Anyone who has in his, or her, possession such a vast quantity of slides demonstrating the continental drift is clearly in denial of some underlying personal anguish. (Purist Freudians may even be so bold as to suggest a leaning towards something profoundly maternal and faintly sexual). Obsessions with Pangea and the subsequent creation of Laurasia and Gondwanaland surely can’t be healthy, even for hardcore geologists.
I conclude, therefore, that my tutor requires urgent therapy before he drives us all to distraction.
And what, in Gods name, were the WEA thinking of issuing the trembling old fart with a laser pen?
Pointy sticks are dangerous enough in the hands of over enthusiastic pensioners, let alone retina-destroying weapons of dubious legality.
Know it all was decked out in his finest t-shirt of
Bored utterly rigid by the endless stream of references to tectonic plates, or perhaps merely hypnotised by the flickering red light than flitted across the Atlantic Ocean ad nausium (as opposed to the rigidity of PCP or Plastic Chair Paralysis), I managed to somehow survive the first half and reward myself with a much-earned 40p Nescafe.
Unfortunately the blue rinse brigade in the canteen had neglected to furnish the hall with any tables and chairs, much to the disapproval of my distinctly peeved classmates.
Not remotely fazed by the lack of such home comforts I chose to park my weary behind on some steps at the far end of the room. Unfortunately my space invader had taken it upon herself to follow my lead, and unsettled me further more by endeavouring to strike up a conversation.
Her opening line of "I'm almost 80 you know" admittedly threw me a little.
I still remain uncertain as to whether she assumed her advancing years would automatically endear me to her. It didn't.
Clutching at straws for an appropriate retort all I could come up with was "I'm 41". Not exactly riveting stuff I confess. Clearly my lack of conversational prowess failed dismally to impress space invader, as she chose to ignore my reply and directly wandered off I the general direction of the nearby lavatories.
Back in class, and with the ominous prospect of even more slides of maps, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself in the company of a new best friend in the shape of a bug. It appeared on my notepad from an unknown direction, brown in colour, and no bigger than an ant, but it was love at first sight. Hindered by the lack of a microscope I was a tad gender-confused, but chose to call `him` Brian.
Brian and I played for what seemed hours. I drew him a wobbly blue path and encouraged him along it very gently using the non-inky end of my biro. He appeared to enjoy this very much, and encouraged by his positive reactions I added some little blue houses and a blue tree. We laughed, we cried (she's losing it....!) in fact so distracted was I, that it wasn't until I heard the words "single celled organisms" that I realised that we had finally reached recent history (well, 3,500 million years ago anyhow). Hurrah.
My joy was, however, short-lived when the word "glacier" put paid to my delight, and yet again talk instantaneously returned to Supercontinents.
By the time I had remembered my chum and his enchanting new two-dimensional world, he’d vanished. I was devastated. Brian and I were no more.
It was with a heavy heart that I left Castle Methodist Church today, but I shall return, if only on the questionable promise from my tutor that we shall without a doubt have dinosaurs next week (presumably something all my fellow WEA colleagues have first hand experience of). I can now innocently spend the rest of my week fantasizing about enormous mammals devouring octogenarians.