at the high port

I raced across the desert, rifle above my head at the high-port. A man screamed, and throwing up his hands, rolled head over heels. I jumped over him and kept on running.

I have seen no more romantic figure than Stewart Carter, his head and shoulders wrapped in a flaming red head-scarf, moustaches at the high port, crouched fanatically over the steering-wheel of a stripped-down Land Rover.

We can all surely see, though, that there will be heads who will weep for joy at the challenges posed by LFM, which may yet provide for the apotheosis of those colleagues who want to see a full exercise book before issuing a new one. Calculators at the high port they will prowl their schools switching off lights, cutting pencils in half and pondering the cost-effectiveness of — as an ex-colonial head with whom I worked longed to do — deterring vandals by establishing a family of baboons in the school grounds.

Eventually he went off, still bubbling with enthusiasm. When his motorbike was out of earshot I went to look for Smithy. He must have taken off smartly at the high port as soon as he saw Elmer but I ran him down in the end.

Two seconds later Charlie comes out with his hand at the high port, ready for shaking.