I did learn a few things at secondary school, but none of them were on the curriculum.
Avoid that bully was one. I don't recall his name, but I'll never forget his face as he punched his victims.
One girl had a list of boys to date. I learnt that when the name above mine was crossed off and I got my big chance, which I blew by failing to get us into an X-rated film, then perhaps being overly zealous in the attention I paid her whilst not watching Roger Moore in Gold at the Buckingham cinema. You'd have thought she wanted the attention. I thought that's why we were sat in a darkened room. Not that I 'went too far', I just went about it awkwardly because she was sat to my left. I think that's why she dumped me.
I learnt not to get the wrong side of our History teacher because he had a prosthetic hand (made of very heavy material, possibly wood) which he'd strike you with if you misbehaved. It was always covered by a glove, making him even more sinister, like a Bond villain. I never felt that hand, thankfully, but neither did I pay attention to the History lessons, which is why I entered this exhibition knowing next to nothing about Russia's part in World War One.
I'm still none the wiser and that's the fault of the Russian waiter at the private view who insisted on tempting me with drinks from his tray. Variations on the mixed vodka theme, of course. That much I know about Russians; they like vodka. As if remembering information at galleries isn't difficult enough, after a few sips of alcohol, it was hopeless. I could appreciate the art, though. It's a fine exhibition, featuring photos, posters, art works and best of all some little books. You can see some good photos over here at the GRAD (Gallery for Russian Arts and Design) site. Here are my mostly bad ones. Blame the vodka.
Finally, another blurred photo, perfectly capturing the state my head was in whilst trying to absorb some information...