They used to say that the location of Boudicca's camp the night before she burned down Colchester was my school's playing field. I always loved that and when I was about nine, I wrote down a list of women who I felt our school's houses should be named after. For some reason, they were all men, despite the fact that I attended an all-girls' school.
So I suggested to my teacher:
*Boudicca
*Grace Darling (imagine rowing in a storm - in a *corset*!)
*Florence Nightingale
My suggestions were ignored. But I knew even at that age that I had my strong heroines who wouldn't be told what to do.
I was at St Mary's Comrie House, which is out by Copford. That's apparently where Boudicca camped - *apparently*. Then I was at the Girls' High, so very near where you were, although a few years later.
I don't know it, though I knew Copford - there was a venue there where my Mum and stepfather used to go and dance. Copford Mill, was it? I could have gone to the Girls' High (so close to Philip Morant where I actually went) but didn't want a female-only environment because I was very into boys even aged 11. Mistake, in retrospect! I wanted to go to The Gilberd but mum said no because it was supposed to be moving site. Five years later it still hadn't so I transferred to it in sixth form.
I love that bit of passed down history, though: this was where Boudicca camped. I wonder what evidence exists for that, or if it's just an echo passed down the centuries.
It's funny how there's those three schools so close together - St Benedict's opposite the Girls' High, Philip Morant at the other end of that long path. And the Grammar School rugby and cricket pitches ran alongside the Girls' High's playing fields (me and my friends used to strategically sit on the field at lunchtime to watch the boys - so I couldn't help smiling when you mentioned the Grammar school pool!).
Copford Mill does ring a bell, actually. My school up that way was the junior school for the St Mary's on Lexden Road, opposite the maternity home.
And yes, that "fact" about Boudicca on the playing field - I have no idea where that comes from. I suppose I should consult Morant! I've got both volumes of his history of Essex and how he collated all that information in the mid 1700s just astounds me!
A beautifully-written, extraordinarily evocative piece, Ros. And I appreciate your attention to the history of the townhouses in Colchester, as British history has long held a fascination for me.
I was fortunate to have been raised in an extended family of strong, loving, intelligent women and sensitive, intelligent men. Somewhere in my files is a photo of our little white, clapboard house in St. Louis, Missouri, taken in the summer of 1954, when I was five. The shot depicts me sitting on the front steps, surrounded by "The Women" as I came to think of them: My mother, my mother's sister, both grandmothers, my paternal great-grandmother, and my paternal great aunt. Perhaps as the first-born of my generation, I was accorded an inordinate amount of attention... but their strength, intelligence, and love was not lost on me.
Consequently, throughout my schooling, most of my friends were female, which continued into adulthood (not the least of those women is my wife, who, as a strong, independently-minded woman, was skeptical of marriage, but after nine months together, trusted me enough to marry me in 1972). Today, about 90% of my friends and all but one of my close friends are women. And that's not by chance.
"Two emails in one" gets thumbs up from me. And Happy International Women's Day to you!
2. Neil Young and Marshall McLuhan attended my High School. Not at the same time.
3. It didn't affect me until years later, when I'd had the time to do some research. The song Sugar Mountain describes how I felt in HS pretty accurately.
My love of music lead me to marry a very strong feminist artist. For which I will be forever grateful 🙏
Thank you so much Sarah! That's fascinating, that you're having to work so hard to recreate the story of the life they left behind. Although detective work: I rather love that kind of thing. I wonder what they were running away from.
My Mum - who knows, and she was not a “reliable historian” 😂. She grew up in North Walsham, my Dad was from county Durham.
They got together here in West Oz, although they knew each other from UK - my Dad was my Mum’s sister’s best man (in England).
So - not being in even the same country as my family history hasn’t helped! Although since the internet I have good contact with my cousins.
I was just thinking today about how I really never knew my Mum at all (she died in 2009). For many years (until she turned 80!) she lied about the year she was born. She told us she came out here on a “working holiday” (she was a nurse) but she was a “ten pound Pom”.
They both had wartime trauma and dead first partners, my Dad’s family was VERY convoluted. He left home at 14 when he finished school and never went back North because of his father (who we have tracked mostly except for 1904-1910 in USA). Dad’s mother died when he was 8.
Dad’s father probably never knew he fathered at least 19 children (thanks Ancestry DNA)! And he would never have guessed that records of him murdering his mistress and shooting himself in the head in 1933, would be known to the whole family (thanks internet) in time.
They used to say that the location of Boudicca's camp the night before she burned down Colchester was my school's playing field. I always loved that and when I was about nine, I wrote down a list of women who I felt our school's houses should be named after. For some reason, they were all men, despite the fact that I attended an all-girls' school.
So I suggested to my teacher:
*Boudicca
*Grace Darling (imagine rowing in a storm - in a *corset*!)
