Chapter 13
1965 - 1973
The Cold, Wet, Grey
Place!
I arrived at RAF
Cosford in late October
and
with our 'seniority points' we were settled in married quarters just before
Christmas '65. Cosford camp is only a mile from Albrighton village and it
was here and not the camp itself that we were given our quarters. Far from
being the cold, wet, grey place, we were in Shropshire, one of Britain's most
beautiful counties; lovely countryside with its foothills to Wales: the Wrekin, Wenlock edge (of Housman's "Shropshire Lad" fame), Caradoc, Lawley, Hope Bowdler,
the Long Mynd and the Brown and Titterstone Clees; wonderful walking country but
still close to Wolverhampton and the West Midlands conurbation.
At that time
Wolverhampton was our nearest big shopping town but far from being a grey and
gloomy place, it had a wonderful open market in the huge square, a beautiful
Victorian arcade, a great wholesale fruit and veg. market and a number of very
individual shops. Unfortunately, developers do not
like individuality and had already ripped the middle out of the town and put up
the usual malls from the clone factory; although we do have a Barbara Hepworth
sculpture there. The Victorian Arcade was in the way of development and instead
of incorporating it into the new build, it mysteriously caught fire and burned
to the ground. The big square was too valuable a property to be allowed to
give a wide vista of St. John's Church, standing impressively on its hill, so it
was built on. Nevertheless, it is a clean, bright town with a good theatre
and concert halls. Also, since the sixties, much has been done in a more
tasteful way with the ring road and pleasant new buildings including a rather
nice open square with a long porticoed building on one side with the closed
market on the other side which spills out, traditionally, into the open market.
We moved into our
present house eighteen months before I left the Air Force, so Kath and I had spent
half our lives here unlike the thirteen moves whilst in the RAF plus a few moves
before that. Not only have we watched the transformation of Wolverhampton
but also the rebuilding of Birmingham's Bull Ring; twice! Then there was the birth of Telford
(which I prefer to the original decision to name it Dawley New Town) from the scruffy remains of miner's villages and slag heaps.
Then there was the establishment of a World Heritage site at Ironbridge, the
birthplace of the Industrial Revolution, from the wreckage of the old iron
workings and the village; all part of Telford.
We now have our own
motorway, the M54, with a short link to the big H of the M1, M5, M6 at the very
centre of Britain with arguably better connections to other parts of the country
than London. We certainly have the best exhibition centre in Birmingham's
NEC (National Exhibition Centre). And we have easy access to wonderful Wales.
Kath, ever the Guider,
became very involved again with Guides and Brownies and I seemed to be drawn in
to many of the activities. The Brownies were to put on a Christmas
entertainment and I suggested we could do "Custard the Dragon" which involved,
apart from Belinda and the pirate, a dog, cat, mouse and Custard the Dragon.
The heads of the animals were paper layer over balloons, then modified to become
the different creatures. The Dragon was, again, made on large balloons
and controlled by two girls and with a moving mouth for "gobbling up the pirate".
Much of the last three
years of my RAF service were spent in preparing for 'civvy street'. I
thought I might take to handicraft teaching so spent three years of evenings and
Saturday mornings taking the City and Guilds Handicraft (Wood) Certificate.
which then required one year full time at Loughborough College to become both a
woodwork and metalwork (my Air Force experience covered the metalwork) teacher. This would have meant a year away from
home; also I might prefer general teaching rather than just handicrafts.
Wolverhampton was offering a two year course, if you had the right
qualifications, and I could work from home.
Having decided that this would suit me, I made further enquiries and found that
you simply started the normal three year course then moved forward a term each
year. This meant moving out of one's group of friends and starting again;
not a popular situation for either the student or tutors. Some nuns from Brewood Convent took this route but they moved as a group whilst I would be a
lone individual without constant friends! So I decided to do the full
three years.
During my final
days in the RAF we had a lovely holiday in North Wales including a little hill
walking. Christopher wanted to climb Snowdon so we all started off at the restaurant at
Pen-y-pass and walked
along the miner's track and across Llyn Llydaw but the girls - Kath and 'Manda -
gave up around Glaslyn. They made their way back to the restaurant and let
Chris (age 9) and I to soldier on to the top. Not bad considering we
were just wearing ordinary shoes, especially when we got to the very tricky Zig-Zags, just below the summit. The walk did, however, give us a
liking for hill walking and later when I bought our first pair of walking boots
Chris and I would share these (Yes, on separate walks!); we even passed them over
to each other, at Bettys-y-Coed, as we started and he finished a holiday.
