The Textiles Teacher

Something that always cheers me up is a trawl through my aforementioned ex Fashion Textiles teacher’s blog. It makes me feel all happy and snuggly because it’s like being back at college with her. Only without any shouting. Something I can’t restrain though, is ABJECT JEALOUSY when I read about her new students each year. It makes me wish I’d worked harder to give her something good to remember me by. I’m pretty sure she recalls me with an eyebrow humorously raised at the thought of my tantrums and strops. But her’s was the only class I always turned up for, at a time when I was experimenting with being a MASSIVE REBEL who DIDN’T GIVE A CRAP.

What she probably doesn’t realise is that I fell in love with her the moment I saw her, in the old textiles room of the college. It was an open day and I was looking around whilst in my last year at school. The fat sketch books laid out on tables suckered me in like sparkly tentacles and then I saw her, and I knew I was destined to be A Textiles Girl. This lady has an air of cheeky gentility, cultured and settled. She’s so softly spoken until you piss her off. She looks like someone who’d drink gin out of a porcelain tea cup. I can’t explain it, and she’d describe herself completely differently. But she’s one of the best people I’ve ever known. When I had my first real heartbreak, she talked to me and pretty much told me to snap out of it and do some work. I did snap out of it eventually. No work though.

This is sounding proper lezzy, but to be fair, if I were a lesbian, she’d probably be the kind of person I’d choose to be my ‘life partner’. We could grow vegetables together and sew patchwork quilts. I need to stop now. Although, Mam once told me that she’d go out with me. If I wasn’t a woman. And her daughter.

Am I right? Tell me!

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