In the Eighties, girls went to Brownies or Guides and boys went to the Scouts. And that was that.
We got brown A-line dresses with a bright yellow sash. Our socks had to be pulled up to our knees and we had to bring quiet, soft shoes to wear indoors.
We had to promise to do our best. To do our duty to God. To serve our Queen and country, to help other people and to do a good deed every day.
The Queen never checked…
I’d like to point out, not once did the Queen rock up to check this was all happening, but I did it none the less.
We were taught skills like knitting, crafts and making a good cup of tea. Earning a badge if we passed the assessment, we were encouraged to collect them all.
After any badge presentation, it was handed to our mothers to be sewn on even though sewing through a starched sash was probably the hardest part of the whole process.
During our time, we were promoted from just being a Brownie to being a seconder and then fully in charge of your own ‘six’.
Named after woodland creatures or fairies, mine were Pixies or something equally twee.
There on the promise of camping and jamborees, neither ever materialised, but by the time I left my sash read like a CV of all the skills every good little pre-teen lass should have mastered.
Scouts had more fun
I advanced to the local Guide troop with the older girls, I lasted two weeks. I was done with this dutiful journey and ready for some adventure.
After pouring pancake mix into the pocket of the Guide Leader’s ‘big’ coat, I was invited not to return. Hallelujah! Let’s get my list on the name for the Scouts!
They wore shorts. Ran about outside. Went camping. Used axes to chop wood. Cooked on open fires, okay okay, I’ll concede with a little supervision for the last two.
According to Baden Powell, they were supposed to be able to smell well in order to find their enemy at night time, to hear well and have good eyesight to notice things rapidly and at a distance.
While the Scouts were essentially being trained as the new Avengers. I’d been stuck learning how to make curtains for the Quinjet and bring them hot, soothing beverages.
I was clearly in the wrong place, sign me up for all of the above please!
Their guide books had chapters on endurance, saving lives and patriotism.
Scouts were to walk with women on their left to keep their right free to protect her, or walk on the outer side in the streets to protect her from traffic.
I’m not sure where they were finding these gentlemanly chaps, some of the ones I knew in my teenage years couldn’t have torn a paper hankie in half, never mind stepped in if I was in danger.
I’d have bet more heavily on myself in a scrap.
What were parents thinking?
They were supposed to be prepared to die for their country if the need arose. To charge with confidence, not caring whether they would be killed or not.
It was upon reading this, I wondered if the parents had actually read the manuals or were just taking advantage of a child-free evening once a week.
Meanwhile, the motto for the Girl Guides? Be prepared. To be prepared at any moment to face difficulties and dangers by knowing what to do and how to do it.
I’m naturally thrilled since attending the Brownies, I’ve known how to paper mâché my way out of any dangerous situation.
My old Brownie manual…
I’ve forgotten how to knit, hate sewing but I still make an excellent cup of tea, so I suppose we can thank them for that.
My Brownie manual was found amongst my cook books which have just returned from storage much to himself’s dismay. A book hoarder indeed?! I am not!
I can’t help it if my mother sent me to the Brownies and my need to be prepared is now instilled. I’m just preparing for the possibility one day I might have 207 years to do nothing but read. Better safe than sorry.
The Queen and Lady Baden-Powell would have both been most pleased and I might even earn a new badge.
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