Dorty’s got her Prom tonight. How very… American. Bought the dress, the shoes, the under-garments, the bag. Got the date (although she’s deserting him at the end to go for a sleepover at a girly pal’s – good girl!). She’s gone down the road to get her nails and hair, and her mate is also getting her make-up done. Talk about effort! And they’re only sixteen (or nearly).
We didn’t have all this at the end of school. We had a ‘leaving do’ which consisted of being shoved in the sixth form common room and force-fed damp crisps. The most shocking event of the evening (well, afternoon) was Claire, who turned up eight and a half months pregnant. Oooh, what a trollope! Most of the girls still had knee high socks and braces on their teeth, so it really was scandalous. Of course, being the rebels that we were, me and Paula didn’t leave her side. Oh, the joys of a grammer school.