Now you see it....
But for a stones throw I would have been in God's county, but no - it was in Derbyshire that I went to school.
See, the Pennines are so good at making it miserable in the Lakes that when it rained in my youth, there was no such thing as 'spitting'. Nor was there a 'light shower'.
If it was coming down, it came down hard, as I recall at least.
My tale follows one such day, or week, or possibly several months, of non-stop soaking wet rain on biblical proportions. The end of term it was and all!

Well, at the end of term we were always allowed onto the playing field, see? But not now, no, the rain had put paid to that.
So there I am, wet to the bone with my 3 year old waterproof coat on, wellies and a now soggy packed lunch, looking at the edge of the playing field no more than 20 meters away from me and my mates as we arrive at school.

There were desks there.
Brand new, still coated in shrink wrapped plastic, perfectly dry and without scribblings or doodles of any sort.
But it was the ground they stood on that intrigued us.
Closer and closer we crept, till we reached a stack 5 high.
"Must have been left here till the teachers sort them out."
"Oh well, we're early, might as well grab a pew, eh?"

So all 6 of us, knowing full well what we were doing, climbed aboard with grins from ear to ear.
Slowly, the legs of the bottom table eased through the soft turf.
Slower, the legs of the second table sank in.
Then the fun stopped, the third set of legs too much for the ground to take.
We cry in unison, "Well fuck this." and move to a standing position, giggling like, well, school children.
"Ready? 3 - 2 - 1 - ...."

We jump.
The tables beneath us disappear into the ground, only the tops remain mockingly protruding from the surface.

Wide eyed, we run to the next stack, and another, till all the stacks are but stepping stones in the mud.


The letter to our parents, the head teachers office 'meeting', the lunch times and break times we lost.
It was, all of it, worth it to see the puzzled look of astonishment on an entire schools worth of teachers.
"They're where?"
"How in blazes do we get them out now?"
"I told you they'd sink, but would you listen?"

(We would have gotten away with it to if it wasn't for a meddling kid)
( Pointy Head poked another hole in my anorak on, Wed 4 Feb 2009, 0:36, 1 reply)

I can't click this enough
Thats excellent.
(Potty Jag har smör i min rumpspringa, Wed 4 Feb 2009, 8:56, closed)