Listen. The thudding, bouncy-soled footfalls of the rabbly- boys are retreating. Out of the hazy fug of Summer blooms and honeysweet funks of atomised scent go the bonny girls of the Year of Eleven- all imbibed and annointed to ensnare the football-shod boyo’s! Listen, for all is silent, but for the ticky- cooling hot electronics … More In caffeinated praise of Dylan Thomas. Words from an exhausted English teacher, surviving on coffee, during morning break.
This most odd of places, to which I retreat. Shuffle off teacher robes, and return to myself. This quiet, sunlit cove of my lifes and loves. Plastered over the walls, as if by retreating floods. Yey no. Not plastered. Placed, with loving care for eyes to drink upon and be refreshed, Whatever challenges the chipping away … More Work Station- a teacher’s lifeline.
My morning coffee teases me with glimpses of all the things I could write about today but cannot yet see they swirl and vanish all too fast in steam of consciousness way before I can capture them yet some meagre impressions remain like sunspots- here’s to inspiration! © Tom Tide 2016