Talking to Myself

Reading this recent story by Robert Birming reminded me of a story from when I was in my teens and going to school in England.

I use to cycle to school, enjoying the freedom it gave me, being able to dodge in and out of the traffic as the cars sat waiting at junctions and roundabouts during the early morning rush hour.

I remember one day passing one of the school’s physical education teachers who was walking to work. I didn’t think much of it at the time as I was racing down a hill and round a corner on the home straight to school.

I arrived at school, parked my bike in the bike sheds and went in to catch up with my friends before lessons started. We had all been sat there for a while, chatting when the PE teacher, Mr Hazel, walked by. He had just arrived at school himself.

He noticed me and asked, “What were you talking about?"

I had no idea what he was talking about, and said as much. He went on to explain that he had noticed me as I cycled by and could hear me quite happily chatting away to myself … however, I was completely oblivious to the fact that I was doing that.

I became the butt of jokes for the rest of the morning.