In primary school I had friends, but kept to myself most of the time – preferring to move along the fringes and edges during recess and not getting too involved with anyone.
This intensified when I lost something at school and discovered two things:
1 – The lost and found was kept in a dingy room in a dark passage in a deserted part of the school, and
2 – The school janitor was a paedophile.
That triggered a full retreat into my own world – into my own mind. This, by the way, was and still is a wonderful place to visit.
The idea to tell anyone didn’t even enter my mind… Shows you how safe I felt…
In High School it was quickly discovered that paedophiles are everywhere. The High School freak was a teacher who liked little boys. We had a rifle-range at school. After each session the freak would pick someone to help him put everything back in the ammo shed. I have often wondered how many of my schoolmates entered that place little boys and left it shattered.
So to all those suicidal, emotionally crippled, deeply remorseful paedophiles out there, all I have to say is: “Remember – it’s down the Road, not across the River” – Get it right, Freaks!! I’ll even run you a hot bath!!
But I digress…..
Space Cadet remains an accurate description of me as a schoolgirl. My state of mind was maintained by strict routine. I never did things out of order. It was – wake up, drink coffee, get dressed, make bed, eat breakfast, brush teeth, check school-bag, ready to go, arrive at school, put school bag in the correct row, dig into pocket for book currently being read, sit down somewhere out of the way, read.
I couldn’t, of course, read my book in class, so escaped into my own imagination – usually incorporating currently being read book into the images and daydreams.
The problem with being in dream world all the time is that you forget where you are altogether, and sometimes the happy thoughts spill over into a goofy grin, which isn’t always displayed at the appropriate moment.
I recall two such moments…..
I was in history class. Mr Officious bully weirdo with moustache had his knickers in a knot about something or the other. We didn’t do very well in the last test, or our behaviour just wasn’t good enough. I am guessing – I really have no idea what he was crapping on about.
All I remember is being shocked into reality when his fist banged my desk. Heart-attack time! There was this huge red face with blazing eyes, flaring nostrils and quivering moustache right in front of mine. Intimidating? Not really, I was too busy preventing a heart-attack and wondering what he was on. (And honestly, compared to my dad, he was a pussy.) “Do you find it funny?” “No sir” And then blah blah blah blah (I was too busy thinking what a total jerk he was to pay attention to what he was saying).
The other time that I recall being caught with a goofy grin was in church. The minister, an honest, trustworthy, decent human being, was being pushed out by the powerful members of the community. You know the ones – they have money and like to have their interest looked after, their children promoted and everybody with a bit of say in the community firmly under their control. Well, this bloke would have none of that, so he had to go. And they won, as they do.
We were in church when he was giving his final sermon. It was apparently scathing and he pretty much told everyone that they are on the road to hell. Again, I am guessing, because I was there on body only. My mind was off somewhere in another world. No fists on desks this time – I was allowed to wallow in my reverie. My mother were questioned, though, afterwards, by some or other busy body about why She was sitting there with a smile on her face while the minister was tearing strips off everyone. But hey, let’s face it – why should I have felt chastised anyway – I was on his side.
So, what does all this mean – all this stuff I just wrote. Does it have to mean anything? It’s just a random recollection that found its way onto a page.