07 School's Out! by Jack Sheffield

Author:Jack Sheffield [Sheffield, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

George Orwell’s New World

County Hall requested responses to their recent paper ‘Equal Opportunities within the Curriculum’.

Extract from the Ragley School Logbook: Friday, 27 January 1984

‘SOOTY’S GOT PROBLEMS,’ muttered Sally as she glanced through the Daily Mail that Tom Dalton had left on the staff-room coffee table.

‘Sooty?’ asked Vera in surprise as she stirred the pan of hot milk.

It was Friday-morning break, 27 January, and outside the staff-room window the silence of snow covered the frozen earth. Under its smooth white blanket the world was still as stone. Tom was on playground duty and, like the rosy-cheeked children around him, didn’t appear to feel the cold.

Anne and I were sitting near the gas fire, trying to keep warm while studying the Yorkshire Purchasing Organization catalogue and the price of bristle brushes.

‘He’s Harry Corbett’s glove puppet,’ said Anne with authority. ‘I saw him on stage in Morecambe in 1950.’

‘Actually,’ said Sally, ‘it’s his son, Matthew Corbett, who’s taken over and he’s the one who writes the scripts.’

‘So what is the problem?’ asked a bemused Vera as she served up the piping-hot mugs of coffee.

‘Well, apparently,’ said Sally, ‘Sooty keeps bossing his girlfriend, Soo, and telling her to work in the kitchen – so, he’s clearly sexist.’

‘I agree,’ said Anne firmly.

‘And so do I,’ added Vera for good measure.

I reflected that Beth seemed to spend a lot of her time in our kitchen and decided to keep quiet.

It was 1984 and political correctness had arrived in Ragley village.

I was the last to leave the staff-room when the bell went. Vera glanced down at her notepad. ‘By the way, Mr Sheffield,’ she said, ‘a company called New Age Systems telephoned to ask if their representative could call in this morning. So, I’ll deal with it shall I?’ It was rhetorical and I recognized it as such. ‘Thanks, Vera,’ I said, ‘I’d be lost without you.’ She smiled and began to fill our Gestetner duplicating machine with ink.

Thirty minutes later nine-year-old Charlotte Ackroyd, without looking up from her School Mathematics Project workcard on percentages, announced, ‘Mr Sheffield, Ford Capri Mark II wi’ twin ’eadlights comin’ up t’drive.’ I smiled. Charlotte knew her cars.

‘Thanks, Charlotte,’ I said and recalled it must be the New Age visitor.

A skinny young man with a goatee beard, John Lennon circular spectacles and wearing a purple corduroy suit walked into the office. He carried a smart black briefcase and placed it on Vera’s desk. Vera, suitably horrified, picked it up, placed it on the floor and, in doing so, noticed his shoes had never been introduced to polish.

‘Good morning, Mrs Four-Kitchens,’ he said, peering myopically at the scrawled notes in his Roland Rat notebook. ‘I’m Lionel Crudd from New Age Systems.’ He passed his business card to Vera.

‘Good morning, Mr Crudd … my name is Forbes-Kitchener and not what you said,’ she said coldly.

Undeterred, the young entrepreneur pressed on. His confidence was high. He had experienced the full day’s training and had passed with flying colours. ‘Well, Mrs, er, t’day’s your lucky day.

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