The Bradenstoke Hall, Atlantic College
‘All the World’s a Stage’
It’s an empty space – a gap between two ancient walls – bridged by a borrowed roof. Two, low-stone-arched doorways, through which flow 350 international students, Chinese dragons, examination desks, musicians, artists and now, wedding guests. It looks so authentically medieval, and some of it really is, the rest of it though, is only pretending. The 14th century timbered roof comes all the way from Wiltshire, brought by an American millionaire, as an elaborate prop for his castle in Wales. The enormous fireplaces at either end were shipped from France, but the inner wall is built with boulders taken from a local beach.
gothic entrance
flashing electrically
‘emergency exit’
I am here to attend the hall’s latest performance – a ‘wedding venue’ and to play the part of mother of the groom. The sunlight bounces off the sea below and in through leaded windows, then plays with the hats and the feathers and the flowers, and dances with the bubbles of champagne.
joy lights his face
beaming at his laughing bride
he walks away from me
Another day, the same stage and another role: I stand before assembled students ‘full of wise saws and modern instances.’ Or during Health Education Week, demonstrate how to fit a condom onto the handle of a broom. Dutch students roll their eyes in boredom; they’ve seen it all before. The Indian girls are appalled and embarrassed, or am I over reacting?
exposed
oak leaves tremble
as the willow
Today I might sit here, ‘with eyes severe’, pretending to be what I have become: a teacher supervising SAT examinations. The students rustle in with nervous twitterings; outside a blackbird sings. So many different languages!
I’m in love with their differences, jealous of their golden youth, bemused by the way the silence in this now hallowed space throbs with intensity. They all face forward, my audience, but they are blind to me; I look back to them.
oblivious
heads bent over exam scripts
hair drenched in sunbeams