Normally I’m tolerant of typos. But this book has a serious “I” problem. The number one (“1”) is substituted for the pronoun “I” more times than I could count. Since this book (like all the Fairacre series) is narrated in first person, it’s noticeable.
Compared to that, the phrase “Haifa dozen eggs” is almost entertaining. Has the sleepy Cotswold village of Fairacre moved to the Mediterranean? If typos ruin a book for you, skip this one.
Other than the pronoun problem, it’s a good book. Retired Fairacre teacher Dolly Clare is the first to remind Miss Read that 1980 marks the 100th birthday of Fairacre school. Miss Clare remembers that the village celebrated the 50th birthday with a well-attended tea party. So what would be appropriate now?
Like most school teachers, Miss Read struggles to keep up with daily instruction, grading, the occasional emergency, and mounds of paperwork. As much as she loves her school, she’s overwhelmed by the prospect of planning an extravaganza. What can she do that will take into account the school’s lack of a stage, the difficulty of getting costumes, and the reluctance of her country-bred pupils to perform in public? Fortunately, the voluminous school records show that the school opened in December. At least the poor woman has a whole year to plan.
Meanwhile, life goes on. The nearby town of Caxley is having a larger-than-usual Spring Festival and the enthusiastic, unrealistic planners are urging neighboring villages to get involved. It’s time to bring THE ARTS to the Cotswolds and everyone is expected to open their gardens for tours, hold fund-raising affairs, or host artsy gatherings.
Miss Read’s elegant friend Amy agrees to host a poetry reading and lives to regret it. Poets are thin on the ground and her search turns up only two willing to participate. One is a portly and middle-aged, brisk and business-like, and more interested in profits than poetry. The other is a frail, under-nourished youngster. His head is suitably in the clouds, but he’s a solid trencherman and not above scarfing up left-overs for a “doggie bag.” So much for poetry.
Of course, the art and up-lift movement goes over the heads of most inhabitants who have more interesting things to worry about. Minnie Pringle’s husband Ern has fallen out with his elderly paramour and is now trying to oust Minnie’s boyfriend from the marital home so that he has a place to sleep. Mrs. Pringle is horrified when Minnie and her brood move in and Miss Read must cope with the children, who are as addle-pated as their mother.
Meanwhile Miss Read struggles (as did all her predecessors) with the constantly malfunctioning school skylight. Designed to provide a few rays of light in the dim school, it leaks when it rains and lets in cold draughts the rest of the time. Driven to desperation, Miss Read writes a strong letter to the central office which (to her amazement) agrees to have it fixed. But is the hapless local builder who wins the bid up to the job?
The village watches with interest as popular Joan Benson tries to sell her home (Holly Lodge) to move closer to her daughter and grandchildren. Everyone’s sorry to lose her and astonished at the price she receives for her house. Miss Read is reminded anew that she’s living in a “tied house” and can’t possibly afford to buy property when she retires. It’s a nagging worry until a generous friend comes to her rescue in an unexpected and heart-warming way.
By December, a sensible plan has emerged which involves a few of the more fearless students dressing in period costumes to represent various eras in the school’s history, Miss Dolly Clare and others talk about their experiences as pupils. The appreciative audiences are happy to learn more about their school and see the children perform. Miss Read is pleased and relieved to have it over!
In a century, Fairacre school has seen triumphs and tragedies and everything in between. Although modest by most standards, it is truly the heart of the village. “Miss Read” was a fine writer and her books are funny, touching, and completely realistic. I’ve enjoyed them all.