“It’s Not Golf Belle!”

I have no real memory of PE lessons at primary school but I do have images of brightly coloured bean bags, skipping ropes and a cotton pants and vest combo with a pair of daps from Woolworths (in other regions you would probably have known these as plimsoles).

PE at secondary school however was a much more structured affair as my PE teacher Mrs Hodge, a stern wiry woman sporting a black tracksuit and whistle around her neck imparted her knowledge on all sports. Although Mrs Hodge was never seen wearing anything other than her black tracksuit, I never saw her run, hold a racquet, throw or catch a ball. I don’t recall her demonstrating the high jump or how to run, spring board and catapolt oneself over the box in gymnastics. Instead I do remember her standing on the side lines blowing her whistle and shouting.

For hockey her instructions of encouragement and technique were, “It’s not golf Belle!”

For swimming in the cold outdoor pool it was “If you don’t get in, I’ll push you in” as we all lined up standing on the edge, our numbing toes clinging to the concrete edge of the pool and the waft of chlorine making our eyes water.

On the day we were introduced to netball I think I must have been slow out of the changing rooms because I never remember being told the rules yet everyone else seemed to know what they were doing. Every lesson I remember being handed a bib with letters on, WD, WA, GA and having 20 seconds to work out where I was supposed to stand and what I was supposed to do before Mrs Hodge blew that damn whistle. Yet another PE lesson with Mrs Hodge standing on the side lines blowing her whistle at me!

I never recall Mrs Hodge shouting “Well done Belle” and I never won a trophy at prize giving, but I do remember beating the boys’ cross country time in 1984. However, Suzie had an asthma attack half way round and so she kind of stole my lime light.