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Past Encounters

 

Past Encounters

 

 

 

 

Hi.

 

I visited my old school the other day. My old stomping ground. My college were taking us for a coffee morning. A friend of mine told me. My reaction was this: ‘no-no-nuh-no-no! not going back there – woah!’ or words to that effect.

I wasn’t bullied. I wasn’t given six-of-the-best with a belt. I wasn’t given a dunce hat and forced to sing ‘I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General’ or anything.

This was because my school had been a part of my life for (pulls up calculator – not even a joke – I think it’s called dyscalculia) fifteen years. Because of that I’d put a line under it … it was the end of that chapter.

However, as soon as I stepped into the Primary Hall, the grudge feeling melted. I was particularly in a docile mood that day because it marked six years since I fell in love (I keep  a diary, ok? she wouldn’t date me because I was a wheelchair user and I ended up gay anyway so…)

I saw old teachers. Some retired, some part time now. One I was glad to get away from (he was as mad as a Greggs without a queue) one I was delighted to see (but I email her stories I write anyway…)

I then saw my all time favourite teacher. She taught me for three years in the early to mid 2010s, and taught me everything there is to know about the English language – including, auxiliary verbs, proper nouns, and never using a comma then and ([1] But I always do because JK Rowling, Roald Dahl and Terry Pratchett do.)

I told her everything. She’d retired many years ago so there was a lot to condense, but I forgot to ask after her son. But I kept saying ‘it’s so nice to see you…’ as opposed to ‘YOU’RE NOT DEAD?’ and I mean that nicely.

 

 

Bye!

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