I thought that it was about time that I confessed to a number of sins, which I have committed over the years.

There are five in total, all of which will be explained in their own blog post.

You may or may not be pleased to learn that no humans or animals were harmed in any of my crimes.

So, without further ado, I will step foot into the confessions chamber and tell all about my first offence. I have waited over 27 years to admit to this one…

My final year of junior school was spread across two different schools in two separate cities.

After the first half term, in my final year before going to bigger boy school, I was moved from Bristol to Bath.

My new school was nice and I enjoyed it, despite having spent many years and being settled in BS7.

It is difficult for any child to make friends at a new school, especially if introduced midway through an academic year, into a group of pupils who have known each other for most of their lives.

Despite effectively arriving late to the party, I still managed to make a small number of close-knit friends.

One of these new comrades was a boy named Lee. Like me, Lee wasn’t one of the loud, boisterous children, but was never one to shy away from classroom activities either.

An ongoing game amongst some of the pupils, was to vandalise the toilets directly outside our classroom.

I’m not talking about taking a hammer to the cistern and smashing the porcelain to pieces. We didn’t kick the walls in either. In fact, no permanent damage was done.

As I have mentioned on this blog before, I went to a nice little Christian school, for polite, middle class boys and girls.

While pupils in some areas of London bring knives into school and American kids are screened for guns (sadly, this is not a joke), my fellow classmates would bring in an apple for the teacher and a Care Bear for ‘Show and Tell’.

The prank, which seemed to be repeated every five or six weeks, by some mystery joker, involved placing an ink cartridge from a fountain pen in the bolt on the cubicle wall.

The cubicle door would be slammed shut. The pen cartridge becoming trapped in between the wall and a violently slammed, heavy door.  This would result in the cartridge bursting and blue ink covering the walls, door, toilet roll holder and the toilet itself.

Thinking about it, I can see why this confession could easily be perceived as vandalism – probably because it was. What little turds we all were!

During one boring morning break time, Lee and I thought that it would be fun if we had a go at the ink game – if only to see what all the fuss was about.

I seem to remember that I had recently acquired a new fountain pen, which I had brought into school to show all my chums. I was therefore a bit stupid in playing the ink game, as it wouldn’t have taken a genius to find the culprit.

I believe it was Lee who placed the ink cartridge in the lock. I was probably too scared. I don’t know why – if we were going to get caught, we would both equally be in trouble. The door was then slammed shut!

Upon opening the cubicle door, I cannot recall if we both thought or said aloud the words “oh shit!”. I know for certain that we were instantly filled with a mixture of fear, regret and panic.

The sight which greeted us resembled that of a brutal murder. A murder, where the victim’s blood was blue. Whoever told me that this was a fun lark was a big, fat liar – this was a shitting nightmare!

We returned to our desks, hopeful that we had got away with blue murder. Maybe nobody would notice the ink all over the once clean, white walls.

How wrong I was…

During the middle of a lesson, our teacher, Mr Evans, was interrupted when the caretaker burst into the classroom!

The caretaker was an old school type, even back in 1993. He had probably been alive during the schools construction and even had a hand in building it.

His job description included general maintenance throughout the school buildings and grounds, lollipop man duties before and after school, as well as putting sawdust on the piles of vomit, which primary school children are notorious for producing on a regular basis.

The caretaker’s name was Mr Cross, and by heck, at that moment, he was cross…

“Who’s sprayed ink all over the bloody toilets?” he demanded. Naturally, nobody spoke. 28 of the 30 kids, because they hadn’t done anything wrong. The other two – Lee and I – because it was the most scared we had been during our ten long years on the planet.

I don’t know how long the inquisition that followed lasted, or what it even involved. I do know that Mr Cross had seen one vandalised cubicle too many, because instead of the general light hearted warning Mr Evans would give the class, following previous ink attacks, Mr Cross reacted like somebody had burned the school down.

He never did find out who sprayed ink everywhere. Mainly because the two responsible for the crime were too cowardly to admit to it. Until now.

It would have been easier for Lee and I to admit to our prank and face the consequences, as the guilt which followed ate away at us.

We considered leaving Mr Cross a Mars Bar, along with an apologetic note. Anonymous, of course. Such cowards.

I will reveal another confession from my past soon. That is if a former caretaker doesn’t find me first…

After finishing this blog post, I carried out some online research and discovered the sad news that Mr. Cross passed away in 2017.

It appears that he continued to work at the school, long after I left; continuing his duties as a caretaker and lollipop man, the latter of which he was publically recognised for.

Unsurprising, many kind words have been said about the man. In the short time I attended the school, he appeared to be a popular figure amongst staff and pupils.

Considering how long Mr. Cross worked for the school, I do hope he enjoyed his career and didn’t get too stressed by those bloody kids being sick in the canteen and spraying ink all over the toilet walls.