Thatcher and Me

I am in no way a lover of politics though I do at times find it fascinating. There is much talk and discussion at the moment on the legacy of Margaret Thatcher. This is to be expected, but for me it is an insight into the period I grew up in. There is much to learn from the period of her premiership. It has reminded me of how little I knew at the time. I, like many youngsters, hated the news - I'd much rather watch cartoons, Doctor Who or the Wombles. It's probably why I love rediscovering my past, watching old news bulletins of the day or browsing archived copies of newspapers. It's all about filling gaps.
I was always aware during the 1980's that we had a female prime minister and that the people around me didn't like her, not simply because she was a woman, but because of her policies. I would hear my parents bemoan the fact that she had upset another section of society. It led me one day to write about her at primary school, calling her a 'cow'. I remember my class teacher laughing at the time but I worried for many days that I would be arrested and taken away for making such a comment. It was a real and palpable fear, completely ridiculous of course but it was what I believed would happen.
There were of course significant moments in her tenure such as the Falklands invasion and subsequent war with Argentina. Her meetings with Ronald Reagan didn't seem that significant back then but today, I can see that they were incredibly important and helped shape the world we live in today. The relationship she developed with the then president of the USSR, Mikhail Gorbachev certainly contributed to bring about the end of the Cold War.
I have heard many criticisms from those who fell victim to her economic policies and battles with trade unions. They are right to feel bitter. But I also hear praise for her unstinting resolve in the face of crisis and the way she changed Britain from a country on the brink of economic ruin to one of prosperity. It's not all bad.

Mikhail Gorbachev: 'I said to Margaret that I had no instructions from the Politburo to persuade her to join the Communist party of the Soviet Union. She broke into laughter'.

School Years - Memories of PE

I have been prompted to recollect my memories of physical education during my school years in the 1980's. There was an excellent piece on BBC Radio 5 Live this morning inviting people to call in to discuss their memories of being taught PE and how, in some cases, this has affected their outlook on physical exercise and sport in general. For some, it was a wonderful experience but for the majority, the experience was frankly horrific and has literally scarred them for life.
My own experience is one of being forced to do something I didn't want to do. I hated sport. I was always amongst the last to be chosen for teams and though I wasn't in any way overweight, it was my skills with a ball that were obviously lacking. I wasn't part of the 'gang' either so this relegated me to the lower ranks and if I was chosen it was more to do with making up numbers.
PE was a humiliating experience. We invariably ended up running round a freezing cold field or were forced to play football or rugby. I didn't understand how to play either nor did I have any interest in learning. If the ball did happen to pass my way, I would panic and hope that I was kicking it in the right direction. It was important to keep moving though as this was the only way to keep warm.
We would be made to do indoor PE if the weather was particularly bad. More often than not this would involve climbing ropes or jumping over padded boxes. I remember well the green rubber backed mats we would fall onto and the course surface that could easily remove skin. I remember the smell. I can smell it now as I type this. The equipment we used was standard school issue and found in any educational establishment at the time, no doubt descended from an army design. Used properly, they were fine. But make a mistake or land awkwardly and my goodness, they could do serious damage to a teenage body.
The changing room filled me with dread. There was no privacy and the benches were squashed and lacked any comfort. Keeping your clothes together was essential else you could spend the remainder of the day with just one sock or perhaps none at all. You needed your wits about you.
Showering was compulsory. Mr Jennings or Mr Matthews would herd us in one end and after a couple of minutes usher us out the other end. Avoiding the shower was done at your peril. If your hair was dry, you got dragged in. It wasn't very nice.
Staying dry was the main objective though this was made almost impossible by the person next to you dripping all over your clothes. Invariably I would leave the place wet, my school uniform covered in wet patches. But I was free, and that was the most important thing.
Before long, it would become normal to escape PE at any cost. I tried to get out of it every week and when I was diagnosed with an irregular heart beat at around the age of 14, this came as a Godsend. I now had a valid excuse to miss all PE sessions. It was wonderful. I remember well sitting out the period in the hall with a handful of others in this 'special group'. We would pretend to study or swat for tests. This was the norm for a very long time.
Bullying was rife. It always had been. The bullying wasn't just amongst the boys, it was also systemic amongst the teachers. They could be very nasty. One teacher got into trouble for it after a pupil made an official complaint. Another was sent to prison after being reported for paying 'innapropriate' attention to boys at the school. I had witnessed and been a victim of this during my time at school. Yet my parents, then as now, remain ignorant to what had been going on.
I remember a music lesson run by this particular teacher who for some reason insisted on all of stripping to our underwear and one by one walking up to him so he could check the see the label inside our pants. None of us at the time thought one moment to question what was happening or why he was doing this. It's only really now that I look back at the utter madness of the whole thing and wonder why nothing was done.
Did our parents have any idea of what things were like and what went on? No. They either didn't want to know or were completely ignorant, that's my conclusion.
Swimming lessons are another example of where things went badly wrong. I recall that I wasn't as fearful as others and I soon learnt it was better to show as little fear as possible. If you showed fear, you were picked on - by the instructor no less - and thrown into the water. No regard was given to whether or not you were able to swim, you were simply thrown it. I witnessed this and soon decided it was better for me to put my own head under the surface than to provoke the instructor to do it. I hated it, and to an extent it has had a long lasting effect on me and something I always revisit in my mind whenever we go swimming as a family.
Luckily, my PE 'horror' was relatively short lived, thanks to my medical 'excuse' and being signed-off all future sessions. But I did endure enough of it to turn me completely off sport of any kind. If things had been different, then maybe I may have warmed to it a little more. I will always associate sport with my experiences at school during the 1980's, and sadly I will always fear a little for my son. I am hopeful that things are different nowadays and that the mistakes made during my time at school simply cannot be repeated. My memories will never go away. If anything, they become clearer and thanks to this blog, more permanent than ever.