Saturday, April 05, 2008
Which reminds me, did I ever tell you of the time I was mistaken for a war hero?
This is a true story, I wouldn't romance about a thing like this.
Picture the scene. The year is 1959, I am 23, I have ventured into secondary teaching, I am teaching history to a class of 12 year old boys.
My first day, I introduce myself (writing my surname on the blackboard - if you don't know what a blackboard was, see me after class) so that they will get the requisite number of Ls and Ps.
And, inner flesh, as my lovely daughter would say, in a flash, a sprog's hand shoots up.
"Sir, are you the Captain Allsop who led the assault on Montecassino in the war?"
Or words to that effect. I was so gumplefoisted, I didn't really take in his words, just the drift.
Of course I came clean. You know me, I don't like to muddy the waters.
"There are some things I don't like to talk about," I said nobly."Turn to page 25 and find out why we won the Battle of Agincourt."
At least the little blighter hadn't asked me if I was with King Henry V for that little fracas.