This evening I watch a ridiculous programme on fitness through the decades. Brilliant vintage footage of 1950s women swinging their legs pointlessly (but unsurprisingly, given that they're wearing high heels and full make up). Freestyle dancing in the 60s. Stupid contraptions in the 70s. Cheese string leotards in the 80s. But the thing that really stands out for me is some footage of schoolchildren - probably in the 60s - busily engaged in 'nibbling the braid'. This involved standing on the end of a strip of webbing (the braid) - which you pull towards you by scrunching your toes, so the 'nibbled' bit goes under your feet. I only wish I had been allowed to nibble the braid at school. I'd have been a lot keener on P.E. if that had been the case...
I hated sports at school, and would do anything to avoid them. Top tactics included making sure I had a piano lesson right in the middle of games (and dawdling there and back); doing a lot of 'deep fielding' (making daisy chains, daydreaming and then reliably letting the team down if the ball ever came anywhere near me), and doing dramatic full face skids on asphalt. This was the best, as it meant hobbling to Sick Bay, where Miss Glazier would swab you with raw alcohol while you teased Brock, her bad-tempered dachshund. Good times. P.E. was marginally better. At ten, the entertainment value of a fat child doing forward rolls to the theme music from 'Born Free' was not lost on me (even though I was that child).
I was twenty-four before I realised that I actually enjoyed exercise. The thing I didn't enjoy was P.E. teachers.
I don't think I'm alone.
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