Lowewood Academy

“A week! A sodding week!”

“Nine days, actually, honey.”

“Oh, stop being so pedantic!”

“Well, stop being so silly! You’ve got nothing to worry about, you’ll be fine. You always are.”

“Harumph!” I snorted.

“Seriously, though,” Alex continued. “Look at that. No one else has got one of those. And I’m damned sure no one else follows one of those to quite the level of accuracy you do.”

I followed his gaze, to the space above my headboard that’s usually reserved for my print of Seurat’s ‘…La Grande Jatte’. A space which is now occupied by a rather less attractive mural made up of 12 sheets of A4 paper sellotaped together, and covered with the most intricate and colourful revision plan I’ve ever made.

(And I have form.)

(more…)

So: my birthday.  Just 17.  In some ways I felt a lot younger than that; in others, right now, way older.  I certainly looked older, I mused gloomily, staring at my unattractive reflection in the bathroom mirror.  My hair looked crap, my eyes seemed to droop with the tiredness of many restless, disturbed nights, and my skin had a lack of colour even by the usual standards of my fair complexion.  I squeezed one of the spots on my chin and sighed.

“You look like shit,” I muttered in acknowledgement of the facts, taking a long draught to help me not care.

“Cheers!”

The voice behind me made me jump a mile, and hastily shove my hipflask back in my blazer.  I spun round to see Fliss grinning at me, having entered without my noticing.  For a moment, my brain was completely fuddled: what was that supposed to mean?

“Are are you taking the piss?”  Even I could hear how defensive I sounded.

(more…)

One of things that I love about this term is the chance to play cricket. It is the quintessentially English game. The players in their whites and blazers, the polite applause from the boundary, the sandwiches and cake served as match tea between the innings. There is nothing better on a sunny summer’s afternoon than a keenly contested game of cricket played out between two well-matched teams.

Our opponents today were Wycliffe College, a school from Gloucestershire and very worthy opponents.  Our record against them suggested that it would be a tight match: over the last four times we had met Lowewood had chalked up two narrow victories and two losses. 

I don’t need any extra incentive to give my utmost on the sports field whether it’s rugby, hockey or cricket, but today I had been given a secondary motive to do well.  For the first time this season Rachel was there to watch and she had made me a promise. For every run that I made I could give her a smack on her bare bum, if I got a century then the punishment would be doubled, for every wicket I took she would take three strokes of the cane, and if I took a hat-trick with my bowling then it would be six strokes per wicket.  If I achieved none of that and yet Lowewood still won then she would reward me by putting herself over my knee for a ten smack spanking over her knickers. We had had fun negotiating the tariff the night before and just the thought of it had resulted in some very enthusiastic love-making.

(more…)