Old School Tie

THE OLD SCHOOL TIE CLUB
SQUEEEE! BONK! DOOF! A scream of acoustic feedback caused us all to stop chattering and look up at the stage where Dumpy Di was wielding a microphone with her side-kick, Skinny Sue, aka SS, standing protectively beside her. It was like being in a time-warp, except for the fact that neither of them was wearing school uniform.
* * *
“Move back… behind the speakers!” shouted a raucous voice from the back of the hall.
“Oh yes, of course. Silly me! Thank you, Marie.” Diana moved back and started again.
“Welcome! Welcome, one and all! It’s wonderful to look down and see so many old faces here in our former seat of learning…”
Dee-Dee Hesketh-Soames, formerly Diana Jones, now looking slightly red-faced, beamed down from the stage at her old school chums who were scattered around the school hall in pretty much the same groups as they would have been at breaks and lunch-times thirty years previously. She had five prompt cards of welcoming speech to get through, all written in her very neat but miniscule handwriting, not to mention another twenty cards she would need to use at various points throughout the day. She was confident that there would be no heckling. After all, she was used to commanding an audience’s attention these days and this wasn’t the school debating society, and they were all mature ladies now.
“Oy! Less of the old, Dee-Dee,” “You speak for yourself,” came the raucous voice again.
* * *
“I see Mad Marie’s lost none of her spice,” I whispered, nudging Anthea, aka Anthrax, who was standing beside me. “She’s still giving Dumpy Di a hard time.”
“She’s lost none of her hair colour, either,” said my lifelong best friend. “Surely it can’t be still that red naturally?”
We both put our glasses on and peered at the diminutive figure of Marie Bates, formerly Marie Mayhew, who was standing with her old group of friends. Her hair was still as long, wild and red as ever, her eyes still smokily over made-up and her nails still the red talons she had always sported out of school.
“Are those motorbike leathers she’s wearing?” said Anthea, shoving her glasses back up onto the top of her head.
“Yep!” I said, letting my specs dangle back down on their pearly, gold chain.
“Still the same old Marie,” we said in unison.
Diana began again.
“Ahem! As I was saying, it’s marvellous to see so many familiar faces here today on the occasion of our very first school reunion; a reunion that is taking place almost thirty years to the day since we all last hugged and said our goodbyes…”
“I didn’t hug her, EVER. Did you?” I asked Anthea.
“No, Jane, I didn’t,” she replied. “My arms wouldn’t have been long enough, even if I’d wanted to. Now shut up and let me hear the woman speak.”
“Do I have to?” I said. “You know how she used to go on. She’s an author and a public speaker now and have you seen that stack of cards in her hand?”
“Shut up, Joss Stick!” said Anthea, assuming the ‘I’m-a-grown-up- person- in-my-late-40s-now-so-I’m-listening-to-this-person-talking’ pose, after nudging me and grinning.
I suppose now is a good time to mention that it’s not only boys who do the nick-name thing. Girls do it, too, especially in an all girls grammar school. Thing is, our nick-names are far more inventive than the ones the boys do, far more cruel, too, at times, and, unlike boys, we dwell on them forever.
For instance, my maiden name was Fossdik, which not only rhymed with joss stick, but also described me quite well physically, since I was as thin as a rake, had long, white skinny legs and dark hair that flowed past my waist. I guess it could have been worse; the nick-namers could have just gone for Plain Jane. I’ve grown into my looks now and feel quite good about myself. I’m Silver Joss Stick on Facebook. I use a picture of Melanie Safka as my profile photo.
My best friend since infant school became Anthrax at secondary school simply because her maiden name, Anthea Paxton, lent itself well to the contraction, and as she has said many times since, it could have been worse; she could have been known as Tampax for ever more. She is ‘Heavy Metal Lover’ on Facebook now and has no profile photo. But, since she is Chief Superintendant Paxton these days, her self-description on that site is I Am The Law.
Marie’s nick name needs no explanation because she was mad, and still is, and she knew, loved and probably invented her nick name. It’s the name she uses now on Facebook. Her friend, Annie Gunn, also uses her school nick name, Handgun, on there. Marie’s been married and divorced three times and Annie twice. The other member of their clique, Tina Rice (as was), the curvy one of the three, was the one who the boys always went after. She is also on Facebook and still uses her old nickname of Pudding. Her husband, Rico Perez, who she met later in life, says she is warm, calming and comforting.
Diana got her nick name because she was short and spherical (and still is). Needless to say, that’s not a name that ever appears on her Facebook author page. In fact, we don’t know if she ever actually knew what Dee-Dee really stood for.
Her best friend, Susan Short , was nick named Skinny Sue, but known as SS to her face. It was kind of an ironic but also true name. Back then, she was tall, weighed about 18 stone, had a very deep voice and always asked too many questions. She was a very strange girl and once grabbed me by my tie, nearly choking me, as she held me up against the science lab wall, as she accused me of not taking Diana seriously in the Debating Society. She had taken exception to me being on the opposing side, and pulled chunks of my hair out as she told me so.
