Pashlode Revisited

Mister Haydn, the headmaster, wore a wig. 'The Judge' was his nickname, so obvious a wig it was. It was said that if you caught Mister Haydn going through his 'green cross code', the wig stayed where it was as the right and left looking went on. Mister Haydn was a nice headmaster and all the children liked him, but everyone gave him that second look as he passed and each year a new batch of young'uns would arrive and learn the truth about the head's head.

Mister Sathage, the maths teacher did not wear a wig. Everyone liked Mister Sathage too - he was authoritative without having to resort to shouting or cuffing-around-the-earhole and his classes were always deathly quiet. One day from the back of the room came a sniffing. Mister Sathage heard it but put it down to a head-cold manifesting itself in Johnson, who was always ill with something. Johnson raised his hand.
"Please sir."
"Yes, Johnson"
"Martham's crying sir."
Martham, a tiny studious child of mixed emotions was indeed sniveling quietly to his self.
"What is the matter Martham? Do you want to tell us?"
Martham shook his tiny head.
"I know what it is sir - Mister Haydn overheard Martham telling a new boy about the green cross code thing."
"What 'green cross code thing'?"
Johnson explained. Mister Sathage calmly listened but the brighter children realised he was not enjoying the story. He explained that it was cruel to laugh at someone, especially the headmaster and that a repeating of that joke to any new children was forbidden. No shouting, no cuffed lugholes.
Johnson, who'd been pearing into the middle distance throughout, piped up again:
"But sir, ......Mister Haydn does wear a wig, doesn't he?"
Again Mister Sathage gave a few moments before replying.
"Yes..... he does. It is obvious that Mister Haydn, your headmaster covers his head with a peruke. You all obviously know it and all the teachers know it too, but what you have to consider is why Mister Haydn wears a wig. You may suggest vanity but think again; what if underneath Mister Haydn's hairpiece hides something unsightly?"

"Something unsightly." Mister Sathage chose his words expertly, his own theory on Mister Haydn was that the poor man simply didn't have the right shaped head to accommodate baldness - think Willie Thorne for example - but he wanted to keep the children guessing. And guess they did, finally forming the picture of an un-wigged Mister Haydn looking something like Darth Vader first thing in the morning. The downside to this is that the children now feared Mister Haydn, hardly daring to look him in the eye. Then came the news that Mister Haydn was to retire - his Christmas assembly that year was to be his last duty.

That day began as normal - Jilly MacFarrell was busy seducing Paul Agle in the chemistry lab, Barry Wade had been thrown into the sandpit, picked up, dusted off and thrown back into the sandpit again and Mister Van-Rooyen was locked in his store cupboard by pupils unknown. Only when the absence of a piano player was spotted did Johnson leg it to the music room to free Mister Van-Rooyen, who had been joined in the store cupboard by Mister Timprelti [perhaps another time...]. Carols were sung and 'Ghost Town' by The Specials was played to give everyone an idea of what year everything was going on in. The new children were praised for their progress that term and Mister Haydn thanked the teachers for their support....
"...and finally I must thank everyone of you for helping to make my stay here such a rewarding one. It is now my great pleasure to hand the ceremonial robe of Pashlode Comprehensive to Mister Sathage, who will now be your new headmaster.."
Applause.
Mister Sathage accepts the robe of office.
"And Mister Sathage has one other duty to perform......"
Mister Sathage removes Mister Haydn's wig and waves it in the air. Mister Haydn suits baldness - think Patrick Stewart - the children cheer and rush the stage. Martham gets there first. In the confusion, Barry Wade gets off with Jilly MacFarrell and Misters Van Rooyen and Timprelti lock themselves in the store cupboard.

One Morning At The Milton Ford

It is 7:20 a.m. on a snowy February morning and I am driving to the 'Milton Ford' nursing home. I have a date with Margey the chef - we are to provide breakfast for approximately 60 elderly or unwell residents and as I turn into Milton Road I see the huddled figure of Kara speed-walking towards the home. There is still a half mile to walk, so I pull over and open the door.
"On earlies then, Kara?"
"Should be - I'm late."
"Oversleep?"
"Never got to bed - 'Bad Boys II' was on."
"How long is 'Bad Boys II'?"
"About the same as 'Bad Boys' - that was on as well."
"Still can't work out how you never got to bed."
"Aw, we watched 'Bad Boys' and taped it, then watched 'Bad Boys II' and taped that an'all. Then we decided to watch 'Bad Boys' again which got us in the mood for 'Bad Boys II' again. I would have got in for 6:30 but I had to see the end."
"Again."
"Again."
"I remember being as young as you Kara but I used to sleep, I'm sure of it."
"Waste of time. Who's on with you?"
"I got Margey."
"Miserable bitch."

We are unable to go in the front door to the home because an ambulance is backed up to the door and blocking it. We can tell by the line of staff and what are presumably relatives, that this is not an emergency. If someone is injured or has a cardiac arrest there is the organised panic to get them treated. When someone dies all is calm - the relatives gather, nurses pay their last respects, everything stops as the body is removed, there are a few minutes of contemplation, some tears perhaps and life goes on.
"Who was it?"
"Miss Clare."
"We hardly got time to know her, only arrived a week ago."
"She had cancer and knew she didn't have long. Didn't want to eat, didn't want to see anyone..."
"Margey's going to be pissed off, late breakfast and no fag break. T-hee."
Sure enough Margey, who is a grumpy cow during orgasm, is even worse this morning. Mr Haynes has been put on an all-liquidised diet adding an extra layer to every meal, and poached eggs are the choice du jour. The residents are given a menu which they mark. If a relative visits every day they can make sure their loved one is getting a variety of favourites -  some will do a week or a fortnight in advance if regular visits aren't possible, some will be filled in by a nurse. I have to say Margey does a good spread, albeit reluctantly.

