#TheScruffyKid
Favourite Son
It was one of those hot lazy days of summer, where the heat rose in shimming waves from the pavement, and playground concrete, at the time these days seemed to last forever as the laughter of children filled the air, to compete with the bees, birds and butterfly’s as they filled the air to in ways only bugs and animals could, all joining the constant buzzing, and chirps, giving the 60’s a natural acoustic soundtrack of life, on those lovely sunny days.
I'm five and enjoying my first summer holiday from school.
Down by the shopping centre there was an enclosed car park with garages, set in a dip that was made up with grassy slopes.
Without snow, it being the height of summer, the pleasure of sledging was made possible on grass with the aid of a torn piece of cardboard box.
Well that's what the sensible kids used like me; my twin however decided his short trousers could provide adequate slipperiness to these grassy fun activities.
As the day wore on the grass was quickly developing into some dry bawd stony soil patches, where the sliding kids were followed by a trailing dust cloud, and it's here someone was about to lose the back of his trousers.
Well as you’ve no doubt guest that someone was my twin Michael who was blissfully unaware the entire back of his trousers was replaced by the site of his soiled pants… soiled with soil thankfully.
Well he soon became aware due to the friction burn on his backside.
It was a few days later Mother presented me with these Holey Shorts… I say holey not holy as in the saintly; you now have the power of Gods in your pants kind of way. (which would have been cool as the parting clouds allowed a golden light of sunshine, to light on my blessed trousers, to the sounds of singing angels)
In fact there was literally no material on the rear of these trousers at all.
This is when you realise you’re in no way the favourite son.
I was incensed, and innocent of the crime, in one outraged cry, I said, “What?....Why do I have to wear those? I didn’t do that!”
“Michael is going to your grandmothers, with Steven and Loraine so you have to stay here!... he can’t go out wearing those.” Mum replied, as if this was obvious to everyone.
“But he’s wearing MY Trousers!...... MINE!” I protested emphatically.
“Well you’re not going out so you have to have these.”
“But I want to go out!”
“Well you can’t in these, so quit you’re moaning and put them on.” Mum insisted.
“FINE!" I said, slumping down heavily onto my chair, which sighed, ‘What did I do?’ As chairs are sometimes inclined to do, especially on weekends.
There's no use arguing with these giant adult parent types. So I just busied myself with my constant companion, my trusty scratch book.
So there I was condemned to stay home, until my friend from the bungalows across the road, near to our home, called. (These were what I thought at the time, as Posh kids, as their parents owned their own home.)
So my posh friend asks, “Are you coming out to play?”
It took me a nanosecond to consider the consequences of being seen with my backside hanging out of my shorts to say, “ why of course, Yes.”
And out I go, and soon we are opening the gate to his driveway to walk round his home into his family’s rear garden.
All this time I’m conscious of keeping by backside out of view, and all gardens at this time had a coal bunker, a concrete rectangular box, that sat about 4 feet high.
So jumping up I plonked myself down on it…. Now satisfied my hide was hidden.
“Lemonade?” My friend’s mother enquired.
“OHHHHHH yes please.” (Posh kids had the greatest mothers) I say to the smiling face of my friend’s mother.
Brilliant! And my friend asks, “Can we have cake too mum?”
“Of course, I’ll bring it out to you.”
What can I say… with my bottom hidden on the slightly warmed concrete, with Cake and lemonade! I was convinced I was in the garden of heaven.
The garden was well kept, with roses and other flowers in full bloom, and that lovely familiar buzz filled my ears, and I felt truly happy.
We joked around, playing word games and such, then his sister joined us, she had beautiful blonde hair that shone like corn.
We were laughing away and eating cake when suddenly... As most things that happen when you’re least expecting them are… I was stung by something in my throat… This was like Owch! But three octaves higher, and much more painful.
I was starting to get hot and bothered, my throat felt tight, so with one hand to my throat I jump off the coal bunker, then the concerned face of my friends sister changes to concern to confusion as she saw my backside hanging out of my trousers, with no so much as a hello, and I can see she’s wondering if I ripped them as I jumped.
Totally impossible of course, holes like this take time, and patience, and the empty headedness of a stupid brother.
Her mother runs to me saying, “Oh My Goodness! Are you alright? Did you rip your trousers?”
“I’m feeling giddy and say... “Bluuuuuuh.”
“Mum he’s been stung by a bee!” My friend shouts in horror.
“Oh NO!.... we must get you home.” And she plucks me from the ground like I was a feather and runs with me in her arms to the rear of my home… and with my friend banging the door like the klappers it's soon answered by my mother, who hadn’t even noticed I was gone to the loud knocking noises only a duel washing could do.
“He’s been stung by a Bee! And he’s ripped his trousers jumping from our coal bunker the poor boy.”
I’m rushed in and sat on a chair where I wobble, feeling sick and dizzy.
“I’m terribly sorry I hope he’s alright?”
“I’ll fetch him some water, he’ll be fine.” My mother assured her, hiding her annoyance, that I’d gone out, “Thank you for bringing him back.”
“Is he going to Die MUM?” My friend asks.
Am I going to die? I’m thinking as my throat tightens even more.
“No! He’ll be fine.” My friend’s mother, replied easing his fears, and mine at the same time.
When all the fuss dies down and I’m alone in the kitchen with my mother she says, “I told you to stay indoors, this wouldn’t have happened if you listened.”
I was finding it hard to talk, I was slightly scared bee poison might be the end of me still, but I manage to say... “I didn’t want to stay in mum.” but in my head I'm saying, shouldn't you be feeling guilty? if I wasn't attempting to hide my Hide I may have been standing and running about like a normal child... Bees would have looked and thought, 'Na, he's moving to fast to be a flower, curse you boy with your sweet cake.'
“Well we can’t go to the Doctor’s, not with you dressed like that so drink this water and rest.”
She looked worried which worried me, but she would never give me trousers with holes in again, that was for sure, so in that way I won a small victory for my kiddy freedom.
After a while my swollen throat did die down and when my siblings returned home I was able to tell them how I escaped the icy cold grip of death, armed with a holey pair of trousers and true grit… “and my Twins a git!” I added, which is apparently a rude thing to say, but true.
