Incident at the Gym

Thank you all for your kind words about my April Fool misadventure. Unfortunately there seems to be no end of my embarrassing moments to share with you. Here is another one from my School Days. I hope you enjoy it!

Another embarrassing moment in the life of Nana Crunch.

To set the scene we have to go back to the so-called good old days of the 1950’s when I attended High School in Edinburgh, Scotland. Back then you generally left school at age15 unless you passed your “Highers” and could go on until you were 18. We sat exams in elementary school grade 8 and these determined what ‘stream’ you would enter in High School. I fell into the category of “Commercial One” which meant I was going to be a short-hand typist whether I wanted to or not. Lower scores were sent to “Domestic” or “Commercial Two”, higher scores got “Languages” and thought they were way better than the rest of us plebs.

“Domestic” meant you were destined for the factory floor, or the service industry and “Commercial 2” meant you were taught some typing skills as well as cooking. The elevated “Languages” classes were taught Latin and German and didn’t have to work with their hands at all. As well as typing, short-hand and book-keeping, we also had English, History, Geography, French, Science, Math, Art, Music and Sewing. They didn’t seem to think we needed to know how to boil an egg but we had to be able to sew buttons on our husbands’ shirts! I also have the painful memory of being given the ‘belt’ by granny Ross, our vicious little sewing teacher, all because I didn’t put my lap-bag on fast enough, too busy talking. This was delivered in front of the class and the fact that I was a hulking 5’ 6” and she stood about four feet nothing did not deter her. I can still feel it! There were several boys in our class but instead of sewing, they were given the manly task of banging nails into bits of wood while we treadled our lives away. I’m sure there must be a place somewhere in another plane of existence where all those mismatched “what-knots” and lop-sided display shelves languish along with aprons, dirndl skirts and unwearable blouses.

That reminds me, we were also taught something called “R.I.”, Religious Instruction, from which the two Catholics in our class were always mysteriously excused, the rest of us being good Scottish Protestants of course. I rather enjoyed this class, it was more like an ancient history lesson and we got to draw interesting maps of the Holy Land. I remember I actually won a prize for an essay we had to write. It was to be a modern day parable and I chose “The Prodigal Son”. Something about him returning home on the Number One bus apparently struck a chord with the jury! The prize I picked was a book, “Animal Tales” by Blackwood, I still have it (my one and only school honour!)

The other class I was not very keen on was Gym. You have to picture the era, we didn’t wear shorts back then we just took off our skirts and ran around in our school blouses and navy knickers. These were made of thick durable navy cotton with elastic around the legs; some even had a pocket in them for a hanky. The classes were not co-ed though, thank goodness.
We would be made to do all the usual humiliating routines of trying to climb the ropes, balance on beams, hang upside down on the wall bars and on occasion, vault over a “horse” or “buck”.

Sadly, I was never very athletic but the Gym teacher, Miss N. always tried to inspire us to greater things. She was convinced this day that I could make it over the vaulting horse. She said we had to take a really good run at it, rebound off the launching ramp, slap our hands in the middle of the ‘horse’ and over we would fly. She assured us she would be there to catch us. So there we were, all lined up around the gym waiting our turn. My heart was pounding but I was determined to give it my best shot. I watched in some trepidation as the girl in front of me hurtled towards the ‘horse’ only to shy away at the last moment, almost taking Miss N. with her. I swallowed hard and gathering my courage prepared for take off. Miss N. was smiling encouragingly at me from beside the beast. “Come on M, I know you can do it!” she called. Taking a deep breath and running as hard as I could, I landed my feet squarely on the ramp with a satisfying thump, launched myself into the air, hands landing precisely as instructed in the centre of the ‘horse’ and then horror of horrors, the elastic in one leg of my “breeks” caught on a protrusion sticking up from the top of the ‘horse’. There was a loud ripping sound and I sailed on leaving most of my knickers hanging on the ‘horse’.

There was a moment of complete silence then the whole room erupted. I can still see all the girls collapsing in hysterics against the wall bars, my best friend M absolutely doubled up with laughter. Miss N after she regained her composure grabbed me to herself and enfolding me in her thankfully wide skirts, marched me lock step to her office. The offending item of clothing was retrieved and I sat and sewed them together in quiet misery as best I could, the laughter of my class mates still ringing in my ears. Miss N, bless her, told me she hadn’t had such a good laugh in years and hoped I didn’t mind but she had just had to tell the next class about my misadventure. Of course it was all over the school by lunch time but I saw the funny side of it and whenever I get together with my Scottish friends we still talk and laugh about it. I’m glad this was well before the days of camera cell phones and You Tube, Britany Spears had nothing on me!

