sevens are sixty-three”
“Ten-sevens are seventy”
“Eleven-sevens are seventy-seven”
“Twelve Sevens are Eighty-four”
“Now it is your turn, Patricia” Karen said in a stern teacher-like voice.
Really and truly I did not stand a chance of getting past one times seven.
However, try I must, so in my dulcet tones, I started.
“One time seven is seven”.
“Two times seven is thirteen.”
“Stop! Stop! Stop!”, shrieked Karen, smacking her ruler down on the desk as if to emphasize the point.
“Are you an imbecile?”
“Have you not listened to a word I have said”
“Do you have a problem listening?”
All these sayings appeared to come from the teacher’s handbook of insults delivered to pupils that failed, that Cousin Karen must have listened to over a period of time and rehearsed to the letter.
“We will try again and this time listen if you know what is good for you.
Once again, in a truly angelic voice cousin, Karen recited her time’s table as if to show off how clever she was and how stupid I was.
“Now you repeat what I have just said and this time get it right.
This time I managed to do a little better and got the first three correct, however, I stumbled when it came to four times seven.
Karen in her role as Miss Wright was now furious.
“You are simply not even trying Patricia.” she shrieked
“Come to the front of the class.” She demanded.
Slowly I got myself off the floor and went to Karens mock school desk.
I knew in my minds mind that I was not going to enjoy what was about to happen next.
Cousin Karen had already made a grab for the plastic ruler and was by now flexing it.
“Hold out your hand” she ordered.
Hesitating for a moment I duly held out my right hand.
Karen lifted the ruler as high as she possibly could, and bought it down with as much gusto as she could manage.
Three times that ruler came down on my defenseless hand.
This was no longer a game, this was becoming quite serious.
“Other Hand” Karen ordered.
Another three strokes were firmly delivered on my left hand with just as much force as the ones on my other hand.
Karen then looked at her green school gingham dress that I had been made to wear.
Obviously, she noticed that the dusty floor where I had been sitting had now made its way onto her dress.
To say cousin Karen was not happy was a huge understatement.
However for the time being she remained transfixed in her role as a school teacher and used the dust that had made it onto her dress to her full advantage.
“Look at the state of your dress Patricia?” Karen barked at me.
“How dare you come into class in such a filthy mess.”
“Do you not clean your dress before you come to school?”
At this time I decided it may be a good idea to break out of role if only to explain that cousin Karen’s gingham dress was hers and not mine.
