Free The Perils of Skinny-Dipping by J A Sandilands

old and, apart from an old family photograph he knew his mother still kept hidden in the bottom of a drawer in her bedroom, Richard had very little memory of him. He had been brought up in relative poverty, wearing second-hand clothes and existing on the most basic of diets. His mother had tried to work, but her back problems had prevented any further employment and, from the age of ten, Richard had been brought up on benefits and hand-me-downs from the locals in the village.
    His school life had been hard because of it, with name-calling and bloody noses, as some of the bullies in the class never missed an opportunity to inflict some sort of physical injury. Finally, in 1977, Richard embarked on his first teaching job in a secondary school in Carlisle, about thirty miles from the village.
    Richard found teaching a much more preferable form of employment than any job he had done so far. For the first time in his life he had power. Power over other people – the pupils. Richard soon learned that he could shout - actually, he could bellow - down a corridor and make the windows reverberate in their frames. He had missed out on the good old days when teachers were able to throw board rubbers and crack pupils’ knuckles with a ruler, but he still had tried and trusted methods, most of which were carried out in the darkness and privacy of the store room, which could render the hardest of students to a gibbering wreck. Richard had been very content for over fifteen years and been promoted to head of department, when a new head teacher arrived at the school.
    Mrs Ryan had been appointed after a damning Ofsted Inspection, which had labelled the school as ‘failing’. She had stalked the corridors, carried out impromptu lesson observations and demanded to see evidence of lesson planning. Within six months, the staff turnover had doubled and Richard found himself working with two new colleagues. He had so far managed to keep his head down and away from the attention of the abominable Mrs Ryan, whom he had attempted to fob off on her first visit to the technical department with folders of paperwork and pupil projects. He knew it would not work a second time, and he was more than happy to let his new, younger colleagues set up teaching folders and schemes of work.
    As well as the new paperwork regime, other procedures that simply went against the grain with Richard were also put in place. Department development plans and regular staff meetings were all now part of teaching life. Was there no stopping this control freak of a woman, who seemed to want to know about everything that shouldn’t concern her?
    The ‘O’ level and subsequent GCSE results of Richard’s classes had always been below average, and it wasn’t long before Mrs Ryan had demanded a meeting to discuss why the classes of his less experienced colleagues were outperforming his. It was at the end of this particularly harrowing meeting that Richard had gone off sick with his first bout of food poisoning, followed by stress. Eventually, he spent more time at home (being paid), than he did in school.
    After his sixth month off sick, he received a letter from the Director of Education, stating he had been given early retirement on ill-health grounds. Richard had reluctantly accepted the incredibly insulting offer, even though it dramatically reduced his pension, but he knew going back to work for Mrs Ryan was not an option. He also knew that his methods and teaching styles were not looked upon favourably by the new powers that resided in the education offices at the local council. He banked his cheque as soon as possible.
    Before leaving for Botswana, Richard had spent the last few years picking up supply work and claiming benefits. The position at AVP was too good to be true and Richard wasted no time in applying. His elderly mother had been moved into sheltered accommodation and he really couldn’t see any reason not to break free. He had no real friends to speak of