This used to be my playground

It’s taken 18 months or 547 days or 788923 minutes but I’ve finally managed to correct a child’s work by telling them there’s no ‘i’ in team. We needed teamwork to help cope with a failing heating system. The children grouped together like penguins on the carpet, which I guess would make me the Emperor Penguin.

Like an Emperor Penguin I’m able to shut down non-essential organ functions. My need to hear is generally non-essential. The thousand soap operas a day are forgotten about as quickly as they’re told to me.

Following a gig the previous night, I was so profoundly deaf I pretended to listen to their myriad of “he did this” “she did that” stories. “I’m pulling the same expression weirdos have while sat opposite me on the tube” I thought, through the perpetual ringing noise.

If my auditory perception had been just that bit better I could have avoided what happened next. I’d been given a large ball of tin foil with a passing comment about what was in it. I hadn’t picked this up and proceeded to squeeze the ball, throw it in the air and shake it. I removed layer after layer to the close attention of the class.

I heard the crack, before I caught the smell. Liquid suddenly poured from the tin foil down my sleeves and before I knew it, the smell of rotten egg was everywhere. What possessed this child to think a rotten egg was a suitable gift was similar to the mindset of the child who gave me a Hoover bag for my birthday.

The School is being expanded and resembles New York. To paraphrase Madonna ‘this used to be our playground’. It’s difficult to keep the children’s attention “stop looking out the window at the  excavators, bulldozers and giant cranes!”

To finish the day a group that appeared in the X Factor performed for us. As they bounded on stage I pretended to hyperventilate and did the ‘flappy hand in front of the face’ thing. It’s testament to how kind and alert our first aid officer is, that she scuttled over to see if I was OK.

My loss of hearing was my downfall again as I bumped into the group in the corridor. I wanted to say ‘thank you’ but was unsure of their group name. Was it Mitosis? No, that’s something to do with cells. Mitsubishi? They make motor bikes. I went for ‘myxomatosis’. They politely corrected me. “It’s Mitsotu”. When they find out myxomatosis is a disease that wipes out rabbits I expect a mention in their Christmas autobiography.

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