December 20th, 2017
The Head Girl and her two best friends get into trouble, with a little help from Mother
by Harry James
The telephone in the hall rang. Dorothy Wilston strode out from the front drawing room and picked up the handset. It was Monday and just after six o’clock in the evening on a cold 4th November in 1996.
“Pickerton 4751,” intoned Dorothy.
Of course, ‘Pickerton’ had been replaced by the all number system many years past, but Dorothy liked the old ways. And life in the Lake District still retained many of the old world graces, even if another side of Dorothy had always embraced all that was new, interesting and exciting.
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December 16th, 2017
A childish prank leads to problems
By Jane Fairweather
“You have got the mouse?” Meg Bates enquired, just a touch nervously, just before the Upper Sixth French lesson.
She had not been quite sure that her friend would go through with the prank.
“Yes, of course I have!” Amelia responded. “It’s time someone took Jenks down a peg. And it’s a lovely way to do it, no one will ever guess whose mouse it was; and I am a bit bored with Simon anyway. It’s such a fag keeping him hidden from the teachers. With luck he will run off and be free and never be seen again.”
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December 9th, 2017
A girl’s experience in the headmistress’s study. By a new writer to us, with the grahic illustrations also by the author
By Angela Fox
‘Friday afternoon at four o’clock, and once again I am sitting on this hard chair,’ I thought. ‘Why do I do this to myself?’ I wasn’t given long to ponder. Within a minute the so-called traffic light outside her door turned from red, meaning do not disturb, to green, directing whoever was waiting on this damned chair to knock on the door for entry.
I stood up, smoothed my gymslip into place, making sure the broad knife- edged box pleats were perfect and prayed my hair was neat and tidy. Then I nervously knocked on the door and, when I saw the white sign below the traffic lights blink ‘Enter’, I turned the brass doorknob and pushed the heavy door open.
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December 4th, 2017
Twin sisters experience an old school tradition
By Julie Baker
Introduction
We are the identical twin York sisters born in January 1967. We were christened Angela and Susan and we have no other siblings. Our parents run a successful haulage business based in Belfast and our family is from the Catholic part of our community. However we have never been a particularly religious family and we certainly were not involved in any political activities at any time. We have always been happy and content with what life has given us and have chosen to live quietly within our lovely city.
We have therefore been lucky with our upbringing, but we have also been fortunate with the attributes that we have inherited from our parents. We were both gifted academically at school, we were good at most sports and had outward going personalities which meant that we always had a wide circle of friends. We also inherited our mother’s good looks. We have dark, almost black, straight hair, attractive faces and well toned athletic bodies. Our skin is soft and dark in tone to the extent that people are often asking us if we have been away on holiday. We are tall and slim with firm breasts and tight firm bottoms. We have never been short of boys to ask us out on a date.
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December 3rd, 2017
A continuation of an earlier story by PG where a former pupil returns to her headmaster for motivation
By PW (With the permission of PG)
James Simmons found himself taking a deep breath as he considered the term about to end. The exam results for the Archdean pupils were of course the be-all and end-all in his profession, and these would not come through until August, but he was as satisfied as he could be that the school was working efficiently. Staff numbers were steady and, apart from some of the younger and more ambitious teachers moving on in order to gain promotion, he knew he had a highly competent and stable group capable of inspiring many of the children in their charge.
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December 2nd, 2017
Two stepsisters coincidentally in trouble at the same time
By Brian Melville
Jennifer Atkins is a slender, tall, eighteen year old girl, with black shoulder length hair and brown eyes. Her stepsister of the past month, Christine Hobbs, is a skinny, medium height eighteen year old with her Chinese bob haircut, blonde hair, and blue eyes. They are both sixth form students at Lovemore Grammatical School for Girls, in the very north of London.
Jennifer’s dad, and Christine’s mom got, married about a month ago and they are now all living together in the Atkins’ house. Jenny and Chrissie get along very well, although they are not in the same class in school.
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November 27th, 2017
Sent to the headmistress, a sixth form girl is surprised by her punishment
By Brian Melville
At only 4’ 10”, Amber Hayward is a rather short, skinny, dark haired eighteen year old, sixth form student at St Josephine’s Grammar School for Girls, in the west of London. St Josephine’s is a tradition rich school where the girls still get the slipper or cane across the seats of their school skirts or trousers. Amber, known to the staff and her fellow sixth formers as the class clown, had found herself on the receiving end of both slipper and cane up until this cold winter’s day in January 1983.
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November 20th, 2017
A young teacher ignores good advice. Another story from the archives
by Kenny Walters
“Never have favourites.” I can still hear my old mentor’s words even now, more than sixteen years since they were spoken and since I was let loose on the world as a fully qualified teacher. If only I had abided by such good advice!
It wasn’t as though Lorraine and Fiona were natural candidates to be my favourites; neither was particularly gifted in my A-level English class, although both would eventually struggle through their final exams. Nor were they particularly attractive girls; Lorraine was not especially pretty, and whilst far from overweight her figure suggested she was more of a hockey player than a sprint athlete. Her curly blonde hair was always cut short giving her an almost boyish appearance. Fiona, on the other hand, was slim and narrow hipped with reddish brown hair, well brushed and extending down to her shoulder blades, the front cropped in a neat fringe. Firm cheek bones betrayed her Scottish ancestry.
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November 19th, 2017
Another story from the archive. A headmistress helps two girls with a problem.
By Kenny Walters
Feeling very awkward, I was sitting alone in the room I shared with Danielle Matheson trying and failing miserably to complete my essay for tomorrow’s English Literature class. Every time I heard the slightest sound from the corridor I looked up, expecting Danielle to come bursting in. Was I really just feeling awkward, or was it my own fear?
Yet again, I heard footsteps in the corridor. This time, though, they were real footsteps. I strained to listen. Was it one set of footsteps, or were there more?
The door opened and I looked up nervously. When Danielle dashed in, wet and shivering and naked all bar the soaking wet knickers she clutched in her hand, I looked quickly through before the door was slammed shut. Danielle appeared to be alone.
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November 16th, 2017
The style of a school’s gym pants gets a girl into difficulty
by Katie Hammond
In December 1983, Reginald Hampton opened a letter that, although expected, nevertheless delighted him. Mr Hampton was the regional manager for a major British bank based in Manchester. He had lived for over thirty years in the so-called stockbroker belt south of Manchester and, although highly paid, it paled into insignificance against some of the actual stockbrokers and other high earners that were his neighbours and acquaintances.
The letter offered him the job of deputy chairman of the bank, based in London. The remuneration was commensurate with this executive position that put him very nearly at the top of the pile. Although he was absolutely thrilled with the promotion, he was a family man and had a wife and two daughters to consider. His wife, Helen, knew of the potential move months ago and although not entirely happy about the move was willing to go along with it as Reginald, or Reg as she mostly called him, had deserved it for the many years of hard work climbing the ladder at the bank, and of course she knew that the extra money he would earn would almost immediately end up in her purse.
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