Things Left Behind…

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Today was bin-day. It is the time of the week when all the neighbourhood join in a collective banishment of waste bins from their immediate premises. 

We all have at least three bins, wheely bins (makes it sound all Wacky Races) and each take it in turn to flirt with the bin men. I mis-termed them as ‘the dustbin men’ this morning which tells an awful lot about my age.

Today was green bin day. It still is, until they come and empty it, leave it abandoned in the middle of the public pathway and ride on to other bins to conquer. Occasionally they leave a note on the bin warning us of not cross-contaminating the rubbish. This generally gets screwed up and thrown back into the bin for the following week.

Please don’t mistake my actions for a neanderthal who wishes to poison the earth with unwanted waste, plastic bags, tiny micro plastics, and potato peelings. No, I am not one of those, but I am a person who hates unthinking authority. I should never have been a teacher in the first place.

Anyway, as the commonly applied connective would suggest, I am about to move on to far grander concerns: my old suit in the wardrobe. 

My old suit has been hanging there for over two years now. Some stitching came loose on the trousers, just by the crotch, which meant that I couldn’t be wearing it again until mended (the trousers and me). So, I hung it up with my spurs and went on to wear apparel that suited my new standing, a shirt and tie with a jumper for the colder months.  I now look like a supply-teacher and no longer a corporate communicator.

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Just for the record, I did delve into the pockets of my old suit and was surprised to find a couple of whiteboard markers, a green permanent marker, a few ordinary pens, a parents evening appointment card, and a half-consumed packet of pain-killers. 

Published by

mike2all

This is the story of what happened to me when anxiety took a grip. I lost my senses, I lost my job, and I lost me. I then turned to writing to find those things that had gone missing. How can you teach when you believe that education is a business that is failing in its primary remit of helping to create a better society? Indeed, how can you teach when you believe that you have nothing of value to pass on? The book/blog is the story of my recovery from the absolute darkness of the early days. It is an Odyssey through my life over the last twelve months and a retracing of my steps to discover how I found myself there. More than all of that, it is a re-evaluation and a rejoicing of all that which I call life. Happy reading and I hope it helps. There is madness, Everyday Madness, and not all of it comes from within.

8 thoughts on “Things Left Behind…”

  1. I’ve just discovered this blog after having ‘The Teacher’ arrive through my letterbox this afternoon. What a lovely coincidence to read about the old suit! I packed up mine a few days ago ready to take to a charity shop (never felt comfortable in it anyway). I’m surprised there were no painkillers in the pockets… At the end of December I left my secondary school (academy) where business attire was the dress code (and I was approaching, if not already suffering from, burnout). That suit is definitely a thing left behind for me … Now onto teaching in new contexts…

    Liked by 2 people

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