Cheney School

“No one can teach talent or imagination, or demand original thinking, but a writing tutor can encourage self-discovery. I’ve tried to promote a digging around, a chucking up of what is already in there, a holding up to the light and then a polishing. Quite a lot of these pieces are inspired by autobiographical material, but I bet you won’t be able to tell what is remembered and what is made up, because much of our work has focused on the transformation of real events for fictional ends.”

Helen Cross, Writer-in-Residence at Cheney School

Monday morning, November. Six o’clock and I’m in my crane. London works on borrowed time; everyone looks as if they’re half asleep. Sleepy people look down on the Tube and no one smiles anymore.

Outside there’s a war going on and I’m caught in the crossfire; the grey buildings are laying siege to a silent grey sky and honestly, I don’t know why they try – the sky’s going to win.

I think I’m happy with my life. I have two plasma-screen TVs in my apartment and a very large sofa. There’s a fair amount of money in crane driving actually.

The thing I love about crane driving is you don’t have to put up with other people. I’d hate to do that whole ‘office thing,’ you know? The nine-to-five grind. And even then, after five o’clock, you’d have to go to the pub with your ‘work friends’ and go to office parties. I’d hate that.

After nearly fifty-odd years on this earth, I’ve discovered that the way to survive is to minimize your chance of failure – remove any mathematical uncertainties and you’re bound to succeed – get rid of the human element. Strip life down to the essentials – the predictables – and you should be safe.

An extract from “The Crane Driver” by Alex, a student at Cheney School in Oxford

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