So Lets Shaft Our Farmers.....
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What's The Longest Time You Played Truant From School?
27 Answers
As per title and if you got caught, what were the consequences?
If you didn't, how come?
Any escapades occured from not being in class?
I have a few tales, which I will try to present in an interesting manner, whilst sorting my cats out.
The best one involves meeting Queen Elizabeth II, Preston 1977. Honestly.
If you didn't, how come?
Any escapades occured from not being in class?
I have a few tales, which I will try to present in an interesting manner, whilst sorting my cats out.
The best one involves meeting Queen Elizabeth II, Preston 1977. Honestly.
Answers
I never played truant, but three of us missed the worst of the cross country course by dipping into one lad's house en route, and simply joining the back of the line as they returned to school. No problem, until the week it rained for days, and every one who ran through the quagmire of Bradwell Woods came back varying shades of brown, none of their white kit and...
23:43 Sat 03rd Dec 2022
Well that's a lot of answers and good stories too. I am not proud of what follows btw:
My Skiving Story began in 1977. My sister, four year younger than me, simply got to the bottom of the street one day, turned around and went back home. My parents both worked full time, so they trusted us to actually go to school.
Day one was spent watching school educational programmes: remember them?
Picture Box was our favourite, introduced by the great Alan Rothwell.
Days turned into weeks, my dad popping home one day and me crawling on my hands and knees to hide in the back garden. My parents never suspected a thing.
We had a ladies shopping bicycle and bought an old engine - PowaPak - a 50cc engine designed fix to the rear frame and drive the bike, turning it into a cheap moped. It took ages to actually get it fitted and running. We'd go out on adventures, almost never being questioned by police or adults. The lady at the swimming baths did tell us that the pool wasn't open for the general public and why weren't we at school? 'We both have measels.'
Well you cannot go swimming with measels anyway, we were firmly told...
I spent a lot of those 'Home Ed' days actually reading. About motorcycles. I was simply fascinated with anything that had an engine. Mondays were a good day. Our Dinner Money day was spent on bus fares travelling all over. We often took our mongrel dog 'Skippy' along. My mum and dad thought that he'd finally stopped trashing the house. They did worry about how he was always tired.
By now we were approaching Seven weeks of chronic absenteeism when the inevitable. An ominious knock was heard. My sister answered. They were man & woman from the School Board or whatever they were called back then. As we attended different schools, so they were only interested in my sis'. 'Why aren't you at school?'
'I have measels, but I'm better now, so I will be back at school on Monday.'
Now Monday was a Bank Holiday, so it was a Tuesday when we finally shuffled back, both dreading the fact that neither had a 'Sick Note'.
At the bottom of the street, I said those fateful words: 'Let's not go.'
My sister sensibly protested, but soon changed her mind. That day we took the 'moped' to get a new inner tube fitted. Unfortunately, we left the bike outside and a thief stole my dad's expensive spanners. As he was working on his car that night, he was going to need them. I made up a story that the dog from the local Quaker Church had run off with them. She was a German Pinscher whose breed sounded to me quite like what a light-pawed dog would be named?
Same evening, we had just gone to bed when that now familiar knock on the door was heard.
I could hear adult voices, serious tones. About an hour later, they left. Maybe it wasn't about two bad kids at all? Nope.
Ian! Come on Downstairs!
Now!
How long since you last? (Seven Weeks) SEVEN! WEEKS. Both of you? (Yes, I'm Sorry)
Why? What did you get up to? (Just watched telly)
Do you know that you might go to Borstal for this? Are you going to be a criminal when you're an adult?
You've got your sister into trouble at school now. If we cannot trust you to go to school one of us will have to give up work and we won't be able to afford to live here. Is that what you want?
On & on & on this - rightly - carried on.
The next week was going to be hell. My mum wrote me a false sick note, hoping that my school didn't communicate with my sister's. They didn't.
As I entered the school yard, a group of girls excitedly ran up: 'You've won a prize to meet the Queen and the coach is there.' I looked at the school and then the coach. I chose the coach.
I went to Preston and shook hands with QE2 at Preston. In my creased shirt, scuffed boots and in front TV cameras, I met the Queen, instead of going to registration. And the sick note? I was the kid that won a meeting with Royalty, so it was forgotten. My school Report? I cannot remember even seeing Ian this term.
Sorry Mum & Dad, you were such great/fun parents xx
My Skiving Story began in 1977. My sister, four year younger than me, simply got to the bottom of the street one day, turned around and went back home. My parents both worked full time, so they trusted us to actually go to school.
Day one was spent watching school educational programmes: remember them?
Picture Box was our favourite, introduced by the great Alan Rothwell.
Days turned into weeks, my dad popping home one day and me crawling on my hands and knees to hide in the back garden. My parents never suspected a thing.
