Making plans for Nigel

Posted on July 22, 2014

Showing my age there, referencing old tunes from my yoot.

Like Nigel, I’ve got it all sussed now, maybe. The black dog of depression has been kicked out of its kennel and is roaming free in the street, unleashed but not dangerous, just semi-contented.

Tomorrow should have been the last day of term, the last day of my 27 years teaching English and Drama, but it’s the last day of my teaching career effectively. ¬†Am I bovered? Yes I was.

But not any more.

I’m still irked greatly by the events and the injustice of it all. I still look at the scab (metaphorically) and have urges to pick it. You see, the aggressor, who bullied me, is still in post, still drawing a salary, but I’m not. Is that fair? Is it right? Should I let the scab heal and move on to pastures new, or should I continue to brawl with a system I can’t seem to beat.

If I’d done the things that were done to me, I’d be out on my ear.

Perhaps, I need to accept defeat, move on and mouth repeatedly:

Sometimes good things fall apart, so better things can fall together.

I’ve a feeling too that maybe just maybe I’m on to better things. And 1st August is when they’ll start.

You just watch.


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