Don't you just love kids?
For the past 7 years or so now, I have been a regular visitor to my son's school. No, I am not there to show them puppies, or to offer them sweeties, but to help out because I genuinely enjoy it. Within a couple of years of one morning a week, I decided that the year I enjoyed the most working with was year 5 which consists of a class of about 30 children aged 9 or 10. I do several projects with them throughout the year, with one big one coming up next week where I talk about the 1987 'hurricane' that hit London unannounced and to this day Michael Fish still denies ever happened. Well today was a slight diversion for the class, and I took my first field trip with them to a local tourist attraction - Neath Abbey. I have gone on field trips with them in the past, but never to this particular place, and I was looking forward to it with some trepidation because it's a lot closer then some of the other trips I have been on, and so the threat of travel sickness is a lot less. (I think you can see where this is going...)
The day itself passed without incident. The school has a policy of no sweets in lunchboxes, but on a field trip a lot of parents seem to forget this. Many children could be seen at lunchtime gorging themselves on rich galaxy bars, mars bars, and even one child appeared with a large packet of Werther's Originals (I know, and only 9 years old!). Still hometime came nice and quickly, and about halfway home someone yelled from the back of the bus "Sir! so-and-so's feeling sick." I'm not going to embarrass the poor girl. She's been through enough today. The class teacher moved the vomit victim up to the front of the bus. Much to my dismay, just behind me in fact. A large Tesco's "Carrier for life" bag was given to her, and I made some quip about "I hope she doesn't fill that!"
She was doing very well, we got all the way home, and even outside the school. Just as the bus was turning around a large "Raaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaaalf" could be heard, and then the smell of yoghurt and what I can only guess was Milky way steadfastly moved across the bus. I was first in line, and promptly covered my nose with the smell of the cheap cotton coach seats. It had to be better then that! The bus stopped, and I quickly tried to be first off the bus, but as I stood up I noticed the large slippery river of clear mucus that was now running down the floor. Apparently the first heave had caught her by surprise before she had even considered opening the bag, and she dropped her head forward and proceeded to barf copiously into her lap. That was it... I legged it. I was first off the bus, and across the school playground like a whippet after the rabbit. I was waiting for the door to be opened for me to clear the path into the school, when *she* appeared with the now rapidly filling Tesco bag. She was looking like a zombie that had recently gorged on fresh flesh, with the contents of the bag now safely dripping down her chin. I fail at that point for anyone to not feel a strong urge to blow chunks themselves, but just thought of the nice smell of the coach seat in front of me, and the immediate retching seemed to pass.
Even now, some 5 hours later, and my appetite hasn't returned. Don't you feel sorry for the class teacher that had to then clean up the bus? No wonder I could never be a teacher.
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