Breaking the Sidetracks

Now, those of you following this blog (A big thank you for your patience first of all), who have been wondering just what sort of punishment I was finally going to receive for the injury I had caused to my younger brother, when I accidentally split open his scalp with the thrown stilt (thrown at a kite in the tree remember, not at my younger brother). His untimely and unexpected arrival at the scene (he was supposed to have stayed at home) led to my current situation in this tale. Just to recap. Following the stilt and his head connecting, and my carrying my bleeding brother home (believing I had of course killed him), screaming in fear of what my father would do to me, to all and sundry in the neighbourhood, and so loudly in fact, that it was probably to all and sundry, who lived anywhere in the length of the valley. Then after he was taken away in the ambulance (“Alive, he’s alive I tell you”. I was even happier than Victor Frankenstein in the old movie classic, when he managed to re-animate the monster) I went to my room which my brothers and I all shared, to await the return of my father. After waiting in fear for his arrival home, in that bedroom with a thousand various punishment scenarios running through my young and impressionable mind, I was to be made to wait even further. For, when my father finally arrived home (he certainly didn’t rush home or to the hospital to be at my brothers bedside), instead of coming in to ‘deal with me’ as I had expected, he had a discussion with my mother before they both left for the hospital (In a taxi, which as mentioned held some significance in the seriousness of the situation).

Leaving me to wait in stress even further. I was to wait some time yet, until unexpectedly, I was called out to dinner (really it was most unexpected), but thinking at the time, obviously, even a condemned man must be fed until he is dealt with. A meal, which as you may recall was eaten in silence (not the normal practice in our household). The seriousness of the situation was highlighted in that I was not permitted any of the pineapple upside down sponge cake dessert (that in itself was a cruel punishment). So, there I was, sent back to await the return of my father, to continue my fearful, stressful, worrying considerations. To imagine a wide variety of potential punishments and recall many other which I had previously received. I recall working out a mental list of grades for the types of misdemeanours I had committed and the actual punishments I had received (It was quite a big list). In fact, given the variety of incidents and, considering what the outcomes had been, it was a very difficult list to compile as, in many ways, the randomness of the punishment did not necessarily match with the ‘offence’ committed.

(Continued tomorrow)