I was in West Kensington the other day and suddenly I was five again and going to school for the first time. Actually, maybe not the first day, as the routine had been established. I was holding my grandmother’s hand. We would play word games on the way. I must have been able to read, as the games were all based on spellings and sounds. In Polish. We had a lot of fun. It wasn’t a long walk, occasionally marred by an oncoming boxer which would dribble near me as my grandmother chatted interminably with its owner. I was then free to look around me.

I was very shy so I didn’t look up. What I did notice was all the different coal hole lids. Imagine my delight when I saw some again.

But back to my walk. I was on my way to Olympia, and I knew that my school was on the way. But memory plays tricks (or just expires) and I didn’t see it. I got to Olympia, did what I had to do and started to walk back.

This time I noticed Avonmore Road. I walked down it. The coal holes. All there!

All set in their original flagstones whereas the rest of the pavement now has the modern reconstituted stone pavements.

I was thrilled as I (nearly) hopped from one to the next! And then I came across the school.

From the outside nothing had changed. A few more trees maybe. Still low and flat. A postwar prefab. Just as I remembered it. I could hear the voices of children playing. I peered in; it looked fairly empty.

I stood outside for a few minutes and then suddenly I found myself ringing the bell.

Someone opened the door and looked askance at me. I began to gabble that I went to this school 65 years ago and could I please have a glimpse of a classroom. Much to my surprise and delight I was invited in

Inside the classroom I explained to the teacher that when I had been a child there, the punishment for talking too much was to stand on the table. I loved it because then I could see out of the window and see if my grandmother had arrived to collect me.

The teacher laughed and the couple of kids who were in the classroom thought it was a great plan.

Anyway she let me take a photo of the room and the desks. .Probably not the same but very similar!

And the view too was almost identical.

It brought back memories of the day that my other grandmother came to collect me. She was bearing a huge box of Black Magic chocolates. My favourite. I was so excited. I ran out to meet her.

She handed me the box and told me to go back in, as they were a goodbye and thank you gift for my teacher, the lovely Mrs Wormold.

What a shock that was

I never went back until last week! the reason why is another story.