School scarf

When I was a boy the 11+ exam was a really big deal. It decided if you were in the 20% or so going to the grammar school. My parents, particularly my mother, were anxious that I pass. To help me along she borrowed from her sister’s experience ( my two cousins both passed ) and got mock exam books for me to practice.

This practice was important for the “intelligence” test  which had questions like which comes next in the sequence 1,3,5…. This was completely unlike anything I did at school so practice and familiarity was a big help. With this help I passed getting the result just a few days before the coronation on June 2^nd 1953.

The grammar school wasn’t particularly posh but they did have a school uniform and a kit list. This produced some anxiety as we were rather poor and the uniform had to be expensively purchased at one shop in town. My mother set about minimising the expense.

Name tags would be home made with indelible pencil and sewn on tape. Things like football boots were hand-me-downs from my cousins and sports kit could be bought second hand. The blazer badge was rather particular. The school had the public school separation into “houses”. These were totally artificial and only served for internal sports competitions. However it was necessary to have the blazer badge bounded by the house colour; in my case purple for Barfords. As there were only about 10 badges in a particular colour in any single year these were horribly expensive.  One item that mother seized on was the scarf. This was a rather magnificent black, red and gold banded garment. She immediately decided she could knit one at home.. She set herself to knit in time for the start of term.

When colder weather arrived I duly wore the scarf. But tragically the red didn’t quite match the “proper” school scarf. It was a slightly different shade. Anxious not to be different to my school colleagues I decided immediately the scarf didn’t suit and I refused to wear it.

When I look back at the love and care ; a mother’s love and care that went into that scarf I’m ashamed. It was a lovely scarf and I should have worn it with pride instead of casting it aside.

I can honestly say that my poor working class origins never mattered at school ( except right at the end with a snobbish headmaster and a misunderstanding ) I did generally have more tatty school clothes than others but this never greatly worried anyone. Mother must have been hurt by my rejection of the scarf although she never let it show. Now all these years later it’s too late to express the love and gratitude I feel. Thank you , mother.