A Bit Of A Mess

Inky fingers were the order of the day, particularly those on my left hand. They were the product of a rather intense bit of work that I had no choice but to complete in a rushed manner. The work itself was fairly mindless, but the old fingers looked almost scholarly. Of course, it wasn't really ink in the true sense: the blue stuff came from something called a permanent marker, and the red splotches from a non-permanent marker.

The only marker we had when I was in primary school was the teacher who left red ink on your work. In fact, I remember filling little ink-pots and dipping short stubby pen-things in them around the time I was nine. It felt terribly grown-up, but it also resulted in some quite glorious messes. If I remember rightly, biros were frowned upon at the time.

And when I started teaching there were these wonderful things called blackboards. Somehow they were a lot more fun than the whiteboards of today. More organic, I suppose. I had a terrible habit of leaning back against them and covering my backside with chalk. And now I come to think of it, the chalk-dust got everywhere. It was difficult to deny you were a teacher in those days.

I like a good mess once in a while.