Chris on the survey point.>
My first solo
walk was just before I left the Service. We had seen the 'Roman steps'
near Llanbedr and I followed them until they petered out in the moors, very
disappointing. Next was the big one; Cadir Idris (Idris's Chair). I
camped near the Idris Water Gates (does anyone else remember the Idris
Water adverts. on the London underground stations? A little black lad
running with a tray of drinks to the Imperial Airways, Handley Page HP42, passenger biplane) and on the Sunday
I went
through the rusted gates, up along the stream, (The original 'Water') and on to
the big erratic rock by Llyn Cau. Pause - which way around the lake to the top?
I chose the wrong way and ended up being faced with a climb up a stiff scree
slope which appeared to reach the plateau at the top. Having struggled up the scree I
was then faced with about a 6-7 foot (two metre) sheer wall. Not difficult
when starting on firm ground but not easy for a novice standing on a 45 degree scree
slope. I finally
got both arms over the top onto the level ground when an elderly couple on a
seat said, "Come on, dear, you can do it". There happens to be a high
level car park on that side. The proper way to the top was to the left,
through an interesting rock scramble but it was a few years before I did that. Eventually
the top was reached and then the long slog on the high path to Castel-y-Bere (which we later claimed
as being Beresford Castle) and finally back to a pub, gasping, a little before
2 o'clock; just in time for a pint of cider. Unfortunately, Gwynedd was a 'dry Sunday'
county then (all pubs closed)!
The teacher's course was for Primary School
teaching - Infants and juniors, 5 - 11 year age group which meant learning all
subjects at their level. We also took a principle and subsidiary subject
somewhat above A and S levels respectively. I already had an art A level and a
technical background, and without thinking it through, I chose to take art at
principle and science at subsidiary. Before final choices were made,
however, we all had to write an essay on a subject not chosen as 'mains'.
Having always had a bit of an interest in Natural History but with no real
knowledge of Biology I wrote a load of waffle about evolution. Les Harvey,
the Biology tutor, gathered together the 'Biology essayists' and asked us about
our reasons for our Main choices. My turn came.
"Why have you chosen
Art and Science?" he asked. I explained my reasons.
"So you intend to amble
through the next three years without working?"
I enjoyed studying and
his comments were spot on and it stung; yes, I was taking the easy option.
Right, Matey, you've got me for the next three years. It was one of the
best things I ever did.
What a subject!
Evolution, genetics, the 'selfish gene', the amazing inter-relationships, the
essentials we should all learn before we wipe out any more species; size really
does matter, insects live in a completely different world - only one of us ever
claimed to have walked on water, most insects can do it! Drop an ant from
a mile up and he just shouts "Geronimo" and walks away when he lands, drop an
elephant from ten feet and he will probably explode. Perhaps no other
subject contains more elements of other disciplines - maths., geography,
sociology, history, geology, chemistry, artistic inspiration, physics and mechanics; a
dream subject for the eternal student.
I still decided on art
but as a secondary subject. I might even learn a little about abstract art
and not simply feel that I was being taken for a ride by a huge con. trick.
Dali was a superb artist but the 'tache and expressions were a bit over the top
and highly suspect.
Picasso proved his ability with his early work and Geurnica was obviously
masterful but the weird faces? Moore, Turner and Giacommetti were masters
of their craft but Tracy Emin and the dead shark bloke? No, thank
you. Was it Ruskin who said,
"The labourer works with
his hands.
The craftsman works with
hands and brain.
The artist works with
hands, brain and heart"?
To my mind it is only
the craftsman ( I refuse to use the awful 'craftsperson', sorry ladies) who puts his heart fully into his work to produce real quality.
Was Grinling Gibbons only a craftsman and Tracy Emin above him as an
artist? I feel conned by much of this modern stuff. I tried one
myself called, after a TV advert. of the day, "You're never alone with a Strand"
(cigarette). The art tutor just shook his head, stunned that his teaching
could produce such a masterpiece.
