Sunday, 24th October 1976
(Winder House, Sedbergh School. Age 15)
We had an extra hour asleep because the clocks went back. We all wore watches, so we put them back an hour. Any clocks around Winder House were changed by a House Prefect.
I woke quite early anyway. I read for a bit, then went back to sleep. I was reading ghost stories by Algernon Blackwood, probably The Wendigo and Other Stories. There were stories such as A Haunted House, An Empty Island and The Listener.
Paul Gardener and Branston Pickles, whose beds were near mine, stripped their beds. We changed the sheets every fortnight, putting the dirty linen into a large laundry basket on wheels. I left mine until after break.
At Chapel, I read one of the ghost stories. I wasn’t deep in prayer. I’d tucked myself in beside a pillar, with the book hidden inside a hymn book or psalter, and carried on reading.
Back at Winder House, I read the Sunday colour supplements. We got our own newspapers, probably The Sunday Times, and I made my way through the colour magazine.
Lunch was a disappointment. There wasn’t enough to go around. It was probably Sunday roast, and we’d run out of Yorkshire puddings or roast potatoes. Some boys had taken second helpings and would boast about their achievement while the rest of us complained.
We had a shorter rehearsal for The Pirates of Penzance, the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta we were putting on at school. Some of the principals were missing, so we only did one act.
I was in the chorus, a prop who tried to stay in tune and swig and swag my hips about in some kind of time. I’d thought that staying at the back would keep me hidden until I was handed a large pirate flag to wave back and forth.
We were told that the girls from Casterton were coming along for the rehearsal. They’d been expected before, but I had less enthusiasm for them now. There wasn’t anyone who took my fancy. If there had been much interest among the boys earlier, there was none anymore.
I played squash afterwards and lost badly to one of my usual opponents. I was struggling. I didn’t think I could play anymore.
I was having a bad day. No roast potatoes or Yorkshire puddings at lunch had probably set me off.
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