Thursday, Fifth Lesson, Textiles

Afternoon break soon encroached.  I went to the Music block to hang about. Mr Wigwam’s door was locked and there were only a few practice rooms open but they were all empty.  I decided to read the notice board until someone else turned up to talk to.  There are a few announcements pinned on there: 

Found – small child in Tuba. Answers to Izzy

and 

40 dinner tickets – unused, excellent condition. 9p each  

There was a slogan printed across the top of the notice board too: 

If you miss one day’s practice, you know. 

If you miss two days practice, your friends know. 

If you miss 3 days practice, the caretaker knows. 

If you miss four days practice, you’ve probably got a life. 

If you miss five days practice you’re probably not serious about your music. 

If you miss six or more days practice, that’s the reason the people you meet in Kwik Save stare at you and judge you.  

It’s a really long banner and stretches out of the music block and round the corner into the Art block.

Fifth lesson is Textiles. Sewing and making doilies is not for me so I wag off[1] and go up the top shop for some tabs[2] and an ice pop[3].  

Coloured cold sticks

I sit in the park just past the shop and go on the swings.  Hazzy and Grazzy are almost always here too and we talk about ‘what they’ll be doing now’ in textiles.  We then discuss the possibility that they might be making jumpers, while we sit in the park with the sky growing darker, the temperature dropping and the conversation waning.  I always wish I’d gone to Textiles after my tab and cola ice pop.  

Swing low, sweet... erm... swings

Mrs Pillowcase once gave us a feedback sheet to evaluate our projects and one question was ‘What part of the course did you dislike’ and I put ‘filling out this sheet’.  She was most disgruntled and I had to incur her wrath - I got an F, which was better than I expected! 

I trudged off home in the rain eventually.  I could see the classrooms in the craft block all lit up as I passed.  I could see Mr O’Lordy pointing angrily at a fifth year with one of those poles you use to open high windows.  On the roof I could see Big Steve McTall, who hadn’t left since second lesson.  He was giving Razzy a Swot knot.  That cheered me up.  It’s the concert tomorrow. I’m still wet from the walk home[4].

A Swot Knot, yesterday

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[1] Play truant. 

[2] Cigarettes.

[3] Iced pop or Icy pop. Pop that is now ice.

[4] This comment was pencilled into the diary at least thirteen years after the original entry