Another entry in the diary of an 80’s neurodiverse schoolboy

I set off late to school with half a broken biro pen, splintered shatterproof ruler and a spring in my step.

Although I arrive late and sweaty, registration goes without the usual drama of shouting out and annoying the people around me and today I managed to focus enough to reply positively to my name.

When the bell goes, we all scurry out of the door headind for first lesson.

The corridor’s are filled with temptations, fire alarms to press, heads to slap and fire extinguishers to set off.

Luckily I manage to arrive at my first lesson without giving into the complusions.

French class and a great start as I’ve bagged a window seat near the back of the room.

Okay let’s just sit and stare out the window for a while untill class begins.

After about ten minutes of watching a Safeway carrier bag blow around the carpark like a hyperactive jellyfish its time to see what’s going on in this classroom.

It’s very quiet in here, apart from the scrawling sounds of pen on paper.

Everyone is writing in their exercise books and Mr Henthorn is looking sternly at something on his desk, I wonder what have I missed?

Oh well better open my book and look busy then I can go back to staring out of the window.

Where’s that bag gone? At least I have some crows fighting over a crisp packet for entertainment.

Safeway bag back is back to entertain me brilliant.

The bell rings and drags me back into the real world, it also signals the end of the lesson.

I close my exercise book which has not had a drop of ink added to a single page, I head for the door and out into the madness of the corridor once again.

The Bunsen Burnt Bench