The rest of the
teaching course was quite useful. Child Development and Psychology,
Sociology and Maternal/Paternal Deprivation gave us plenty of insight into child
development but most of us felt that the practical side was lacking; blackboard technique,
class control, coping with individual problem children. We often felt that
some of the tutors had little practical experience in school classrooms.
Luckily for me, the RAF ITC's (Instructional Technique Courses), like their
Technical Trainings were short and packed with useful stuff suitable for actors
and puppeteers as well as teachers. After all, teachers and puppeteers are
in the same business; selling a subject, controlling an audience, dealing with
hecklers, voice production, preparation of self and material, keeping it
interesting, clean and tidy equipment and enthusiasm. All the above were
found in the RAF courses lasting either two or three weeks but sadly lacking in the
teacher's course.
I was forty years old,
a very dangerous age; thoughts of a
lost youth, thinning hair, a thickening
waist. The RAF expects one to be traditionally neat and tidy, colleges do
not. My hair somehow grew longer and started sprouting from my face,
neatly pressed blue serge was replaced with unkempt corduroy, shiny black shoes
for suede boots or sandals.
There was some 'wacky
baccy' about but luckily, ours was an adult college and we were, perhaps more
wary of drugs than the youngsters. Students had to be over twenty-one but the
average was much higher ; so
me wanted a new or improved lifestyle, many of the
women had raised families and now wanted a career and most of us enjoyed the
studying, the field trips and the general freedom to express ourselves.
There were subjects we knew and subjects long forgotten. For me there were
the biology field trips from a half day to check geological layers in the canal
cuts of the West Midlands to whole weeks away in Wales and Scotland.
The Art course gave us
days out at the galleries and museums of Birmingham and Oxford. English Literature introduced Housman and Mary
Webb, both of Shropshire, as was Charles Darwin, Captain Webb and Abraham Darby
(father of the Industrial Revolution).
I enjoyed living in Shropshire but now I was beginning to appreciate just why it
is such an interesting and beautiful county.
The educational
training was really only a conversion from the adults of the RAF to children's
schooling so was in a sense a lesser change than for the puppets.
Previously, the puppets had only been used for entertainment but here was a
whole new area; puppets as an educational tool. I started using puppetry
in the classroom whilst still on the course; but not always successfully.
On one teaching
practice I thought that a session with the class making glove puppet heads with
papier mache would be a satisfactory exercise. It took nearly a
week to prepare two buckets full of the grey mess. The commercial stuff
makes a very smooth stiff paste; not so newspaper which forms a crumb and
requires expert handling. I was working with eight year olds who managed a
fairly even layer on the floor but very few heads. One or two made a
reasonable job of a head which exploded when they tried to push a finger in to
make the neck hole - morte de mache! I did try again a few years
later by making mache finger/neck tubes as a base for the heads but I was
never happy with the medium and Kath and I developed so many easier meth
ods
producing far better results.
As money was a
bit tight I started a summer term puppet workshop at the Adult Education College
( most students were children) in Wolverhampton in 1969. Everyone made
some nice puppets but it never developed into a proper Puppet Group as I had hoped
and it stopped the next year.
Kath, at this time was doing a
lot of needle work and producing clothes for herself as well as the children and
taking on outside work to help financially. I still had my smooth new T63
RAF uniform which replaced the old rough serge 'best blue'. Kath turned
this into a very smart 'Chairman Mao' suit with the high collar which I often
wore to dances and events at college and for a couple of years whilst teaching.
It was early in the
teaching course that I was beginning to understand that the puppet was a
powerful teaching tool. One exercise that we did was being given a group
of a dozen children and told to keep them amused, busy, interested for twenty minutes.
Having made or collected quite a few glove puppets of various sorts, I sat my
group in a circle and gave each one a puppet. The first few minutes were
spent with basic exercises, making the puppets walk, jump, cry, laugh, be angry,
etc. They then gave their puppets names and speaking only as the puppet
introduced themselves to their neighbour. After a few more simple
exercises like this we started a story. One child started, in his puppet's
character, conti
nued for a short while until another 'puppet' wished to
continue. Our twenty minutes were up before we really got underway with
many an, "Oh, Sir, not yet." or "I ain't 'ad a go."
