Remembering your youth.....
Picture this... you are out with your parents on that dreaded "School Uniform Shopping Trip"... you spend hours and hours being dragged on your heels by your mother who can't decide what shop or what color Grey she wants you to wear for those trousers that were knitted with camels pubic hair and barbed wire...
Grey is GREY! thats what you keep thinking... trousers are TROUSERS! who cares? i don't... they won't fit.. they will itch like buggery and i look a dork in them anyway... not to mention that shirt and the tie from hell... or kipper land...
Shop after shop... dressing room after dressing room.... trousers after trousers and shirts after shirts... war starts
Mothers become homicidal maniacs when they shop for school uniforms... they strangle you when they look good and the throttle you when they don't... two tone Grey.. sporty numbers... plain simple Teflon trousers... bullet proof trousers to go with your bullet proof tie... protection needed...
How many times do you drop your trousers in front of giggling girls when the dressing rooms are full... or your mother wants to make sure you can dress ok... look mom! i am 7!
the constant pressure to make sure you can get your mom to buy the ones that don't make you shed skin like a snake... red raw thighs and glowing butt cheeks...
but that last shop brings the most dreaded moment... the hated scenario of nightmares...
the elastic snaps in your Y fronts....
... MOMMMMM! you cry... WHY ME?
oh no... another three days of being dragged about on your heels as your mother tries to find the pants from hell... you know... the ones made out of Armour plated camels pubic hair and wood chips....
Next comes the shoes.... need i say more?
The souls won't bend until third year... nicknames like Frankenstein come to mind... extra thick rubber souls that can deflect bullets and shrapnel.... the laces made of industrial strength cabling...
Why me?
So the panic buying is over... mothers have broken bones and made enemies at the school gates before they even learn what school you are going too... you turn up 2 weeks later walking like a giraffe having a drink trying to levitate the trousers off your skin and the kipper tie is flapping in the wind so badly... aircraft are taking wind bearings off it... and thats not all...
You have a back pack that Chris Boddington's survival Kit would fit in and the weight is something Mark Henry would struggle with...
You have your lunch made up of spam sandwiches and your awful tasting grapefruit "healthy option" with spoon attached....
Your hair is slicked to a center parting with a bowl shape still present... the lipstick marks on your cheek as your mum babbles away the goodbyes for your first ever school day away from the coloring pads and the crayons....
Welcome to big school... where big people go.... inside i am crying....
you take a look back at all the parents at the gates waving you along as you trundle towards that hairy Mary woman teacher smiling at you with the clip board....
Am i coming home tonight or is this the enlistment station?
Oh well... welcome to the big wide world...
Welcome to school...
Just then your elastic snaps...
It wasn't long until Christmas arrived, Christmas Present buying in our home was somewhat backward....
We actually went along for the shopping trip and saw what was being bought months before that dreaded day with your grandma and her false teeth removed kissing you like some sort of chippendale...
All because mum and dad hated that... taking the present back in January because it was the same as you had last year....
So in the car we all get.... already mum and dad are worried... they have no lower arms left from chewing their nails and dad is bold with stress...
Mum... that hair dye suits you... why is it again that you turned Grey overnight?
You arrive at the Toy department... dad already can see what fight he needs to win... you see... because the Christmas decorations are up everywhere... the adverts on the TV are shouting out Christmas deals on all channels... the population of London is already crammed into the toy store like a cattle train....
and its only June....
You dad spends hours driving around in circles around the car park looking for that parking space which is only two centimeters from the front door... unfortunately every other parent parked there moments before we arrived and now a tower of SUV's and Estate Cars are mounted up on top of one another by the door...
MMM... we shall have to make do with the parking slot twenty meters away instead.... man all these cars parked so close together by the front door... we won't get a space for hours!
So you find a parking space in Leeds... even though the shop is in London... but a bit of a walk will do the family some good...
... son... get yer hiking boots on.... Frodo Baggins has nothing on the bloody walk we got to take any moment soon!
So... we made it into the toy department... after camping out side the shop for 6 days living on bread water and humor or being soaking wet through...
Ok... stick together... I'll get the cattle prod out and see if we can get down this first isle without having a pile up...
All of a sudden... your parents turn into judge jury and executioner... Mum wants something that is affordable and easy to wrap.... dad wants something thats cool and original.... all you want is something that will last longer than the last roast potato at the Christmas dinner
So you pick up that cuddly toy.... mmm ok you really want it bad... so you ask dad... he is already holding what he wants you to have... a Jnr. Chemistry Set....
Oh no you don't!.... mum screams...
