They have their exits...or not!
For some reason, the other night I caught myself thinking about the books I used to read as a child. I was thinking particularly about this one that was a collection of excepts from escape stories, conveniently collated by the good nice people of St Michael if I remember correctly. It was all boyish ripping-yarn stuff, well apart from the bits that were true stories – as the title of this post implies. But they were exciting too. This morning we were back running uni hockey training is a local school gym we hire. The equipment is of the same vintage as the old gym we had in the school I was at over twenty years ago. But that gym was glass on two sides with those old metal fire doors that were slightly warped with age, making them awkward to close if accidentally opened. The gym here in Mostar has probably fifteen foot of wall before you reach the windows and just one door; the one linking it to the school. No fire exits. So it was that between watching the practise I started concocti...