In the hazy days of yesteryear, it was the simpler things that mattered. Sitting bored in the classroom, listening to Mrs Paterson drone on about remainders and long division, time seemed to stand still. You would gaze at the clock, willing it to tick faster and faster until it reached its goal. With one last heave, the minute hand tocked over and the dullness was interrupted by the short, sharp shrill of the school bell.
Oh, it was good to be free! Most of the time, us boys would be found on the football pitch, trying to emulate Maradona’s mazy runs but failing miserably. Sometimes, if we felt daring, there would be a quick game of Kiss, Cuddle or Torture round the sheds. Dashing round and round, the girls of Primary 5.2 would fly after you, determined to grab a flailing tie or the hood of a neon Campri jacket. You deliberately slowed down so the girl you fancied could catch you and give you a wee thump on your arm. You never chose Kiss or Cuddle. Bleurgh.
Other playground activities included the game of “My dad’s better than your dad,” where you would boast to your fellow classmates that your old man could jump 50 feet or drive like Ayrton Senna. Your dad however, couldn’t leap the length of himself and gingerly guided his Ford Granada around the streets at a pedestrian pace. Your father’s failings didn’t stop you making stuff up though. You just wanted to lie and twist things so you sounded the best.
Those days are long behind us though and you would never find grown men and women indulging in such activities these days.
Or would you?
Boys and girls, now sit up and pay attention. No talking now, Shoosh. Children, today we’re going to be talking about the Scottish Independence Referendum.
On September 18th, I had the misfortune to tune into BBC Scotland’s televised debate marking a year until voting day. The panel of four pupils from two different schools carried on in their usual, bickering manner, only interrupted by Head Teacher Glenn Campbell when things got too shouty.