We had a ladies shopping bicycle and bought an old engine - PowaPak - a 50cc engine designed fix to the rear frame and drive the bike, turning it into a cheap moped. It took ages to actually get it fitted and running. We'd go out on adventures, almost never being questioned by police or adults. The lady at the swimming baths did tell us that the pool wasn't open for the general public and why weren't we at school? 'We both have measels.'
Well you cannot go swimming with measels anyway, we were firmly told...
I spent a lot of those 'Home Ed' days actually reading. About motorcycles. I was simply fascinated with anything that had an engine. Mondays were a good day. Our Dinner Money day was spent on bus fares travelling all over. We often took our mongrel dog 'Skippy' along. My mum and dad thought that he'd finally stopped trashing the house. They did worry about how he was always tired.
By now we were approaching Seven weeks of chronic absenteeism when the inevitable. An ominious knock was heard. My sister answered. They were man & woman from the School Board or whatever they were called back then. As we attended different schools, so they were only interested in my sis'. 'Why aren't you at school?'
'I have measels, but I'm better now, so I will be back at school on Monday.'
Now Monday was a Bank Holiday, so it was a Tuesday when we finally shuffled back, both dreading the fact that neither had a 'Sick Note'.
At the bottom of the street, I said those fateful words: 'Let's not go.'
My sister sensibly protested, but soon changed her mind. That day we took the 'moped' to get a new inner tube fitted. Unfortunately, we left the bike outside and a thief stole my dad's expensive spanners. As he was working on his car that night, he was going to need them. I made up a story that the dog from the local Quaker Church had run off with them. She was a German Pinscher whose breed sounded to me quite like what a light-pawed dog would be named?
Same evening, we had just gone to bed when that now familiar knock on the door was heard.
I could hear adult voices, serious tones. About an hour later, they left. Maybe it wasn't about two bad kids at all? Nope.
Ian! Come on Downstairs!
Now!
How long since you last? (Seven Weeks) SEVEN! WEEKS. Both of you? (Yes, I'm Sorry)
Why? What did you get up to? (Just watched telly)
Do you know that you might go to Borstal for this? Are you going to be a criminal when you're an adult?
You've got your sister into trouble at school now. If we cannot trust you to go to school one of us will have to give up work and we won't be able to afford to live here. Is that what you want?
On & on & on this - rightly - carried on.
The next week was going to be hell. My mum wrote me a false sick note, hoping that my school didn't communicate with my sister's. They didn't.
As I entered the school yard, a group of girls excitedly ran up: 'You've won a prize to meet the Queen and the coach is there.' I looked at the school and then the coach. I chose the coach.
I went to Preston and shook hands with QE2 at Preston. In my creased shirt, scuffed boots and in front TV cameras, I met the Queen, instead of going to registration. And the sick note? I was the kid that won a meeting with Royalty, so it was forgotten. My school Report? I cannot remember even seeing Ian this term.
Sorry Mum & Dad, you were such great/fun parents xx
Just to qualify why I went to see the queen, rather than face the music: I think that she was signing something that happens every 200 years, I thought it was the 'Preston Guild' but when I looked it up, it was a few years amiss. 1977 was the Silver Jubilee year, but I am still sure it was related to the Preston Guild. Although I am firmly in the anti-monachy camp, the woman looked so impossibly stunning. She was in her full Queeny outfit, tiara, white dress with - from memory - blue velvet sash. I sometimes think what went through her ming when the scruffy kid with the Zulu-style hair walked down to shake her hand?
There's a well-known saying in NE Lancs. If you say something obviously suspect in chronological accuracy such as: 'I wash my & wax my car all the time, I don't know why the paint's so faded.'
A knowing reply would be: 'How often? Every Preston Guild?'
As each Preston Guild is 200yrs apart, it means a protracted interval between events. I really like this site. I can't even recall why I first visited it.
There's a well-known saying in NE Lancs. If you say something obviously suspect in chronological accuracy such as: 'I wash my & wax my car all the time, I don't know why the paint's so faded.'
A knowing reply would be: 'How often? Every Preston Guild?'
As each Preston Guild is 200yrs apart, it means a protracted interval between events. I really like this site. I can't even recall why I first visited it.
I never played truant, but three of us missed the worst of the cross country course by dipping into one lad's house en route, and simply joining the back of the line as they returned to school.
No problem, until the week it rained for days, and every one who ran through the quagmire of Bradwell Woods came back varying shades of brown, none of their white kit and pumps visible
So when we trotted in looking like a Daz advert, we were rumbled, and made to run again, getting back about 5.15, but appropriately filthy this time!
No problem, until the week it rained for days, and every one who ran through the quagmire of Bradwell Woods came back varying shades of brown, none of their white kit and pumps visible
So when we trotted in looking like a Daz advert, we were rumbled, and made to run again, getting back about 5.15, but appropriately filthy this time!
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