Sandwiched between Halloween and Guy Fawkes Night - that's quite an appropriate place to find a Strict Tutorial. It was a rather gorgeously autumnal late afternoon when my tutor brought me to the school on the edge of the Forest of Dean. As he had a very bad cold he didn't linger but quickly delivered me over to Miss Prim, who despatched me to my room.
I was lying somewhat prophetically on my tummy, finishing my set book, when Miss Prim popped her head round the door and said I should be putting out my kit for Matron to inspect. Once this was done there wasn't room to lie on the bed, so after washing and brushing up I snuggled down in a big squashy armchair until Janey arrived. We were in our dressing gowns with all our kit laid out when Matron came in. Amazingly, she could find no fault with our gear, so we hurried into our uniforms and downstairs for inspection and dinner.
There were seven of us pupils on the course; Miss Prim, Miss Fellowes and Matron to teach us, plus a chef and Angela the maid. It was good to meet up with old friends again and most of us earned a substantial number of demerits at the dinner table due to exuberance and high spirits. Clearly it was going to be difficult to knuckle under the numerous little rules of the regime!
After dinner each of us had an interview with Miss Prim. One by one we were summoned into the Headmistress' study and handed over the letters out Guardians had written. Professor Robertson had taken particular care to request that I got a sound paddling every night before bedtime, plus a caning from Matron for each dose of "medicine" I might require. He had also noted that I was "devious and mischievous"; upon hearing which I remarked that I was pleased to have inspired him towards poetry. This brought its inevitable reward. Miss Prim let me know in no uncertain terms, by word and by deed, that rules must be obeyed to the letter and that cheek would not be tolerated. I was sleeping on my tummy for real that night, and apparently writhing and groaning too, since Janey was forced to seek repose somewhere less turbulent.
Next morning we all notched up some more demerits over breakfast - it really is difficult not to talk until permission is given! Most of us had at least one uniform fault as well, so several canings had to be administered before lessons could begin.
In Miss Prim's History lessons we were allowed to use our folders
of notes to write essays, which meant we were able to achieve some good results. Sadly it must have made us
overconfident as only brainy Andrew passed the exam! Everyone apart from him got thrashed (although things got
evened up when matron unearthed some suspicious-looking teddy bears of his in dubious places!)
In Matron's lessons we didn't just learn Latin- we also learnt how to earn three demerits at once. When she
catches you talking, address her as Ma'am or Miss whilst remaining in your seat! Since three demerits bring six
strokes of the cane, there was much to-ing and fro-ing in Latin classes. Steve Miller must have been regretting
his elevation to Head Boy status, since it meant he must receive double punishment every time. As the only boy
in long trousers, he also got sent on all sorts of errands, he called them missions.
Monday began badly for both Jane and myself. It's bad enough having to get up at 6.45 to use the bathroom - but Miss Fellowes was lurking and gave Janey a demerit for entering the bathroom late, even though she vacated it well before 7.00! Janey objected and ended up getting twelve with the dragon. Good job Miss Fellowes wasn't outside to hear me swear when I dropped the soap. Anyway, it was very hot indoors so I decided not to wear my blazer to uniform inspection. Matron and Miss Fellowes didn't seem to mind, but not Miss Prim.
"What sort of place do you think you're in, Robinson?" she demanded. "A sauna, Ma'am," I replied - well it was pretty sticky. That did it. I was marched into the classroom for my own twelve of the dragon, and as I limped upstairs afterwards to retrieve the offending blazer, it was to the sounds of Sarah-Jane Thornton receiving the same treatment for wearing too short a gymslip. That wasn't fair; it's her guardian's fault. He's always buying her clothes that are too short. He also bought her some perfume called "Lolita". I've got my suspicions about him!
