Lunch times at school were ok. I had mates of compatible nerdiness, and our choice of lunchtime haunts was the bridge over the railway. If we were lucky we’d see a brand new class 60. That was special.
Sixth form was different. Lunch hour was 120 minutes. Sometimes It would be spent with people I didn’t really know buying me beer, getting me to read socialist worker rag and join the militant labour movement. Other days I’d sit in the library reading journals or making cassette inlays on the RM Nimbus 386s.
If I was at a real loss, and I’d read all the magazines in WH Smith, I could hop on a bus to Leeds or Huddersfield and back and be back in time for the next lesson. Classes were three hours long with a half hour break. And after an hour on the bus home. It was a numbing young adulthood. On Balance, Buffy had it better.
Sixth form was different. Lunch hour was 120 minutes. Sometimes It would be spent with people I didn’t really know buying me beer, getting me to read socialist worker rag and join the militant labour movement. Other days I’d sit in the library reading journals or making cassette inlays on the RM Nimbus 386s.
If I was at a real loss, and I’d read all the magazines in WH Smith, I could hop on a bus to Leeds or Huddersfield and back and be back in time for the next lesson. Classes were three hours long with a half hour break. And after an hour on the bus home. It was a numbing young adulthood. On Balance, Buffy had it better.
My other two friends were almost outcasts one from India and one proudly Chinese. I was the boring token white with a few drops of Maori to give me credibility. Plus I was a Seventh former. We would sneak out to the fish and chip shop and eat chips and vinegar. I don't know why it was with vinegar because I don't eat chips with vinegar normally but ate a ton of them during my stay. Occasionally we would get caught and told off. I blame the vinegar.
