Emptying one (stick box) tonight and saw a group of the large youths busily lobbing them at one another. A little voice in my head said, "don't go Dave. Leave the thing but, duty prevailed and out I got of my armoured shell. I could hear the sniggers erupting as I walked toward the box. Inserting the key I heard the first snowball whistle past my earole followed by more of the aforementioned missiles only these were much better aimed. One caught me at the back of my head and upon turning around to see who was responsible saw 5-6 late teens stood there with that, "and what are you going to do about it?" look about them. Mad doesn't cover how I felt as I hastily made my way back to the van.
I got back to the depot and discussed what had happened with other collection staff only to find that a lot of them agreed with me in that, if they could have got hold of them they'd have liked to have killed them a little but alas we, as millions of teachers up and down the country know only too well (and so do the little gits too) you can't lay a damned finger on them