I am an old gal of Bishops Otter College - which is now chichester university I think - but will always be Bishops Otter to me - BA English - my minor was religion - but that didnt go too well. I am not too good at remembering names - a distinct disadvantage in exams (landed on my head after taxi hit me). My religious studies exam was hysterical - or I was. 'Imaginary conversation between Buddha and Patangili (probably spelt wrong). I titled mine 'A womb with a view' and made them twins in it - that covers the rebirth bit doesnt it.
Then Highbury to take my teaching courses for adult education. My training place was a local secure long term prison. When I finished there, my boys lined up and shook me by the hand saying goodbye, and each had something individual to say to me - especialy my inmate bodyguard.. There were only the nicer boys left by then. The murderers had 'encouraged' the serial rapist to stay the feck away from the wee hippy creative writing teacher. One day two thirds of my class were missing - I didnt know what individuals were in for till then. I knew one of them had an attitude and a way of looking at me that was not comfortable - but being a woman, I am armed with the look that makes testicles shrivel - you know the one - and so what if he was a foot taller and nearly double my then weight - I used to go out looking for sex attackers - we had one localy - he escalated and got a schoolgirl in a churchyard as his last victim. I went hunting, but having chased after him a few years earlier - if he recognised me coming he would have hidden. Laws here are strict on weapons, but I had my cycle D lock ready to whack him with. The time he escaped me I would have just pounded his head into the tarmac - although I did have a small knife in my bag. We had one at Bishops Otter. College lane was known as Flashers Alley, and he jumped out at a girl who was wheelchair bound - then we all wanted him.
Guess we would have kicked the shit out of him for what he did to that poor girl, then left him tied to a tree with his pants around his ankles nearer the main road. As he liked showing his willy it would have been a lovely experience for him to make up for the beating.
Appologies to all - the older you get the more you ramble. Best take my meds, its that time of the morning. Oh and I am not a violent vigilante type - I just dont like bastards making victims of the innocent. The numbrer of times I have sat quietly and politely in the company of an animal abuser - sweet as sugar to get an animal out of hell - and all the time I am dreaming about ice pick lobotomy being a fair and good idea - I wonder, would I hold the pick or swing the hammer. It passes the time more easily.
Dlish - ten whole years! You are just shoving your youth in my face. Happy days eh.