"Valentine" class notes

[mslewis]

Hi folks

Here are the notes we had up on the smartboard for "Valentine".

Ms L

Attachments:

[robbiethepesismticoptimist]

The Difference between She and Her Robbie Young
Chapter 1 -

St Morrisey, as many towns has clear class divisions. The middle class have their area, and the low class 'peasants' have theirs. And neither dare cross the class division or venture into each other’s area without an outstanding reason. Like No Man's Land, the sophisticates tip toe around in a state of solicitude state around the “not so pretty” parts of town while the peasants broadly walk, with chests blown out, despite the flickering of net curtains and dirty looks, around St Morrisey without apprehension of what the 'other people' think nor care. The concentric tree rings which spawned from the central area of the town, the church, which was placed high on a luscious green hill, made the class divisions even more visible. The immediate several streets were made up of opulent Victorian sandstone villas, with the paradisiacal reflection of the sun blinding every mirrored surface, with their trimmed lawns, pristine hedges and pulchritudinous flowerbeds. These houses were filled with the well educated, the wine guzzling bureaucrats. As you go further back through the streets, the lawns gradually become less manicured, the hedges become furrier and the houses become more in a state of consternation, some boarded up, some with shattered windows, some with both. An add-on to the town in the 50's immediately after the Second World War with a need for affordable housing, these houses, being owned by the government, became engulfed with a concentration of families on housing benefit, rarely having jobs or qualifications. This became an vexation and an encumbrance to the well off hoi-polloi of the town, who claimed the dreary council estate, usually referred to as “St Benefit” area would "bring down the moral character of the town with their incubus attitudes", which lay intact for over two centuries. With the economy shrinking by around 5% in 2009, the largest fall since 1931, and the largest recession for seventy years under way, some of the pristine lawns of St Morrisey have become less immaculate than what they once were.

Margarete Swanson-Cole, a proud 'pure' St Morrisan, a supercilious woman of around fifty, thoroughly educated, with her tightly curled greying hair, her delicately aged soft face, her plump and well rounded breasts framing her ever noticeable pearl necklace. She was a narrow minded being born and bred in the town, who felt it was her moral duty change things up, but above all prove her neighbours that she was a woman to be respected and eulogized. Talking publicly of the 'evil menace' which 'clung onto a respectable town', but primarily concerning her attention the most troublesome family of St Benefit, the Anderson's, main concern being Billie-Joe, the mother of the family. While declaring her antipathy in a public vendetta she claimed Billie-Jo, a mother of six with one on the way, 'did not know the names of half of her children's fathers.' It is facile to paint Margarete as a braggart; certainly her comments about Billie-Joe's lifestyle and behaviour are uncharitable at best, malicious at worst. One day this all came to a screeching halt on the 22nd of May 2010, while arriving for work at the local newspaper, Margarete was called into a tense short-lasting meeting before she even took of her duffel coat. She was being let go. Ousted. What would the neighbours say? Would she end up on housing benefit and end up living near the Anderson's? The local gossip Anne Whitburn, claimed she "aged twenty years in two minutes." Realising her place in society deteriorating quickly, Mrs. Swanson-Cole and husband Charles, decided to not tell the neighbours, maintaining the genteel semblance she had worked so hard for and pretend nothing at all had even occurred. It was selfdom to not let it affect her. She would leave for work in the morning same time as usual, drive her car up by the church and leave her car in the church car park, returning home at 8:55, when she knew the neighbours and especially the two-doctor family, the Zahid's, would be at work and therefore would be oblivious to her predicament. While Charles was working at the local council offices, she would remain home profusely cleaning and drinking. Sometimes starting as early as ten o'clock, Margarete's liver would be completely obliterated by the time it came noon. While maintaining her social circle she was able to present herself as woman without crumbling self confidence nor as an unemployed drunk. While the campaigning for the clamping down on '’social evils’' ceased, she remained envious and dubious of the ‘'easy life’' these people who had not worked a day in their life, had multitudinous children and got compensated for it, had.










Billie-Joe Anderson, the mother of six, the local baby machine, with her scarily skinny frame, bleach blonde straw for hair, sunken eyes, she knew that being looked down upon as the local scrag end was nothing new and the opprobrium against her and her family tarnished any chances of her bettering herself. Getting pregnant at sixteen by the local yob, she left school, got a flat in St Benefit and that is where she has remained ever since. People took advantage of her because of her lack of inhibitions and trusting nature. Being abused by her father, she had two options: rise above it or be condemned to a life of misery and self neglect. Unprotected sex sealed the later as her fate. She is the epitome of the clichéd 'mother with many children on benefits' which is branded by newspapers and Swanson-Cole alike. Every time she left the house, people would gawp at her. She would raise her middle finger and move on. She was used too it. She felt this way the way she, because of her mistakes, deserved to be treated. The main gawp was that of Margarete, who Billie-Joe had noticed, had taken a certain dislike to her. However, she simply rose above the tuts, the stares, and the negative words being muttered. Making sure self respect was instilled into the heads of her children from the day they could speak, even-though her life had no ‘'light at the end of the tunnel.’' If her children were to escape the deprivation and shame of such an area then her desideratum would be complete. Maybe her children could make something of themselves. That was the theory anyway. The police were constantly at the Anderson household. A petty crime there, shop lifting here. The police were such frequent guests, Billie-Joe knew each and every officer by name. This just added to the fuel to the fire, giving Swanson-Cole reason to condemn her at every given chance. While on way to collect her giro at the post office, situated directly opposite the Church and the Swanson-Cole dwelling, one thunderous Sunday, Margarete galloped across and halted her entry, refusing entry claiming she “wasn't welcome “and her “kind” belonged in the “depths of Hell.” It suddenly dawned on her that her eldest, Michael had been planning on meeting Swanson-Cole's middle child, Emily that day.
"Your abso-ridden son is in my house as we speak. Remove him before I call your friends, the police again!" exclaimed Margarete.
Billie-Joe was aware of the exogamy relationship for three months by this point. She was just waiting until the autocrat realised. Emily would stay over regularly, claiming she was at friends. She was the antithesis of her mother. Calm and fun loving, not snobbish or exclusive.
It would have been so easy for Billie-Joe to fly of the handle, proving what everyone said about her was true. But no, she stunned Margarete, and the forming spectators, simply walked away with her head held high. Dignity intact.



***

"Mum I think I'm pregnant" Emily expelled in a timorous gush of anguish.

[rebeccaforrester]

This is my Valentine Essay.

Attachments:

[mslewis]

Thanks Rebecca. Will aim to have it marked for Wednesday, Thursday at the latest. Ms L