When I was six, my parents moved our family from suburban New Jersey to Kingston-upon-Thames, Surrey, England. It wasn’t Little Whingeing, but it was close. I was enrolled in a convent school where we ate in silence, learned to write with fountain pens, and were provided an abacus to help us with arithmetic. And this wasn’t so long ago.
Being a child, I was able to adapt quickly to the near-Dickensian environment. I liked my new school. We did needlework and had a garden tended by the nuns. And the best thing of all: we had elocution lessons.
Elocution was taught by Miss Joy Glanville. She smelled of cigarettes and coffee, but she had gorgeous diction. Her job was to help us enunciate, to make us unafraid to speak in front of groups, and to open us up to the wonders of the English language. This she did by teaching us poetry.~ read more ~