Throw / Catch.
I am walking down my street. On my way to my Local Shop.
I don’t know what it is. I’ve never had much interest in the physical pursuits. I don’t know why. My Grandfather (don’t even get me started on that grand old bastard. There’s a permanent blog in it) continues to study and practice Art decades after he retired from teaching it. And has read Everthing. Maybe it is from him. Or maybe it is because I am not tall and built like a pencil.
Anyway.
I pass by the waist-high wall of the back-garden that belongs to one of our neighbours. In attendance are several children playing football and, at the bottom of the garden, several Dads observing. Adopting the classic stance. Legs wide, arms crossed aside from the right hand which clutches a can of Stella Artois.
The ball gets away from them. And sails over the wall. Toward me.
I start to panic. I may be required to Do Something.
In slow motion the ball heads toward me.
Assorted Children: Mate. MATE. Can you get our ball?
I reach out to catch it. It scrapes my hands and begins bouncing downhill.
I tried to catch it. Hence I am now committed. I go running after it. I catch it. And walk back to their garden.
I attempt to drop-kick the ball and miss. My foot flails in mid-air whilst the ball bounces away. Again. Once more I run and catch it.
Accepting my limitations, I now throw it over the wall. Well. I say over. It clips the top of the wall and bounces back toward me.
I duck so it does not smack me in the face.
And then go running after it. AGAIN.
I then HAND it to one of the children.
Child: [With tears in his eyes] Yeah. Thanks a lot.
Parent-type: [Desperately trying to breath normally and slightly doubled-up] Yeah. Cheers for that.
Me: Um. Yeah.
I proceed to the Local Shop.
Where things actually get worse.
To be continued.
I don’t know what it is. I’ve never had much interest in the physical pursuits. I don’t know why. My Grandfather (don’t even get me started on that grand old bastard. There’s a permanent blog in it) continues to study and practice Art decades after he retired from teaching it. And has read Everthing. Maybe it is from him. Or maybe it is because I am not tall and built like a pencil.
Anyway.
I pass by the waist-high wall of the back-garden that belongs to one of our neighbours. In attendance are several children playing football and, at the bottom of the garden, several Dads observing. Adopting the classic stance. Legs wide, arms crossed aside from the right hand which clutches a can of Stella Artois.
The ball gets away from them. And sails over the wall. Toward me.
I start to panic. I may be required to Do Something.
In slow motion the ball heads toward me.
Assorted Children: Mate. MATE. Can you get our ball?
I reach out to catch it. It scrapes my hands and begins bouncing downhill.
I tried to catch it. Hence I am now committed. I go running after it. I catch it. And walk back to their garden.
I attempt to drop-kick the ball and miss. My foot flails in mid-air whilst the ball bounces away. Again. Once more I run and catch it.
Accepting my limitations, I now throw it over the wall. Well. I say over. It clips the top of the wall and bounces back toward me.
I duck so it does not smack me in the face.
And then go running after it. AGAIN.
I then HAND it to one of the children.
Child: [With tears in his eyes] Yeah. Thanks a lot.
Parent-type: [Desperately trying to breath normally and slightly doubled-up] Yeah. Cheers for that.
Me: Um. Yeah.
I proceed to the Local Shop.
Where things actually get worse.
To be continued.
posted by Tired Dad at
4:44 pm
16 Comments:
ow OW
i know that feeling... but i am GIRL, it has to be 100,000 times worse for you.
*trying not to giggle*
and it gets worse???
*goes off to find lime*
Oh no. I feel for you I really do. I can't belive it got any worse.
me: It's not funny. Glad yo're enjoying my suggestion.
PP: Oh it got worse. And it involved girls.
excruciating! someone clever once said there's nothing as undignified as trying to chase your hat, blown off by the wind. i reckon this comes a close second. if you were a cat, you'd have pretended to wash yourself at that point ... i'm waiting impatiently for the sequel.
MM: Christ, I thought the hat thing was just a quote from Miller's Crossing. And here's me with two degrees in Things That Don't Matter. Who was it?
And I like the cat thing.
2 bad tired mum wanst there 2 take piccys
A real "beta male" moment.
I think we have all been there.
Time to change the route to the local shop - at least for a bit?
I know i would...
ouch... ego hurting moment.
Reminds me of the times when you'd see a girl you liked walking towards you. You'd then "try" to walk in a manly manner (probably now mincing) and say hi when you pass her, but when you do it comes out as "HIaaaa" in Miss Piggy's voice.
Keep walking :)
Pup: She would have as well.
Philip: I actually moved three hundred miles away. (True.)
P_A: Welcome. That's almost a decent blog post in itself. Don't squander it on my bloody comment-thing.
ROTFLMAO. Thanks for todays entertainment(wipes a tear)!
ROTFLMAO?? Dear lord. We invented English you know. That's why it's called English. I'm not even going to try to guess this one.
Thank you though. Very kind.
Next time pretend to be deaf and walk on by.
Debster
Oh you spaz! This has really made my day.
*chortles*
Debs: I still SAW it happen.
Farty: I'm glad my inadequecy amuses.
Wouold you like to play for The Old Pretenders FC? You'd fit in a treat
I'm not even THAT co-ordinated
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