Emma Bridgewater: ‘I gave up sport because of boys and smoking’

My parents lived in Cambridge after they married, and my father still lives there. But Mum moved to Oxford when they parted because she was keen to find good schools for all three of us: me, my brother and my sister Sophie who has learning difficulties. It was a perfect size of city to have a lot of freedom; it was and is a lovely city to grow up in. My mum’s best friend Felicity also lived there; they had both been debutantes together, and I have such joyful memories of an ancient farmhouse they rented from one of the colleges. It was a non-stop party place, Mum and Felicity were having a wonderful time: the Sixties were definitely happening in that house, and The Beatles’ White Album was the soundtrack we all went to bed to in the attic.

Most of my primary and all my secondary education was at the same school, from eight all the way through to 18: Oxford High School, which still powers on, with notoriously high academic standards to which we all bow down. We were largely taught by women, a lot of whom were lesbians in formidably dowdy clothes. 

They were really the best teachers; they properly engaged with you. The first two junior school teachers I encountered were Miss Nibblet and Miss Palser, two marvellously redoubtable women, although quite frightening, being ticked off by them was really trembly and scary. But I think that was their modus operandi, they expected us to get to grips with our grammar and spelling and believed unless there was some intimidation, or even some form of violence, you wouldn’t learn to spell or punctuate. Those two fantastic teachers did their bit to drill into me a strong habit of being thorough and accurate, and knowing what they required suited me, perhaps because mum was so liberal.

I remember Mum coming to watch me play hockey, pushing her new children in a raggedy old pram with a dog tied to the handle with a bit of string – she really was extremely unselfconscious and not at all like the other mums – although much admired by all my friends. She couldn’t even identify me in my hockey gear, I could see her watching a game I was not in, so I had to run all the way up from the bottom pitch to the top where she was standing looking bored and fidgeting.

By the sixth form you were fairly liberated from discipline and a lot of trust was given – which in my case I abused quite roundly – but kind of got through it okay partly because of that tough early grounding. I think I was very lucky that while I was at prep school Mary Warnock was the headmistress, and she cast a very magic mantle over the school. 

She wasn’t really interested in minor infractions – for instance there was a sort of acknowledgement they couldn’t stop us smoking, so they didn’t really try; and you were even allowed to buy cigarettes, although perversely we had to smoke in the kitchen of the sixth form block. Everything was to do with her hope and ambition for all of us to do our best, and I did completely subscribe to her values.  

We were studying on our own a lot of the time, but I loved the library and learned to work independently there. Actually, I was very lost in books during that period, I read lots and lots and walked to school reading, bumping into lamp posts, and I continued that at home, partly to give me some space to get away from my handicapped sister.

Although I was very bad at handing in my work at the right time, I was under the spell of one teacher or another throughout my time there. It isn’t that you’re going to profit from every teacher, no matter how good they are: some of them just don’t speak to you so you don’t really understand what they are peddling; whereas others turn on the lights and illuminate a whole scene for you, and suddenly you somehow understand chemistry or maths and you become a believer. 

Until the age of 15 I passionately loved competitive sports. I was quite a good swimmer, and a pretty good middle-distance runner, and did both of those for the city and the county. That was my peak moment for running, I just had the right power/weight ratio: I was skinny, tall and very light, and I discovered that you win a race by terrifying the people you’re about to run against, you can come up behind them and kill them mentally and they fall away. In the end I gave up sport because of boys and smoking, although I missed  the incredible feeling of flight when you hit your stride running.

There was always a great prize giving ceremony on the last day of term; and there was one spectacularly marvellous final assembly in my last year.  A girl (who went on to have a huge career as a conductor) was standing behind the new headmistress, Miss Kaye. 

And when Miss Kaye stood up to do her speech this girl took off the dress she was wearing – and she had nothing on underneath – and then performed this amazing, crazy, pagan dance behind the headmistress before galloping off to a waiting car. There was a stunned silence for a moment: and then the school erupted with excitement while Miss Kaye and her deputy fruitlessly pursued this girl, shouting, “You’re expelled,” but fortunately her Royal College of Music place was assured, so that wasn’t going to make any difference. 

I’ve always thought of Oxford High with huge affection, but on behalf of girls going there now I do regret the ridiculous academic pressure, I think that is totally wrong. However, as for me, I don’t think I worked hard enough. It could be I’d had enough of the girls-only world. 

Single-sex schools are quite a good cloister in the frenetic, highly charged world of Oxford, but these are still going to be the crazy days of your life because of your hormones. You are on a mad thrilling ride, the world opens up with a huge bang, and you want to be in it all the time. So I was running wild then, although underneath I was a very high functioning social person who instinctively had quite a good relationship with my teachers.

I applied to Cambridge, but I didn’t get in. If I had done, I’d have gone into publishing and wouldn’t have had my entrepreneurial career, so I’m quite glad in a way, although of course it would have been fun to go there. Also I was too unfocused at my interview. I just couldn’t find the words, and then I set a trap for myself by starting to talk about something I didn’t really know about. But I did get into Bedford College in London. The interview was in a wonderful Nash building on the Inner Ring in Regent’s Park, and I felt very perky there, and I remember talking very freely about sex and Thomas Hardy to the man who interviewed me, and he was really enjoying it – so of course I got in.