On life’s little incidents

I FREQUENTLY visit Burry Port to call in on my mother and check all is well.

It was my hometown until I left at 18 for the bright lights of Swansea, but as I drive past the parks and harbour many memories come flooding back.

I paused outside my old schools on my last visit, however, and took the time to remember my childhood years in these buildings.

The fun memories far outweigh the grim ones (including a certain teacher regularly launching the blackboard duster across the room!). We had a mixed-sex infants school where I cried a lot as I was convinced that my mother would forget to pick me up at the end of the day!

The infants and juniors were in neighbouring buildings so it was only a short walk to “big” school, but boys and girls now went in opposite directions as we were educated separately.

We shared a yard at playtime but there was an invisible line that we DARE not cross, as mingling with the boys was forbidden and we had to squint from afar to look for potential husband material.

The toilets were outside and we went in pairs, one to “guard the door”. They terrified me!

School assembly happened daily – we squashed cross-legged in the hall, singing songs and reciting the Lord’s Prayer. We had hopscotch, French skipping and cycling proficiency tests on the yard and dragged our chairs out on sunny day for alfresco lessons.

We learned to read Janet and John books and recited the times tables till they were seared into our brains.

I could go on and on… and I can honestly say that my schooldays really were times I look back on fondly and enjoy reminiscing about now and again.