Burning Shoes and Stuff

There was a young bored sports teacher covering a class for a colleague in Rhodes, Greece.  He noticed some loose threads on his trainers while he sat cross-legged.  He tried pulling them loose but they were made of tough nylon reluctant to be parted from his shoe.  Inspired he pulled out his cigarette lighter and burned it off in a flash.  Turning his attention to his other trainer he repeated his earlier success.  Unfortunately, in his eagerness to complete the task he managed to set fire to the material and the shoe began to burn.  He used the class register to beat the flames out while my son sat mesmerised by this unexpected entertainment in his classroom.

We had a chemistry teacher we nicknamed ‘Sexy Sam’.  In the sad cruel ways of teenagers he was as far from sexy as we could imagine.  The ironic title stuck and spread.  The class tell tale after some months squealed to the teacher his new name.  For weeks after we endured the nauseating spectacle of a preening ‘Sexy Sam’ convinced he was the object of longing to the upper sixth.  He made renewed efforts to live up to his heady title and began wearing lurid silk shirts and skintight trousers.  He was renamed ‘Seedy Sam’ and held this title for ten years.  Teenagers hold and perpetuate grudges big time!

Things that should never have happened and the lessons learned

1. A certain brother of mine who at age 18 got a certain part of his anatomy caught in his zip and the end of the saga involved a trip to hospital and eight nurses working to free him from those mechanical torture implements.

LESSON 1 "sometimes the biggest dangers are the closest"

2. Me trying to retrieve a ball blowing out to see at the beach.  Was worried my sons would swim out too far, so threw on swimsuit (bikini) and swam quickly after it.  Returned to the shore and walked up the beach wondering why the bikinis bottoms which were red suddenly looked black.  Had put my leg in the waist bit and was exposing my nether regions!

 LESSON 2 "Beware of hasty decisions that bring about untold humiliation"

3. My Dad on being told to put on a robe back to front in the cubicle at hospital,  didn't see the paper folded gown, and clambered into a pink dressing gown hanging behind the door and carefully put it on backwards as instructed. 

 LESSON 3 "Don't just follow directions, think things through"

4. Our neighbourhood dog would chase cats all day.  But there were two who refused to run.  Jack would run full pelt and then spotting they were not running would rapidly change direction at the last moment and pretend he was racing to pee against a car wheel.  His embarrassment was tangible.  Unfortunately, his eyesight was not good and he could not distinguish the runners from the fighters until he got really close.

LESSON 4 "When humiliation beckons fools cover it up by being busy"

  

5. I had a dog Chance who has appeared in three documentaries in N. Ireland.  All involved rough estates in Ballymena, Larne and Coleraine.  the TV crews obviously thought he, with his half chopped tail and mongrel look, was exactly the backdrop they wanted in their exposé of down and out places.

  

LESSON 5 "Sometimes you are just what the world is after!"

6. When my son was a baby having his hips checked by a doctor he peed and the doctor backed away and managed to avoid being soaked.  He turned to me and smiled saying, “He nearly got me then!”  At which point the baby did the most incredible runny poo which shot out jet like and covered the whole front of the doctor’s white pristine coat.

LESSON 6  "The young have unexpected capacity"

7. There is a toilet in the library in Coleraine in N. Ireland that has a handle that you pull up to lock.  Unfortunately, the handle only appears to lock on occasions and I have two friends who once seated and about their business found the door swinging open to an entire library full of appalled people.

LESSON 7 "Just when you thing life can't get any worse, it does"

Sexual Assault in France

I was always a nervous traveller.  I expected that on a given train there would be a few murderers and rapists, as well as at least a dozen thieves.  So travelling on a train with this mindset posed its own difficulties.  Each carriage was inspected with care.  Four guys in a carriage was just asking for trouble.  Two women of stocky build could overcome me, so their carriage was risky and  should be left as well.  I usually ended up in a compartment with a tiny elderly weak lady as I would tell myself even if she were a killer, given my size and their age, I could probably take her down.  Deciding on which carriage to travel in was a major part of the first half hour of travel and I did not rush into it. 

