Lowewood Academy

“So yes, I think it will work quite well….”
 
We were disturbed by a huge crash that came from the direction of the stage. Jess and I had been discussing one of her main songs in the panto in the room that I had commandeered for use as a study. It was nowhere near as comfortable as my Head Boy’s study of last year, and looked more like a storeroom than a study, but it was my space. It felt good to have a little kingdom once more, a space to organise myself and 
 
The huge crash was followed by another huge crash, which was in turn followed by another. Something appeared to have gone disastrously wrong onstage, where those pupils that had volunteered to give up their half term break to help build and paint the set were at work. I jumped up from my chair and ran up the spiral metal stairwell that led to the stage, closely followed by Jess.
 
Things had been going well since Mr Shaftebotham offered me a position as a teaching assistant, and I had taken particular delight in calling Mr Perkins by his first name (Brian) to his obvious annoyance. The younger members of staff had been very welcoming, and I was in the habit of driving across from Oxford on Thursday evenings for a game of badminton doubles with Richard Croft, Peter Basford and William Compton. This, of course, gave me extra opportunity to spend time with Jess, although we had to be very careful that we remained discreet. While I had been able to spend time in her study as a visitor to the school, as a member of staff eyebrows would be raised. The storeroom come study in the theatre had become useful in more ways than one.
 
(more…)

One thing I won’t do is lie and pretend that I was sad to get out of Lowewood and into the fresh air of the BIG WIDE WORLD again.

That is not to say that I have not enjoyed the last few weeks. Being a prefect is fun and I confess to have developed a fondness for supping from the devil’s cup (of Hendrick’s gin and tonic) and I think that if I were to count them (OK, I have; I do, often) that I have now at least EIGHT FRIENDS. I haven’t counted Sam as, although we seem to like each other well enough, we are room-mates so are kind of FRIENDS BY FORCE rather than FRIENDS BY FONDNESS. Besides, he is part of the reason I was happy to get back home; he stays up too late and he really is smelly in the way that sporty boys often seem to be.

But there was another reason why I was very VERY happy to get home and it is this: it was the annual Ross Henderson Memorial Chess Championship on Saturday, and Bridget and I had been selected (for the third year running) to go to Oxford for the finals. It is an intra-school competition and we usually come in the top five. Last year we came second. I was excited about going, but the main reason for my excitement was not the chess. It was Bridget. And, more specifically, I was excited because Bridget comes from Kent, and I come from near Oxford, so - BAD NEWS FOR HER - she needed to stay the night somewhere after the competition, and GOOD NEWS FOR ME, her mum had phoned my mum to see if it was OK for her to stay at ours. Ha. It’s not all bad in Martin-land.

(more…)

My dad always says (when he is actually in contact with me and not pissing off to the Far East over my half term) that good things always come in pairs. I think he might be right.

I was expecting half term to be pretty crappy. Stuck at bloody school with only the Head Girl for company. No chances to drink, go clubbing with Jade and Ayesha, or smoke my first spliff for about two months.

Waving off Claudia and Gabby and Ned felt like watching the 1st class passengers leaving the titanic from the steerage windows. As I stood on the steps, Jessica came up behind me.

“Cheer up Lydia. It’s not that bad. I’ve got an important job for you this week.”

Oh fucking great. Probably involved tidying the library or something or maybe polishing her shoes. I looked at her sulkily.

“Oh stop pouting Lydia. You spoil your lovely face. Seriously, Isabel Lawrence is staying this week as well and Sam Sherwood. We’re going to do the painting for the pantomime scenery and after your artwork of William – which I thought was hysterical by the way, but that’s off the record – well it’s obvious who we need to draw the outlines for the rest of us to fill in!”

Wow! Ace! I beamed at her. “Really? Yes please!”

She laughed. “I thought that would cheer you up. Mr Compton, the new teaching assistant in the art department, is staying for some of the week, to help out – what a nice man he is, the other teachers have left at a run! Anyway, dinner at normal time.”

(more…)