My Primary School in Wylam was brutal. Teachers were allowed to hit us, and the punishment most commonly meted out to me was being held by the shoulders and shaken until my teeth rattled. This made me giggle with fear, so of course I got shaken even harder.
Little things made me happy, often colours. A girl whose hair was flaxen blonde (I'd never seen anyone like that before). A boy with an orange sweatshirt. There were curiosities. One little boy wore grey flannel shorts and a formal shirt, with what was obviously his father's tie. Every day the tie worked its way down through his shorts, and appeared with yellow and red pointed glee out of the bottom of them, flapping joyously about his legs as he ran around the playground.