Joy for the boys. Not so much for the girls
The entrance to our sports changing rooms were directly opposite the girls and on the frequent occasion when our PE teachers were late we'd have to queue outside as the doors were always kept locked.

It was on more than one occasion if you positioned yourself right you'd get a glimpse of the girls either in the buff or in their underwear as someone opened their changing room doors. This would usually result in screams from the girls and leery cackles from the boys but nothing was ever done to rectify this blatant invasion of privacy.

It was one of the rare plus points to School sports. At least for the boys.

Oh yea. And that just reminded me of the time the school fire alarm went off and a handfull of girls ended up standing in the sports field wrapped in nothing but towels. That was a bit mean.
( Airman Gabber Living life like a 70's BBC presenter, Fri 20 Apr 2012, 9:11, 4 replies)

Yeah.
That's not gonna get picked up by the Daily Fail.
(Misery McUglywife an attention seeking sociopathic fuckstain., Fri 20 Apr 2012, 9:48, closed)

It was about 25 years ago.
But in light of the relevance of stories they usually print you may be right!
( Airman Gabber Living life like a 70's BBC presenter, Fri 20 Apr 2012, 10:00, closed)

At my junior school
There was an outdoor swimming pool. No, not like a rich person's luxury pool, we're talking cracked concrete, cold water and leaves in the shallow end. It was pretty grim.

The changing rooms were in a grotty concrete block and the division between the boys end and the girls end was . . . a plastic curtain.

Yes, someone thought it would be fine for boys in the first flush of puberty to be left unsupervised in a changing room with nothing standing between them and the sight of naked girls but a bit of plastic.

Although I do remember one time one of the girls ripped aside the curtain and all the boys screamed and hid their bits and pieces. Good times!
(MrC. Having the most boring username on b3ta since 2004, Fri 20 Apr 2012, 11:40, closed)

When I was at school it was the late 80s and the IRA were busy doing their thing.
There was one lad in the year above who didn't like the first lesson after lunch on a Wednesday afternoon. So every Wednesday lunch time he would go to the phone box near the school and call the police in a fake Irish accent claiming to have planted a bomb in the school, which meant we all got evacuated.
Problem was that Wednesday afternoon was when my class had PE so Wednesday afternoons were spent standing in various states of undress in the field outside the art block.
( Mrs Entity is in hiding., Sat 21 Apr 2012, 12:32, closed)