Pirates? And parrots?

29/07/2008 by April First.

The Deputy Head stormed into the office at 10.30, muttered something none of us could quite understand, repeated his commentary it in a different language that none of us could quite identify, and left. (We debated for a moment if “stormed” was the correct word here. Janice thought he was more like a tempest, but “he tempested into the room” somehow doesn’t sound right.) 

During the next five minutes there was considerable coming and going, shouting and arguing. We sat as one, looking on serenely, gazing around as if life for us worked in perfect harmony and not even the rantings of wild managers could disturb the poetic tranquillity of our calm and unruffled world. 

The issue appeared to be something to do with the door of the Deputy Head’s study. Last year, after a series of unprovoked attacks by a deranged supply teacher the door was redesigned and reinforced with the added security feature of it only being openable from the inside. The door was then tested against everything from nitro-glycerine to AK47s. 

However as far as we could judge from the kafuffle, entry had nonetheless been arranged, and we were all extremely keen to find out how. As in all such cases rumours spread wildly around the school (despite the lack of teachers.  Who needs teachers when there is a rumour to spread). There was talk of witches, wizards and auditors, of armed gangs of murderous Ofsted inspectors, and avenging parents who had found that the story about Madonna was, well, just a story – and rampant Columbus employees on the make. But such ideas received few bets in the book that Havoc-Blythe – who miraculously turned up in the middle of it all  - immediately set up. 

“These are,” he announced, “the moments for which we live,” and for the first time ever I was in agreement with him (although I think I did well not to let it show). 

Slowly however a story did emerge from the depths of the school. A story about wood. And about pirates.  

We heard, we took it in, and we looked at each other. 

“Pirates?” I asked. “With patches over one eye?”    

“And parrots?” added Deborah.

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