Grey Socks.
I remember this astonishingly clearly, despite it being 25 years ago.

Spring 1984. A miniature Whiskers is playing, alone, in the playground in her first year at infant school. I have a late August birthday, so was younger and smaller than everyone else, but unfortunately I had also committed the henious crime of learning to read before starting school. This made me unpopular with teachers and pupils alike, although telling my teacher on the first day at infants that she'd spelt my surname wrong on the label by my coat peg probably wasn't the wisest move.

'Ah', thinks me, 'I could do with a weewee'. So I toddle off towards the toilets. I am met at the toilet door by a much larger girl than me; she must have been all of 7 years old.

'You're not coming in here', she says.

I wasn't that easily deterred. 'Why not', said I.

'Because, you're wearing long grey socks. Only boys wear grey socks, so you must be a boy. And boys can't come into the girls' toilets', she replied.

My mother, in her infinite wisdom, had decided that long grey socks were the school uniform item of choice for her 4 year old, white blonde daughter. They were a uniform option, our colour scheme being maroon and grey, but of course no other girl wore them. They all wore white.

I pleaded and pleaded with the girl to let me in, telling her that I was a girl, not a boy and needed to go. She said I was definitely a boy and had to go to the boys toilets. In my tiny and terrified mind I was completely stuck.

I think you can see the inevitable outcome hurtling towards me. Of course, I pissed myself, all over the floor. Bully girl quickly made a run for it and my tale of woe wasn't believed by the teachers. The far more worldly wise and cynical me has worked out that it's far more likely that they pretended not to believe me to avoid having to actually do anything about it.

Thankfully, my mother did believe me, and I never went to school in grey socks again.

I'd like to say my school traumas ended with this incident, but sadly they most certainly didn't. Despite her heart being firmly in the right place, my mother's somewhat bizarre parenting ideas, (no sugar at all until age 16 anyone?), combined with my general weirdness led to huge levels of further piss taking along the way. At the age of 29, sometimes I look round me and still can't quite believe I've got real, actual friends.
(grandmaswhiskers, Wed 4 Feb 2009, 13:42, 3 replies)

Bullies...
...are, quite simply, cunts...
( SpankyHanky, Wed 4 Feb 2009, 14:06, closed)

/nod
That is all.
(grandmaswhiskers, Wed 4 Feb 2009, 22:14, closed)

:)

(TheManWithThePlan cussed your mum on, Wed 4 Feb 2009, 16:23, closed)