“She had more curves than a scenic railway.”
P. G. Wodehouse
“I rather like scenic railways. Especially if they have steam.”
Maude
Denim jackets are two a penny; but mine was special with studs and little badges of Pisa and Florence. Actually, it was Sylvia who “burrowed” it to me, as we used to say, on the condition I let her play with the rabbit we found in Mum’s drawer. I won’t deny it: I got my first kiss in it from the maths whizz, Russell. He wrote pi all the way down my thigh. Russell, I recall, was trying to save me from Rupert the Cad, who we also called the Mandrake, a ghastly sixth-former who stalked the corridors in a pair of loafers and white socks. – At the time I could have cheerfully wrung his neck just to hear him scream. – One day, anyway, I thought I had mislaid the denim jacket. Only to find it was in a bundle with the rest of the washing. I told Mum Sylvia was never going to forgive me. – Which is exactly how I feel about this chapter. It pushes all of my soft spots.