School for Kicks
[Dream target date Oct 2000]

One of the things I like about living next door to a school is the undefined din of children's voices in the morning. All the screams and weird hooting sounds, tv themes and girlish rhymes competing for attention. It takes me right back.

After dropping my daughter Daisy off at her classroom, I was crossing the school yard (so practical for grazing knees), when I heard this low thumping sound. A group of boys were huddled together next to one of those pointless brick walls that playgrounds often seem to have. Thump, thump, thump, went the low sound, accompanied by fits of giggles.

There were legs going ten to the dozen and then a brief pause as the ringleader reached down to recompose something. The boots went in again, pinning a schoolbag up against the wall. A thousand kicks a minute, thump, thump, thump.

Sandwiches squashed, banana pulped, biscuits no-chance, maths homework crumpled.

I suppressed a smile as the memory of schoolboy violence rattled around inside my head. There was a kind of innocence about it and I craved to join in the fun.

Thirty years ago I would have been there with them, wetting my pants with excitement and laughter - At that instant, kicking the hell out of a schoolbag being the most important thing in the world.