Musings, on life, universe and the daily small happenings within our 'compound' (the hothouse) concerning writing, music, gardening and jam making, etc. email@example.com
Monday, 30 April 2012
More like crushed and removed. On my trip back to the mother rock I went up to my old school to swim in the gym's pool.
I was grieved indeed to see my beloved lieu of learning as various assorted—in—size piles of rubble. I wasn't actually, it was a fairly desperate example of early 1970's architecture. I do have some fond memories such as gazing at Mr Bewley's handsome features in A level geography, hence why I got F. It was also quite good fun roaring across the playground on my Puch grand prix moped, when it would start. Apart from that, not sure really, was quite glad when it was time to move on.
On the way back from the pool I took this small chunk of concrete from the site, as a moment of those wonder days. A man in a plastic yellow hat came over and asked me what I was doing. I in return asked him what was going to happen to all the rubble that was passing through a most impressive crushing machine. He said it was gong to be the base of the car park for the super new building. We stared at the lump for a bit. "I bet you can't identify which classroom it came from."he said. Geography I replied, and headed back to the car in the pissing rain.