First up from the list of 33 odd facts is number 7, a story I told some time ago but which bears retelling as it graphically illustrates the boy I once was.
This is a funny story although, for me, it wasn’t at the time. It became one of my Mother’s stock tales calculated to embarrass me in front of friends and relatives when I was a teenager. The year was 1962 and I was at the grand old age of 9.
It was a blazingly hot day in August and I was playing alone, my best friend was away on a family holiday so I didn’t have anyone to keep me company.
I was wearing swimming trunks, plimsolls, a sun hat and nothing else, although every bit of exposed skin had been slathered in sun cream; we already knew how easily I burned.
Sitting in the garden idly messing about with my collection of Dinky and Corgi cars I decided that I wanted a bit more excitement and my wandering eye came to the old plum tree.
I’d always been somewhat timid and had never found the courage to climb trees like my friends did but this was my last summer in the hated house and my last chance to prove that I could at least be brave enough for this easy climb.
Well, if I didn’t do it now the mood was on me, the chances were I never would so I walked up to the tree and began to plan my ascent. I carefully put a foot on a convenient knot, pushed up and grabbed the lowest branch.
Having very skinny arms I had trouble lifting my own negligible weight but with absolute determination I heaved myself up to the branch and sat there for a couple of minutes to prepare for the next part.
Now full of pride and determination I reached for the next branch and hauled myself up, finally achieving my goal to lie on my stomach legs hanging down one way and arms the other; not the most dignified position but I’d made it!
Getting from there to a sitting position took every little bit of courage I could find but after a lot of wriggling I managed it. Standing up was the easiest bit and at last there I was, king of all I surveyed and only a bit scared, well quite scared to be honest.
Full of pride and self-congratulation I let go of the trunk, spread my arms wide in triumph and…
Fell off.
The normal result of falling out of a tree was a broken wrist caused by the instinct to break one’s fall but this wasn’t to be my fate. For one thing I was too shocked to think about putting my hand out, for another I fell on soft ground, right in the middle of a stinging nettle patch.
For a few seconds I lay there, relieved that I hadn’t hurt myself, then it dawned on me where I was and I let out an ear-splitting shriek of outrage after which I jumped up and ran aimlessly round the garden screaming my head off.
Being so skinny the legs of my trunks didn’t fit very well so I’d been stung absolutely everywhere and it hurt, a lot.
It must have been a hilarious sight as my Mother, alerted by my screams, chased me round the garden while I, out of my head with pain, wouldn’t stop running away.
Eventually she cornered me and carried me, still thrashing around and screaming, to the outside laundry room, stripped off my trunks and started pouring cold water over me.
For the next few days I had to suffer the indignity of being smothered in calamine lotion, all over and I had several sleepless nights caused by the intolerable itching from the hundreds of stings.
I suppose I can forgive my Mother for telling this tale to her friends and, during my adolescence, to mine. Everyone in the village thought it was hilarious and on the plus side I didn’t break anything although at the time I wished I had.
Oh, I never climbed another tree.
Love
Beautifully told – you had me on the edge of my seat, laughing out loud an then squirming with shared embarrassment and hurt.
Calamine lotion – the stuff that was slapped on when we had chicken pox and the like to cool hot skin.
Dock leaves were, of course, what you needed – but only a Boy Scout would have known that!
I guess it really was very funny, for everone else at least.
Boy scouts? I asked if I could join the Cubs when I was 8 and was told “it’s not a very good idea” and that was all.
All 3 of my sisters joined the Girl Guides so there wasn’t an underlying problem.
I never did find out what Mum’s objection was, the one time I really dared to push for an answer I ended up with a bare, sore bottom!
Love
Malcolm
Wow, I had shivers when you mentioned where the nettles got you. Ouch and More ouch that night. Wearing pants must have been a pain for a few days.
Hugs,
Scottie
Scottie
Wearing anything was uncomfortable but going around naked wasn’t an option at my home. I’d have happily sat in a pond for the first couple of days.
Love
MAc