Yesterday took the lads to a cheap-o shop and purchased some props and costumes. Yes, we are going trick or treating tonight, with a friend of theirs. Their dad has not been supportive of this idea over the years when the little one has asked about it, on the basis that it's not really an Aussie tradition. All I see when I get on FB is the usual bleating, beefing, and blathering about this Halloween business being an insidious US custom pervading our culture like a measles epidemic. The reason I've never been that keen to celebrate and rolled my ocularies is not because I'm afraid of the Americanisation of my way of life. It is because Halloween is actually a Celtic tradition and marks the end of summer. Seriously, if we want to celebrate it here in Oz, do it at the end of FEBRUARY!!!! Anyway, my kids will only be kids once, so I've got some face paint and fake fangs etc, and I'm looking forward to it. This morning, I called the little one to brush his teeth, and he walked into the bathroom wearing his fake fangs. He removed them and ran a toothbrush over them, and chortled, 'I'm being like you, Mum!' This is because I wear a partial, having lost one of my front teeth to an abscess some years ago. I could go without my denture, but do not wish to look like some of the ferals in this town, which appears to have more than its fair share of boganalia. (I've just made up a word - like it?).
Well, I'd best go and complete some paperwork and questions for this Saturday, when I renew my First Aid Certificate. I need to have a current one for my employment and mine is due to expire in December. I always recall having to do life saving and first aid at school - I'm sure we all did - and nobody wanted to do mouth-to-mouth on the mannequin because one of the kids (when the instructor was called away) stuck his dick in the mannequin's mouth. For some reason, one of the mannequins was in a classroom at school instead of the swimming pool, and this same kid decided to dry-hump the mannequin. His performance came to a sudden end upon the appearance in the doorway of the teacher, a dour woman with a countenance so fierce she was secretly referred to in my coterie as 'Gargoyle'. The kid's case flamed scarlet to the point of near-combustion. Nobody else got any work done because we were all too busy snickering throughout the lesson. At least I didn't have to rescue this kid doing practical at the pool. Unfortunately, I was assigned a kid I'll call DR, and he was the fattest kid in class. He swam to the middle of the pool and feigned drowning. I did the great safety jump, swam to him, and then tried to tow him back. I struggled. I spluttered. I wondered whether Captain Ahab had my piece of gold handy. Who remembers that fancy rescue technique of getting the victim out of the pool, the one where you stand on the edge, grab the victim's wrists, and pull them out and 'turn them', so they end up sitting on the edge? I remember it well, but with that memory come the traumatic recall of this kid grabbing my wrists, slamming me into the side of the pool thus winding me, and dragging me out in such a way I almost lost a yard of skin, which then went floating off along the surface of the pool like a deceased jelly blubber.
Well, I'm off now. Thanks for dropping buy.
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