Sometimes reminiscing isn’t such a good thing.
This morning I was talking with my office inmates about school days. We were discussing The Worth Of Teachers and I pointed out that a handful of them had a real positive impact on my life – especially the English ones.
But then I remembered Mr Stevens. When I think of teachers, he’s the one that stands out from the rest.
School is no place for psychotic bullies. Hell is.
Just before I left that town I grew up in for good, I had a job photographing weekend sports, and stuff.
One day I saw Mr Stevens through the telephoto lens. He was playing Old Boys rugby. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. After all those years he was still a big, imposing, fat, bearded thug.
I don’t have a Hit List, or anything, but if I did, Mr Stevens would be at the top.
Scott Parker – You’re Number 2, buddy.
We’re wearing black at work today. No, no-one of note has died. Our national rugby team the All Blacks play the British & Irish Lions tomorrow night and it’s in support of them.If, by some cruel twist of fate our team loses, I will be wearing black again on Monday, but for a different reason.
I just got handed an invite for an engagement party. I asked the prospective bride why it’s being held in a hair-dressers.
“No you dyslexic fool! It says Saloon, not Salon!”.
Oh.
That makes a more sense...
