Clouds hang low as smog. Cars complain; the hiss of watered tyres: Damp seeps through my jacket. Copyright Tom Tide 2017.
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.
During the 18 months that I have been writing this blog, I have never written about my profession. So I shall do now. In my daytime exploits I am a Secondary English teacher. It is now 5.18 am on Sunday Morning. I am swathed in blankets, full of caffeine and listening to the subtle sounds … More Marking Time