Sex education

Sexlo contd…2
It has to be said that this bit of role play was more to do with bandages and broken legs than giving birth, because in our tender years, babies came in a doctor’s little black bag, or from under a gooseberry bush, so I probably believed I was born on the local allotments because all we had in our garden was a few sticks of rhubarb. But we kept our eye on that doctor’s visits, and lo and behold, the sighting of the local GP with his Gladstone often resulted in Mrs So-and-So emerging a week or two later with a swaddled infant.
I really don’t recall any serious sex education, either from school or from my mother, and it was probably at secondary school where I learned the life-cycle of a frog, and the prolific mating habits of rabbits, which all ended up in a bit of a giggle-fest. But I was fortunate enough to spend the first few years of that secondary education at boarding school, so what I learned from after-lights-out girly talk, plus the bodily-changes of my peers, was enough to set me on the straight and narrow as a teenager. My mum, bless her call-a-spade-a shovel character, must have fought shy of the whole shebang.
Apart from regularly uttering the mantra : "Like time and tide, wait for no man" - which has stood me in good stead all my life! – her one acknowledgement of my coming-of-puberty was two bras, two pairs of stockings, two suspender belts, and a pack of you-know-what, languishing on my bed one half-term.
I’m not suggesting that my experience was proper and correct. But I’m convinced that a childhood free of all the trials and tribulations of womanhood when you’re nowt but a nipper is the innocence today’s children deserve. And guess what? None of we ignoramuses became teenage mothers.
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