CHAILEY HERITAGE (school for the disabled) We ate shepherds pie On the journey to Sussex. Even then I couldn't really believe That they would leave me. "This school is a special school Where there are children like you!" To me there was no difference Between normal children and the crippled ones, They were all children. When we arrived I knew that they would go, That I would remain behind. I was fitted out with short trousers And heavy studded boots that made My legs feel weak. We didn't have coats But were given cloaks and striped shirts. On Sundays we were given Harris Tweed jackets And grey flannels. "He's not going to be very warm in these" Said my mother to my father, Who made jokes to make me feel better. I watched them drive away. I cried because that was The only expression I had. I wanted to blame them for leaving me But I knew how much it hurt them. I could see the pain in their eyes. I was bullied and beaten up From time to time. I wasn't used to violence. In this place it was the law of the jungle: Kill or be killed! I died many times But I got used to dying. I remember a big boy who used to spit Full in my face whenever he saw me: He'd wait round corners then jump Out at me. There was nothing I could do about it, He was much faster than I. (He was eventually expelled from the school for excessive violence. He was a cripple.) I remember being held down With metal chairs whilst my legs Were stung with stinging nettles. I still stared at the empty driveway Waiting for that familiar car Carrying my mummy and daddy. I soon learned to say 'Mum and Dad' 'Cos 'Mummy and Daddy' was 'posh talk'. I was blackmailed Into lending my sheath-knife To a boy with no fingers. I never got it back. I was persecuted by a boy named Snelling Whose rubber-like legs were encased in steel, He knew my Achilles-heel: My fear of falling over. He would prod me with his crutches. I made friends with a boy Who had one finger where his arm Should have been His other shoulder Supported an artificial limb That didn't work. He wrote beautifully With a fountain-pen And was a wizard at ping pong. I learned a lot too: How to swear! How to fight! How to get out of the bath, unaided. I’ll say one though: The food was terrific! Paul Bura