I was searching through my school diary to see which secrets I wanted to share with you. March 1st seemed apt because of the picture.
There’s a problem with the second line of this entry. We have not had it (sewing lesson) for a few weeks. You cannot hear the joy in those words. My great-grandmother sewed for a living. In her later years her hands were swollen and mis-shaped from arthritis, curved as if they were still clutching a needle. The sewing gene wasn’t passed on to me. I remember those lessons and my hot and sweaty little hands trying to grip the needle. Miss Tipper used to let me go out of the classroom to wash my hands under the cold tap but the freezing water didn’t work any magic. I still don’t like sewing.
To draw a picture of a classroom, or any of my attempts at sewing would have required the drawing of people so I opted out and added a bit about my brother’s Meccano set. This is the ‘apt’ bit because Tracy Baines recently gave the LSO the name of Meccano Man, saying that if he was cut open his heart would look like it was made of Meccano now that he has so many stents in it.
My music stand? I wanted to play piano but we didn’t have one. When we did get one my Dad told me not to write about it in my diary. Why? I’m not telling. Oh, well, maybe later.