The One about Bert and Norma
So, when we were babies, then tots, we always would be going to School. Not big school, but School. I clung to Mum’s leg until I was forcibly detached by Mrs Acum. aka. Norma.
To call Mrs Acum “Norma” would have been a gross misstep on my part. In our Victorian school house Norma and her husband Bert, who taught the juniors gave me free reign. All the books, all the time. Running to the shop for 20 Bensons, and a packet of salt and vinegar crisps. They were childhood sweethearts from Liverpool, who’d decamped to deepest Lincolnshire to build a better life. And my God, did they do that, for generations of us. We are all the legacies of Bert and Norma.
From the Snow Queen, to skateboarding, hopscotch; sewing (and darning, that’s how old I am), poetry, and how to start a petrol mower, we were in Narnia from nine until three. Our school camps would be outlawed now, hauling ourselves through Derbyshire for a week on a carton of milk and a wet egg and cress sandwich in claggy clingfilm. One of my school camp reports has a note from Mr Ramsey, who used to chase the stragglers on our ten mile hikes: ‘Lucy is not a fast walker, but she sets out in the morning and comes home at the end of the day at the same pace. Her own'.’ Four decades later, here we are.
One of the proudest moments of my life was Bert asking me to join his pub quiz team, ‘If you can find the time’.
Not long ago, I was making the hike (by car) up the Great North Road, and agreed to meet my sister in the farmers’ market. Loitering, I saw Bert coming towards me and said, ‘Mr Acum! It’s me, Lucy',’ and he completely blanked me.
When my sister met me, I was still a bit askance, and she said, ‘What’s up?’ and I said, ‘Bert Acum just blanked me’. She said, ‘He’s got fucking Parkinson’s, you dolt. Shall we share an ostrich burger?’
I was not there for the time he held Georgian London and said, ‘Guy [Martin] and Lucy from our little school. Who would have thought it?’ We were 28 at our strongest. Now you have to apply years ahead to get our education.
This is Guy, who taught me how to ride a motorbike in a paddock in what seems like a very long time ago, outrunning a helicopter. On a motorbike, obviously. Whenever I feel low with my writing, which is often, I watch this video to remind myself that, anything is possible.