I have reoccurring dreams of things that happened years ago.
Last night was no exception.
It was hardly crime of the century that was committed by myself and a few other first-year pupils from my secondary school.
All we were doing was play fighting beside the art annex at play time, play time being the time when we were actually supposed to be allowed to play.
Back then play fighting was what a group of healthy boys would do.However, apparently, someone dropped a few F-bombs during the horseplay, and a certain busybody who did not approve of what we were doing complained to one of the senior teachers.
Outcomes Mr Burgess who was one of the senior teachers to rescue Miss Busy body from our terrible use of the English language, the noise of our play fighting, and our occasion f-bombs,
The Cane & Reoccurring Dream1
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