SCABs

Scabby Abby. By @saphire_rose

By Saphire Favell

 

Scabby Abby.

 

The first thing I should probably point out is my aversion to the word SCAB. Rewind back to around 2005 and a rumour spread about a poor girl from a neighbouring school who supposedly used to eat her own scabs and (because kids are arseholes and her name was Abigail) she consequently donned the nickname ‘Scabby Abby’ for the rest of her secondary school days. Poor lass. Honestly…. What a minefield being a teenager was.

 

Fast forward I’m now at work, a few extra wrinkles and love handles, neurotically typing my first post to the humdrum sound of office small talk… when in fact all I can actually think of is the inevitable rollercoaster that will be full time school again come September. Hello fluffy notebook and squashed bananas in the bottom of my bag – I’m ready for you.

 

I’ve already dusted off my school skirt and now I just need my brain to catch up. Good thing I’ve started reading ‘Your Memory’ on Marc’s reading list – even though it took me 20 minutes to read 2 pages the other night. Honestly, the letters couldn’t have looked more like a fruit salad If they tried. 1 book partially read – 7 more to go.

 

Unlike Scabby Abby my literary palette has had the pleasure of tasting other people’s SCABs rather than just my own. I’ve read pretty much every post from John and, considering they don’t know who I am, it felt rather pervy. I’m sure the rest of my intake feel the same so at least I’m already part of a gang. What I’ve learnt so far when it comes to writing a post:

 

  • Mull recent times over constructively and then move on.
  • Don’t be precious.
  • Try writing a poem.
  • If all else fails compare yourself to some form of starchy vegetable.
  • Don’t be embarrassed – no one actually cares.
  • Keep SCrAmBling for that SCAB (it’s in there somewhere).

 

Writing a post is just a moment to vent to the digital gods and hope that your boss isn’t watching your antics over your shoulder. Or, in my case, hope he is so that you get fired. Honestly, If I have to look at another excel sheet on a Window’s computer I’m going to change my name to Ivan and join the IT department.

 

Anyway, it’s time I go back to feigning skilled employee and counting down the days to the first day of term. A colleague is trying to shove more paper into the already broken and buzzing paper shredder so I should probably give him a hand. The sweet sounds of corporate boredom.

Very excited to know that in a few months’ time I will be exactly where I am meant to be doing the exact opposite of what I am currently doing.

 

Time to rip the plaster off.

 

 

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