The funny thing about a nickname or a term of endearment is that no one usually has any recollection of the origin. I had a particular teacher at school whose nickname was ‘jock’. This particular moniker must have been assigned when the building was commissioned as no one had any idea of the meaning or of the origin of it. My mother was a bit like this in her naming of certain things. One example being when she named the local bar called the Front Page, she preferred to refer to it as Page three. “Are you going to Page Three tonight son?”. I most certainly am not. The Sun and the Daily Sport never really appealed to me for some reason.
My mother had an affectionate name for my school friends. She referred to them as ‘The Ladies’. In the years that followed us leaving our school lives behind (some of the best days in my rather humble opinion), she always talked so fondly of the bond we all shared:
“Isn’t it lovely that you and the ladies still keep in contact”.
It is lovely.
Todays story is an origin story. Unlike the recent explosion of comic book movies we shall not hear of teenage girls falling into radioactive waste and discovering emerging superpowers for the first time, although I would definitely read that! This is a story of discovering a friendship for the first time.
Ok so the story begins back in my fourth year at secondary school. I attended an All Boys Grammar school in my hometown of Ballymena. It was a rather unusual All Boys school as its next door neighbour was the All Girls school. Separated by one corridor, a corridor that came to be a social amalgamation of the two sexes much to the chagrin of both faculties. Although my expertise on heterosexual conception is probably not what It should be I’m pretty sure no one was impregnated in that corridor, maybe someone will correct me if I’m wrong.
My best friend at school was ‘Billy’. Myself and Billy shared many classes and shared interests (later it turns our we both shared the same taste in potential partners but more on that and him later).
I was always an overt character though I think my early years in the All boys school had sort of dulled my senses a little. In a school predominantly known for its rugby and laddish behaviour I was a little out of my depth.
That’s not true. I was massively out of my depth.
I needed a creative outlet to explore who I was and also to express emotions without fear of reprisal. After all everyone knows emotions are for fags.
I was walking out of 3rd period and there it was. A black poster in front of the English department with bold writing that read, “SCHOOL PRODUCTION AUDTIONS”. The adrenaline reading that poster gushed into excitement for me. I was definitely pursuing this. The year before I had seen the school production of a musical called ‘Bats’. It had music, dancing, acting, all things a butch rugby playing lad like myself would be into. I remember watching all the people on stage and felt so envious of what they were doing. This year I would not be left out! My moment in the spotlight was coming!
We all gathered in the assembly hall for auditions. Read a line from the play? No. Practice a dance? No. We all sat in this room and pretty much were observed on how we interacted. Almost like a social experiment before big brother became a thing. The drama teacher Mrs Lumpy gazed across the hall in her thrift store pashmina and black beret sizing up the ‘talent’. We were excused from the hall has Mrs Lumpy had made her decisions. She knew talent when she seen it. After all she herself was a….. DRAMA TEACHER.
A week went by and the anticipation was too much. Everyday I would check the English department notice board. Everyday I got more and more disappointed not seeing anything. How long did Mrs Lumpy need? It was a school production not a Hollywood blockbuster. The following Monday the poster went up. The masses scrambled to see whether they would be Bette Davis, Ingrid Bergman, or …. chorus! Probably the most insulting word in amateur theatre. In school productions chorus is the death sentence that you have no talent and the PTA have declared everyone who auditions must receive some role.
Thankfully I was not chorus. 9 names down the list it read:
” Mad Inventor: Michael McCarney”.
Ok so it wasn’t a named part however I did have a good chunk of lines, and a nice little soliloquy. The production was called ‘Rats’. It was a modern interpretation on the classic Pied Pieper of Hamlin. A rather dark story about a man drowning a load of children. This had Mrs Lumpy all over it. She was extrovert and dark. No Oliver Twist for this lady. Tomorrow the Sun would most certainly not be coming out, Annie you will have to sell your cheap Broadway antics some place else.
Rehearsals began.
I met three of the young girls who would go onto become, the ‘ladies’. The first was ‘Ringer’. She was a stunning girl with blond hair, beautiful smile and such a quiet confidence that would be rarely seen in a 14 year old girl. Ringer had the amazing ability to walk into a room and command it instantly. She was popular because she had the social skills far beyond her years, and it showed with the amount of young gentleman trying to get her attention.
The next was ‘Lady Jayne’. Lady Jayne was another blond (peroxide was all the rage in the 90’s), tiny waist and olive brown skin. If mean girls had of been a thing back then she would of reminded people of an amalgamation between Gretchen Weiners and Regina George. She was loud, funny and had the most unique American Twang to her accent. Every sentence ended with an inflection. This trend would seem to be a consistent one in my life as I have two other comrades who I met at a later date who would Graduate from the American Television Dialect Finishing School.
The third young girl was ‘Big Girl’. She was a little red haired girl with the biggest smile I have ever seen. The reason for calling her Big Girl would not come into play until injecting a bit more hormones into her young adolescent body and the discovery of halter neck tops and a push up bra. Big girl awed me in the ease in which she navigated the social spectrum of the room. She was at ease and very comfortable which made me like her even more.
At the time I thought to myself I really want to be their friend. The were pretty, popular and looked like they were enjoying every minute of their lives. I wanted my social upward mobility to be with them. I was still a little caterpillar and they had recently ripped open their chrysalis and showing off their new wings. I loved their wings.
One practice we were rehearsing in our own clothes. I had never really paid much attention to what clothes I was wearing. If they fit it was fine with me. I walked in with some blue jeans and trainers. My jeans were probably the old school levi and the bright blue denim. Everyone rehearsal had ripped jeans around their knees. Why wasn’t I this aware? The first thing I did after rehearsal when I got home was get a pair of scissors and rip some fresh holes in my jeans. My mother looked at me in horror and said, “Son what on earth are you doing?? They cost money!!!”.
Of course she was right but she couldn’t possibly understand the complexities of teenage fashion. After all she was never a teenager!
The night of the school production was here at last. Their was excitement in the air and a little bit of apprehension from Mrs Lumpy. Would these teenage dilatants to her masterpiece any justice? Would she be disgraced and shunned in the high end drama world?
I had stolen a few moments talking to the ladies. Not many but the odd forced joke and awkward compliment thrown in here and there. I had arrived a little early to the production as I didn’t want to be late. Then I seen someone else there, it was Big Girl. She smiled at me and I to her. We chatted back and forth walking to the assembly hall. Year later myself and Big girl talked about this moment and she said she though I was really funny that night. I just remember feeling nervous as I really wanted this person to like me.
The production ended we all said our goodbyes and that was the end of our school mandated friendships. It would be two years later I would properly speak to Big Girl, Lady Jayne, and Ringer. Mummy always said the best things in life are always worth waiting for. As usual the wisdom of her years prevailed. The ladies would go on to shape me during my formative years and continue to do so in my adult life. All this because I was the mad inventor. The mad inventor that made my mummy smile with such pride from the audience. She was always my biggest fan.
And I hers.
A Grievers Guide to the Galaxy 