Once when i was a scruffy, inky second former at secondary school i was sent with a note to the deputy headmaster as a punishment. I should explain that this man’s professional demeanour was of a rottweiler in the last stages of rabies. The rumour was he had taught at a borstal before coming to us. He was about six foot six and the only thing that shone more than his size 14 shoes was the highly polished dome of his bald head.
It was just about quarter to four and i must admit i was a little nervous as i approached his study.
When i got there the door was open, he had a cane in his hands and two pretty sixth form girls were in earnest conference with him. He was showing off his cane, they were giggling and he looked like somebodies jolly uncle. I relly hated to interrupt his genial conversation but delying things could only postpone the inevitable.
Tall (but true) story1
