The Dame

Everyone knows the saying, ‘Behind every great man there’s a great woman,' but in the case of Eton it might easily be changed to ‘Behind every great house master there’s a great Dame.’

The role of the Dame, my own who I have mentioned previously, lies somewhere between a housekeeper and a matron; she provides basic medical care for injured boys whilst organising the rest of the house staff.

Where the name 'Dame' comes from I do not know, but I admit it sounds slightly odd at first, rather like the title you might give to an experienced hand in a brothel. For us though it becomes second nature very quickly.   

Although the house master may be the ultimate figure of authority in the house, the influence of the Dame cannot be underestimated. Since department meetings, tours for prospective parents and a handful of divs each week occupy a lot of the house master's time, it is impossible for him not to delegate a significant amount of power to the Dame,

Being be a skilled administrator is therefore a prerequisite for the job, but what I believe is most appreciated about the Dame, be it consciously or sub-consciously, is her femininity. Being at an all-boys school with a mostly male staff is not a normal existence, and it can be easy to forget that women do actually exist outside of the school, and are not just strange creatures in movies. 

The Dame therefore is a much needed female presence. It may be a stereotype, but women are clearly best at dealing with emotional and personal needs. If a boy is missing his parents for example, or has an awkward rash, the last person he will want go to with this information is his taciturn house master, who will likely order him to ‘man up’. Unlike the Dame, who will offer a shoulder to cry on.

I confess to suffering from homesickness myself during my early inF block. I boarded at prep school, but arriving at Eton was like moving to a big, bad city where life moved at a hundred miles an hour. Feeling pretty down, I therefore crept up to the Dame's flat a couple of times, where I probably put in a good audition for the world’s biggest wimp award, but at least came away slightly happier than when I entered.

Of course, Dames are not perfect. My own one can be a bit annoying at times, and has a habit of summoning you to her flat for the most trivial of reasons.

Overall though, she strikes a good balance between being meddlesome on the one hand and invisible on the other. In some houses, the Dame is said to be so distant that some boys buy their own paracetamol rather than take the 50/50 chance of finding her. In others, the Dame is so interfering that it's like being treated like a toddler.

One drawback to the presence of a female in the house is naturally the risk of being caught naked. Unlike at prep school where matrons supervise shower times without batting an eyelid, nudity in front of the Dame here is definitely not legit. Inevitably though, it happens to everyone a couple of times by accident during their time here. On the one occasion it happened to me I was changing for games when the Dame walked in. My natural reaction was to cup myself, whilst she backed out of the room covering here eyes. ‘You’re not the first and won’t be the last,’ she told me later.

As far as these situations go mine was quite dignified. An older boy, now left, told me about the time he returned to his room after a shower and heard a catchy song come on the radio. Caught up in the excitement of it he began to dance, and the Dame walked in moments later to find him ‘doing the windmill.’ 

My Dame is without a doubt unfailingly professional, but it would be naïve that every Dame ever has been. I say this because after a Field Game last Saturday I was chatting to one of the old boys who told me that when he was at Eton one of his mates had an affair with his Dame.

At first I didn't believe him, so outrageous was the thought that I myself might do something with my Dame. But the more I thought about it, the more plausible it appeared. After all, every year B blockers are turning eighteen and we all know of couples where the age difference is big.

Obviously, it would be breaking about a billion school rules, not to mention laws, but who doesn't like a walk on the wild side now and again?

Which makes me wonder: maybe I'm too mature and sophisticated for all the girls my age? Maybe I need a real woman?