Geoff Stead recalls two lessons that he did not enjoy at school

IN MY last four years at school, two lessons which I found uninspiring and largely irrelevant, were woodwork and housecraft. They lasted a whole afternoon.

For the latter, one of Mam's aprons had to be worn to learn about cleaning, ironing, and baking.

In my naivete, I thought such matters were better left to the girls, but I suppose looking back, that it was all good training for later life.

There was an exam at the end of the school year and for this we had to bake macaroons.

Not being really interested, I was too liberal with the baking powder, and the macaroons rose alarmingly, reaching the oven shelf above. I received four marks out of ten, which was, I felt, quite generous.

Surprisingly, Mam, who was often sharp of tongue, made no fuss when I took the macaroons home, simply throwing them out for the birds.

At woodwork, I laboured for a whole term on a washing line winder, a small frame of two long sides joined together by a couple of shorter pieces, all neatly dovetailed.

Unfortunately, it needed a nail or two to hold it together, and pulling out a heavy drawer full of them, a bit too far, I sent it crashing to the floor.

Mr Graveling, who was explaining some of the finer points of joinery to his star pupils, without turning round, remarked; 'I'll bet that was Stead'.

I spent the rest of the afternoon picking up nails, to replace in their respective compartments in the drawer.

I'm not sure why I chose to make the item I did, for Mam always wound up her washing line round her thumb and elbow.

When the frame was tossed to the back of a cupboard, I realised she wasn't going to change.