I think we would have been ten or eleven at the time. Trolls were the toy of the moment for us girls. My group of friends were like many others at the time – caught up with fitting in, bringing our trolls to school, sharing ideas about styling their hair, making their clothes and creating adventures with them.
The trolls came in many sizes, but mostly, we had the ones which were about 4 inches tall, with long, wild, flowing hair, large squashed noses, a fixed smile and rigid bodies. By that age, at that time, a number of the girls were already skilled knitters and dressmakers, but even the most un-crafty of us, could create a waistcoat or a pair of trousers with a piece of felt and a stitch or two.
Over the weeks, as the craze persisted, the troll population increased, as pocket money was saved and birthday wishes came true. At that point, there had been no deviation from the way the games unfolded each day, but in one corner a small voice of dissent could be heard. A plot was afoot to shake things up a bit.
My group included two friends that I walked home with each day. We were very different in many ways but jogged along nicely together, without too many fall outs. Each of us added to the wider group in different ways. Helen was one of the creative ones who was already knitting herself jumpers and creating wonderful outfits for her trolls, I was the quiet one who went along with whatever was suggested – just happy to be part of it, and then there was Susan who had a fantastic imagination and was able to create wonderful storylines for the trolls to take part in – starting the adventure during play time and picking it up again at lunch break.
Then one day, Susan announced that her troll had not been feeling well and for some days it just sat on the sidelines alone, unable to join in. Unfortunately, the troll’s medical condition deteriorated and as each day came, Susan would keep us up to date with stories of sickness and fainting and the poor troll being too tired to stand. Of course Susan was very convincing and we all went along with it, with feigned concern and sympathy, as the poor sickly troll got worse. Then one sad day, Susan arrived at school alone, her troll having not made it through the night and sadly, had died early that morning.
There was much weeping and wailing being acted out by the other girls (and their trolls). Their grieving was interrupted by a stoic Susan, who announced to the gathered throng, that there would be a funeral for her beloved troll, the following Monday lunchtime. We were all shocked – but also very excited at the prospect of enacting something we had only ever seen on TV or at the cinema and a hushed silence descended, as people started to comprehend what was going on.
Susan on the other hand was in her element. A drama had been created and was now unfolding. She loved it – and as the three of us knew, in reality, she had become bored with the current identity of her troll and wanted to re-invent it. What better way to do that, than to kill it off and to send it on its way big style, which then gave her the opportunity to bring it back after the funeral, with a brand new identity.
Monday arrived and all the trolls and their families had been informed as to what would be needed that day. Each troll – as expected – came to school in its most fabulous finery – whilst we had to stick to school uniform as usual. Some of the girls had even brought flowers to add to the sobriety of the occasion.
Susan arrived that day with her troll ceremoniously laid out in a box, Its head peeking out, from a shiny looking blanket, a deathly smile upon its face, After lunch had been eaten, we all gathered outside our classroom waiting for the coffin to arrive. Word had spread like wildfire around the rest of the school and the sense of anticipation could be felt all around. At the predetermined time, Susan walked out with the cardboard coffin held high, delivered a moving speech and then we all fell in behind her as she started the ceremonial parade. As, what would have been fifty girls, walked past each of the classrooms, the rest of the school stood aside to let the procession through. To this day I can’t remember if we sang as we went, but my goodness, did that troll get a send off. We paraded together around the whole playground, the other children joining on the end as we marched past.
It was timed beautifully, as Susan, like the pied piper, led the whole school back to the starting point just as the the bell rang to signal the end of lunchtime and the funeral was suddenly over. The coffin was unceremoniously shoved back into Susan’s school bag, as we made our way into the classroom.
On Tuesday morning, Susan arrived at school accompanied by a pirate troll and a whole new phase of troll play commenced.
Today – 60 years later – we are still friends and meet regularly, our shared history often re-explored. Susan, as expected, still has a fantastic imagination put to good use in the now long list of novels she has had published.
The troll – I’m not sure what happened to it, after trolls became unfashionable and we all moved on. But it certainly has never been forgotten.