We stood on the old river bridge, Mrs Gaynor and me. The bridge was very high and now only for pedestrians. There were wonderful views over the town and up and down the river; but I was looking downwards.
A woman and a man walked from under the bridge and along the towpath, they did not see me above them, Mrs Gaynor did not see them. It was the head teacher and Mr Bryans. He looked as if he had been pulled through a hedge many times and in different directions.
It was the first mauling he had got and definitely not the last. All the teachers complained about his appearance, but few knew why he looked like a scarecrow.