Me, myself? I felt that really wasn’t very democratic. The side I was on really had nothing to do with me, because it was the teacher in charge of the club who chose which sides the speakers took. According to Facebook, Skinny Sue has never been married, has become an investigative journalist and lives with Diana now, since the Hesketh-Soames’ divorce.
“Ouch!” I really must stop reminiscing. I’ve missed most of Dumpy Di’s speech, if the dig in the ribs I’ve just had from Anthea is anything to go by.
* * *
“There are many kinds of ties which bind us throughout our lives: family, work, duty to name but a few, but today we are here to celebrate lifelong friendships and the bonds of the old school tie, which, by the way, was the inspiration for the name of the Facebook group I set up to bring us all together for this momentous reunion – The Old School Tie Club. I am thrilled that so many of you have seen and reconnected with me through it. I see quite a few grey heads and the odd stray white hair amongst us and am proud to count myself as one of the Silver Surfers who have embraced new technology to help my writing career and to connect with the past and with the future…”
“Really, Anthea, I didn’t see her wretched club until she sent me a friend request and then joined me in the flipping thing without even asking me first. I am going to have to kill her if she drones on much more,” I said. “The invitation says ‘Welcoming speech followed by tea and biscuits, tour around the school, then lunch, followed by a performance by the present school orchestra and a short talk from current head teacher, then a speech given by the son of the old head mistress’. It’s half-past eleven already, I haven’t had my tea and biscuits and I’m bloody starving.”
“Yeah! She got me the same way, too,” said Anthea. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
“You know full well I didn’t,” I replied. “I had to get the final edits on my latest novel in.”
Anthea put an arm around me. “No wonder you’re Mrs.Grumpy today!”
* * *
Finally! We were in the old school canteen. It seemed strange not to have to queue up pushing along stinky laminate trays that had the whiff of a month’s worth of food gone before, unsuccessfully wiped off with long overdue to be bleached dishcloths. There were no smeared water tumblers, no metal jugs with lips congealed with uncooked curds of thin, badly mixed instant custard, and no round ‘ice-cream’ scoops of cold, lumpy mashed potato, or, even worse, powdered mashed potato. Those funny aliens, falling about laughing in the TV advert about humans mashing real potatoes had a lot to answer for back then when we got subjected to what surely must have been heated wallpaper paste.
The tables were all set with red damask cloths with matching napkins, the cutlery, although just gold-plated, was a hell of a step up from the factory pressed flat stainless steel stuff we had before. There were fresh flowers on the tables, and crystal water jugs with matching glasses. There were also wine glasses, which were just for this adult occasion.
Serving staff began to hand out the meals we had pre-ordered.
“Flipping ‘eck!” said Anthea, as a veggie lasagne was laid down in front of her, complete with a colourful side salad and some garlic bread.”What’s happened to my vegetarian choice? I had 5 years of grated cheese with shredded carrot, lettuce and cucumber and a Jacob’s cream cracker with butter on the side. It’s what they gave me for lunch every single day. I was hoping to reminisce on that just for one day.”
Diana started up again.
“It gives me great pleasure to re-introduce you all to school dinners, 20th century style… Indulge, if you will in everything now deemed unhealthy. I’m going to be having steak and kidney pie and chips. The chips will be cooked in lard, and the pastry will be made with lard. Lard is a dirty word these days, but, boy, does it taste nice when you can get it!”
I was waiting for a gall bladder removal operation, so the last thing I wanted was a fatty meal. In fact, I thought, a hex on those last century old dinner ladies who had begun my problem.
20 minutes later, as is the way when your gall bladder isn’t right, I was in the old toilets, looking up at the ceiling to see that girls still took the paper off the cigarette packet foil, made the foil into a wine cup shape, spat on the screwed up paper, stuck it into the base of the foil ‘wine glass’ and chucked it up onto the ceiling. Oh, how, Mr. Muschamp, our old caretaker, had hated us for doing that.
The last thing I was expecting was for Skinny Sue to burst in and try to strangle me with her old school tie. People had brought lots of old school stuff along for the day, and the tie was her thing.
“You made fun of the woman I love!” she screamed, just before I lost consciousness. “How dare you write and be more successful than her?” She pulled the tie even tighter.
“Chillax, girl! Get off her!” said Mad Marie as she charged in, the old gang, right behind her, or so Anthea told me after she’d overpowered Skinny Sue and read her rights.
There are many ties that bind us – lifelong friendship is one. Will I be attending another school reunion? When I finish shaking, and Marie and Anthea let go of me, I’ll let you know. You can find me on Facebook at Silver Joss Stick.
END