On another occasion, as
part of a school project on various entertainment media, I had given a mixed
glove and marionette show to an infant school near the college. Three of
the Drama department tutors had set up some TV media equipment that we would be
using with the top juniors in the afternoon. These were not the most
amenable children, coming as they did from one of the more deprived areas of
Wolverhampton. On our return in the afternoon, the equipment which worked
in the morning decided to play up. The class sat there getting more and
more restless. My puppet stuff was still there at the side of the hall but
it was suitable for 6/7 year olds not the streetwise and by now, somewhat unruly
older children. When it looked like being some time before the media gear would
be ready I volunteered! Explaining why the puppets were there, I asked
them if they would like to see how they were set up and used. Having got
their interest I asked them to pretend that they were 6 year olds and we all
over-acted our, "Are we sitting comfortably?" bit. Between parts of the
show we discussed why this was "suitable for six year olds but not the 'young
adults' like yourselves" (the 'flannelling' of youngsters was little different
from that which was used on our superiors in the RAF). I swear that the kids
were reluctant to leave the puppets and start using the TV stuff.
It was becoming
increasingly obvious that puppetry was a very useful teaching aid and because of
this I tried to start a college puppetry group. In spite of much
preparation, hardly anyone turned up to the first meeting and it soon fizzled
out. In general, though, the puppets were taking much less of my time and
thought than the newly acquired interest in biology. The classroom work
varied from genetics, classification and evolution to the practicals such as
dissection, microscopic studies and associated chemistry. Field trips
varied from half day quadrat checks on waste land to full weeks in Snowdonia,
the Pembroke islands, the Cairngorms, etc. Our senior tutor, Les Harvey,
also led weekend walking groups, such as the one day family walks in the
Shropshire Hills, Offa's Dyke and the lesser Welsh hills to the more demanding
full weekends covering Wales, Penine Way, Lyke Wake and Lake district.
These latter, like the one day walks, took place in the Autumn - usually wet and
cold and winter - usually crisp and snowy. Kath would join us on the one
day walks (children and dogs included) but not the
longer week-enders where the overnight accommodation was often somewhat
primitive.
Being on a grant at
college, money was a bit short and whilst some of the walkers chose a hotel, the
best I ever managed was a Youth Hostel. Sometimes it was a tent, sometimes
a 'camping barn' and very often, the back of the Morris Traveller, then an
Austin van and then an old Austin A60 Countryman.
<
Ted's B+B, the Austin A60 on the right.
It was a very cold wash in the stream!
Although there were no great
adventures during these walks, there were some very pleasant memories. There was the time a couple of us leapt through th
e cornice of snow at the top
of Carnedd Daffyd and 'Geronimoed' down the snow covered scree slope to the
bottom. There were the evenings at the various pubs. singing parodies to
"The Irish Rover" and the time my thirteen year old daughter, Amanda, who joined
us one weekend, being made up by a couple of female members of the group to look
older and getting as tipsy as the rest of us on Cola. There was the scree
running at top speed with the heels digging in to control the descent; watching
Les and the other experts leaping from 'Adam' to 'Eve' on top of Tryfan; of being
roped up and 'finger tipping' a third of the way down all around the wall of Cwm
Idwal; seeing horizontal icicles pointing into the wind on posts and rocks at
the cold, top end of the Pennine Way in the Cheviots.
One great thing about
walking in groups 
was the talks with knowledgeable people. There was 'Doc'
and the warden of the "Towers" field study centre near Bettws-y-Coed, both of
whom had pioneered routes up crags and mountains around Snowdonia; Len, a
gardener at Birmingham's Botanical Gardens who often brought his 5year old son
along on family days. His son could identify most wild plants and tell us
their Latin name. Les, our leader and biologist showed us where, on Tryfan,
Darwin had stood a century or more earlier and had failed to see the glaciation of
the valley below and who later said, "How could I have missed it? It could not
have been more obvious had it been filled with ice." With Les we
recognised, erratics, drumlins, terminal morraines, roche moutonnes
,
truncated spurs and the glacial scouring of base rock to form the U shaped
valleys.
