Featuring a garden, The Old Bank House is located in Castle Cary. Free Wi Fi is featured throughout the property and free private parking is available on site. A refrigerator and stovetop are also provided, as well as a coffee machine and a kettle. There is also a kitchen, fitted with an oven and toaster. The nearest airport is Bristol Airport, 22 miles from the property.If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, an what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth. Pencey Prep is this school that's in Agerstown, Pennsylvania. Like as if all you ever did at Pencey was play polo all the time. "I've been just fine, Holden." She closed the closet door. " The way she asked me, I knew right away old Spencer'd told her I'd been kicked out. I just mean that I used to think about old Spencer quite a lot, and if you thought about him too much, you wondered what the heck he was still living for. In the first place, that stuff bores me, and in the second place, my parents would have about two hemorrhages apiece if I told anything pretty personal about them. He used to be just a regular writer, when he was home. I never even once saw a horse anywhere near the place. She hung up my coat in the hall closet, and I sort of brushed my hair back with my hand. I mean he was all stooped over, and he had very terrible posture, and in class, whenever he dropped a piece of chalk at the blackboard, some guy in the first row always had to get up and pick it up and hand it to him. But if you thought about him just enough and not too much, you could figure it out that he wasn't doing too bad for himself. Thanks a lot." He'd written me this note asking me to stop by and say good-by before vacation started, on account of I wasn't coming back. I'd have come over to say good-by anyway." "Have a seat there, boy," old Spencer said. They're quite touchy about anything like that, especially my father. That isn't too far from this crumby place, and he comes over and visits me practically every week end. He wrote this terrific book of short stories, The Secret Goldfish, in case you never heard of him. And underneath the guy on the horse's picture, it always says: "Since 1888 we have been molding boys into splendid, clear-thinking young men." Strictly for the birds. Anyway, it was the Saturday of the football game with Saxon Hall. I wear a crew cut quite frequently and I never have to comb it much. For instance, one Sunday when some other guys and I were over there for hot chocolate, he showed us this old beat-up Navajo blanket that he and Mrs. Come in, boy." He was always yelling, outside class. The minute I went in, I was sort of sorry I'd come. What made it even more depressing, old Spencer had on this very sad, ratty old bathrobe that he was probably born in or something. Old guys' legs, at beaches and places, always look so white and unhairy.
I'll just tell you about this madman stuff that happened to me around last Christmas just before I got pretty run-down and had to come out here and take it easy. I remember around three o'clock that afternoon I was standing way the hell up on top of Thomsen Hill, right next to this crazy cannon that was in the Revolutionary War and all. His door was open, but I sort of knocked on it anyway, just to be polite and all. He was sitting in a big leather chair, all wrapped up in that blanket I just told you about.
Where I want to start telling is the day I left Pencey Prep. They advertise in about a thousand magazines, always showing some hotshot guy on a horse jumping over a fence. I know that sounds mean to say, but I don't mean it mean. " "M'boy, if I felt any better I'd have to send for the doctor," old Spencer said. I thought this was the day of the big game." "It is. Only, I just got back from New York with the fencing team," I said.
You could see the whole field from there, and you could see the two teams bashing each other all over the place.
You couldn't see the grandstand too hot, but you could hear them all yelling, deep and terrific on the Pencey side, because practically the whole school except me was there, and scrawny and faggy on the Saxon Hall side, because the visiting team hardly ever brought many people with them.
There were never many girls at all at the football games.
Only seniors were allowed to bring girls with them.