Janet Dimond - Lollipop Lady

Above: Janet Dimond - Lollipop Lady

by Stephen Swann
photograph by Roger Holman

A rainy, cheerless day in the suburbs of Weymouth, the sort of day when to see a smile on someone’s face is about as rare as Bruce Forsyth turning up on our telly screens dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Things soon brighten up when I arrive at the home of Janet Dimond though. Janet, you see, is one of those people who like a laugh, not only that, she likes to see other people laugh too. If I am anything to go by, she is not often disappointed. Two minutes in her company and, sure enough, I’m laughing. ‘Yes,’ she says, ‘I’m a lollipop lady. I’m 69 years old. I’ve been doing it for 27 years. And people think I’m mad. Is there anything else?’ There is.

Janet was born in the West Midlands. ‘We used to come on holiday to Weymouth when I was a kid,’ she tells me, ‘I loved it. After the dreariness of where I lived it seemed so different, like another country. When I was 21 I got on the train in Brum and came to Weymouth. I got a bedsit and a job as a veterinary nurse. I’ve been here ever since.’

Janet married her husband Bernard, a farmer from Osmington, in 1963. I ask Bernard how he came to meet Janet. ‘It was a blind date,’ he tells me. ‘I was blind and Janet didn’t know what she was doing.’ Janet laughs. ‘I think we were both blind,’ she adds, before continuing: ‘When my daughter was born in 1969 I left the vets and began working from home trimming poodles and dog grooming. I saw an ad in the paper for a lollipop lady and I thought that it would be a job I could do that would fit in with my daughter’s school holidays.’

A typical day...

A typical day for Janet begins at 6.15am. ‘I get up, have a bit of brekky and see to my tortoises and cats. I’ve got 11 tortoises – don’t ask me why, I’m not really sure myself – and three cats. I leave home at eight. I either walk or cycle to Conifers Primary School, Radipole Lane, for the arrival of the first children at around 8.15am. I am there until nine. Then it’s home until I go back for when the kids come out of school from three until four. I don’t see that many children across the road but that is not the point, it’s the fact that it is a very busy road, especially in the morning with everyone going to work.’

I ask her if she has seen any marked changes in the behaviour of motorists over the 27 years that she has been doing the job. ‘Today’s motorists are much better than when I started. These days I don’t have to walk out into the road – they see me and call me out,’ she tells me. ‘I can only remember one nasty incident in my time. A lady driver pulled away while I was actually crossing the children. The next day she pulled up and told me that I ought to get on the pavement sooner as it was very time-consuming having to wait. I took her number and the case went to court. She was fined and got points on her licence.’

Now, given Janet’s very obvious sense of humour, I ask if, despite the obvious serious nature of her job there are occasions that give her cause for the odd chuckle. ‘I sometimes get asked directions from drivers,’ she tells me. ‘A driver facing Portland once asked me if he was alright for the M5, can you believe. I’m always being asked the way to the M5. Another asked me if he was on the right road to Swanage. When I asked him where he had come from he said Bournemouth. He had no map and was completely lost.’

At this point Bernard brings in a tray of tea and biscuits. ‘I thought you’d gone to India for the tea,’ quips Janet. Bernard looks at me, winks, and says, ‘She can’t help it, she’s from Birmingham.’

In all weathers...

I ask Janet why she does a job that involves going out in all weathers and which carries such a lot of responsibility. ‘I don’t mind the rain but I do dread the wind and rain. Years ago in the winter I used to take a thermos of hot chocolate but now the winters are much milder, the seasons more even. I like being outside and the kids are good fun. At Christmas I get chocolates and bottles of wine from their parents and cards from the kids. In town, when grown-ups who have left school see me they say hello – especially the boys. That’s lovely that is.’

I ask her about life away from lollipopping. ‘I’ve got this thing about America,’ she tells me. ‘I’ve been there 18 times. I’m going again at Easter. Last Easter I was in San Francisco. I have a friend in Boston. People are so friendly over there. Then there are my two grandchildren – and the shopping, I’m a shopaholic (this looking at Bernard and laughing), and we love walking. Dorset is so beautiful.’

Retirement?...What retirement?

I mention the R word. ‘Retirement? I think I am the longest-serving lollipop lady in Dorset. When I’d done 25 years I went to County Hall for a presentation. That was nice. People think I’m mad doing it at my age but it’s really enjoyable. I’ve said I’ll think about retirement next year when I’m 70 – but who knows.’

It is time to go. After saying goodbye I drive off into a still grey and gloomy Weymouth. Only now something is different. Now I am smiling. At first this puzzles me. Then I realise why. It’s because I am going over my meeting with Janet. We hacks are a cynical bunch most of the time, it comes with the territory. Sometimes, though, you meet a person like Janet and just for a little while the world seems a better place. I’d nominate her for a CBE if I knew how to do it – and a trip to one of HRH’s garden parties. They say the Queen likes a laugh.

If you think you’ve got what it takes to be a lollipop lady, ring Simon Horlock on Tel 01305 224558.