There is the recent
history of the various industries; slate, copper, lead, coal, hill farming,
afforestation, all found alongside the ancient earthworks and standing stones in
the hills. Then there are the unusual plants found in the upland bogs, the
hanging gardens, the scree fixers and the rock colonisers. And, of course, the
literary aspect as previously mentioned; Housman, Webb, Corbett and Beresford.
Beresford? ... Literature? ... Well, I did do a bit of poetry, like Housman! I
liked to carry a stick, usually a hazel or ash and a bit of a rarity then.
Lots of people use special fancy ones now and I can understand one but not two used like ski
poles. What do you do with them when rock scrambling? Anyway, I did
a stick poem.
The first verse shows how the "Boom Boom" beloved of
Basil Brush should really be used. It was used in the music halls by
comedians with their comic rhyming monologues and originated with a double beat
on the big drum in the orchestra pit but later added vocally by the comedian.
Like this:
You can walk in bare
feet or in gumboots. You can walk on hot
coals if you're quick.
You can walk with a pack
or a sack on your back but never walk minus a stick. (big drum) B'm B'm!
Notice it is short -
B'm B'm (think big drum) not Booom Booom a la Basil Brush. And the second
two lines would often be speeded up prior to the B'm B'm. Try it; it
works. This epic may
be seen in its entirety as an addenda to this chapter.
The best of the field
trips had to be in P
embrokeshire. The first was at Dale Fort (Napoleonic
period) with surveys along the coast and a day on Skomer Island but the best week
was on Skokholm. A short motor boat trip carried the dozen or so of us to
the island. Here we would do plant surveys, watch the comic antics of the
puffins from the hide, see the beautiful shearwaters forming 'rafts' on the sea in the
evening prior to flying in pitch darkness to their burrows, guided by the
eerie sounds of their nesting partners. Other 'night homers' were the tiny
storm petrels, nesting in the stone walls. The night homing protected the
birds from predation by the peregrines and greater black backed gulls.
Actually, the first
thing we did on Skokholm was to leave it. Shortly after we arrived, word
came that a small boat from Dale Fort was on its way to Grassholm and would we
like to go. Grabbing water bottles and cameras (I didn't have one but did
have a miniature reel to reel tape recorder and 20ft. (6mts) of microphone
lead) we rushed down to the landing place. Grassholm is the smallest of
the 'Holms' and home to about 20,000 nesting pairs of gannets. As we
neared the island we became surrounded by white spears of gannets plunging into
the sea within metres of the boat. We leapt onto the rocks which answered
as a landing stage and clambered up to the nests (we were amazed how nimble were
the two nuns in the party in their long habits!). The nests were 'dog-bowl'
shaped heaps of guano, built up over the years, each just out of pecking distance of
its neighbour. Greater black backed gulls patrolled the outer nests hoping
to pick off the odd unguarded chick. There were also cormorant nests among the
rockier cliffs; the nesting material which should have been seaweed was mainly
plastic netting and bottles even then in '68/'69. Seals were numerous
around Grassholm and came close inshore, as curious about us as we were about
them.
The three drawings here are from
my field study notebook
Back on Skokholm we were able to
take stock of the island conditions. We wondered about the immaculate
lawns and why keep it so neat. It was the rabbits. There are no rats
or foxes to predate them and food supply was the limiting factor, so grass was
like golf greens and shrubs such as heathers and gorse were perfectly smooth
hemi-spheres. We saw the first collared doves to appear in Pembrokeshire.
We met the East European researchers studying starlings which, to them, were a
rarity, helped pick birds from the 'mist' net traps, studied the unusual plants
and fondled the many slow worms hiding under the corrugated iron sheets.
Half way through the week the
visitors challenged the entire residents of Skokholm (about 10 - scientists,
wardens and a couple of lighthouse keepers) to a football match. I was
only wearing sandals, stumbled and snapped something in my foot. It was
strapped up, forced inside a walking boot and I hobbled (with a stick!!) for the
rest of the week. Getting onto the boat from the slippery steps of the
jetty and leaping onto rocks on landing at Broad Haven was fun.
Sheerwaters - Part of a series
of drawings I did for a college open day.
Sorry if I bored you
with the above but I am your eternal student and this was a new subject to me,
so hard luck; its my story, not yours!
