Read Online Out of the Woods But Not Over the Hill by Gervase Phinn - Free Book Online

wove for ten minutes before being told to form four teams.
    â€˜I’ll referee one match, Mr Phinn,’ said Gus, ‘and you the other.’
    During the game, which I refereed, despite my giving various dubious rulings, none of the boys questioned my decisions.
    At the end of the lesson, the boys showered, changed and lined up quietly to be dismissed.
    I joined Gus later that lunchtime.
    â€˜That was a really good lesson this morning,’ I told him.
    â€˜Aye.’
    â€˜You know I have an idea I might change from English and teach Games.’
    â€˜Oh, aye?’
    â€˜I mean,’ I continued, ‘it’s so much easier, isn’t it?’
    â€˜Is it?’
    â€˜You don’t have all the preparation to do, the homework to set and the examinations to mark.’
    â€˜Bit of a doddle really,’ observed my colleague.
    The following week, before the lesson, Gus approached me in the staff room.
    â€˜You’ll be all right on your own for ten minutes this morning, won’t you?’ he said. ‘Get the lads started. It’s just that I have something to take care of.’
    My heart sank down into my shoes.
    â€˜On my own?’ I repeated.
    â€˜Aye. The lads know the routine.’
    I arrived at the changing rooms, my heart thumping in my chest. I jangled the keys.
    â€˜Right lads,’ I said, lowering my voice a couple of octaves, ‘get changed quickly and quietly, quickly and quietly.’
    I disappeared into the teacher’s office, emerging a moment later with my whistle around my neck.
    â€˜Keep it down, lads, keep it down,’ I told the boys, and the hubbub immediately subsided.
    Out on the field, we jogged around the perimeter, with no problems whatsoever.
    â€˜Get the poles!’ I ordered, and four boys disappeared to get the white poles. I pointed to a piece of grass a distance from the football pitches. ‘Stick the poles in over there,’ I told them.
    â€˜There, sir?’ questioned a bear of a boy with a round red face, legs like tree trunks and hands like spades.
    Here we go, I thought – a confrontation. Keep calm. Look confident. Don’t show your fear. ‘Yes, over there!’ I raised my voice.
    â€˜Are you sure, sir?’ he asked.
    â€˜Yes, I am sure! Do as you are told and be quick about it!’
    The boy shrugged and did as he was told.
    When Gus arrived, the boys were dribbling and weaving around the poles. He surveyed the scene.
    â€˜That, Mr Phinn,’ he said, ‘is masterful.’ I ballooned with pride. ‘Masterful.’ Then, after a deep in-drawing of breath, he added, ‘They’ve stuck the poles in the middle of the bloody cricket square!’
    The Nun’s Story
    I visited the Bar Convent in York recently. Situated just outside the city walls at Micklegate Bar, the original 17th century house was purchased by Francis Bedingfield in 1686 and was replaced in the 18th century by the spectacular Georgian building now listed as Grade 1 by English Heritage. The building remains the home of the York Community of the Congregation of Jesus and is open daily for interest, education and enjoyment. This is one of the county’s hidden gems and houses the most fascinating collection of artefacts, paintings, religious relics and historical documents, a stunning Maw tiled floor, a Winter Garden, a priest hole and a superb and beautifully preserved neo-classical Chapel, hidden from view.
    The museum tells the story of how the sisters of the Community lived and worked in secrecy during the reign of Elizabeth I, to preserve their way of life in a time of terrible persecution and lack of recognition of the value of education for girls and women and the contribution they could make to society.
    I had visited the Bar Convent before, in rather different circumstances. It was a good forty years ago, when I was training to be a teacher. My flatmate was on teaching practice at the convent, which