I guess it is a sign of galloping senility that events of the past month sometimes get confusing while those of ones youth 60 years ago and more become crystal clear. Out of nowhere this morning came a ditty we used to sing about one of our teachers at WGS, R H (Jock) Hamilton. I dont know that Jock was a special teacher but on the whole he was an OK bloke, I think. This verse parodied a popular song that was doing the rounds at the time. It was not meant cruelly, I feel, but with a certain amount of tribal affection, for he was our form teacher for a couple of years: Jock fell off the Stratford bus, parley-vous Jock fell off the Stratford bus, parley-vous He fell into a box of eggs And all the yolks ran up his legs Inky, pinky, parlez-vous. There now, perhaps because I have put it down in print, I can get the wretched song out of my mind, where it has been constantly and irritatingly repeating itself for the last couple of hours :)
Posted on: Tue, 28 Jan 2014 09:56:04 +0000
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