My enthusiasm for my latest
interest was taken up by my family. Kath and I spent a fascinating evening
in the dark woods on the Wrekin hill, badger watching. Sitting with our
backs a tree by the sett we saw a dog fox pass within feet and then in the
moonlight, disappointed at not seeing badgers we started back along the path.
Two badgers came towards us and almost touched us before realising we were there
and without any panic
(from
either side!) they merely turned and shuffled back, leading us out of the woods.
Another aspect was the fossil hunting at the Wren's Nest on of the line of hills
passing through the West Midlands. This has fossils of all kinds as well
as a massive cave system below where limestone has been removed. This is a world
site of scientific interest. A canal passes underneath so that the excavated
limestone could be passed down into the narrow boats rather than lifted out.
When we first went there it was possible to enter the caves from the top and go
down the various levels but now it is well fenced in and not open to casual
visitors.
One group at college was the WOGs
(I kid you not) - Wolverhampton Overseas Graduates, mostly graduates from India
who took a four term course to improve language skills and become teachers in
this country. In the summer holidays there was a general science week open to
all students at the Towers Field Study Centre in Snowdonia and one year the
Indian group came. On one memorable occasion when clambering up Cwm Idwal it was
wet and they were wearing very smart suits under the 'Helly Hansons'
(waterproofs) as well as large walking boots and some carrying umbrellas. One
could witness gems such as one chap offering one end of his rolled umbrella to a
comrade up a particularly difficult scramble, "Please be taking hold of my
umbrella, Mr Patel." " I am thanking you greatly for your assistance, Mr
Gupta". They were great guys and thoroughly enjoyed the experience.
I must say that much of
the teacher's course was not as exciting as the field study trips but most of it
was interesting. Some must have rubbed off as I ended up with distinctions
and credits in all subjects. At Wolverhampton we were offered a first post
rather than looking for a job ourselves and mine was at a junior school in a
decent part of town. In spite of being taught to use the latest methods of
teaching the 'three R's', I decided from the start that a few minutes each
morning with ten spellings and times tables would be time well spent. "Rote
learning" were dirty words in the practice of the day - probably still are - but
I considered what goes round, comes round and still think it was time not
wasted..
My classes had 42 and 41 children
respectively for the two years I spent with my 'second year' youngsters (7-8
years old). I enjoyed the constant change of subject,
especially
times like kicking off my shoes and joining in with Music and Movement.
Drama was mainly 'child drama' which is a whole class activity but I did
introduce children's theatre where the children entertain each other (either
live or with puppets). Later, when I
taught at secondary level, I missed the project work which is only done with
Junior and Special Needs schools.
One project we did was 'Medieval
Village Life'. Then, most people were unable to read, lacked numeracy (see
chapter 1 on counting sheep), but had a great
knowledge of countryside and the sky; and there were the fairs (puppets involved
here). We cooked a rabbit (which we skinned - well, I did and they watched)
and spit roasted it (well, me again), ate it
with home cooked flat bread (charcoal fire and brick oven), etc. It is a
shame that by the time we get to secondary school we learn a few disjointed
subjects which in real life are so intertwined; and then we go to university
(Actually, I was lucky, I did not go) to learn just
one or two aspects of life
and specialise in just a small part of that or as the old saying goes, "A
specialist learns more and more about less and less until he/she knows
everything about nothing!."
Referring back to the
medieval life, it is well established that as a species we are less well
educated now than we were then or say, a few thousand years ago. Mental
illness is directly associated with our inability to cope with life.
Neolithic people may have had a physically tough life but I doubt whether they
ever suffered nervous breakdowns. They had the same brain power as us and
knew all they needed for survival; do we? Enough of Beresford's philosophy,
let's get back to teaching and puppetry - sort of.
One thing we did at
Palmers Cross as in most Junior Schools was the Christmas term show. Each
class had to put on a twenty minute performance for a parents and friends
audience. It was expected that we used all of our class in these plays.
The first year I used "Hiawatha" with a couple of narrators, one of the 'ballet
class' girls as WaWa Taysee, the firefly, other suitable actors for all the
named or spoken parts; the shy or gormless being the 'waving in the breeze'
trees, the flowing water (long piece of pale blue silky fabric), the woodland creatures. This ended with the
Guides' campfire song, "Land of the Silver Birch", around a flickering, prop.
fire.
