The following is another episode in the fascinating working class upbringing of Mrs Sybil Rouse, who lived at 13 New Street, Three Bridges.

'Whilst the twins attended an old school not far from the old Saxon Church, my first school was in the Mission Hall just across the road from No.13. A fee of sixpence per week entitled it to be known as a private school, the only aids to education were slates and lead pencils and even though I now have no teeth the memory of many pencils scratching on slate can still set my gums on edge. The slates were stacked at night in a wooden box together with a slimy sponge.

By the time we left to go on to higher things most of us could at least read and write, which was surprising as most of the time was spent just larking about. Sitting on long forms at a long wooden table, first one of us and then another would rock to and fro until we all landed on the floor. The well-soaked sponge was sent flying the length of the table, often landing in the lap of Miss Mowls' black alpaca dress; or one child more daring than the rest would attempt to score a direct hit on the gold watch that adorned her massive chest. Not knowing which one was the culprit, she gave us all the cane. I can still hear the giggles of 'that didn't hurt Miss'.

Miss Mawls' sister, also a spinster, but as skinny as the other was fat, did her best to give me lessons on the piano. Someone had once given mother an old piano that she could not afford to have tuned, some of the notes did play, but she had no intention of it going to waste. It cost another sixpence for each weekly lesson, mother thought it was worth it, but Alice's knuckles were red and bruised by being rapped with a wooden ruler for playing so many wrong notes.

Her fingers so crippled with arthritis they resembled bird's claws, Miss Mawls, the younger, could no longer play herself but could hold the ruler in a vice-like grip. After months of sheer agony, my playing had progressed enough to play party pieces at the Montefiori Hall, but I never did any better than that. Those long wasted summer evenings when I was made to stay in and practise while my friends were playing and laughing outside; the neighbours being music lovers did not appreciate my efforts; I thumped the keys as hard as I could for sheer spite.

Father had a slight curvature of the spine; it was my bad luck to inherit it, the hours of sitting on a piano stool had been agony, mother perhaps not realising that the problem was being aggravated. Mother took me to the Horsham school clinic once a week, where I was hung by a strap around my head and chin. Raised from the floor on this contraption, my heels just touching the floor, my jaw and teeth soon began to ache unbearably. I began to dread the treatments that did no good at all -- I still have the curvature. To add insult to injury mother would buy some favourite lardy cakes which, of course, I could not eat. I also suffered from pains in my legs, 'growing pains' mother said.

A group of travelling players, all male, came once a year around the New Year to stage a pantomime or play in the Institute, and six girls from my school were usually chosen to play minor roles. I must admit I rather fancied myself as an actress and got big headed because I was chosen for three successive years, but I remember very little of the performances.

'Madam Butterfly' chrysanthemums, mine the first to fall to pieces, scattered petals all over the stage. The aria from 'Madam Butterfly' came from a gramophone played back stage. 'Babes in the Wood' meant wearing a long nightdress and getting splinters in my bare feet, the lighted candles held in shaking hands, dripping wax on the floor. The last performance was usually 'Cinderella' played, of course, by a man.

The whole thing ruined by father sitting in the audience who remarked in a loud voice that I made a bloody rotten fairy. It was great fun dressing up, the reward for the girls was a box of chocolates each. I had managed to wheedle a new pair of patent leather shoes from mother.

The two Miss Mawls died soon after, within weeks of each other. The Mission Hall was boarded up and to my great relief the music lessons were a thing of the past. Another school had to be found for me.

At that time, mother was making most of my clothes on the old sewing machine. My favourite dress was of pale lilac silk. A silver lace cape, white socks and patent shoes completed the outfit, worn as a bridesmaid when one of father's cousins was married. It was the only time that I was to be a bridesmaid.

When mother became more hard up than usual she pawned the sewing machine, while the black suit of father's pawned at the same time was hastily redeemed when it was needed for father to attend the funeral of a work-mate. The suit had been unworn for years, mother must have thought she was safe.

She never found enough money to redeem her sewing machine. How she explained its absence to father, I never knew, but from then on I was dressed in 'hand me downs' from a girl whose parents kept the local laundry and were well off by mother's standards. The one drawback was that the other girl was two years older and two sizes larger than me. The dresses were of good quality material. To my disgust they just would not wear out, however hard the treatment. Tightly belted at the waist to pull in the width, the hems were never cut off but turned up several inches, usually unevenly. Perhaps 'I would grow into them in time'.

Of all things in my childhood the embarrassment of wearing shoes much too large is one memory that is most clear. The paper stuffed in, in a vain effort to make them fit, had a habit of creeping out at the most awkward moments.

It was at first a relief when the family from the laundry moved away but my problems improved very little. Mother insisted that I wore long, fleecy combs under my navy blue knickers, also a tight garment with taped seams wrongly called a liberty bodice. The tight knicker elastic did not prevent comb legs from falling down over my knees, even after I was called 'Droopy drawers' or 'Baggy pants' by the twins. When possible the hated combs were taken off and hidden under the mattress where they would be safe as I made the beds before school.