It's getting better, isn't it? I think so...so much so I can't even bear to look at the older stuff at the bottom! I worry at what shocking errors I will find...maybe it's better that way; signs of progression!
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
...teacher's pet.
Hugh took the final turn down the winding lane to the school, the leaves whispering around his head in a swirling dance. He sighed and held onto his weathered leather satchel tighter, pulled his worn woolly scarf tighter around his face, as the sign of the school displaying his name came into view.
"St Agnes School for Boys — Ages 10-18. Headmaster — Dr. Hugh G. Atherton."
Well, that's what it should have read. The t and h of Atherton had long since been replaced with 'ss', much to his chagrin. This was the sixth bloody sign that had been brutally defaced — and replaced — since his arrival at the school. This was not the only change of course in his tenure of ten years. Most of the changes he felt were not confined to himself alone; a doctorate in literature, a widow, a loner, a district disciplinarian, and a lover of all thing feline. This were undisputed facts in his life and those that he felt had fashioned and chiseled him, now being in his late fifties.
In reality, Hugh had changed enormously. A once lover of books, he now barely read novels at all. The wife he loved dearly but rarely showed it, actually left him for the young local gardener, long before she died of a heart attack (whilst in the throes of passion with the aforementioned gardener no less) After he and Susan moved to the area due to his 'promotion' of head of St Agnes', he refused to have a pet in the house. To cure his loneliness, he took in a small black and white kitten which appeared in the conservatory one day. He warmed to how the little mite needed him, it made him feel important, wanted, it was not like one of his filthy, disrespectful oiks that constantly tested him and teased him at St. Agnes'. The kitten, named, Jester, did not ask for anything apart from food, he was always willing to jump on Hugh's lap for a snooze and giving both of them some much needed love and warmth. Replacement love, but love nonetheless. Now, some 3 years later, he had homed 3 further cats. Correction 4 cats, one sadly died in a regrettable incident with a reversing Post Office van however.
To Hugh, even though all those events had lead to where he was now, the past was not accumulative, it was all about the here and now. It was just another day at school to keep up the shoddy facade of being the dominating head, the strict disciplinarian, the un-caring monster with the iron fist and flashing cane. Today though, he just felt miserable. Another dark, wet, cold morning. A Monday morning no less. It was too early for most of the students to be at school, the lights inside glowed giving the appearance of some warmth inside. Hugh felt distinctively cold however. Arriving early was one of Hugh's highlights of the day, before the good-for-little brats turned up to ruin his ever declining mood. Not that his mood was anything other than festering aleady. He hated autumn, he hated the dampness, he hated the lack of sunlight. There wasn't much he did not like. Apart from his cats and the other cats that were occupying his mind more than any pre or post pubescent pest that dared cross his path to his office.
Hugh spent most of his day avoiding the very subjects that were in his care. Only a few teachers turned up daring to bother the busy Dr. Atherton. They could hear the churn of his aged colour printer inside. His secretary, Mary his almost as threatening a figure as Hugh was imposed herself just as many secretaries do, thinking they are just as important a cog in the system as their masters or mistresses, She visibly widened her ample frame against the door to head any visitors off at the pass, not that it was necessary, she could barely fit through the door sideways herself due to her shot-putter shoulders and wide hips that had mothered a brood of 5 children. It was not that Hugh was actually that busy with school affairs — Hugh was actually compiling documents and pictures of homeless cats and kittens for the local Cat Protection Society newsletlter for the furry ones which needed homing, and preferably before the winter months were well and truly in full swing. There were 15 cats in the local area that needed loving homes and by George, he was determined to give homes to them all. 8 cats, 5 male, 3 female. 7 kittens, 2 pairs that needed to be homed together. Two that could not be homed with other pets and one that simply hated children. Hugh took a shine to that little girl immediately! She was very small, but happy looking tabby — the picture was of her playing with a ball, her little teeth and claws on full display. He picked up the phone to call the lady who was homing the kitten that caused Hugh to smile for the first time that day.
"Shirley? It's Hugh..." he spoke with almost nervous joy.
"Hello Hugh, I've been meaning to call you about the Winter Newsletter for the homeless ones." Shirley, ever the excitable exclaimed.
"Funny you should mention that, he said — I've decided to take the sweet tabby girl for myself, if she doesn't have a home for Christmas?" Hugh asked, knowing full well that there was almost certainly no takers for the kitten as he was amongst the first to see the picture of her.
"Oh Hugh, that's a lovely gesture — she'll be ready to go in a few weeks time, have you any idea what you will call her?" Shirley wildly enthused.
"Hmm..." he pondered, leaning back into his worn, but salubrious leather throne. "I think I'll call her Aggie — after the school!" — Hugh afforded himself a wry, but heartfelt grin to form across his face.