Posts tagged ‘Wendy A’

March 17th, 2013

Revenge can be Painful

Bullied by a group of girls, but is revenge really so sweet?

By Wendy A

I spent four very unhappy years at St Margaret’s Junior School. I am not sure why or when my problems started but they revolved around a girl in my year, Pauline, and several of her friends. They were effectively a gang and picked regularly on the more vulnerable girls. They were also regularly in trouble with the teachers and were often spanked.

They picked on me incessantly, I was more often in tears than not. They were really horrible, my life was hell. An Aunt of mine was a teacher at the school, Aunt Vera, and I spoke to her several times about my problems. Sometimes she took action but this resulted in even worse teasing and more devious pranks directed at me. On the rare occasions that I did retaliate I ended up in the Headmistress’s study for a spanking.
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March 11th, 2013

The Old Schoolhouse

Meeting the neighbours leads to a whole new world.

By Wendy A

For several years we had been discussing moving out of our flat in London to the countryside and starting a family. George had recently been promoted and could do more work from home than previously and felt that commuting would not be too onerous. For my part I had decided to go freelance and had built up a client base for my short stories, this would enable me to work entirely at home with occasional trips to town for meetings with publishers.

We moved in the early spring to a village about 50 miles from London. It was near a mainline station so travelling to London did not take too long. The house was in several acres of garden and orchard. There were no immediate neighbours but the main street was only about 10 minutes walk away, there was a pub, a general store including a post office, an unused church. One other facility was lacking, a school. The original school had closed some years ago and been merged into the school in a neighbouring village. The old school building was still there and backed onto the bottom of our garden.
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March 4th, 2013

Foreign Posting

When a teaching post goes wrong, a new career reaps benefits

By Wendy A

After university I took a teacher’s training course and entered the profession at a mixed day school. I worked my way up the ladder and after less than 10 years was Head of the French Department. One day I received a telephone call from St Mary’s school, a well know girls boarding school about 20 miles from my existing school. The job I was being offered was as Deputy Headmistress.

I went for an interview with Miss White and several of the school’s governors. I was told that there were two other applicants. After a couple of days there was a further call from Miss White who informed me that I had the job and was expected to start at the beginning of the school year in September, 3 months hence.
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February 28th, 2013

French Martinet

Our first story with a French setting

By Wendy A

In my second year at University I had the opportunity of a placement with a large French insurance company. I seized at the chance of living in France for 3 months; it would enable me to improve my spoken and written French. It would also look good on my cv.

The job would be in one of their regional offices in a major city in the South of France. I learnt that there would be two or three students from other European countries and also some French students.

In late May I packed my bag and headed off to France. The train journey was long and tedious as I had to change trains in Paris. I finally reached my destination at nearly 10pm and took a taxi to the hostel where I would be staying for the first week. The room was tiny and I had to share a bathroom with other girls. The first night I was so tired that I did not care and fell asleep immediately.
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February 25th, 2013

Extreme Sports – The Second Chapter

Continuing on from the earlier story

By Wendy A

Friday arrived, and there was a small party for Linda leaving which was held in Mr Ross’s office. Apart from Mr Ross, Steve and Stan, there was Katie, his secretary and some of the sales staff including Fran, Fiona and Sally. This was probably the first time she had been in the office since her whacking on the previous Monday evening, the difference this time was that the sales staff had changed out of their sportswear.

I watched Sally with interest. She appeared to be completely at ease and chatted to everyone including Mr Ross. She smiled and even shared a joke with him and Steve. I guessed that many of those present had been whacked by Mr Ross at one time or another. There was no “atmosphere” as I would have expected, I wondered how I would handle chatting to Mr Ross if he had whacked my own bottom, how could I look him in the eye? It appeared the staff accepted they had done wrong and were prepared to take a whacking and move on without any ill feeling towards Mr Ross or Steve. For the sales staff there was the added embarrassment of being whacked in front of the rest of the staff.
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February 20th, 2013

Extreme Sports

Working at a sports shop brings surprising developments

By Wendy A

I left school at 18 with only modest A levels, too little for a place at university. My Father was very disappointed and almost every night at dinner he would discuss possible careers. One possibility cropped up several times, accountancy. He explained that there would be exams and that it could take up to 5 years to qualify but that after that it was an honourable profession and well paid. One of my better subjects at school had been maths and so accountancy it was going to be.

He arranged for me to meet the head of a city firm and I was taken on. The work was boring as was the theory for the exams. I worked 4 days a week and attended a local college for lectures on Mondays. Initially the exams were easy and required a minimum of work; this suited me fine and left plenty of time for socialising. The pay was not good but it was pocket money. After the first couple of years the exams got harder and in the fourth year I failed the exams, my Father was furious.
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February 18th, 2013

Moonlighting

A wife has to confess to her past

By Wendy A

My husband arrived home from a trip abroad in the middle of the afternoon; he had been in Eastern Europe at a dental conference for several days. Earlier that day I had run the kids to his parents’ where they were to spend half term. It was strange being just the two of us; we had rarely been away from the kids.

George poured us both a drink and we settled down in the lounge. “Just like the old days before the kids were born,” he said. “Do you remember those days?” He smiled, it was one of those smiles from old and usually resulted in sexual bliss.
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January 9th, 2013

Memories Never Fade, a Return to Fordham

Reliving old experiences leads to trouble. The first part of the story.

By Wendy A

I was about seven years old when my Father was promoted to the post of Housemaster at a boys preparatory school at Fordham. He had previously been a teacher at the school and we lived in a small cottage in the town. Fordham House was totally different, the house was huge, gardens enormous and there were lots of outbuildings like the stables that were no longer in use.

We lived in about half of the main house, the rest was the boys boarding house which included a large modern extension where the boys’ dormitories were located. I remember my first days at Fordham, a time of exploration, and I invited several of my friends to spend the day with me so we could explore the extensive grounds. There were no boys in residence; term would start in a few weeks time. We had the full run of the whole house and enjoyed the freedom.
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October 30th, 2012

Matron’s Illness

A new assistant Matron has to step into the breach.

By Wendy A.

I was born soon after the end of World War II, a time so much simpler than today. Right was right and wrong was wrong, everything was black or white; the grey areas of today did not exist.

At sixteen I left school with a few O levels and wondered what I would do, not clever enough to go to University but I did not wish to be stuck in a dead end job. My parents suggested that I try nursing. I had the necessary O levels and could work my way up by taking exams.
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October 17th, 2012

Daisy’s Secret

Trouble brews when a boy and a girl are caught drinking, but then strange consequences follow.

By Wendy A

It was one of those warm autumn days, the sun was low in a blue sky, and not the usual chill wind that so often blows at that time of year. Joe and I were enjoying a beer to wash down a large plate of fish and chips.

“Beats school lunch at St Gregory’s,” said Joe. “Not the usual stew with no meat and a pile of smelly cabbage.”

I reflected for a moment and replied: “Let’s just hope we don’t get caught or something else could get beaten, remember what happened at the end of last term, ten of the sixth form leavers were caught drinking at lunchtime and got whacked.”
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