Open Writing

What a wonderful morning. It makes me feel great to be alive!

I know that some people are feeling unwell or are suffering some incurable disease, but I can't let it get me down, life is too precious and short. So I made the most of this beautiful weather we are having at the moment, by going out with Lesley this morning.

We went for a run around the village.

Going through the village I noticed that the buds on the bushes and trees will soon be ready to burst open and display blossoms that are pleasing to the eye.

The birds are extremely happy. I watched two magpies, with their black and white plumage, flying from tree to tree, as if they were playing a game of catch-me-if-you-can. One of them landed on the bough of a tree then, as soon as the second one joined it there, the first one flew off again.

The starlings with their brown speckled plumage were out in abundance, some searching for food, others looking after their young, teaching them about life and predators.

I remembered my own childhood. My aunt tried to teach me where not to go because it would be dangerous. Sometimes I listened to her, but at other times I decided to be adventurous; to find out for myself what all the fuss was about. I often regretted my actions.

Once she told me not to go anywhere near the rear of a local engineering firm, Croft’s Engineers, where building work was in progress. This was one of those times when I did not heed her. I became trapped behind a large netted fence. Building workers heard my screams and came to get me out.

It would be nice to say I had learned my lesson, but not me. I was always the inquisitive type. Two days later, I became trapped again, this time, behind the the iron bars which protected a huge sewer pipe.

We were playing cricket and the ball went behind the bars. Being the thinnest of the group, I squeezed through the bars at the top and dropped to the ground to retrieve it. Then I found that I couldn't get out again. The bars were too high for me to reach them. One of my friends told a neighbour of my predicament and he came rushing to my aid.

I told him I had been thinking of going through the pipe, hoping to find another exit. He was shocked, informing me that he had worked on building the sewer and approximately half-way along the pipe there was a deep drop.

I had to strip to my to my underwear to squeeze through the bars. I was very lucky that day.

Did it teach me to listen to what my elders had to say, and to obey them? Well I never went near that pipe again, but I found some other mischief in which to get involved.

On a memorable occasion, during the school holidays, I climbed onto the school roof. It was a pointed slate-tiled roof. It took some effort to get up there. When I finally reached the top I sat astride the roof, proud of what I had accomplished.

When I was spotted by an off-duty teacher I quickly started to get down. However, I slipped and was left sprawled on the tiles of the roof, my fingers clinging to hold on. Had I moved I could have slipped again and and fallen thirty feet onto concrete below.

The teacher recognised the danger I was in. There was no time to summon help. At any moment I could fall to my death. Quickly, he climbed up and pulled me to safety. He brought me down to the ground with only my pride being hurt, or so I thought.

But he took a hold of my arm and escorted me home. He told my stepmother what had happened, and she was shocked. When the teacher had departed I was beaten with a hand brush. My stepmother explained that the teacher could have been killed while trying to save me. It was then that I realised how foolish I had been. I made a promise to myself that my foolhardy antics would never again involve putting someone else's life in danger to get me out of a scrape.

This didn't stop me having fun, but I was more careful from then on.

*

If you think my stories are true, then they probably are.

If you think my stories are fiction, then just relax and enjoy them.

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http://www.btinternet.com/~mikeco158/mike.htm

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http://www.btinternet.com/~mikeco158/disabacc.htm