Fourteen and bolshie. What a combination for any teacher to deal with. That’s what me and my mates thought so we would hang out for most of the day in the top bogs, smoking.
Sometimes me and Milton would have enough of everyone else and we’d take ourselves off to our office. The bottom bogs had the cistern above the pan so to touch it you’d have to stand on the edges of the pan. Inside our office’s cistern was a bottle of vodka, me and Milt would take it in turns to swig.
Idyllic days and sweaty nights, that is how we spent our fifteenth year till Milt got pregnant, had an abortion and the whole world (entire town) blamed me.