Teachers somehow making me storm my Steinbeck GCSE module, when I’d learnt to convince bar staff I was drinking age at 15.pic.twitter.com/gxV1y9g1Sf
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Teachers somehow making me storm my Steinbeck GCSE module, when I’d learnt to convince bar staff I was drinking age at 15.pic.twitter.com/gxV1y9g1Sf
Nice photo of my history teacher walking to work on the day of my exam and bumping into me going home to sleep off a load of MDMApic.twitter.com/dfyDsFo9Ft
Got to hear him do a recital at uni. Bloody wonderful.
So jealous. Can only imagine how good it was.
Intensely jealous. Good mothering. Similarly good parenting to @Dara_bhur_gCara being told his son was singing “Come Out Ye Black & Tans” by his reception teacher.
One of the few good things from my school days
The shit that was drummed into us regardless of whether or not we understood any of it or were remotely interested in it, turns out to be the shit that sticks for EVER.
Remember not remotely understanding “Mid Term Break” and now it instantly hits me whenever someone I know dies.
If it helps, there isn’t any Samuel Beckett I haven’t read, and I only did badly in your exam because I had a seizure beforehand.
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