mr sadler with his round face   white coat

still burns in my head

I never liked him

monotonous   unsmiling   limp hair

I never liked the lessons

in the science block   a foreign field

I was out of my depth with rupert brooke

tucked into my text book

​

thirty two years later

the instructions      I do not remember

heating or sterilising or something

monotonous   unsmiling   limp hair

​

I remember this
I remember the thrill

the excitement   the undiluted joy

of the bunsen burner      nicky's idea

to light a fag   not mine      the adrenaline

the smell   the fear

the shame   his face

still burn with me today