A few weeks ago, on Easter Sunday, we were flicking around and passed a rather intense looking programme. It was clearly a drama, being performed on a stage and in front of an audience. A well dressed, well behaved audience at that. I recognised a couple of faces in the cast and was relatively intrigued until I spotted a grave digger and heard the name Horatio.
“Alas…” said the TV.
“Oh, not again.” I said as I quickly hopped to another channel.
No matter who you are, the odds are pretty good that a teacher left a mark on you. Of course, for my parents’ generation that could mean something very different. Their teachers didn’t just use chalk and blackboards to educate them. Oh no, they employed some very different instruments.
Not that we’re here to discuss the failings of our parents’ teachers. Nope, we’re here to talk about a few things, which would really annoy one of my old teachers. She certainly left a mark on me.
Next's week blog comes damn near seven days early and it's come with anger in its heart and disbelief on its sleeve. Be warned, there are spoilers beyond this point. There are also some opinions, some facts and a dash of vitriol. Enjoy!
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