The second year I
decided to write our play. It did seem a bit ambitious with two cars, a dog, a
horse and a car factory but it worked out nicely. Each car consisted of
two frames of light, square timber and cloth. The dog was simply a dog mask
and the horse was a hobby horse that I was repairing for the Giffard Morris Side
(more of this later). The synopsis was; family go out in very old car
which finally gives up. Wealthy man stops, recognises car as a rarity and
missing from his collection (he is a car 
manufacturer
- with a car museum). He offers them a new car for their old one. They go to the
factory to see their new car being made. They often go to the museum to see
their old car.
The pictures show how
the children worked the car with five boys as wheels and engine; the 'wheels' were wearing wellies, of course. The
girls, many of whom were going to dance classes, formed the factory machinery
and we choreographed the making of the new car to some electronic, 'Man in the
White Suit' type music (Sorry, most of you are too young to remember the Alex
Guiness film!).
They sang parodies of "Any Old Iron" and "Our Old Car" to the tune of "Three
Blind Mice" as well as the girls 'Singing' the Machinery Music. Wow!
I wrote a musical!
I enjoyed my time at
Junior School with its varied subjects ( I especially enjoyed kicking off my
shoes and joining in with the Music and movement sessions) and often regretted not staying there but it was not to be.
However, before we leave Palmers Cross I must tell you about the Saturday trips.
The available field near the school was a
bit dull and we did not have a
mini-bus so I used my Austin A60 Countryman. Every month I would take six
children out on a Saturday (chosen by 'lottery' and with parents permission), filling the car.
One in the front seat, three or four in the back seats and the rest on cushions
right at the back - this was before seat belts. We would clamber up the
Wrekin, amble as a group around the orienteering course at Beaudesert, Cannock,
look for deer on Cannock Chase or 'stinkhorns' in the woods. Nowadays,
Health and Safety and the 'paedophile watch' prevent such adventures but it was
good while it lasted.
Shortly after leaving
Teacher's College we were invited to go to the Hollybush pub. on the Penn road
out of Wolverhampton. I am glad we did not refuse the invitation;
otherwise we might have missed out on a whole new area for the puppets.
****************************************************************************
As promised, my epic on walking sticks:
There are those among us who are heartily sick
Of my constant reference to the walking stick.
This is my defence:
In Praise of Walking Sticks
You can walk in bare feet or in gumboots. You can walk on hot coals if you're quick.
You can walk with a pack or a sack on your back but never walk minus a stick. (B'm B'm)
For a stick has manifold uses when walking in hills or in dales,
Round Galway Bay or the Pennine Way or the lesser known valleys of Wales.
Like jackboots and bell-bottomed trousers, It adds swagger and style to the gait.
With a stick in your hand you can follow the planned route, whilst others come stagg'ring in late.
For defence against waylaying footpads or attacks by slavering hounds.
With bricks on the ends and some weight lifting bends, you're sure to lose a few pounds.
In the snow one may prod for survivors; blue faced walkers or blacker faced sheep.
One may ski down a slope in the valiant hope that one doesn't end up in a heap.
One may check on the depth of the digging; on archaeological digs.
Or when passing a sty, one may hazard a try at the pastime of poking of pigs.
(It is said that a skilled pig poker may judge the worth of a
pig to the nearest £)
As a third leg when crossing the torrent, especially if one cannot swim.
For prising a flint or used as a splint for the careless who's shattered a limb.
When there's a lull and things are too dull you can soon enliven the staid.
With stick in your hand, conducting the band or leading the circus parade.
If you're not very tall and yet feel the call of the Highlands, then use this small caber.
If you shrink at the feel of keen-edged, cold steel then use it instead of a sabre.
For breaking the crust on manure heaps; to ascertain their maturity.
On fence hopping hikes it is placed atop spikes, in the interests of personal security.
Of many uses I have spoken but I've used it so much the damn
thing's broken.
*******************************
There are ten verses. I still have enough 'uses' for more,
so
keep watching!
Learnt: Use of
puppets as a teaching tool with children and some writing, especially plays.
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