Sixth March Blog


Sixth March Blog. 13-3-15.

They’re out, they’re out. Dafodillys are out down the road. Not all, I grant you, but enough to say they’re out.! Spring has finally sprung, and about blooming time too, and I do mean blooming as in opening flower heads. Unlike the forsythia which does not appear to have buds at all, not yet, leastways. Mind you, I did kind of murder the bush last year. So possibly it is my fault. Who knows? II shall keep a weather eye on it though.

The other day, on the way back from visiting a different hospital, the Sat/Nav was giving us a route back towards home. We were on the top of a hill wherein resides a very famous boys school. It is a twisty narrow road, old time from about the late 1700s. The buildings are situated on top of this steep hill. Whoever thought about buulding the school there ( even if it was smaller then, ) had a very good idea. You can see for miles, way over into London ( which a heck of a lot smaller in thos days too).

There were so many really expensive cars in the street, money wafted off them. The whole street exuded rich young men coming out from the school. The tiny shops are quaint and you need a hefty bank balance to shop in them. Even the boarding houses are done up to look posh. It is only when you actually drive down the hill you see where the changes occur and at the bottom, orinary people with a lot less money. We even saw a board outside a place about halfway down which read ‘Typing Lessons For Children. – over 8 years’. We could not believe that. Kids, learning to type at that age. Are we out of touch?

I looked the school up, apparently founded in 1572, though probably not in its present state, the header was a low sky view of the buildings that comprise most of the shool.. I do know it isn’t quite all of it as a few years ago, my friend and I took a bus that went up that road on top of the hill to revisit a hairdressers that we had visited once before. Unfortunately, the hairdressers was not to be found. It was a very late summer day, one of the buildings had a sign that portported to be for interviews or some such.

Being nosy, we walked through to a courtyard. There was a waterfall effect going down some concrete stairs with foliage on it. Below, the water trickled about ten stairs down ( side of a hill, remember) and there was, if my memory serves me, some sporting venue at the bottom, possibly indoor tennis, though I could not be sure. I only know a couple of people came out sporting some kind of game gear, came out if the building. A place of practice, of some kind. We did get some peculiar looks ftom the odd person climbing the stairs beside the water feature.

I think we were asked what we were looking for at one stage, but by that time, our curiosity was sated. We were advised, very kindly, where the exit was. All accidental really ( apart from the curiosity bit). Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained. I now have a memory of a sunny afternoon and of a place we should not have been, but were. Looking in on the inside of a way of life totally different from our own.

These young guys could be MPs one day, running the country. They could be Head of your Bank, could decide if we go to war with another country. This school takes these ‘seeds’ and nurtures them for the future. I suppose this is why each house master only accepts up to 13 new boys per year! Many more rich sons I m sure would like to be accepted. It is THE. School to go to. Apparently! But few will succeed.

Be happy, dear people. Thank you for reading.



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