Thursday 11th August 2011
Zephyrus & I made this a while ago. We had a couple of peaches that needed eating up & as Zeph is always willing to obliterate something with a spinning blade he agreed to give me a hand.
In 1975 I started primary school. I hated it. I cried all day & was eventually permitted to sit in the same class as my sister, who was the year above me. It didn’t work. I continued to cry for another 2 days before the penny finally dropped and I realised that I was stuck there and I better start getting on with it. When I did start getting on with it, things got better, and I mean much better.
After about an hour in the classroom we used to have a break. At break time we were rallied into the corridor where we were told to sit on the floor, cross-legged, with our backs to the wall. Different classes would be sitting opposite each other while the teachers walked down the middle of the corridor handing out 3 inch glass bottles of milk with a straw.
The temperature of the milk would vary depending on the season. In the winter, the bottle would be wet with rain & the milk would be so cold it could give you brain freeze. And the summer months brought the smell of warm milk.
Pushing my thumb into the tight fitting silver foil, covering the top of the bottle, plunging my straw deep into the creamy white liquid & taking the first mouthful, was a fantastic way to bring me around to the idea that maybe it wasn’t so bad being away from my mum for a few hours.