Studs and Stilettos

Lesson 20 - adolescent boys make fantastic chemical concoctions.

Thursday and nearly the end of the week.

I fling down my beautifully marked books onto the tiny coffee table in the Science staff room and slop into the nearest moth eaten chair, releasing a cloud of powdery dust..

'Ahhhh!' the black coffee from my CUDDLE A CHEMIST AND GLO IN THE DARK mug hits the caffeine hamster in my brain who immediately starts running round in his wheel. Brian lopes in, dressed to kill in a greasy mac, cycle helmet and trousers held closed by some bicycle clips. Apparently he has a very attractive Thai wife who must have severe cataracts.

Brian doesn't do small talk. He only says the necessary and today is no exception.

'Room change for you today. I'm doing a practical assessment. Need to use all the labs. Physics is free. Bill can bring your stuff.'

'Right-ho. No problems.'

No problems at all. If that weirdo pervie inspector has left I am probably safe for another week or until I put my foot in it again and do something crass.

I stretch out and wiggle my toes in the ugly flatties that I bought for comfort. As soon as I am paid – hopefully I will be paid off for the work I have done - I shall be shopping, seriously shopping, for new shoes.

I've never been to Physics before. It's on the ground floor near the staircase. I've seen lots of boys going through the double doors into the big black hole of St Euclids Physics sanctuary, the seriously hallowed ground, to be entered only by the super smart boys who can do extra hard maths and know their thermometers from their barometers, but I have never dared put my own delicate nostrils into the unknown world beyond .

The double doors are painted dark green with an engraved brass plaque with the word Physics etched into its polished surface. The corridor beyond looks gloomy and inhospitable with dark parquet flooring and ancient green tiles going half way up the wall. I hesitate before reaching out to pull on the door handle and step back through time.

Hmm. Lab 2. A smaller brass plate is set below a little square window with graph paper wiring set into the glass. So this is the Physics lab? I put the hesitant bright red toe of my pump across the threshold and stare round at the ancient room.

How old is this place?

Wooden floor, solid benches in parallel rows facing the raised teachers desk , grubby white sinks with hook-like taps and masses of complicated equipment lining three walls. Chemistry smells of bad eggs but Physics has a distinct aroma of wet dog, rust, oil, ozone and chalk. That's because there is still a blackboard facing the desks and a neat row of white chalks and a board rubber on a little shelf below it.

A door opens at the side of the teacher's dais and Mitzi's head appears.

She looks rather annoyed.

'What are you doing here?' Her voice sounds a tad huffy. 'This is Physics.'

Another head appears above hers. It's got glasses and a beard so it must be a Physicist – one of the Doctors but which, I have no idea.

'I've been sent here for this lesson. Brian's doing a practical.'

Mitzi turns back into the room to consult the beard.

'Are you going to be doing....Chemistry? In here?' Her brow is definitely puckered into cross lines. 'I mean...we don't like Chemistry...it's so..polluting. The Doctors get asthma. Health and Safety don't you know?'

'Well...'

Mitzi appears in front of me , her lab coat pristine and neatly ironed.

'I can let you have some magnets. That's nice and clean. Or some circuit boards and little lights. Batteries dont' make any odours. Or you could use the pendulums.'