In the late 60s and 70s, I was a drama teacher at the Hastings Secondary School for Boys, working in a strange world of 750 boys and 40 male members of staff. I quickly came to realise that women react differently from men. I was carrying my form register from the secretary’s office to my form room - a considerable distance -  when it began to rain. Instinctively I held the large register over my head to protect my hairdo. As I hurried along I saw several of the men, carefully protecting their registers under their coats! On another occasion, when a cloudburst occurred during the lunch hour, some boys turned up for registration soaked through. Being a mother, I did the sensible thing. “Take off your wet trousers,” I said “and lay them on the radiators, until it’s time to go to lessons.” Soon the wet garments were steaming away. Suddenly the door opened and the Year Master entered. “What on earth is going on?” he demanded. I quickly explained. He said ‘Please step outside for moment, Mrs Curtis.” I did so, quaking in my shoes. “I suppose your actions were sensible,” he said grimly, then with a twinkle in his eye added “The reason I was angry was that I thought you were about to have an orgy and hadn’t invited me!” Probably, in today’s politically correct climate, I’d have ended up in court...

Thanks for this month's local memory to
Doreen Curtis, Hastings