When I was at secondary school, in about the third year, and a billion years ago, decisions had to be made that shaped my future, decisions that even now I’m not really sure I’m ready to make yet. Choices had to be made, subjects chosen to fill up your timetable of examination options, and which meant that certain subjects had to be dropped in order to make room for others. The future, I suppose, started right there and, even though thirty (very) odd years later, I’m still not convinced that I knew what I was doing back then, the axe had to fall, the razor slice and certain areas of knowledge had to be closed off in order to leave some room in my brain for other facts and figures to be pumped in there.
It seems almost laughable now, but I was able to drop the dreaded “games” and spend some time doing “music” for a few months instead of running around the Cross Country course, doing my strange non-contact aerial ballet whenever somebody “crossed” (as I believe it’s known) a football towards me, or being battered around by people who seemed to quite like playing rugby, but seemed to enjoy much more pounding skinny fools like me into the mud.
Sadly one of the choices I had to make was between History and Geography and, mostly due to the tedium of my aging history teacher’s style, and quite possibly also because he once gave us the same lesson twice over and still very little of it sank in, I chose Geography. Even now, all that I can recall of my Geography “O” Level exam was the bitter sense of horror I felt when doing the map interpretation section, but back then it seemed the lesser of the two evils. Oddly, the only clear memory I have of any History lesson I ever had was being taught how to spell “Parliament”, and even that could have been because it was during that infamous duplicated lesson.
Still, it must have been okay really, as the Geography lingers on in my mind as I’m still fascinated by geology, weather and things like plate techtonics, so they must have done something right. Stranger still is the fact that, despite slamming that particular door all those years ago, happily one of the things I most enjoy doing nowadays is reading about history, so maybe instead of having it all drummed out of me by the school system, I’ve come to love it despite the system, and perhaps some of the facts, about seed drills and so forth, found in those dry old textbooks (remember them?) are still rattling around the old cranium despite everything.
It has, therefore, been a joy to discover Terry Deary’s “Horrible Histories” books in recent years though as they seem to have found a way of drumming historical facts into young (and not so young) minds without it ever seeming like it’s really anything so mundane as actually learning. My first experience of this phenomenon was when I was researching a play I once wrote about the First World War which currently lurks complete but unloved in the shoebox of failed projects. After devouring a stack of books, I went over to the rather wonderful Imperial War Museum North over in Salford, and there happened to be an exhibition on, based upon his book called “Frightful First World War”, which was all rather brilliant and persuaded me to get the actual book which was also rather terrific in helping me to add a few more day-to-day details to my own bleak narrative.
Isn’t the best form of education precisely the sort that happens when you really don’t think that you’re actually being taught something? I once read an interview with a scriptwriter who said that, whenever he was commissioned to do a piece set in a particular time in history, he would grab the best children’s book on the subject he could find as it would very quickly give you a grounding in a time and a place and help you to get a feel for it.
Anyway, in recent years, a rather fabulous television show has been broadcast using songs and sketches based upon the information found in the books, and it has turned into a rather fabulous phenomenon, and a hugely entertaining programme in its own right, one that can be enjoyed by all ages, even ones as old as me.
The songs in particular are brilliant and, if you find yourself mouthing along with the lyrics, an education in themselves. Some of them are so catchy and well structured that I sometimes wish that their authors could be persuaded to put forward a suggestion or two for our Eurovision entry, and also, more importantly, perhaps start to think about doing the same for the sciences.
“Scary Sciences” anyone…?
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| Literally not vikings... |
Anyway the songs have become very popular around our house, with tunes and lyrics that just can’t help getting into your brain in just the way my stuffy old history lessons didn’t. So, here’s a list of links to the “tube” that is known as “you” where half a dozen or so of my own favourites can be found. If you get a moment, check them out and (hopefully) enjoy.
Blackbeard’s Song:
“When I was a nipper, I boarded a clipper…”
The Viking’s Song (Literally!):
Dick Turpin’s Song:
Charles II’s Song:
George IV’s Song:
“Actresses, Duchesses…”
Pachacuti’s Song:
Cleopatra’s Song:
The Kings and Queens of England Song:
“William, William, Henry, Stephen, Henry, Richard, John…”
Didn't know this - I will have to check it out.
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