Do you have writing-related regrets?
Mine was back in upper school (That’s High School for USAers) when I joined a lunchtime writing club. I remember it was run by two teachers (one modern one – noise stud and short dark hair and the classic looking one – pearls and dress suit) from the English Department and I think it met every two weeks in a maths classroom.
There were not many people there – maybe five, ten at the most. I think most people were there because it meant escaping the canteen (we could eat our packed lunch in the classroom) and we could also keep warm and not be forced out onto the playground, which was patrolled by hard-core dinner ladies.
Our aim was to produce a pamphlet of writing based on Christmas, which would then be put in the library and given out at the end of the school’s Christmas Carol service.
I told one the teachers about the stories I had written when I was younger – the ones with drawings of ponies with thin bodies and fat, chubby legs. She said she wanted to see them. So I went home, dug out all of my notepads from under the bed, and took them to school in a big brown envelope.
I handed them over.
Then we are told she was leaving. I asked for them back. She said, yes, come back later. I did. She wasn’t in her classroom office. The corridors were empty, there was no one in the staff room and the receptionist was giving strange looks. She probably wanted to know why a pupil was still hanging around after school hours.
She left before I could get back my stories.