Why not... he is old enough to have one... dad protests
He is 8 years old! thats not old enough for that sort of thing!
But look... the boy on the front is making a clock powered by a potato with test tubes and a Bunsen burner... he is having fun! ... dad shows mum the box...
Yeah... that is a model... modeling what you are supposed to do with a Jnr Chemistry Set.... but in reality... That boy is making a clock powered by a potato with bunsen burners and test tubes... and our son will be making something that will lead to the eventual evacuation of Slough! No Way!
So that idea is gone... dad sinks his head low and disappears again... just as you are about to show your mum that cute cuddly Teddy bear...
Look son! Realistic! Click Click....
No! screams mum... He is not having a toy gun! Gas powered or anything!
Ok... dad says
So as you guessed... dad becomes the real kid of the house...
Mum suggests a Jigsaw Puzzle... a model car... a table tennis table... a walkman... a coloring pad...
All of which... you are not interested in... just this cuddly bear...
Ok son... dad returns... How about this!
Dad... its a skipping rope...
No son... its Clackers!
Clackers?
Yeah... this fine delicate rope with these two hardened plastic balls on the end... the playground buddies will love this!
What does it do?..... you ask out of interest
Well... you swing it around like this... (Above your head) and let go and see who is still standing afterwards....
Dad! What are you doing?! that poor guy over there is concussed!
You make a quick exit... Next toy store it is then....
So the expedition is just starting... after 300 shops and 150 near fatal experiences and 16 hours of walking around the same shopping precinct... you finally get a car load of items ready for christmas...
we just hope that the 6 months they have to wait until Christmas day... won't ruin the surprise...
Then there was the visiting of grandparents...
Visiting Grandma was always a nightmare....
sleepless nights weeks before you knew the fatal day would come... not that your Grandma was a wicked witch or anything...
she was funny... great at making a dinner that surpassed the entire Feast of King Henry VIII 's first wedding.... she always had a surprise put away for you... Her dog was the best way of getting rid of those awful tasting Broccoli and Runner Beans off your dinner plate... the cakes were everywhere... It was funny watching your granddad sit three inches from the TV Screen with the volume turned all the way up....
Just off topic here... granddad's are the best at selective hearing at the pub too... "Its your round dad!" you father would say... "Yes please, I'll have a pint!" your granddad would reply
Anyway... it wasn't the actual visit that was deeply embedded in your primal fears of visiting your grandma's house...
It was the arriving and leaving part...
Yes... we all know what i am talking about.... the kiss!
ewwwww! shudder shake and tremble with absolute disgust...
The image of grandma without her false teeth in lunging forwards towards you like a shriveled up mommy or Frankenstien.... a giant leech with this gapping hole and saggy cheeks... then the final movement of her eye brows and the lips pucker up and... and...
AHHHHHHHHHHHHH! MMMMMMMMPH!
(smooch)
Lip stick marks on your cheeks from that lipstick that three tonnes of Swarfega, wire brush and Detol won't budge!
This bloody lip stick would be far better than most house hold paint...
but once it is over... it is over... you can then go forth through the front door and admire the brilliant home inside...
Grand ma?.... oh Grandma? where are you?.... everything in here is Biege... you managed to camouflage yourself into your surroundings....
I am over here.... she says in a sweet voice...
you look around... and spot her in the corner... the blue hair and dolphin clacking of her false teeth gives her position away....
Want a Worthers Original? you granddad says... Oh hi Granddad... no thanks.... i er... ate a load in the car on the way here.... and i am not partial to warm toffee anymore
then the TV gets switched on... SO GRANMA.... WHATS BEEN HAPPENING? you have to shout over the TV volume
not much... i planted some more orchids yesterday...
megaphone comes out.... THATS NICE GRANDMA!
then comes the time for dinner...
Well... what end of the 40ft long table are we sitting at grandma?
How many of us are eating here? there must be enough food for the entire population of Exeter here!
Imagine a feast at hogwarts....
soon you finish... your jaw muscles have given up... your belt is now undone to allow for the extra bulge... and yet... more food remains...
... anyone for pudding?
soon... its the tea and after eight mints... the toffees... the pudding that grandma was saving for after the main meal... the 4th pudding later...
now that you are 12 stone heavier and tone deaf and in shock over the leech attack... seeing mirages in the Beige house of horrors... asphyxiating over your grand parents dog farting away the broad beans and broccoli, heard all about the attack on that farm house in Belgium in 1938 and have 50 Worthers Original Toffees in your pocket....
Its time to head home...
See you at Christmas Grandma... we shall starve ourselves until then... turrraaa!
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