Swimming lessons were in the local river and there was often a big, older, slow boy enrolled in year 6 forever who good-naturedly piggybacked and played cricket with us little ones for hours. Eventually Sir was transferred and his school was closed down too. My brother and I were shipped off to schools in the big smoke, our education miraculously undamaged thanks mainly to my mother's dedication to teaching us correspondence for three years, where the lessons arrived and went in the weekly mailbag. We don't want to find out they've been left alone when they should have been learning. But by crikey it was fun.
School starts tomorrow.
Have a wonderful year.