April Fool!

Well I promised I’d share my April Fools Day story with you and here it is:

Many years ago, I was enamored of a certain young man, quite a few years my junior. DD (darling daughter) and HDF (her dear friend) were not impressed with either him or me and were delighted when he moved to Calgary, hoping that would put an end to this disgusting, licentious relationship, in their view that is.

I was moping around the house like a love-sick fourteen year-old, much to their increasing disdain, so to amuse themselves; they concocted an evil prank to play on me that April 1 so long ago. Sigh.

HDF was staying over with us that weekend and they were both familiar with my Sunday morning routine which generally involved my making coffee and toast and taking it back to bed to read the papers while they giggled and carried on downstairs doing whatever it is teenage girls do.

Of course, I was not looking my best, bed-head, ratty nighty, scruffy slippers and scruffier robe at hand but I was happily ensconced in my boudoir slurping my java and enjoying reading about the latest Hollywood scandals when there was a loud knocking at the front door. I listened to see who it was, probably Jehovah Witnesses I thought. Then Kerry came running up the stairs; “Mum” she cried, “guess who’s here? It’s D! He’s just arrived from Calgary!”

Well, you can imagine my horror, I leapt out of bed and stage whispered to DD to keep him entertained downstairs while I freshened up. She departed and I ran to the bathroom in panic and tried to open the door, I couldn’t at first, the handle seemed all slippery. I managed to gain entrance, grabbed the taps, but couldn’t turn them on either, they were tightened right up and all slippery too!

Eventually after some panicked effort, I managed to wash my face, brush my teeth and hair, slip into jeans and a top, all the time trilling out loudly “I’m coming, I’ll be right down” and after composing myself went downstairs to greet my paramour. Well, you can guess that all that was awaiting me were two little faces staring at me innocently from the couch as I looked around in vain for D. It was about that moment that I realized I had been well and truly had and DD and HDF could contain themselves no longer and exploded in hysterical laughter, chorusing “April Fool!”

I’ll draw a veil over what happened next, suffice to say, like Queen Victoria, I was not amused and drawing what shreds of dignity about me that I could, stomped back up the stairs, the echoes of their laughter sounding in my ears. Of course, I did see the humour of it eventually though it did take them quite a while to remove all the cooking oil they had so liberally applied to all the fittings!

P.S. Names have been changed to protect the guilty!

Heh, heh. It was beautiful. She didn’t mention the simpery voice she used to call down that “She would be riiiiight there’ as she frantically yanked on those handles and taps! We nailed her good! I just know my mom soooo well.

Another time, HDF and I left our clothes laid out on the living room floor like something out of Star Trek…only the powdered orange juice left. Did I mention we were big nerds?

Thank you for your kind words

I would like to thank all who have commented so positively on my "Renewal" writing assignment. Your words give me the encouragement I need to keep putting pen to paper!

Renewal (A Writing Assignment)

Mr. Sternberg of House of Sternberg has an interesting writing assignment that I thought I would take a stab at.

Renewal

There always seems to be something in my home about to expire, including me. My driver’s license is due for renewal as is my passport, car insurance, library card, credit cards, and warranties on various household items which, as you know, always break down the day after expiry of said warranty.

I got to thinking, what if we had an expiry date, say once we reach our allotted three score years and ten and found ourselves in front of the court of last resort to plead our case for possible renewal. What would we say, how would we plead? What possibly reason could we give to justify another ten years of life or so on this wonderful, if somewhat damaged Earth?

I hope I get a good ‘brief’ as it will take some justifying on my part to allow me stick around a bit longer. On reviewing seventy years of living an average life, what could I say on my behalf? That I didn’t kill or maim any living creature? Well, not quite true, what about the countless spiders and miscellaneous creeping creatures that I have dispatched without too much thought over the intervening years? Not to mention all the lambs, calves, cows, chickens, fish and crustaceans that were sacrificed for my Sunday dinners. What contribution have I made to benefit the planet or even my own tiny living space? I married and had one child, thus adding to over-crowding by one soul. I have owned and driven four cars over my time thus polluting the atmosphere, I helped fill the landfills to overflowing before recycling finally kicked in. A point for me on that score.

I have tried to leave as small a footprint as possible. I have assisted my fellow-persons on my journey where I can, but then again, I have also walked heedlessly by the Salvation Army kettles on occasion and stepped over some unfortunate lying on the sidewalk, unless they had a dog with them. I can see the scales tipping the other way again.

