If I had any kind of “ Internet following ”, or if I were a “ digital influencer ”, I would probably steer clear of the subject of this post for fear of a mass online lynching followed by the need to publish a flat-chested apology , but as I’m in my own little corner of the blogalaxy and I can mumble away to myself largely unnoticed - brace yourself, Sheila. It was a frosty winter’s morning and I had just arrived in the staff room. “ It’s a bit Pearl Harbour ”, I quipped, a comment met by quizzical looks from my colleagues. “ There’s a nip in the air! ” If it didn’t exactly gain me a standing ovation, my play on words drew a number of chuckles and the odd wry smile. But scarcely had the sound waves been emitted by my vocal chords than a tart Glaswegian (yes, those words are the right way round, though thinking about it, they could probably be reversed) snapped, “Well, that’s a bit racist! ” At the time, I had neither the time nor the energy to wade into her as maybe I would...
Wistful reflections, petty glories.