I knew this would happen.
13 years ago I frolicked in this very playground, my hair combed back and blow dried in some early nineties white boy high top, my Mickey Mouse tracksuit soiled and sweaty from an afternoon of 20-a-side football.
I get pangs of panic even now just thinking of how much a loser I was, invariably lost in my severely round head, which incidentally made me look even younger than the 12 year old I was.
Anyway, I’m writing this from my old primary school, looking out over the playground where nothing, apart form the ICT room I now work in, has changed one iota. The gloss in the assembly halls, the crap wooden benches, the arse numbing wooden chairs, the coat pegs, the tiny toilets, the tarmac, the smell of cakes wafting down the hall …. I’m regressing like the Karate Kid.
A job is a job apparently, but seeing the relics of my youth evoke mixed memories has been a weird experience so far.
I said I’d never go back to Downham. But here I am again.
SE London 4 life>? Eh.