All of this is plain weird, I know, and will seem even stranger when I tell you that I studied martial arts for years and even attended self defence classes too.  For a whole year I attended a full contact dojo on the Isle of Wight and ended up each week covered in bruises and bumps from being kicked and punched.  I can tell you there was a world of difference between someone punching at you but stopping at the skin and another kicking you from the front as if he wanted to dislocate your spine.  I learned many things, that bigger people kick you harder, thin lean men can be incredibly strong, being kicked is much worse than being punched and why women are so often badly hurt in attacks.  Our trainer told us that women are usually in placating mode when they are attacked.  They hope that by doing so their attacker will stop hurting them.  This, they continue to do even when the attacker continues to hurt them badly.  He was full of instructions about poking out eyeballs and other   gruesome techniques. 

I didn’t like any of it and decided on my own approach – that was pre attack preparation.  My carriage checking was a way of avoiding any conflict, and I felt that it made sense to put the odds in your favour.  Another pre attack policy was never to look as if you don’t know where you are going.  Vulnerability is sensed by the predator.  For years I was amazed that the world changed when I went on walks with my sister in law.  She is terrified by dogs and on spotting one almost half a mile away would begin to dance nervously behind me arms shaking, crying her distress.  It was like an irresistible invitation for any dog in the vicinity and I was constantly amazed how dogs would come from everywhere zoning in on her distress signals.  So too, in strange cities wandering around with maps and looking lost brings upon you all sorts of weirdoes.  Instead, I developed the practice of walking purposefully, as if you know where you are going even when you are lost.  Indeed, there are several major cities where I have found myself wandering lost in areas that I can remember vaguely being lost before in! 

I remember years ago going across France and my cousin decided hitch hiking was the way to speed things up, against my heated arguments.  A tiny French car stopped with a huge fat French man squeezed in behind the front steering wheel and his seat.  His stomach made a huge indent to allow for the steering wheel to fit.  His hair was positioned carefully over a bald head and kept in place by a liberal supply of sweat glistening everywhere.  We had gone only a mile or so before he pulled into a lay-by and started kissing my cousin on the mouth despite her protests.  I thought about hitting him on the back of the head with a swift chop, from the back seat, and then worried that he might stop kissing her and pull a knife or a gun.  So I opened the back door and threw both our rucksacks out onto the road instead.  My cousin extracted herself out the front door and the French fat guy took off at full speed.  We stood there, on an empty dusty road, my cousin spitting furiously on the road to clear all taste of his assault, both of us traumatised by what had happened.  Mind you to put things in perspective, I might not have unleashed a well trained karate chop on his neck (despite years of training) but my pre attack preparation served me well.  Why do you think my cousin ended up in the front seat and not me?

 Having past the half century age I no longer worry so much about train carriages and weirdoes.  Now, I concentrate on not putting my clothes on inside out and find I have become the possibly weirdest person I am ever likely to meet.  I certainly would not choose to share a train carriage or car with someone like me and that is strangely comforting in a sad odd way.

Money laundering - my style

Last night I was ironing and discovered a note of money in a pair of trousers, not mine, but one of my son's.  I remember my mother saying that it was dishonest to take money from your husband’s pockets.   However, she elaborated, if you happened to gave them a good shake and something fell out, then that was fair pickings!  The logic seemed sound if slightly morally flawed.  The note was crumpled into a tiny ball, deep in a pocket, and I straightened it on the ironing board.  Then used the iron to flatten it and was impressed how new it looked.  I suddenly decided to iron all the paper money I could find.  With what satisfaction I returned the crisp flat hot notes to my purse.  The thing is today, it strikes me as more than a little odd to iron one’s money.  Is this the first sign of madness or the last action of an anal retentive individual?  As I use the bills in public I’m careful to crumple the notes a little.  After all, no one needs to advertise how strange one has become to the whole world!