This morning I remembered some stuff and it made me deeply grateful
that I'm not at school any more.
Damp January mornings in a freezing, crumbling Victorian building with one lukewarm radiator per classroom. The smell of cold, wet mud on a rugby pitch as your face was ground into it. An elderly man of dubious sexual predilictions shouting at you for failing to conjugate Latin irregular verbs correctly.
The past truly is a different place, thank God.
First and second formers being castigated for daring to use each others christian
Quote:
Originally Posted by
Burney
Mondays were especially shït in winter. We always had rugby on Monday afternoon. The pervasive reek of of Deep heat and sweaty teenage boys and Mr Dodd (a convicted pedofiddler) 'joining the scrum', 'keeping his hands warm' down the front of his tracksuit trousers and 'making sure we'd showered'. :-(
Character-building, mind.
names. Food that had been prepared almost hatefully without the slightest attempt at flavour or quality.
An RI teacher with a suspicious tendency to flog only blond boys on the flimsiest of pretexts.
You've disinterred some painful memories :cry: