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The lollipop lady couldn’t help it. For weeks now she’d been looking out for the yummy scrummy head teacher Mr Davenport, the new head, and now, half and hour before the school bell went, she hovered outside half on, half off the zebra crossing waiting for him to show. Nobody would expect a sixty year old pensioner to fall for a boy would they. What a state things were, this could never be revealed to anyone. What to do, but wait, to help juniors and infants cross the road, and dream of a second when Mr Davenport might just need to be shown over the road.

She sighed, and laughed, you’re a bit old for this crush malarky aren’t you. Then she heard it, the bell ringing, and not one single Mr Davenport to be seen. She’d see him tomorrow, of that she was certain.

Posted By laura redcar On 06.29.2011 @ 10:33 am

i can’t I must, what if, He walks this way, how else is he going to get off the bus my friend looks at me like I am so special in all ways, ach, he moves and I stand on the stairs of the 25 bus waiting for him to do what, to get off the bus. Highs and lows of adolescent experience, my unrequited bus companion whizzes down the steps, without the backward look, and I can breathe out again. Ecstatic at being ignored by him.

Ouch, it hurts being a nobody on a grandscale, rejected and unloved, I could cry, until my realistic other half says, move it, you’re going to miss your stop.

Posted By laura redcar On 06.29.2011 @ 10:25 am