*Florence Nightingale
My suggestions were ignored. But I knew even at that age that I had my strong heroines who wouldn't be told what to do.
I was at St Mary's Comrie House, which is out by Copford. That's apparently where Boudicca camped - *apparently*. Then I was at the Girls' High, so very near where you were, although a few years later.
I don't know it, though I knew Copford - there was a venue there where my Mum and stepfather used to go and dance. Copford Mill, was it? I could have gone to the Girls' High (so close to Philip Morant where I actually went) but didn't want a female-only environment because I was very into boys even aged 11. Mistake, in retrospect! I wanted to go to The Gilberd but mum said no because it was supposed to be moving site. Five years later it still hadn't so I transferred to it in sixth form.
I love that bit of passed down history, though: this was where Boudicca camped. I wonder what evidence exists for that, or if it's just an echo passed down the centuries.
It's funny how there's those three schools so close together - St Benedict's opposite the Girls' High, Philip Morant at the other end of that long path. And the Grammar School rugby and cricket pitches ran alongside the Girls' High's playing fields (me and my friends used to strategically sit on the field at lunchtime to watch the boys - so I couldn't help smiling when you mentioned the Grammar school pool!).
Copford Mill does ring a bell, actually. My school up that way was the junior school for the St Mary's on Lexden Road, opposite the maternity home.
And yes, that "fact" about Boudicca on the playing field - I have no idea where that comes from. I suppose I should consult Morant! I've got both volumes of his history of Essex and how he collated all that information in the mid 1700s just astounds me!
Which school did you go to, Helen?
I was one of those Grammar School boys, in the eighties 😊
Small world, Clive. I was out of there by 82 but CRGS provided both boyfriends and friends.
I started in 80, so a small overlap
Such honest writing, Ros. And generous of spirit. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Fiona.
Oh I love your piece! Thank you, and happy International Women's Day and beyond. Time to be strong and fiercesless again!
Thank you, DD!
A beautifully-written, extraordinarily evocative piece, Ros. And I appreciate your attention to the history of the townhouses in Colchester, as British history has long held a fascination for me.
I was fortunate to have been raised in an extended family of strong, loving, intelligent women and sensitive, intelligent men. Somewhere in my files is a photo of our little white, clapboard house in St. Louis, Missouri, taken in the summer of 1954, when I was five. The shot depicts me sitting on the front steps, surrounded by "The Women" as I came to think of them: My mother, my mother's sister, both grandmothers, my paternal great-grandmother, and my paternal great aunt. Perhaps as the first-born of my generation, I was accorded an inordinate amount of attention... but their strength, intelligence, and love was not lost on me.
Consequently, throughout my schooling, most of my friends were female, which continued into adulthood (not the least of those women is my wife, who, as a strong, independently-minded woman, was skeptical of marriage, but after nine months together, trusted me enough to marry me in 1972). Today, about 90% of my friends and all but one of my close friends are women. And that's not by chance.
"Two emails in one" gets thumbs up from me. And Happy International Women's Day to you!
2. Neil Young and Marshall McLuhan attended my High School. Not at the same time.
3. It didn't affect me until years later, when I'd had the time to do some research. The song Sugar Mountain describes how I felt in HS pretty accurately.
My love of music lead me to marry a very strong feminist artist. For which I will be forever grateful 🙏
Wow! A very powerful piece of writing - I had to read it twice to digest it all.
I feel like an astronaut in my family history.
Parents who simply cut the cords when they came to Oz in the 50s.
I am trying to patch it together from letters, diaries, photos (mostly people I don’t know), cousins in UK who are aging fast, and Ancestry!
Thanks for this insight into your writing and your story! 👍🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼
Thank you so much Sarah! That's fascinating, that you're having to work so hard to recreate the story of the life they left behind. Although detective work: I rather love that kind of thing. I wonder what they were running away from.
My Dad we have worked out.
My Mum - who knows, and she was not a “reliable historian” 😂. She grew up in North Walsham, my Dad was from county Durham.
They got together here in West Oz, although they knew each other from UK - my Dad was my Mum’s sister’s best man (in England).
So - not being in even the same country as my family history hasn’t helped! Although since the internet I have good contact with my cousins.
I was just thinking today about how I really never knew my Mum at all (she died in 2009). For many years (until she turned 80!) she lied about the year she was born. She told us she came out here on a “working holiday” (she was a nurse) but she was a “ten pound Pom”.
They both had wartime trauma and dead first partners, my Dad’s family was VERY convoluted. He left home at 14 when he finished school and never went back North because of his father (who we have tracked mostly except for 1904-1910 in USA). Dad’s mother died when he was 8.
Dad’s father probably never knew he fathered at least 19 children (thanks Ancestry DNA)! And he would never have guessed that records of him murdering his mistress and shooting himself in the head in 1933, would be known to the whole family (thanks internet) in time.