Okay my life so far, no major crimes, not even a speeding ticket, parking tickets yes, but I always paid them on time. Contributions to society, did I build a better mouse-trap? No, I haven’t even come up with an original thought, if someone says something extremely witty; I’ll file it away so I can trot it out later, impressing those around me as to how funny and clever I am. The scales are dipping further.

Employment, nothing to help there I’m afraid. A lifetime of secretarial and administrative work has only resulted in the destruction of acres of rain forest. After 33 years of toil, my work was just consigned to the recycle bin; my desk cleared and refilled almost immediately by yet another office drone with not a sign that I had ever occupied that cubicle space. Well, there was a sign with my name on it and I took it with me. I’ll just pick out my wings now shall I?

Would I be missed? There is that to help balance the scales. I love my daughter dearly and she has given me two wonderful grand children, a boy and a girl, who are the light of my life. I am thankful that I have my health and can help out with baby sitting and that I am fit enough to join in their games. Watching them blossom and grow fills me with delight and I try to pass on to them the lessons I have learned from my mistakes.

I am also blessed with a circle of friends who put up with me quite happily. We all support one another in times of sadness and have shared many moments of laughter as well. In my remaining time, I will try harder to make myself useful and with spring around the corner, cherry blossoms peeking out, daffodils blooming there is a lot to live for.

I see the scales have tipped slightly again in my favour, life is good.

Well lads and lassies, sorry for my long absence, I have now fully recovered from that dreaded lurgie and feel much more like my old self. Thanks to crunchy junior for letting you all know that I'm still around!

I would have liked you to have been able to picture me laying draped artistically on my chaise, looking pale but interesting ala "Lady of the Camilias" but alas I would not have wished my appearance on anyone. It was more me sitting on said couch, feet resting on the coffee table while covered from head to toe with my electric "blankie" (which darling daughter thankfully gave me a few years ago) and wads of Kleenex tissue shoved up my red and streaming nostrils. Not a pretty sight. I also watched waaay too much TV during my recovery period. When I was with the cable company, I just paid for basic programming which went up to channel 28 here on the lower mainland. Recently, however, I switched to digital TV and had 3 months of what seemed to be hundreds of channels for free. Whoopee!

The only programs I got hooked on, however, were of the "How not to decorate" and "Sell this house" variety. I became fascinated with just what awful taste in decor the Brits appear to have! Wall to wall carpeting in the bathroom, three different wall paper patterns in the same room, clutter and junk everywhere! What fun the decorators had ripping these poor people's home's apart. Of course bad taste isn't restricted to the Brits, lots of room for improvement out here too!

Come to think of it, we had carpeting in our bathroom in Scotland at one time too, there was no heater of course. To warm the room so DD (darling daughter) could have a bath, I ran the water as hot as I could to fill the place with steam and rush her in when it resembled a sauna. Meantime, I'd warm a towel by the wee gas fire (not like the models are now) then run in, wheech her out of the tub and back to the fire before she froze solid. Sigh, those were the days. No shower, no central heating, no dishwasher and a fridge the size of bread bin. In the depths of winter the frost made lovely patterns......on the inside of the windows! The three of us would huddle around the gas fire, vying for the warmest spot, That would be DD, the cat and me. The cat usually won. For years I had blotchy red marks on my legs from sitting too close to the fire while my back froze. I'm sure there are lots of you out there with similar memories, and that was only in the 70's in Edinburgh! When we arrived in Vancouver in 1981, we thought we had died and gone to heaven, constant hot water and a shower every day, what bliss!

Well, I've digressed a bit from where I started but will return with more stories and chit chat soon, time for a long, hot shower!

Where is Nana Crunch

I think my mom has a bit of writers block about this whole blogging thing.



I think she feels she must have something very pithy to say...when we all know that you can spout about anything going on in your brain....that is what it is all about.



She also hasn't been feeling to great lately.....cough that won't go away.



So I hope she blogs soon....



But be patient.



She has been working hard at feeling better AND rushing over to my house to help me out with my crazy children.



She also works part time and has a boatload of friends to keep up with.



She is an amazing and caring woman.



Anyway......I will come up with some more stories too.



There is a load of em.

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Happy Birthday Nana Crunch!

Today was my mom's birthday. I won't say which one!

Being that she has a yucky cold and we are all just starting to feel human again, it was a low key event.

But the kids painted her pictures and had gifts for her so we had a lovely little tea to celebrate.

She is a great Nana and a great mom and my great friend too. I don't know what I would do without her support AND laughter.

We are lucky to have her close by.

Here's to you Mum!