The Lawrence College, Mt Abu, was one of four schools associated with the name Lawrence. It was a military-funded school and my eldest sister, Kathleen, and I were there during 1935. It was, like other Lawrence schools, a co-educational establishment. The senior staff were mainly retired, ex-military personnel.

The Headmaster was Major Tarbottom (retd.), an unfortunate name. I had never heard it before and always wanted to see his backside to find out just where the tar was spread or, was he born with tar on his bum? I would ask myself. Furthermore, I was intrigued because I felt that, if the tar had been applied after he was born, the application must have been very painful. I had seen hot tar being spread on roads and, on one occasion, had seen a labourer get some on his bare feet and yell as though he was about to die. Poor Major Tarbottom, I thought, it must have been so painful.

I was the youngest boarder in school and all the girls used to want to fuss over me. On one occasion, three or four of them, teasing me and telling me that they were going to kiss me, tried to pull me into the girls’ dormitory. I struggled without success and finally, just at the door of the dormitory, I must have decided that attack was the best defence because I leapt forward and bit the girl immediately in front of me on the chest. I bit hard.

She screamed out in pain and let go of me, likewise the others. I didn’t get kissed, — more’s the pity when I think of it and, many times since then, as I grew older and “discovered a thing or two”, I have wondered how nice it might have been to bare the young lady’s breasts and service her properly.

The Lawrence College, Mt Abu, was one of four schools associated with the name Lawrence. It was a military-funded school and my eldest sister, Kathleen, and I were there during 1935. It was, like other Lawrence schools, a co-educational establishment. The senior staff were mainly retired, ex-military personnel.

The Headmaster was Major Tarbottom (retd.), an unfortunate name. I had never heard it before and always wanted to see his backside to find out just where the tar was spread or, was he born with tar on his bum? I would ask myself. Furthermore, I was intrigued because I felt that, if the tar had been applied after he was born, the application must have been very painful. I had seen hot tar being spread on roads and, on one occasion, had seen a labourer get some on his bare feet and yell as though he was about to die. Poor Major Tarbottom, I thought, it must have been so painful.

I was the youngest boarder in school and all the girls used to want to fuss over me. On one occasion, three or four of them, teasing me and telling me that they were going to kiss me, tried to pull me into the girls’ dormitory. I struggled without success and finally, just at the door of the dormitory, I must have decided that attack was the best defence because I leapt forward and bit the girl immediately in front of me on the chest. I bit hard.

She screamed out in pain and let go of me, likewise the others. I didn’t get kissed, — more’s the pity when I think of it and, many times since then, as I grew older and “discovered a thing or two”, I have wondered how nice it might have been to bare the young lady’s breasts and service her properly.

Lawrence College, Mt Abu — Main Building

Lawrence College, Mt Abu — Playing Field

Our junior classroom was on a floor above the gymnasium, a completely separate building from the main school block. I noted that during classes several of the students would put up their hands and say “May I be excused please, Miss?”. Then the teacher would say “Yes”, and the student would leave the classroom for what seemed like an eternity. I wanted my share of this absence from the class-room and asked one of the pupils what it was all about.

“Well, it’s when you want to go to the ‘bogs’ .” I was told.

So the next day I asked to be excused, but when I got outside the classroom I could not be bothered to run across the playing field to the bogs in the intense heat but, instead, I just imagined I was running across. My eyes did all the work but I totally miscalculated the “speed” of my imaginary “run”.

Right, now I am at the top of the stairs. Now I am at the bottom. Now I have run across the playing field and am at the bogs. Now I am doing a pee. I’ve finished and am running back and up the stairs. I have returned. Now I enter the classroom.

Of course the whole deal took less than fifteen seconds. I re-entered the classroom.

“Well, didn’t you want to go, after all?” asked the teacher and all the other kids giggled.

“I went,” I lied.

The teacher, almost certainly thinking I had pissed on the landing, went out and had a look. She came back in, looking puzzled.

“You were very quick.” She commented.

“I think I must have run very quickly.” I said, and then realised I was not breathing heavily enough to convince her that I had just “run” a couple of hundred yards.

After that I lost interest in being excused from the class. It was far too complex a business just to get out of the classroom for a few minutes.