Or he’d come up to you and suddenly make out like he was going to grab your ‘wedding tackle’ as he called it, making you grab at yourself and whip away, to his and some of the other boys’ amusement.
He was always cracking jokes about our ‘wedding tackle’.
I disliked him, but some of the boys really liked him and thought him hilarious, and were sorry when our usual sports master returned.
No accounting for tastes I suppose.
I still wonder if he was just a half-wit, or actually some sort of pervert.
He certainly used to look at, and get a little too familiar, with our bodies, for my taste anyway.
Who knows? He didn’t do me any real harm except to embarrass me I suppose.