Tag Archives: description

The view from the back of a lecture.

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I am sat two chairs in on the back row. I see the backs of heads staring desperately day-dreaming, unwillingly trying to shrug the hangover from the previous nights alcohol consumption – sweltering among body heat, broken radiators and insulation – heat only comparable to a scene from the puzzling pig-masking, murder mystery thriller Saw.

Rustling handouts, proceeded to interupt the lecturer spreading yet more ephemeral words to non-concentrate recipients, sporting a vibrant discombobulation half golf and half hiking attire – from top to bottom. Unrelenting waves of yawns, creaks and sighs flooded the room erupting like volcanoes and dampening the already disinterested crowd, followed by whispers from a rowdy bunch near the front row – not so very quietly telling others of the blast she’d had with her gal-pals – it sounded like suffocating, scrambling for air as you panic, wish and hope but in your last moments think of doubt, fear and somewhat acceptance.

Students scattered in twos and three clinging like pack animals; I was alone. On my right the incessant tapping of mac books distract me from the task at hand; concentration. My eyes drift and land on a helping hand, the co-managing lecturer, of the subject, sits beside the entrance. Her hair mangled and untamed, like a student, broken and unappreciated she smirks chortling merrily compressing the disfigured wrinkly-skin hanging from her chin.

My mind drifts pacing slowly towards the window, there is a gap that only appears every so often from an inadequate breeze slowly creeping in pushing the blackened blind from its purpose. There is a fence towering above a puddle. Sometimes a bird will sit in it, often it doesn’t, but sometimes it stands perplexed holding its chest out looking nonchalant in a stationary manner. With no pen and paper I sat trying to must some sort of aspiration to maintain my attention.

The fact the slides were in widescreen mode wasn’t aiding my cause, an apology had been issued but technical appliances can only absorb so much incompetence from human users. His words sail awkwardly across the room, comfortably piercing our auditory receptors.

Purple, pink and blue, rest aggressively asserting in the corner of my eye. I turn facing this multi-coloured monster. Slabbed, draped and inconclusively strawberry short-cake splattered clown look-a-like wearing fake-glasses the size of the moon. She sits slumped chewing her necklace, when her phone vibrates. She instantly picks up, unlocks and replies to her “lover” ending the message in the more X’s than Simpson Halloween specials!

The time finally runs out, and coming to the end of something unbearably uninteresting could never have felt better, only afterwards realizing that I just paid £103 to not pay an ounce of attention.

On top of a table.

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Upon the table stood a thirty-two inch Alba perching against the east facing wall which stared precariously over the condiments that were mangled, overlapping and oddly placed. A green translucent jug, sticky and overturned, lie between empty bottles of beer and cracked glass. Plates, scattered and covered in scraps of uneaten food. Post-stick notes together and separate, ripped and untouched stuck to deodorant cans and caps of bottle drunk. Tobacco pouches strewed and tawny orange stains littered the laminate wood, that it rested on. The pitter-patter of mouse clicks, keyboard keys, and Xbox buttons hung like wasted decibels only outweighed by the bellowing screams of a kettle. Disks, cards and sunglasses accompanied the collaborative mess almost pushing the boundaries close to falling off the edge. The remnants of takeaways past chewed, spewed and splattered with sauces of red, brown and white in a rustling grease paper box. A consumed peach schnapps bottle held its structural dominance standing triumphant among the scuttling rubbish surrounding it. Pointless receipts and stubby coloured glasses, designed for shots, held up a half full packet of JB like ants couriering their food to their queen. Carved keys, and wallets encapsulated the unending growth of the taxing environment that sustained all walks of life, from ants to moths. The smell of poultry, ash and regret licked effervescently above and beyond the table dissipating further into it’s surrounding. Cigarettes burnt and stubbed into, lids of plastic, tin and yoghurt pots still with foil half covering the only accessible point.  Green and continually bending plastic garden chairs tucked under, pushed out and somewhere in between allowed the makers of this wasteland to continue, essentially enabling the tables demise. Once friends they now feared one another, as the scratches and screeches of the chairs moving position startled the compressed fibers that made up the four legs of the table; striking fear, angst and disappointment within an old friend. It had long been since the table held nothing but it’s own weight, it wondered if it ever would.