(Illustration: Wallsend Grammar School, High Street East, opposite St Peter’s Church)

The year we moved into our new house, I was due to start at the local grammar school in Wallsend: The year was 1961. My sister, Joan was just about to go into Third Year there, so I had no qualms about attending, as I knew I wouldn’t be totally on my own. In fact, I was really excited, and as it turned out I loved my first day.

There was a rumour doing the rounds, that new boys got their heads pushed down the toilet at this school, but I didn’t hear of that happening! I think it was said to frighten new pupils and make them nervous!

I just sensed that this was the school for me, as it had all sorts of sports on their curriculum! I would later discover that certain other subjects were not quite so exciting!

The sports on offer included, netball, hockey, athletics, gymnastics, swimming, tennis and badminton! How good was that? I was ecstatic!

I still recall, as if it were yesterday, standing in the yard, looking round to see if I knew anyone, but I didn’t as I had turned up rather early.

I wore my new uniform proudly; a black blazer with a WGS badge on the breast pocket, a white shirt, and school tie. I wore Joan’s grey pinafore skirt which she had outgrown, my black beret, a new scarf and brand new everything else!

Dad had taken us to our relatives' homes, a few weeks before, to demonstrate how proud he was of us wiith our matching uniforms on. How embarrassing, for them and us!

That first morning in the schoolyard, a girl slightly smaller than me, a real bundle of joy, came bounding up to me. She had such a pleasant face and she was all smiles. She had light brown hair which curled beautifully around the edges of her black velour hat, which was held firmly in place with black elastic cord.

She caught me by suprise when she said to me, “Would you like to be my friend?”

She went on to say, “I remember seeing you cycle up to the Methodist church at the top of Denbigh Avenue, in Howdon, when it opened, and I used to love seeing your ringlets flying in the wind!”

She became my best friend, and her name was Margaret Watt. ‘Watty’ is what I called her, and she called me ‘Pip’, which was my nickname, a name she thought came from the name Philippa, until I explained that it was given to me  because of my surname Apple-by, and that my name was Sheila.

Back then, we all gave each other nicknames, and sometimes they stuck for life.

I was put into class 1B, but by the end of the year, I was promoted to Margaret’s class, 2A due to hard graft.

I remember the day when Margaret entered our classroom with a message that first week, still smiling; she was like a breath of fresh air, and our teacher asked her:-

“What’s your name?”

“Margaret,” she replied.

The teacher asked, “Margaret what?

“That’s right,” she said.

It was my turn to smile.

It turned out that she was full of mischievous ideas, I wonder whether she had been brought up on Beano and the Dandy too? Together we played many pranks, and soon we were following prefects down the corridors, quietly tying their coloured tails of office, which hung behind them, into knots. Then we would then run away, quietly giggling to ourselves. On April Fool’s Day, that same first year, she posted an anonymous notice on the downstairs storage cupboard, which said, ‘Lift out of order, please use the stairs’.

We were both in different houses.

She was in Grey house, which was green, and I was in Stephenson, which was red; we remained close friends, but we were fierce competitors on Sports Days.

At first, I was a much faster runner than she was, but then she, being really serious about athletics, joined Wallsend Harriers, a running club, and she soon caught up.

I got the shock of my life one Sports Day, when we were running against each other in the 100 yards, when she flew past me, like a steam train, blowing out rhythmically, pumping her hands like pistons, as she ran.

Boy was she fast!

But in Margaret, I gained a real treasure of a friend!

Another friend joined us, Lesley Brown. We were like the ‘Three Musketeers!’ One for all, and all for one!’

Then Margaret had an accident one day in the needlework lesson. Up until that point, I had never actually seen another person in pain or distress before, although I’d had many mishaps myself. The needle of Margaret’s sewing machine went all the way into into her finger, right through her finger nail, and she was pinned down. She cried out in agony, then she slumped forward slowly, down onto the machine, in what I thought was a faint. I had been sitting right beside her, and I’m sure I must have cried out too! Our teacher leapt into action! I have never seen anyone move as quickly as she did that day! Other teachers were called to assist from other classrooms. Margaret was so brave.This was my best friend in pain, and I couldn’t help her.

She did something similar a few years later. We were doing high jump one day, when one of her spikes went into her hand, when she landed in the sandpit.. History was repeating itself.

Margaret lived at the top of one of three fourteen storey flats in High Howdon, which overlooked the Coast Road. I don’t think I joined her up there very much once she told me that the building swayed so many feet in high winds!  But Bonfire night was superb up there, as you could see for miles on a clear November night.

I recall, on a school trip once, Margaret introducing me to brand-new food in her packed lunch box. I had never eaten mandarin yogurt before, so she kindly asked me if I’d like to taste some. I had never tasted anything quite so delicious! 

I often wonder what happened to Margaret. The last time I met her was at her sister’ funeral quite a few years ago now, and we had fun reminiscing, but we somehow lost touch again, and I can’t remember her married name. Boys get to keep their surnames, but we females don’t, so we search for lost friends in social media, and can’t always find them. What happeend to Lesley too?