Morpheus on… The Fence That Leaked

Whenever I am feeling down – all I need to give me a lift, is to recall an incident that occurred when I was about eight years old. I had walked to my Grandad’s house and, it being a cold afternoon, I REALLY needed a PEE.

So as I walked up his side passage, being screened from the road, I let one go against the fence. Now the fence was a standard vertical-overlapped-plank job – with the inevitable occasional KNOT-HOLE. And since there was one such near my stream, I redirected my aim towards it.

But what I had failed to take into account was that on the OTHER side of Grandad’s fence was his next door neighbour’s house. And the humourless crone’s kitchen window FACED said fence, across her driveway.

The next thing I knew was a head appearing over the fence – giving me a right ticking off for doing what I was doing! But all very forgettable, you could be forgiven for thinking.

However, what makes ME chortle – is what it must have LOOKED like, from her perspective.

The thing was, at eight years of age, I was SHORTER than the fence – therefore invisible from the other side. Thus it would have appeared that the FENCE was having a slash!

Maybe it’s just me – but the vision of what it must have LOOKED like from this woman’s point of view has me peeing MYSELF, every time I think of it!

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3 responses to this post.

  1. The Olympics are always on the look out for new competitive skilled activities… A little more time… A little more relaxation of the rules… Er… Gee, I dunno…

    No… I tell you what, I was tempted to place a bet but… The health and safety people… The equal rights for girls and ladies… These must be why it never happened yet… You think?

  2. Posted by Vincent on December 24, 2010 at 5:09 am

    Dammit, you’ve reminded me of ANOTHER such story… When I was seven, I went to a school where the urinal was effectively a competition board – “How High Can You Get It?” And one day, I beat the RECORD and got it over the TOP of the wall. Unfortunately, the ENTRANCE to the loos was on the other side and – you guessed it! It’s a good job I was BIGGER than the now-wet kid!

  3. Ahh… Now any reputation I had for being a hard case dissolves like the mist of the morn…

    I strolled into the playground Boys loo, at playtime, at Knavesmire state Primary School, around age 7, in 1947, and was hit dead-on in the right hand side of my face.

    Yes, the bigger boys did the thing of tickling it to make it stand up, then they could pee long distance.

    The splash-over was warm and did not pong. Aside from a glance of distain, I took no notice, not lowering myself to their level by seeming to be affected in any way. There was no laughter. The guilty party looked slightly shocked.

    I will say no more…

    Hey! How many such stories are there to tell? What DO the girls and ladies think of boys and men?

    What would John Wayne have said?

    I once took a 3-day stay in York (2009, I think it was) with my lady ex-neighbour who has always wanted to see the place. She has done Perth in Oz twice, Bruges lots of times to buy fags for friends and family, Singapore and Dubai over-nights, and many stays in her time-share in Portugal.

    We took a taxi round my childhood, and teen-hood, addresses, and schools. We passed by the school-yard, and we stopped by the gate.

    I told her, and the Turkish driver, that was the exact spot to which I ran from the loo, holding up my loose, filled pants, aged 7, where my sister and the Head Girl (of the Girls Secondary Modern) used those Autumn leaves, pointlessly, to try (…but I have told this all before…)

    …I was either sad or glad (I’m still thinking) to see that the loo had vanished, like a flea-pit cinema, or a coal merchant, or a corrugated-iron back-garden air-raid shelter…

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