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From high up the scene looked manic, masses of swirling white and blue, scattered all over the grassy green gulf. The piercing hot rays of the sun beaming down on the crowd of participants, a thick tingling aroma of vegetation floating on the cool breeze, and not a single cloud spoilt the sheet of brilliant blue, capturing the day of idyllic weather. Sports Day.

A fringe of anxious faces outlined the strict track, looking out onto the impending race with eager anticipation. Among the self exempt, boys stampeded across the baked earth like raging bulls, bellowing cheers of luck and comparing individual ability like playing cards, unable to control their excitement. While prestige princesses prune each others peroxide curls, or lay on the smooth lawn carpet stretching out their elegant bodies aiming for evenly bronzed skin. Teachers scanned the colossal crowd like eagles on the hunt, eagerly awaiting the chance to display authority and punish an immature idiot.

PE staff congregated over by the finish line, tall runner bean figures with broad bulky biceps sticking out of their tight sporting gear, gripping their red clipboards eyeing the records with noticeable exhilaration, tapping and clicking their pens impatiently. The old and experienced boasting bristly grey moustaches, eyes heavily outlined, and the tell tale wrinkles looking like the Grand Canyon next to the smooth flat faces that belonged to the new able-bodied students.

However at the far end of the track a tense mood drifted between the horizon of pale and nervous racers. The general consensus was grim; hardly anyone chose to chat amongst themselves. Rather preferring stern silence, some gritting and grinding their teeth creating an eerie crunching that echoed through the hush, while others rubbed their lifeless limbs striving to achieve the soft suppleness required for an easier race.

One girl had separated herself from the competition, her tousled brown hair was fixed back of her determined olive face, her harsh jaw line and taut brow illustrating the seriousness and competitive nature within. Professional deep dark eyes sliced through the collective bodies weighing up their ability, rarely meeting the challenging glare of other, looking rather on a worried glaze of stagnant fear. No matter the onlooker all views, if not fixed on the finish line, flicked across to one scene in particular.

A thick chipped oak effect bench was placed precariously on an odd sloping bit of stingy grass, the crumbly mud underneath scuffed with typical trademark trainer patterns. Upon this neglected rest many stooping and drooping figures were settled. Shiny haggard faces dripped in translucent beads and either expressed looks of defeated dismay, or ecstatic exclamations of delight. The odour of clammy and damp oozed from the earth sodden shirts in and out of these exhausted but cheerful people, as ultimately the enjoyed the bliss of being seated. Frowns of pain were not uncommon along the station of recuperation, throbbing aches seethed through ripped and ragged muscles, air wheezed shakily in and out of the lungs, and hearts struggled desperately to repair the acidic war zone that had been left behind. No pain, no glory.

At the end of the bench sat a boy gulping at the thirst-quenching ocean contained in his dirt encrusted Nike drinks bottle, letting the fresh droplets trickle lusciously over his tingling pink tongue. Many were gasping for some of this refreshing miracle to cleanse their prickly savannah like throats.

All in anticipation of one sound;
Band.
They were away.