Pump it up
Saturday, June 25, 2022 at 16:46 Further to my previous post about Robinsons lemon barley water and my grandparents in Dorset …
I am also reminded that at the age of six or seven I was lulled into thinking there was nothing I could do that my grandfather wouldn’t find amusing. I was wrong.
What happened was this.
It was another glorious sunny day in Dorset and my grandfather was trimming a hedge in the garden. He was on the other side so I couldn’t see him but I knew he was there.
Outside the kitchen door sat a large wooden barrel that collected rain water. Next to the barrel was an old but very portable water pump, a bit like a large bicycle pump.
In my six or seven-year-old mind I thought it would be funny to fill the pump with water from the barrel, walk over to the hedge and attract my grandfather’s attention by shouting “Grandpa!” as loudly as I could.
In my grand plan his head would appear above the hedge and I would pump his face with water.
Incredibly that is exactly what happened and to say he wasn’t pleased would be an understatement. (I think it was the surprise as much as anything.)
So I learned a useful lesson that day. Never shower your heroes with water from a dirty barrel when they’re least expecting it.
It’s unlikely to end well.
Reader Comments (3)
Kids!
Your story reminded me of one from my own family - but rather more grim than the one you tell.
My brother was about 6 or 7 and thought it would be funny to amuse my dad when he got back from work and sat in his favourite chair by setting a fire under it with newspaper thinking that, like the Tom and Jerry type cartoons, the fire would just burn Dad's bum and he would jump up in the air and everyone would laugh at the joke.
As you can imagine, it didn't have that effect. The fire under the chair whooshed up rapidly, my dad was lucky to escape with his life, and mum had to hide my brother from dad's wrath at least until later when he came back from the pub in a better mood.
However, the first thing dad did when he got home was search out my brother. He promised to give him the hiding of his life and one he would never forget - and my brother never did and still tells the story to this day.
Happily, except for my brother's sore bottom from dad's anger, no one was seriously injured in this event.
It just goes to show that the imagination of children is far removed from reality.
Wow. 😲
In dad's defence, it was the second time my brother got into trouble for playing with fire. Apparently dad warned him that he would get a hiding if he played with fire again after almost burning me to death as a baby.
He used to play with toy soldiers and flick lit matches at them like bombs dropping. However, I had been put outside to enjoy the fresh air on a patch of grass on this particular day. But this was Cyprus, the grass was very dry, my brother's toy soldiers' game set fire to the grass which inched its way towards me before dad saw what was happening and saved me.
Back then, even though both my parents smoked, the biggest danger we faced, other than my mad brother's antics, was living in a war zone and being the target of EOKA terrorists who went after British servicemen and their families. I am told bullets often whizzed past my pram and the police station across the road was bombed which blew out the front of our house too.
If all that didn't kill me, smoking has no chance :)
As for my brother, well, in later years we thought he maybe had something like autism but of course no one had heard of that in the mid to late 50s.
... there's also the story of the tortoise he painted red but that's another tale for another day... :)