Chasing Brett Palfrey
Brett was our fun class scapegoat. Each break time we would playfully chase him across the playing fields until we caught him, whereupon a joyfully mild beating would be administered.
I thought of this as run-of-the-mill schoolboy horsefoolery, until my mate from another class furnished me with a more objective viewpoint. He had one of those teachers who would keep students back on any flimsy pretext, so his class often got to see our fun. He provided me with this description.
I thought of this as run-of-the-mill schoolboy horsefoolery, until my mate from another class furnished me with a more objective viewpoint. He had one of those teachers who would keep students back on any flimsy pretext, so his class often got to see our fun. He provided me with this description.
- The bell would ring. There would then be a gap of some 30 seconds, during which his entire class would stare out of the window.
- Like a panicked Gazelle, Palfrey would spring out from the buildings and beat a breakneck path across the playing fields.
- There would be a further gap of about 5 seconds, as an underfoot thunder gathered force.
- The doors burst open, and a screaming mess of boyhood (containing a significant number of the rugby team) throttled towards the fleeing Palfrey.
- Palfrey would be engulfed. His bag, ejected from the melee, would follow a graceful parabola before showering the ground with his books.
- The cloud would then disperse, cheerfully discussing the whimsical dusting-down that had just been meted out.
- A broken Palfrey forlornly picked up his books, put them back in his bag, and waited until he could get back to the comparative safety of the classroom.
written by Bi*ch*ng *edant, approved by Log