Free 05 Please Sir! by Jack Sheffield Page A

hall, Vera walked into the staff-room and, to her horror, saw Resusci Annie standing upright on the coffee table in all her naked glory.
    ‘After you, Neil,’ said Joseph, ushering him in.
    With a burst of speed that would have impressed Seb Coe, Vera picked up the lidless box, turned it round and almost threw it on to the window ledge. Then she filled the kettle while composing herself. It had been a close thing.
    After a cup of tea, the bishop donned his chimere, hung round his neck the pectoral cross, in which a precious ruby had been set, and screwed together his pastoral staff. Then he followed Vera into my classroom. ‘What a lovely school you have here, Mr Sheffield,’ he said.
    ‘Thank you, Bishop,’ I said and we shook hands. Joseph gave a strained smile and Vera appeared to relax for the first time.
    The bishop stared at me myopically and asked, ‘Perhaps I could take a brief look in one or two of the classrooms and talk to the children?’
    ‘Of course,’ I said.
    Joseph decided to take the initiative and led the way into Jo Hunter’s class. After introducing the bishop to Jo he turned to the class. ‘Now, boys and girls,’ he said, ‘I hope you remember last week’s Bible story.’ A sea of blank looks and furrowed brows faced him. Undeterred he pressed on, ‘Who knocked down the walls of Jericho?’
    After what seemed an age, little Terry Earnshaw raised his hand. ‘It weren’t me, Vicar.’
    Bishop Neil smiled kindly. ‘Well, I’m pleased you tell the children Bible stories, Joseph.’ Suddenly he was aware of a small boy tugging his robes.
    ‘Our vicar’s a bit like God,’ said seven-year-old Benjamin Roberts.
    ‘Really?’ said the bishop, intrigued. ‘And is that because he’s kind to you?’
    ‘No,’ said little Ben, shaking his head.
    ‘Or maybe because he helps all the boys and girls?’ added the bishop.
    ‘No,’ said Ben.
    The bishop was running out of helpful suggestions. ‘Or is it because he tells you interesting Bible stories?’
    ‘No,’ said Ben defiantly. He was getting fed up with all these questions from this strange man in the Star Wars outfit and thick spectacles.
    ‘So why is he like God?’ asked the bishop, with a hint of desperation.
    ‘’Cause ’e’s really old ,’ said Ben and he trotted off happily.
    ‘Perhaps you would like to see the preparations in the hall,’ said Joseph, eager to move on.
    ‘Very well,’ said Bishop Neil with a beatific smile.
    Sally’s children were in the school hall, helping to display all the produce that had arrived during the day. However, as always, and mindful of the eminent visitor, she was making every effort to generate teaching and learning opportunities from the activity.
    ‘Here we have an orange, an apple and a pear, boys and girls,’ she said, ‘so what word do we use to describe all of these?’
    Nine-year-old Elisabeth Amelia Dudley-Palmer raised her hand and Sally smiled in her direction. ‘ Fruit , Miss,’ said Elisabeth Amelia.
    Sally was on a roll. The discovery of collective nouns was suddenly in everyone’s grasp. ‘And what about these?’ she said, pointing to a potato, a cabbage and one of George Hardisty’s carrots. ‘What covers all of these?’
    ‘ Gravy , Miss,’ shouted Heathcliffe quick as lightning.
    Sally went bright red and the bishop retreated strategically to Anne’s classroom.
    Bishop Neil sat down next to five-year-old Jemima Poole. ‘Now, what’s this?’ he said, pointing to a picture in her reading book of a farm with lots of animals.
    Jemima looked up at him as if he had just landed from another planet. ‘Farm,’ she said bluntly.
    The bishop nodded. ‘Well done,’ he said, quickly surmising this monosyllabic little girl was not very bright. ‘And what’s that?’ he asked, pointing to a picture of a hen.
    There was a lengthy silence and Jemima scratched her head. The bishop looked down sadly at the little girl. ‘Don’t you know what it is? Never mind,