Heavy Stuff



The place known as school.



I was late for school again this morning; on the way I riffed through a few old excuses (tho' I never use them, I just tell my Head of Studies, who is a saint, the simple truth; I overslept) from times gone by. Here's my two all time favourites!

I once worked in an office; just the once was enough. I worked there with a friend who'd kinda got me the job. He was incorrigble. He would trot between the filing cabinets and his desk with a plastic shark on a lead; he egged us on to hold up marks out of 6 for the girls going past, strict Winter Olympic ice dance style; his desk jotters were little masterpieces of Steadman-esque cartoons and doodles. One of the forms his incorrigibilty took was a distinct lack of punctuality. This sin was leavened by a gift for the creative. His excuses were world class; they reached a zenith the day of the elephant. Our much loved chief clerk, a man with a similar, yet different gift for delineating his own job till it barely existed, was nominally responsible, among other things such as counting windows and hot drinks dispensed by the hot drinks dispensing machine, for discipline. Ian always felt it was his duty to step up Bill's activity levels and so it was that most days he would potter not at all shamefacedly up to Bill's desk and trot out the latest little creative outburst. Until finally one day he simply opened the door, at about 9.45 (which definitely sounds earlier and less late than a quarter to ten) strode up to Bill's desk with purpose and said, "Sorry I'm late Bill, it was the elephant." That good and kindly man knew when he was beaten, looked up at Ian and simply replied, "Righto Ian, carry on."

Nellie?

And the circus was not in town.

When the powers that be could bear it no more they moved Ian somewhere else. I went along later, as did one or two of the other lads. I found us rooms in a nice house with a nice garden and the landlords sister who was so pretty everyone fell in love with her - in fact one of us married her; but that, as they say, is another story. Its good one too. No, what I want to tell you about is my other favourite excuse for tardiness. Sometimes tardiness gets to the point of not arriving at all. I myself was once relieved of my post in the Time Office of the late and I suspect not at all lamented East Moors Steel Works for being late; three days late! Thus it was that when interrogated about his latest job interview fiasco, Mick simply said he hadn't managed to get up. Not get up in time mark you, but get up, full stop. Clustered round his bed, we working lads pressed him as to the cause of this failure, "Why couldn't you get up?" he simply uttered, the single word, "Gravity."

Heavy stuff!