This week’s image stirred up thoughts of school science labs.
The Physics teacher with the middle name Excalibur who ‘accidentally’ threw my exercise book in a chemical sodden sink.
The Biology teacher who nurtured my interest in human physiology.
The hot Bunsen burner gauze that left a lasting imprint on my thumb and index finger.
The wooden benches etched in the legacy of all those who had gone before me.
Wowing my classmates with my pencil case covered in drawings of break dancing llamas.
Being asked to repeat phrase after phrase because of my London accent.
Overhearing the above mentioned Physics teacher mimicking my accent.
Heart breaking chemistry lessons in the presence of my school crush (boy in the year above NOT a teacher).
Writing a-ha lyrics on my general note book.
Attempting to write chemical formulas with my initials and those of my crush.
The Physics teacher attaching mistletoe to the ceiling above his desk.
A memory of someone having a phobia of cotton wool and this becoming an issue in Chemistry.
Helping out with a parents evening event and not knowing that my crush was going to be there too (painful silence).
Dust mites, like tiny galaxies, in a shaft of sunlight-drowsy summer afternoons.
The smell of sulphur and not a Winchester in sight.
Looking at iodine stained onion cells under a microscope.