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| Recess |
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| By AG age 7 |
'On the other side of the school building where there was asphalt the girls who had all carried their personal hopscotch markers last week had now to throw them away and spend all their leisure moments standing on their hands with their feet against a wall. Their skirts were tucked into the elastic of their bloomers, but from time to time a skirt would escape and fall about the head of its wearer, revealing a singlet of unpredictable hue or holeyness. As they became more expert the girls could spend most of the lunch hour upside down as devoutly as so many fakirs spending their entire adulthood on one leg.'
[Extract from Scenes That Are Brightest by my grandfather Ray Copland]
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