Sometimes surprises are so overwhelming I just don’t know how to cope with them. At 9.30am Mr Berlusconi – our ex-headteacher, the one before Havoc Blythe and before Mr Putin – walked into the school and came into the office announcing that he was back and ready for work.
I explained there had been changes, and that he really ought to report to the local authority.
“Nonsense,” he said, “I have the mark.” And with that he took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and revealed on his wrist the mark XI VI LXXXI.
I said I would consult with the Acting Headteacher, and Mr Berlusconi asked who that was. I said “Doctor Havoc Blythe,” and he simply snorted, pushed me aside and walked along the corridor to what he called “his office”, where he remained for the next hour and a half before HB returned from teaching.
As the morning progressed I noticed that a significant number of teachers were walking around carrying brand new gleaming white trainers. At lunch time an even greater number of them could be seen putting on their trainers and doing stretching exercises.
It was all so curious that when one little group left the building with new trainers on their feet, Janice and I followed at a discreet distance.
Once around the corner into the carpark the group stopped, obviously exhausted from the exertions, and slumped against the cars. Several started to smoke, despite the regulations against this.
Janice and I returned to the office and lo and behold ten minutes later the group returned noisily talking about their “exercise” and waving the trainers in a preposterous fashion.
Looking around I noticed a number of pupils and students also wearing trainers. Since taking over power HB had made it clear that we had more important things on our mind (such as teaching and learning) and that uniform was not going to be an issue – at least while he was in charge.
At our daily meeting HB asked if we would tell him if we noticed any other staff bearing Roman numerals on their wrists. Of Mr Berlusconi there was no sign.