As a fourteen year old, I’d had it with school. In point of fact, I’d had it with school ten years earlier, from the very first time I entered the sit-down-shut-up-do-as-you’re-told world of education.
“I used to get mad at my school
The teachers who taught me weren’t cool
You’re holding me down
Turning me round
Filling me up with your rules”
Just over a year away from leaving the classroom for more interesting ways of killing time, a little occasional bunking off could be easily justified as preparation for the big leap. I wasn’t a regular truant, but when a pal invited me to his house, one lunchtime, to hear his older brother’s newly acquired White Album, I didn’t give it a second thought.
Around this time, like most lads of my age, I wasn’t wholly into taking care of myself. I was well fed, had a place to sleep, clean clothes magically appeared in my absence. Life was sweet. As were most of the ‘extras’ that passed my lips. The sugar took its toll, but appointments with the dentist – a severe Scot, called Mr Black – were avoided by the creation of increasingly fantastic excuses. None of which convinced the old grouch for a single second.
So, half a century on, bunking off has caught up with me. Another tooth extracted this week. Although how it held out for so long is a mystery. More importantly, the re-release of The Beatles’ “White Album” (Super Deluxe). I’ve been enjoying it for the past few days via Spotify, and with a birthday around the corner, I have my fingers crossed that a copy will appear magically, just like my clean underpants did, all those years ago. I don’t have to bunk off to enjoy it. Retirement is a kind of approved truancy, anyway.
I really should be sharing “Savoy Truffle” with you, but YouTube doesn’t have it. So here’s “Glass Onion” instead.