A Life in the Day of Rosemary Booker - The Woody Back to School ...

A Life in the Day of Rosemary Booker
tone of grudging admiration for Katie’s handiwork in
their learned observations.
“She’s a fucking be-yotch,” is all I can think of
to add to the conversation. Despite Deborah’s kind
ministrations my bum is still on fire. It is going to be a
long day.
The ominously threatening expression that ‘I’m
going to thrash you so hard that you won’t be sitting
down comfortably for a week’ generally proves to be
an exaggeration. Nonetheless, lowering my
sitmedown onto a hard and unyielding wooden seat is
not an appealing prospect.
On weekdays we spend eight thirty-five minute
periods per day in the lecture rooms. There is no
denying that the curriculum that Ms Lawton designed
is remarkably broad and all encompassing. The
quality of the lecturers that she recruited is quite
exceptional and considering the circumstances we
find ourselves in there is little room for legitimate
complaints of boredom. However, there is plenty of
room for complaint regarding the furnishings she
selected for the lecture rooms.
Apparently the desks and chairs are a hand me
down from the original Woody School. The school
originally opened sometime back in the 1850’s and I
think that these torturous monstrosities must have
been amongst their first acquisitions.
The problem with being walloped with a slipper
(well one of them anyway) is the area that it covers.
Now I am the first to acknowledge that when one of
the Woody Wags remarked that ‘using a size ten