Country life
A time to talk
Leanda de Lisle
'D o boys still get "the headmaster's talk" when they leave prep school?' a friend asked, knowing my eldest son was to begin his first term at public school this week. 'What's that?' I asked. 'Oh, you know, watch out for big boys that show a big interest in you, that sort of thing.' No, was the short answer.
My friend remembered the headmaster's talk as his first, and rather scary, introduc- tion to the adult world. But today's chil- dren get that at baby school, where they are told not to allow adults to touch them in a way that makes them feel uncomfort- able. It sounds like an assault on childhood innocence but, like the prep school head- master's talk, it is designed to protect it, and very probably often does so.
One of my sons came into contact with a vile paedophile at the age of eight and in consequence had to be interviewed by both the police and social services. They assured me that my son was not the kind of child the paedophile would have dared harm as he was already fully aware of what did and did not constitute permissible adult behaviour and would have complained very loudly if anyone had assaulted him.
Homosexuality is, of course, different from paedophilia and isn't touched on at primary school. However, children are taught about it long before their last term at prep school. It's part of their PSE classes — that is, Personal and Social Education. I know this because my eldest son com- plained to me that he'd been told homosex- uality was 'normal' in his PSE class. I have a dark suspicion that he's quite homopho- bic. But if he is I'm not going to ask him to be a bit more caring and sharing when at his age it may be a natural and even neces- sary defence mechanism.
As for self-abuse, I did wonder whether I shouldn't give my eldest son a talk about auto-erotic asphyxiation, but when I asked Peter what he thought, he was simply appalled. 'Oh God, just try to be normal for once,' he told me. 'It's so tiring.' I pointed out to him that a boy had recently died at Eton playing a 'fainting game'. `Well they are all very odd indeed at Eton,' he snapped, ignoring the fact that he has a great many Old Etonian friends. Still, I've taken his advice, as I usually do.
What I'd love to do is give my eldest son a nice talk about girls. How they are human beings and make good friends and that sort of thing. But there won't be any girls at his school, so there isn't much point.
I did suggest that he might find out if any of his new friends have sisters, as I'd like to give a party and I can't bear the idea of it being full of middle-aged people asking for music from the Seventies and Eighties. However, I expect he'll ignore me and I can't say I blame him. It's a bit risky going around asking chaps about their sisters.
No, a mother's role at this turning point in my eldest son's life is not to give talks, but to organise his trunk, along with those of his younger siblings. As usual, I've got into an absolute rage when I've taken the children shopping for all the new things they need. Last year I was driven mad try- ing to find cricket whites among the rails of shell suits in our local sports shops. This year it's been the matter of school shoes. We had no problems acquiring a pair of black loafers for my eldest son in San Fran- cisco, but in Leicester and Loughborough you can't find anything without platform soles.
It's not that I want the children to go round dressed as if we were still in the 1950s. They can dye their hair pink if they want. In fact, I rather hope they do one of these days. I just don't want them to have to wear something they find uncomfortable and we all find ugly. Not least because if they arrive back at school in these provin- cial clogs I could be the one who gets the headmaster's talk and it will be nothing to snigger about, that's for sure.
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