Things I miss about school

Chalkboard

– Sharing crushes.

When I was at school, my mate and I both had a huge crush on the same poor bastard for years.  It was great. Unrequited love is less pathetic if you know you’re not alone in exquisite misery. I still get crushes all the time, but not so often on schoolboys, nowadays I target the blokes off the telly. My present telly bloke crush is Ben Willbond from Horrible Histories and The Thick of It, (Those two programmes represent around 60% of my TV viewing over the past year so the poor fella really didn’t stand a chance).

I miss sharing my obsessive tendencies with girlfriends who can laugh with you, sympathise with you and crucially stop you from doing anything illegal. I do already know someone else who watches the same telly as me and shares this crush (not mentioning any names), so I’m thinking of forming some kind of Facebook group, get a few of us together. If nothing else it would help to organise a job share arrangement to divvy up the stalking. There’s only so long you can spend standing outside some one’s house between school-runs (exactly 5 hours and 13 minutes). I’m kidding, I don’t even know where Ben Willbond lives                                              yet.

– Having a good time without alcohol.

I had loads of fun at school, and before I was 15, booze didn’t feature so much. Nowadays, I can hardly remember the last time I had a good night without drinking. I can hardly remember the last time I had a good night with drinking either. You know- because of the drinking.

I did think about joining a net ball club to try and recapture that abstemious fun, but I know who I am. The very first training session would end up in the bar. Pretty soon I’d be skipping the netball bit and heading straight for the pub.  I suppose I could invite the team to join me, but like I said, that’s not who I am.

Picking shit up

Of course I don’t mean shit literally here. I’m just using it as a general slang term for stuff. Except a couple of years ago when the kids were small and the cat had a tumour, when it would have been literal.

I suppose I picked up a few things from time to time when I was a kid, but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t constantly picking stuff up like I am now.

An average day for me is basically take the children to school, come home and pick stuff up for a couple of hours, have a bit of lunch, maybe pop out to the garden where I pick stuff up for a bit until it’s time to get the kids, (I deliberately avoided using the expression ‘pick up’ the kids, because I feared I was in danger of labouring the point).

When I was at school, it was as if I was blind to all the stuff lying around waiting to be picked up. I took responsibility for the things I dropped (I wasn’t a delinquent), but I felt fine with leaving other people to pick up their own damn stuff. I could quite happily walk past stuff, not pick it up, and then just get on with my life.  I miss those crazy care-free days.

– Engaging in shameless hypocrisy.

I remember spending a couple of hours in class with friends designing an anti-smoking campaign with the slogan “You’re a fool, if you think it’s cool”. Then lunch time came and we snuck out of school for a quick ciggie and to call each other fools. Nowadays I don’t have an ironic bone in my body (except the ulnar or ‘funny’ bone). I really mean it when I shout at the kids to be quiet, or bore my husband shitless with pressing issues regarding grocery shopping.

I hate getting old, it’s as disappointing an anti-climax to former promise as a really bad ending to a blog post.

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