Recollections 2

I occasionally allow my mind to drift back. It's like trolling through rolls of old film and sometimes I surprise myself at the things I remember. As my son nears school age, I think of my own childhood junior school memories and how I dreaded the prospect of having to go and how I would try to find any way possible not to.
Back then, school was a dark and imposing place, full of children I didn't know and teachers who's job it was to shout and give me nightmares. I can remember the smells of school quite clearly. The musty odour of the classrooms and the smell of sand mixed with disinfectant whenever someone threw up.
I can remember the smell of the gym with its wooden climbing frames, ropes and green rubber mats. I can smell now the canteen and the aroma of custard, fish cakes and pies that heralded lunchtime. I recall the mixed smells of must and water-based paint as I think of art class. Even today, the smell of wood being worked takes me right back to the crafts workshops, filled with huge benches with alien-looking drills and wood dust everywhere.
The secretary's office used to smell of stationery - paper, ink and files. There was always a band printer - normally Gestetner - and this would smell of ink. If I was lucky, I was sometimes allowed to turn the handle and run-off a few hundred letters. Another one I remember is the smell of biscuits being made. This was a rare treat.
Pens had their own unique smell too. We used to use coloured felt-tips, made by Berol I think. They used to smell slightly fruity and sweet - especially the orange one.
The corridor leading to the headmaster's office used to smell of cigarettes. His name was Mr Purkis and he drove a tiny blue camper van. I think he was a very heavy smoker.
Instant coffee - now there's one I remember. Staff rooms would smell of instant coffee and cigarette smoke. I used to make the coffee for one of my teachers. Each time I have a Nescafe, I get taken back.
Occasionally, I'd catch a whiff of the world outside the gates. This would often be petrol or diesel fumes and would give me some sense of hope that I would eventually be free and that there was life elsewhere.
My son has all this to come. I hope he enjoys it more than I did. It's good to look back but at the time, oh how I hated it...