Windows are temptatious to me. Whenever I see a window with people behind it I like to do something stupid.
As a young man I used to buy cream cakes and walk excitedly to Pizza Express in Reading. It was a great big restaurant with absolutely ENORMOUS windows. I would stuff as much of the cream cake as I could into my mouth (usually all of it) then chew it with a wide open mouth and a vacant expression on my face, staring into the window. People often stopped with their forks held up to their mouths.
Yesterday another window opportunity presented itself. I was in the toilet at school, about to leave, and I could hear the sonorous tones of my head teacher. He has a remarkably deep and resonant voice, which seems to be in tune with the fabric of the school. The walls hum with pleasure as he speaks. This humming transmitted itself to me as I gently pissed into the toilet. I remembered that there was a senior leadership team meeting going on in his office.
The head's office is a bit like a goldfish bowl on the outside of the school. It has a lovely big window and I have to make a conscious decision every time I pass by it - will I give a cheery wave, or will I rock seriously into school as if I am too busy to waste my time or as if I deeply respect the head's need for some privacy? It is a tough call but I usually judge things just right.
Anyhow, last night I could hear the meeting ambling along as I was about to leave and I thought of a great idea.
I left the building and tiptoed over to the window, then leant my ear against it, pretending to eavesdrop. The plan was for everyone to laugh whilst I shouted "night everyone," and walked off confidently.
Instead, I looked up to see the head staring disgustedly at me, with bugged out eyes and a wide open mouth. Two of the three other senior managers looked similarly irritated with me. Only one of them was amused, and she appeared to be suppressing this amusement rather than roaring out loud.
Realising that my plan had backfired somewhat I knew that the only step to take to save myself would be to apologise profusely to everybody and try to make amends. Bearing this in mind, I pretended to look really shocked that they had found me listening, turned and ran off as fast as I could, not stopping until I reached the car.
At home I had to break the news to Polly that I was probably going to get another bollocking in the morning. She was remarkably sympathetic.
Nobody referred to the incident this morning. Phew.