At 10:30 the morning tea trolley is ready with hot milk, coffee, biscuits ('Rich Tea' for diabetics, the odd chocolate selection for others) and today I'll have to do the round. In the North Wing 'The Major' is out in the corridor. Wearing his medals but no trousers, he is banging the hell on Mrs. Partland's door. Mrs. Partland can be heard shouting "Bugger off!" by all except Major Fearnly (retired). The Major used to have that room but was evicted as it was too easy for him to escape through the larger windows and wander to 'The Recruiting Seargent' for lunch. He always remembered to put his trousers on for lunch but had no way of paying for it, so an arrangement was made - he was given a pint of 'Nelson's Revenge' and the lads would get a big net ready to see the old soldier home.

The round takes longer than usual - Mrs. Townhend's pictures were all askew again and Molly in room 8 threw her tea on the floor because she wasn't allowed a biscuit. I expect a bollocking when I get back to the kitchen, but everyone is quiet.
"There's a phone call for Kara, it's her dad."

"Hello dad, what's up? You know they don't like us taking calls."
"It's your mum sweetheart....don't know how to say it... she died this morning. I got up to make the tea and thought she just didn't hear me. I don't know what to do, girl. Your sister will be here soon, your brother's in Germany and doesn't know yet. I need you here now."
"Okay dad, I'll be there as soon as I can - don't touch anything until the coroner's been."
"Something else, love......I don't feel anything."



Names have been changed.

Earth Stood Still

It is 7:20 a.m. on a snowy February morning and I am driving to the 'Milton Ford' nursing home. I have a date with Margey the chef - we are to provide breakfast for approximately 60 elderly or unwell residents and as I turn into Milton Road I see the huddled figure of Kara speed-walking towards the home. There is still a half mile to walk, so I pull over and open the door.
"On earlies then, Kara?"
"Should be - I'm late."
"Oversleep?"
"Never got to bed - 'Bad Boys II' was on."
"How long is 'Bad Boys II'?"
"About the same as 'Bad Boys' - that was on as well."
"Still can't work out how you never got to bed."
"Aw, we watched 'Bad Boys' and taped it, then watched 'Bad Boys II' and taped that an'all. Then we decided to watch 'Bad Boys' again which got us in the mood for 'Bad Boys II' again. I would have got in for 6:30 but I had to see the end."
"Again."
"Again."
"I remember being as young as you Kara but I used to sleep, I'm sure of it."
"Waste of time. Who's on with you?"
"I got Margey."
"Miserable bitch."

We are unable to go in the front door to the home because an ambulance is backed up to the door and blocking it. We can tell by the line of staff and what are presumably relatives, that this is not an emergency. If someone is injured or has a cardiac arrest there is the organised panic to get them treated. When someone dies all is calm - the relatives gather, nurses pay their last respects, everything stops as the body is removed, there are a few minutes of contemplation, some tears perhaps and life goes on.
"Who was it?"
"Miss Clare."
"We hardly got time to know her, only arrived a week ago."
"She had cancer and knew she didn't have long. Didn't want to eat, didn't want to see anyone..."
"Margey's going to be pissed off, late breakfast and no fag break. T-hee."
Sure enough Margey, who is a grumpy cow during orgasm, is even worse this morning. Mr Haynes has been put on an all-liquidised diet adding an extra layer to every meal, and poached eggs are the choice du jour. The residents are given a menu which they mark. If a relative visits every day, this is easy as they can make sure their loved one is getting variety and their favourites. Some will do a week or a fortnight in advance if they can't visit often, some will be filled in by a nurse. I have to say Margey does a good spread, albeit reluctantly.

At 10:30 the morning tea trolley is ready with hot milk, coffee, biscuits ('Rich Tea' for diabetics, the odd chocolate selection for others) and today I'll have to do the round. In the North Wing 'The Major' is out in the corridor. Wearing his medals but no trousers, he is banging the hell on Mrs. Partland's door. Mrs. Partland can be heard shouting "Bugger off!" by all except Major Fearnly (retired). The Major used to have that room but was evicted as it was too easy for him to escape through the larger windows and wander to 'The Recruiting Seargent' for lunch. He always remembered to put his trousers on for lunch but had no way of paying for it, so an arrangement was made - he was given a pint of 'Nelson's Revenge' and the lads would get a big net ready to see the old soldier home.

The round takes longer than usual - Mrs. Townhend's pictures were all askew again and Molly in room 8 threw her tea on the floor because she wasn't allowed a biscuit. I expect a bollocking when I get back to the kitchen, but everyone is quiet.
"There's a phone call for you, it's your dad."
"Hello dad, what's up? You know they don't like us taking calls."
"It's your mum..... she died this morning. I got up to make the tea and thought she just didn't hear me. I don't know what to do, son. Your sister will be here soon, your brother's in Germany and doesn't know yet. I need you here now."
"Okay dad, I'll be there as soon as I can - don't touch anything until the coroner's been."
"Something's wrong, son - I don't feel anything."