New levels of self-obsession

My own sign off on the last post triggered a memory from Year 4…

Mr H – a tall man with giant ears and a penchant for staring at Mother Stone’s chestal area rather overtly – once made me write lines after I was caught passing notes in class. His indignation was not directed at the note passing, but rather my incorrect spelling of the word ‘sought’. My punishment was to write ‘Sought of, not sort of’ 25 times. I was outraged, though complied with his demand.

While counting the lines on the piece of paper I submitted, Mr H started to blush. He hadn’t considered the context in which I had used the word ‘sort’, and only now realised that my spelling was in fact correct. He apologised, laughed awkwardly and I think I could actually hear the recoil of his brain when he realised that he had been out-smarted by a 9 year old.

Daft thumb tack.

Procrastination: Complete.

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