From No Business to Show Business and Back Again! by Sara John
The middle of August was when the ‘A’ Level results were posted to households with students and their families eagerly awaiting the postman’s visit. I thought that these results, would be meaningless for most people, including, I decided, the Education Department Staff at the local council offices. Could these results perhaps be “lying around” in an office ready to be posted? Should I call in? Could I have a peep before they go? I was very eager to find out now my results rather than waiting for the postman so that I could take the next steps. And also get a good night’s sleep! With nothing to lose except another night’s sleep, a lot of well laid plans (no mice involved, mice did not want to go to Art School, as I did although they possibly kept application forms for Catering Colleges handy). The well-laid plans previously devised had required a great deal of plotting and promising. The plotting involved reading up reviews of Art Exhibitions, in case I was successful in my examinations and would be called for interview at Art School; the promising was to reassure my parents (that I could “always teach” which I had no intention of doing as in no thank you, never, not for me). That justification was only a very small part of what I featured in my prayers, which also included a vow to cut off my hair and join a Religious Order as long as I could go to Art School first! Please Dear Lord. I decided to go to the local Education Office, and just ask, nicely if I could have my A level results right away (now please, please, please.) In those days the Education Departments were situated in a Victorian building called, not Offices, but Chambers in Llewelyn Street, Pentre, in the Rhondda. As I entered the premises, they appeared to be very dark and gloomy, and on the shady side of the street. It felt as though the building had been deserted, and subsequently haunted, by generations of spirits of past officials, typists, clerks, and others who would never again see sunshine. Or the sunny side of the street. I could smell the ink in squelchy Victorian ink pads. Black of course. Stephens’ Radiant Blue was out of the question. I began to hear the clackity-clack-ding of typewriters, fuelled still by gas I decided, as I ventured through the open door and down a dark and gloomy corridor that appeared to have no end. What if the answer to my request and enquiry is “No, you cannot”. I had a ‘brief’ explanation of why the urgency was so important to me ready if required. A 20 CARDIFF TIMES
young man appeared out of the gloom, nice shirt white of course, neat navy suit, plain specs and asked if he could help me? I decided to take a chance and set aside my ‘brief explanation’ which would have put his bedtime back considerably (it had not an iota of truth in it, the explanation that is, but was of decent length and might make a short story one day). I decided to start with an apology for using up his time, smile but look worried (not too much) and appear more than a little nervous. He said it was not a problem to help me and I could have a copy of my results to take away (I thought to myself that only mattered if there were any results. What if it was just a blank piece of paper?). I answered all his questions, name, address and so on and he said that he had just been dealing with that location. The information was on the counter in front of him! He passed me the precious information and I read the very brief details in a single glance! I thanked him profusely, read them again and walked across the road to the “sunny side of the street”, a popular song of the period. Opening that single page with very sparse details filled me with relief. I had gained A level Art and done well: meaning that I had three A levels (one with distinction) to complement my ten O levels. I had already applied to Cardiff Teacher Training College around Easter time that year, as a backup plan. I went for interview and was offered, and accepted, a place there. Now I faced a dilemma. With my better than I dared hope results I felt confident that, at least I would achieve an interview at the Art School if I applied under their Late Entry system. My main interest, was dress design and I had designed and made many garments for my local and Cardiff customers. I had taken these garments along to a local photographer and I ‘modelled’ each one for him to photograph. I mounted them in a folio with sample fabrics, notes and other details just in case I won an interview. Could I risk turning down my place at Teacher Training College, here and now, in August, in advance of risking a Late Entry system application in mid-September at Cardiff School of Art, thereby leaving me with no backup plan. However, it seemed wrong to sit on one offer, at Cardiff Teacher Training College when there were probably
