The Heart of the Dales Read Online Free Page B

bright eyes, the bubbly enthusiasm and the confident manner. He looked ashen and deeply uncomfortable and stared at me with the doleful eyes of a sick spaniel.
    â€˜Perhaps you would like to tell me about it,’ I said, realising that what I imagined would be a pleasant, uneventful routine visit was turning into something likely to be far more problematic.
    â€˜Well, this is a very different world from the one I knew in London,’ Mr Harrison continued. He interlaced his fingersslowly and rested them beneath his chin in the attitude of a child at prayer, and then took a deep audible breath. ‘I came from a large multi-cultural and very vibrant inner-city school where the staff worked hard and pulled together. The children were challenging and, yes, perhaps a little too lively at times. We had our fair share of problems, but it was a very positive and productive environment. Ugglemattersby is completely different. In terms of discipline, the children are biddable enough, though rather blunt, but everything is so – how can I put it – laid back. Your report on Mr Sharples’ regime quite rightly mentioned the lack of rigour and creativity in the curriculum and, since starting, I have attempted to change things but, sadly, with little apparent success. People in this part of the world seem very resistant to change. The parents on the surface are friendly – well, most of them – and, like their children, they too certainly speak their minds, but I can’t say I’ve been accepted. I think you have to live in the area for upwards of three centuries to lose the tag of “off-comed-un”.’
    â€˜I know what you mean,’ I replied. ‘I’ve only been in this part of the county for four years myself and, despite being Yorkshire born and bred, I am definitely still in the category of the alien foreigner.’
    â€˜If I may say so, Mr Phinn, it’s hardly the same for you.’ The headteacher rose from his chair and stood looking pensively out of the small window, his hands clasped behind him. ‘School inspectors travel around and are not confined to live and work every day in the heart of a closed, parochial community where everyone knows everybody else’s business. My wife and I bought our dream house in the centre of the village, a little stone cottage with beams and a flagstone floor and a stream at the bottom of the garden, which, with hindsight, was a mistake. My wife can’t walk down the street in Ugglemattersby without a curtain moving, she can’t say anything in the post office without it being broadcast around the whole neighbourhood and she can’t purchase an item from the village shop without all and sundry knowing what we are having for tea. I get stopped by parents all the time, wishing to discuss their children’seducation.’ He turned away from the window, bit his lip momentarily and began tugging nervously at his moustache once again. ‘It’s so very claustrophobic!’
    â€˜I see.’ He should have considered all this, I thought to myself, before he had accepted the position, but I kept this observation to myself and changed the subject. ‘Does Mrs Braddock-Smith at the Infant School have this problem?’ I asked.
    â€˜Ugglemattersby Infant School,’ Mr Harrison told me, sitting down again at his desk, ‘is in a much better position than mine. For a start, Mrs Braddock-Smith’s school is not in the centre of the village, sandwiched between the noisy pub and a derelict building, like we are. The people who live on the new estate of executive houses send their children to the Infant School. From what I have heard, they are very supportive and have great expectations for their children. Staff at the Infant School are keen, hard-working and ambitious, and the headteacher very sensibly lives outside the catchment area.’
    I had visited Ugglemattersby Infant School just after I had started