Jock Thompson
Was my PE teacher.

He'd clearly been on a BIG diet of Quaker Oats (for those who recall the 1970's TV ads) and was - as the advert said - A fine figure of a man.

Not, however, a man without understanding.

I was fairly good at cricket (hard and sure batsman with very little control over direction) until at 14 my eyesight started fading and I needed glasses.

Bespectacled, I dropped out of the school cricket team and frankly lost all interest in anything remotely sporting or athletic.

After one particularly embarrasing attempt at volleyball - I couldn't see the ball, so how could I be expected to hit the fucker - Jock sidled up to me in the changing rooms.

"Cripes" - thunk I. Here comes a bollocking at least, a slippering at most.

None of the sort - Jock struck a deal.

As a result, for the last two years of senior school I was exempt from PE and free to wander at leisure for two hours on a Thursday morning PROVIDING I collected his cheese and pickle sandwich from
the butty shop round the corner at 11.50.

Inverse bullying? Didn't do me any harm.
( The Disappointed Caravanner of the year, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 20:36, Reply)