us about the War, even if it wasn’t in the syllabus. He showed us a black and white movie on the Battle of Britain. At one stage during the movie a German aircraft was shot down. As it crashed down to earth with a plume of smoke pouring from its tail, Crispo leapt up, thumped the table with his fist, and shouted, ‘Die, you Jerry bastard, die!’ As the plane exploded Crispo punched the air with delight and grinned triumphantly as if he’d downed the plane himself.
17:00 Today is Shrove Tuesday. Once again nobody seems to know what that actually means except that on this day it’s a tradition at the school to have an inter-house pancake race along the cloisters in the main quad. A boy from each standard and the housemaster from each house make up the relay team and each runner has to complete a lap of the quad before handing over the frying pan to the next runner. The rules are that the pancake has to be flipped at every corner, which often leads to a dropped pancake which slows the runner down as he has to pick it up again, reflip and then catch up with the other runners. The rest of the school stands in the middle of the quad and screamsfor their houses.
Rambo was chosen from our year, and he started the race and opened up an early lead. Sparerib was incredibly quick and by the time he handed over the pan to our last runner, Bert, we looked to have the race all sewn up. Unfortunately, Bert, who is high on speed but low on coordination, dropped the pancake at every corner and our house came second last.
As the crowd drifted away, I spotted a lonely figure standing near the fountain watching the goldfish in the pond. The bald patch on the back of his head was a sure sign that this boy was none other than the infamous Vern Blackadder. I noticed Boggo and Rambo sniggering at him from the common room window. I walked up to Vern and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned slowly and I was shocked to see that he looked just like an old man. I held out my hand and he shook it. ‘Welcome back, Vern,’ I said. He flashed his demented smile at me and then turned back to the pond. I stood with him in silence for a while and together we watched the fish.
Wednesday 23rd February
At breakfast, Boggo announced that Gecko’s making a recovery from his bout of pigeon poisoning and that he should be out of the san by Friday.
‘Good,’ said Rambo. ‘Then he’ll be fit for the night swim.’
There was a long silence, apart from the sound of Fatty choking on his pork sausage.
Are you mad?’ cried Boggo after recovering from the shock and helping me thump Fatty on the back. ‘We are not doing all that again. It was a raging catastrophe!’
This is not a debate, Boggo,’ snapped Rambo. He then smiled warmly at the rest of us and casually said, Friday night, gentlemen, Friday night.’ And with that he took a final bite of his toast and sauntered out of thedining hall, leaving us all staring after him.
11:00 On the board was a notice that read:
OLIVER AUDITION. Callbacks! 14:30 at the music centre.
Underneath was a long list of boys called for a second round of auditions. I bounced around the common room like a loony kangaroo after seeing my name second from last. My acting dream is still alive – just!
14:30 A smaller group of about thirty boys crowded around outside the music centre. This time Viking called us all into the big band room for a pep talk. Viking spoke at the level of a shout and huge globules of spit flew out of his mouth, making him look like he’d just recently picked up a serious case of rabies.
‘Gentlemen,’ he roared, ‘congratulations on making it to the second round! This play… should you make it, will dominate your year, your time, and your mind. I am a perfectionist – if I don’t get perfection, then I get violent, not so, Barnes?’ A small boy leaning on a pair of crutches, with his left leg in a plaster cast, nodded his head sadly. ‘Do I make myself clear?’ We all
17:00 Today is Shrove Tuesday. Once again nobody seems to know what that actually means except that on this day it’s a tradition at the school to have an inter-house pancake race along the cloisters in the main quad. A boy from each standard and the housemaster from each house make up the relay team and each runner has to complete a lap of the quad before handing over the frying pan to the next runner. The rules are that the pancake has to be flipped at every corner, which often leads to a dropped pancake which slows the runner down as he has to pick it up again, reflip and then catch up with the other runners. The rest of the school stands in the middle of the quad and screamsfor their houses.
Rambo was chosen from our year, and he started the race and opened up an early lead. Sparerib was incredibly quick and by the time he handed over the pan to our last runner, Bert, we looked to have the race all sewn up. Unfortunately, Bert, who is high on speed but low on coordination, dropped the pancake at every corner and our house came second last.
As the crowd drifted away, I spotted a lonely figure standing near the fountain watching the goldfish in the pond. The bald patch on the back of his head was a sure sign that this boy was none other than the infamous Vern Blackadder. I noticed Boggo and Rambo sniggering at him from the common room window. I walked up to Vern and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned slowly and I was shocked to see that he looked just like an old man. I held out my hand and he shook it. ‘Welcome back, Vern,’ I said. He flashed his demented smile at me and then turned back to the pond. I stood with him in silence for a while and together we watched the fish.
Wednesday 23rd February
At breakfast, Boggo announced that Gecko’s making a recovery from his bout of pigeon poisoning and that he should be out of the san by Friday.
‘Good,’ said Rambo. ‘Then he’ll be fit for the night swim.’
There was a long silence, apart from the sound of Fatty choking on his pork sausage.
Are you mad?’ cried Boggo after recovering from the shock and helping me thump Fatty on the back. ‘We are not doing all that again. It was a raging catastrophe!’
This is not a debate, Boggo,’ snapped Rambo. He then smiled warmly at the rest of us and casually said, Friday night, gentlemen, Friday night.’ And with that he took a final bite of his toast and sauntered out of thedining hall, leaving us all staring after him.
11:00 On the board was a notice that read:
OLIVER AUDITION. Callbacks! 14:30 at the music centre.
Underneath was a long list of boys called for a second round of auditions. I bounced around the common room like a loony kangaroo after seeing my name second from last. My acting dream is still alive – just!
14:30 A smaller group of about thirty boys crowded around outside the music centre. This time Viking called us all into the big band room for a pep talk. Viking spoke at the level of a shout and huge globules of spit flew out of his mouth, making him look like he’d just recently picked up a serious case of rabies.
‘Gentlemen,’ he roared, ‘congratulations on making it to the second round! This play… should you make it, will dominate your year, your time, and your mind. I am a perfectionist – if I don’t get perfection, then I get violent, not so, Barnes?’ A small boy leaning on a pair of crutches, with his left leg in a plaster cast, nodded his head sadly. ‘Do I make myself clear?’ We all
Similar Books
