Horace sat under the garden shed looking at the rain. He was undeterred. The rain was not heavy. It was actually quite musical bouncing off the garden sieve left hanging on the nail and the odd tin can. He thought about composing a tune to its accompaniment but then decided, "No! That would be a displacement activity." He'd read about them in the magazine someone had wrapped the tulip bulbs in. They were the things that you did when you wanted to do something else but didn't really want to do it and so you found lots of other things to do instead until you really had to get on with it, or you found something else to do, or you went off and made a cup of tea and forgot what it was you were doing in the first place! But of course, that never happens to you does it?
Today Horace was going to the SCOLA Information, Advice & Guidance Centre to see what course they thought he should study. "There must be really clever people there if they can give information and guidance," he thought. "All those different people coming in with their questions, and they know all the answers! Fantastic! That sounds like a really useful job." Horace had sometimes dreamed of being really useful. Most of the time he was content to be a two year old hedgehog finding his way in the world. But sometimes, the thought of people looking to him for advice; waiting with bated breath to see what he had to say....why, he might even decide to be a teacher one day. But not just yet.
The rain eased a little. It was what they called in Ireland a "Soft day." That meant you could just about see the wall at the end of the garden and would be soaked in ten minutes but that it wasn't really very cold with it. Just wet! He hunched his shoulders and set out.
He carefully avoided all the passing cars on his way. He'd heard about the dangers from them although he hadn't conducted a full risk assessment for his journey. When he reached the bottom of Sutton High Street he felt a little uncomfortable. It seemed a bit rough, especially near MacDonald's. But then the rich smells from the French Farmer's Market drew him on. The cheeses and the cakes and the biscuits were temptation incarnate. But he was a hedgehog with a purpose. He was not to be diverted.
When he asked people for directions they all seemed to have heard of SCOLA, but when he got as far as Waterstones on the corner he couldn't see any signs. "Hmm!" he thought, "I'll have to have a word about this. How is a poor hedgehog who is only two supposed to find Advice and Guidance if he doesn't know where to look?" That seemed almost a circular question but before he got stuck in trying to solve it a kindly old lady saw him revolving in confusion and pointed the way.
He set off, past the men with their mechanical diggers, past the pubs and the men standing in the doorways waiting for the rain to stop so that they could go and smoke their cigarettes. And there it was! In the distance! He saw the banner - 'Do something brilliant this year' 'Enrol at SCOLA.' The words, 'SCOLA', 'brilliant' and 'Enrol' shone out at him. He saw the blue sky and the signposts, and the birds circling! He had arrived! He was going to do something billiant!
Jan Koene - Author
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