I realise it's not nice to say unkind things about those who may not be in a position to reply, but that never stopped the teacher and dedicated follower of fashion in the photograph, so I will follow his example.I honestly can't recall his real name but for a few generations of schoolkids, he was always known as Mac.
Slow with his brain and quick with his cane, Mac was our French teacher. Until he took us on a school trip to France that included Paris and Biarritz, (he was chosen because he would blend in with the jet set), the nearest he had come to anything French, was sitting in a cinema watching a Brigitte Bardot movie with an empty crisp packet with a hole in the bottom on his lap, (if that reference seems obscure - think about it and it will come to you!).
He always wore the same clothes and like many teachers back in the 60s and 70s, consistently smelled of chalk dust and tobacco - in his case, pipe tobacco.
Leading us around Paris, he not surprisingly managed to get us hopelessly lost. Attempting to seek help, the fact that he taught French seemed lost on the locals who could hardly understand a word he was saying. Talking in a loud voice while waving his arms around like an out of control windmill didn't seem to work either. Neither did speaking English, because as many people who have been to France will tell you, the locals often refuse to speak English - even if they are fluent in the language.
This so irritated Mac, that he walked away from one French chap muttering loudly, "We should have left you to the bloody Germans - you would have soon spoken English then" his weird sense of logic leaving us in hysterics.
At one stage he spotted an elderly couple he hoped were British. He approached and brusquely asked, "Are you British?" The fact that the male was wearing an Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts instead of a bland brown suit from Marks and Spencers, should have given him a clue.
"No Sir, we're from the U.S."
Mac ranted on about the French, the war and General De Gaulle, before finally seeking directions from the bemused but incredibly patient couple. He pointed to us, pointed in the direction where we had come from, pointed north, south, east and west but to no avail. Eventually, both sides gave up.
Mac went off in search of another poor victim while the American couple approached our group.
"Who the heck was that?" the man enquired.
Trying hard to suppress her laughter one of the girls answered,
"That's our teacher Sir."
Looking as horrified as a young George Bush looking at his draft card, he replied, "Your teacher? Good luck kids - you're gonna need it".
Yes we did need luck. But the adolescent schoolboys on the trip exposed to the ravishing French beauties needed much more.
An empty crisp packet with a hole in the bottom!
* Point of interest: The stairs in the photo led down to the woodwork room. Only boys were allowed to take woodwork, while the girls took Domestic Science.
