Life in the staffroom

The humming of the coffee machine near my desk ; the tap and smack of indoor shoes from the teacher who has no intention of trying to pick his feet up ; the murmurs of ‘samui’ and sighs from teachers coming in from the cold ; the rustling of sweet papers as my neighbour opens yet another box of mini aeros ; the vice-principal who never smiles ; the science teacher who always looks like she’s been slapped across the face with a wet fish...she’s always miserable ; the old maths teacher who sits back in his chair and dozes every afternoon ; the phone conversations saturated in ‘thank you’s, ‘please’s, and ‘excuse me’s ; the maths teacher with huge spectacles, whose voice is as high as a kite on a windy day ; the cute P.E teacher who ruins his cuteness by wearing silver (tin-foil-type) puffa jackets ; the line of empty water bottles on my desk, as I have been too lazy to take them outside to the special bottle rubbish bin ; the smell of old fish, and burnt rice in the kitchen ; the sniffling and snorting from a teacher with a cold, and a nose he is not supposed to blow ; the bell chimes for the end of this period.