Lucky Me

Music Lesson - The Recorder - aged 11 years

 

I'd just farted. It was definitely me that did it. If it hadn't been for Spence, old Hindsey would never have noticed; but Spence had sniggered.
That's when Hindsey stopped writing on the blackboard and turned.
We knew it was bad. We all knew it was going to be bad.
Hindsey was the kind of teacher that commanded respect - if you couldn't play the notes, you mimed them; but Hindsey walked between the desks, listening. Oh, he listened all right - he'd suddenly grab you by the ear if you were playing any wrong notes, or far worse: no notes at all.
'Was that you Spencer?' Mr Hindes held the chalk exactly in the same way as if he were still writing - his fingers twitching slightly..
You'd be a fool to admit it now - don't get me wrong - part of me wanted to be honest and all that, but we all knew what was coming next and at that moment Spence knew it better than the rest of the class.
'No sir... It woren't me,'
Thing is, it usually was him - he usually was the trouble maker.
'Stand in front of the class boy!'
For some reason Hindsey had bulging eyes, and his face reddened when he got mad. His eyes bulged now...
'Would anyone else like to accompany Spencer at the front?'
'No sir!' The response was tight, musically adept and tuneful in it's complete and thorough reverberation around the classroom.
'Hold out your hand boy.'
'But Sir, it woren't me.'
'You're pathetic Spencer...' WHACK.
Hindsey eyed the whole class - looking for signs of guilt; signs of suspicion: evidence. He flexed his cane as he swept his malevolence around the room. All eyes were on the front now all right. Which was good - because if anyone looked at another it would be perceived as an act of complicity or betrayal. Lucky for me it hadn't been a `smelly belly`.
By the sixth stroke Spence had tears rolling down his cheeks.
'Now go and stand in the corner boy.'
Lucky me...