I mentioned my Fourth Form English Teacher[^] over a year ago. I didn't say it then but she was my favourite teacher that year. Being totally honest, she was my favourite because she had a very pleasing face and form and she was the subject of more than one nocturnal fantasy.
But practicality when one is an inexperienced fifteen year old faced with the calm assurance of a twenty something woman usually saves one from going too far. Let's face it; even though I knew the theory by then I'd have probably totally screwed up any attempt at the practice.
One of my friends of the time had more guts, or perhaps more desperation, than most of us; he tried to transition from fantasy to reality by exposing himself one afternoon as we laboured over essays. Our teacher was making her way from one desk to another, offering hints and suggestions; when she reached his desk and leaned over, glancing downward, she probably saw more than she was expecting!
'Oh put it away!' she said.
Poor bastards nickname for the rest of the year was 'put it away'. We ragged him unmercifully though I have to admit to a fleeting admiration.
I have no recollection whatsoever of his name.
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