It was a blistering hot day in 1969 when the third year of Secondary school started, and Alexander Park Comprehensive School was heaving with familiar faces.
It had only been called Alexandra Park as long as I had been going
there, before that it was Cecil Rhodes Secondary but as Haringey was such a
racially mixed borough political correctness reared its ugly head and the name
was changed.
And the racial mix of the area was reflected in the student body, in
fact assembly was like a session at the United Nations.
There was however one noticeable absentee in form that morning, Winifred
Bliss, and it was noticeable because she was a foulmouthed gobby cow.
She was West Indian, though I don’t know which island, she didn’t really
communicate with the white kids other than to tell you to fuck off.
Our form tutor Mrs Holiday told us that Winifred would not be returning
to the school though she would not elaborate as to why.
Obviously by lunchtime rumours abounded as to her whereabouts but it
wasn’t until we had drama with Mr Dickens that the truth surfaced.
He stood up in front of the class
“There is some very foolish talk around the school regarding Winifred Bliss”
he announced
“So, I have decided to tell you the truth”
The class fell silent and waited with bated breath, for what seemed like
an eternity.
“Winifred was arrested by the police during the summer holidays” He said
“What for sir?” Mario asked
“For sleeping with boys” he answered
Sleeping with boys, I thought, what’s wrong with that, though I didn’t say
it out loud as everyone else in the class was nodding sagely like they
understood,
But I didn’t, my brother and I often shared a bed with our cousins, and
they were girls, but they didn’t get arrested.
I never voiced my confusion to anyone about Winifred Bliss or the fact I
used to get a stiffy when I shared a bed with my cousins.
A few months later the penny finally dropped regarding the significance
of the phrase “Sleeping with boys”.
