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 FOR
YOUNG ALBIE February
the 6th 1952 had the promise of being a really special, happy day
for the lad as it was his eleventh birthday! He just couldn’t
wait to get to school to tell all his friends about all the lovely
presents he’d received: a Hornby-Dublo train set from his mum
and dad, a big box of Liquorice Allsorts from Nanny Edie and ten
shillings from Granny Gray and Granddad.
SO,
BRIGHT AND EARLY,
off to school he skipped on that brisk, frosty February morning,
joining his friends Victor Weston and Trevor Smith as they made
their way to the Sheringham Primary School on Cremer Street. On
the way, Albie, brimming over with excitement, told his chums about
his birthday presents and the little party planned for later in
the day.
“You
will be comin’, wun’t you?” he reminded them as they
walked to their classrooms at the far end of the playground. “There’ll
be a lotta nice things t’ eat: Spam san’wiches an’
sossidge rolls, an’ jelly wi’ ice-cream– an’
birthday cearke!’
They
hadn’t been at school very long when the bell summoned them
in for assembly. The teachers and Mr Day, the Headmaster, duly arrived
and the children waited patiently for the start of the morning service.
But, this morning, the Headmaster appeared in a more sombre mood
than usual.
THE
HEADMASTER MAKES A SOLEMN ANNOUNCEMENT
“My
children,” Mr Day said, his voice tinged with emotion, “today
it is with a very heavy heart that I have some very sad news for
you all.”
“Early
this morning,” the Headmaster continued, “our beloved
monarch, King George VI (pictured above), passed away peacefully
in his sleep at Sandringham.”
The
entire school, teachers and pupils alike, was visibly upset by the
news and displayed their emotions openly. Following a brief service,
in which prayers were said for the late King and Queen Elizabeth,
Albie and his school friends were sent home.
As
he made his way home, walking down Cremer Street, Albie noticed
his father’s shop, Sheringham Co-op was closed – as were
all the others, out of respect for their beloved monarch.
Once indoors, Albie broke down and, throwing himself into his mother’s
arms, wept openly with his parents and Nanny Edie.
Clearly,
that was one birthday he would remember for the rest of his life!
 A
month or so later, Albie and the rest of his year were told of an
extra special examination they would all be taking: the Eleven-Plus,
and it was considered so important for Mr Day, their Headmaster,
to inform them in person.
“Today,”
he declared, folding his arms in front of his stately figure, “is
the start of the most important time of your lives.”
They’d
had examinations before, with readin’, writin’ and ’rithmetic,
but being given a ‘sermon’ by the Headmaster of all people!
“That hatta be important,” whispered Albie to himself,
“fur the Head t’ tell us hisself.”
“As
I was saying,” continued Mr Day, “this examination will
sift the wheat from the chaff, figuratively speaking, and will decide
who goes on for higher grammar education and who falls by the wayside.”
It
was a good speech, no doubt about it, thought Albie; but he was
left rather puzzled by this analogy. He knew the difference between
wheat and the husky bits that blew away, but; “Wha’s all
this here gramma bus’ness?” he whispered to his schoolmates.
Not
that they knew either! However, the Headmaster then went into some
great detail about the ‘merits of grammar education for the
masses’ and soon all was revealed.
Over
the weeks that followed, Albie and his classmates received intensive
tuition in all subjects relating to the 11-Plus. During this period,
tests were conducted to discover who were likely to pass and who
were likely to fail; who would aspire to grammatical heights and
who would become electricians and engine drivers.
As
the weeks went on, Albie began to have serious misgivings about
himself – did he really want grammar education? After
all, what would it achieve, and what changes would it make to his
life? He quite liked things the way they were, thank you very much!
The
day of the examination loomed ever closer. Would Albie rise to the
challenge, or would he be destined to mend fuses or shovel coal?
Did he really want to study Plato, discover where Mesopotamia
was or read and write Latin, or would he rather go to the Secondary
Modern School just up the road with his friends?
His
mother and father had made it abundantly clear just what they
expected of him: he would do well in all things and make them proud
of him. But could he? Only time would tell.
Suddenly,
it was too late for any further misgivings as the day of reckoning
was nigh!
ALBIE
FACES THE MOMENT OF TRUTH
 The
examinations in themselves were fairly predictable, thought Albie.
They required a basic knowledge of reading, writing and some sums
to do, but one held a few surprises in the form of a series of pictures
of knots. The questionnaire asked, if you pulled either ends, or
both, which knots would undo and which wouldn’t.
“Tha’s
an’ easy one,” muttered Albie, under his breath, “now,
if I tearke this end an’..”
“Silence,”
shouted the Invigilator. “Silence must be observed at
all times!”
So,
Albie began to solve the knotty problem ‘in his mind’s
eye’.
It
was a bit like a puzzle, he thought, and he liked puzzles.
He couldn’t ‘add up’ or ‘take away’ too
well, but when it came to puzzles he really excelled. He enjoyed
a challenge. Anyway, he remembered, in the past most of those puzzles
had been in one Eagle comic or another!
After
the examinations, which went on for most of the day, Albie and his
friends got together to discuss the possible outcome.
“I
wun’t too keen on all that there addin’ an’ tearkin’
away,” he told his friend Victor, who lived in a big house
at the top of the Avenue. “An’, fancy givin’ us a
load o’ ole knots to undo.”
“Yis,”
agreed his friend, as they walked back home together, “tha’s
a trick question, I reck’n.”
“Oh,
ah, Victor,” replied Albie, “I
reck’n ya’r right, an’orl, ’corse some of them
knots just wun’t undo.”
Perhaps
he was right; perhaps it was all a test to determine who had the
powers of intuition and who had not. But on that day the wheat was
sifted from the chaff; but what of Albie, would he pass,
or was he to be destined to become an electrician or an engine-driver?
NEXT:
Did he pass his exams, or was it all but a dream?
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