Uncanny Tales – (022) Linda’s Corker

It was an ordinary afternoon in 1970 when I was in the fourth year of Secondary School at Alexander Park Comprehensive School. 

It had only been called Alexandra Park as long as I had been going there, before that, it was Cecil Rhodes Secondary Modern but as Haringey was such a racially mixed borough political correctness reared its ugly head, long before it was even a thing, and the name was changed.

The racial mix of the area was well reflected in the student body, in fact the School assembly was like a session at the United Nations.

We were sitting at the back of Mr Cooke’s 4^th year biology class.

It was the first class after lunch, and we were watching a very boring natural history film about mountain goats.

Rich and I had taken second sitting dinners which consisted of liver and bacon whereas Wendy’s lunch was made up largely of cider.

“That billy goat’s beard looks like Palmers fanny” Wendy said out of the blue and giggled

“What?” I said taken by surprise

“Who’s?” Rich asked

“Claire Palmers fanny looks like that” she said and pointed at a large brown goat on the screen.

“Seriously?” Rich said

“But she’s so small” I said irrelevantly

Claire Palmer was the smallest girl in our year by a distance, small and plain with straight lank hair and a freckled complexion, looking back she always looked like she should have been a year or two behind us but I guess she stopped growing when her pubic hair started. 

I had known her since junior school, but she was the quiet shy type and I don’t think she said more than a few words to me in all that time.

To be truthful she wasn’t really on my radar but at the moment Wendy made her lurid statement Claire became significantly more interesting.

“She’s the hairiest girl in our year” Wendy continued

“What’s yours like?” I asked taking advantage of her alcohol induced indiscretion.

“Ask him” she said nodding in Rich’s direction

“You’ve been in Wendy’s drawers?” I quizzed Rich in total shock, and more than a little jealously, not because I fancied Wendy, but I hadn’t been in anyone’s pants except my own.

Rich just blushed, so I punched him hard the arm.

I couldn’t believe he’d had his digits among Wendy’s ginger pubes and furthermore that he hadn’t told me all about it, he was my best mate after all, and furthermore he was a real drip and he’d scored before me.

“Linda McLean’s got a corker though” Wendy said a little too loud as Linda turned around and looked straight at me.

 

As we were walking to the next lesson Wendy suddenly felt sick and went off to throw up, Rich had French in the annex and I had German in the main block and it was when I was on my own that I felt a tug on my jacket sleeve.

“What were you lot talking about in Biology?” A girl asked and when I turned around, I saw it was Linda McLean with a frown on her face.

I liked Linda even though she was completely flat up top, but I had to admit I liked her even more after finding out she was more substantially equipped down below.

“What?” I said

“What were you saying about me in biology?” she asked forcefully

“We were talking about the flicks” I lied “Rich wanted to see “Rio Lobo”, John Wayne’s latest and Wendy fancied “Love Story”“

“I heard my name mentioned” she continued, and I shuffled my feet as I struggled to find an answer.

“Well um….” I mumbled “I said I was going to ask you to the flickers, and Wendy said “Great idea, Linda’s a corker”

She didn’t speak for a moment then she said

“Well are you going to ask me then?”

 

That Saturday night on the back row of the ABC Muswell Hill I confirmed Wendy’s assessment that it was indeed a corker and I was left to speculate that if little Claire Palmer was considerably more luxuriant down below than Linda then she must have had to wear bigger knickers.

The following summer at the Durnsford Road Lido I found out first hand so to speak but that’s another story.