chapter1

A rather tense car ride to my new Ballet School. My little sister playing 'rag doll' with me, my brother giving me a whole Ten Shilling note and my mother sobbing and smoking like she would use every cigarette in Surrey. Meeting 'Nursey' and finding out that trendy, short skirts were useless for galloping like a horse around a dance studio.

How I yearned for winceyette pyjamas and boring old fashioned slippers.

Crisp and formal bedding, lights out and growing home sickness with an unusual approach to bed time.

Girls behaving 'sort of badly' at night. Strange rituals involving absent Nursey and Glito . . . . .

My first morning with a ridiculously early start, cold linoleum and myriad shoes.

The one where my Dad delivers coffee and Marmite in catering size jars!

Evenings at a girls Ballet School for borders. Midnight games, kissing practise 'girl on girl', crushes, making cheese from yoghurts and eventually sleep. . . .

Strange latin phrases, weekend visits to my family and cuddling my sister.  Dancing on the staircase.

Being at a Ballet School involves many rituals.  You also have to know your place in the hierarchy.  This is where Aprons came in.  Your apron and National Skirts were part of you. Life evolved around the seamstress who inhabited a cramped and warm space at the top of the school, a sort of haven for me. . . .

It seems young ballet dancers need to learn about washing tights with fabric softener and how to put clothes on in a hurry.

My 'Pygmalion' moment when I learn to 'speak posh', learn how to read & write at last and secret moments with my parents and baby sister Gaynor in the Tuck Box room. 

We loved Fire Drills which were always so exciting and after lights out.  Nothing however prepared us for performing tap dance routines with John Noakes and Roy Castle on our own theatre.

This is the one about the incredibly ethereal lady who inhabited our Blue Pond and school corridors at night.  Also the strange powers of levitation at our fingertips.

My first year at Ballet School was tough and my homesickness was extreme.  

Exams are a constant in life when training to be a Ballet Dancer. Major Exams are something else though and were treated with reverence. They involved more expemditure by my parents and a trip to London!

Friendships formed in boarding school can last for ever, such is the bond you have after growing up together.  

Miss Marsh was the 'Queen' of the Ballet School.  A total character with make-up, hair and clothes creating a terrifying vision that we worshipped and curtseyed every time she passed by.

Feeling like royalty in a lovely car, going to the top floor of Harrods for High Tea.

Christmas was a magical time at the school. One Christmas remains in my memory for all sorts of reasons . . .

We sooo looked forward to the end of term. It meant Trunks & Apple Pie Beds and then home sweet home