…We copied our stories into our English books.
It was Games today and we did hockey again.
Star Trek was on today.
On Bodymatters tonight they went down the body on a train…
My story was called A Mrs Thatcher Nightmare.
I’m not going to make a habit of this, but below you’ll find the text in full.
I realise this is a self-indulgent thing to do, but then so is this entire blog. If you’re not keen on browsing extended reams of childhood scrawl, there’ll be another update along shortly in which I talk about Doctor Who, and one on 23 September where I get told off in class.
For anyone still reading, I reckon this short bit of creative writing sums up my temperament and obsessions at the age of 10-and-a-half all too well:
Twenty-five years ago today 
I used to think, and this confirms it, that teachers place ticks at random…
“Half an hour later as we walked down Whitehall”
Why does that sentence get a tick, when the preceding little section about your family’s opinion of the Tube gets nothing? And it is MUCH better!