Filling in the Gaps Read Free Page B

usually for laughing uncontrollably. The scariest thing was a strap that one of the teachers would keep hidden up his sleeve until needed. Then it would fly out of his sleeve at great speed, terrifying the whole class and then onto my palm! It also had a tiny tack sticking out of the end of the strap - I stress tiny but it still hurt like heck and left its mark.
    City life was so exciting, with buses, trams, trolley buses and THEATRES! A theatre was to me a place I could happily live in. I loved the smells, the sounds, the lights, the house curtains and still do. I used to make friends with the staff and I never met one who was unkind to me in any way. They would invite me into the bio-box from where the movies were screened through a little window at the back of the theatre. They also gave me posters, old tickets and other things. The only incident was when a much older staff member who was very short and English and whom I remember well asked me back stage to see behind the screen and proceeded to ‘ go for the grope’ ! Next thing I knew he was stark naked - here we go again I thought - but that didn’t really scare me. Instead it almost made me laugh because what I saw perched on a desk in front of me looked like a little pink bird sitting in a nest - his private parts surrounded by his pubic hair! Thankfully he wasn’t too persistent and gave up the chase but I always kept my distance from that day.
    In the city I also reached puberty and it seemed like it happened overnight. All of a sudden there was hair everywhere - armpits, crotch, chest, legs - whilst none of my fellow classmates had yet reached that stage. After sports days when we all had to shower and change in front of each other I would always turn my back because I didn’t want to embarrass myself - or them for that matter. It was becoming the cause of great stress to me so one day I snuck into the bathroom, lathered up with Dad’s shaving cream and brush and shaved off every last hair with Dad’s old-fashioned razor. By the time I had finished there were hairs everywhere; it would have been impossible to have removed them all without a jet stream. When Dad went to shave the following morning, with his razor clogged with my pubic hair, there was a ‘ pubic ’ outcry. I never explained what happened but just buttoned my lip, unusual for me. The worst part was the itching as it grew back. I felt like rubbing my crotch against the bark of a tree trunk to ease the itching. Just awful! Now as I am getting older I find hair appearing in the weirdest places. It is most annoying. I remember seeing a chap who was very, very hirsute sunbathing on the beach, so much so that a sign saying ‘ This Way Up’ might have been helpful!
    Another new experience living in the city was the closeness of other family members whom I really loved. Apart from my grandparents, my favourites were my Aunty Rene and her husband Uncle Ron Duff. They had three sons, their youngest being eleven days younger than me, so we became quite close and had a few adventures. He was also in the same class as me at St Louis College and although he had his own circle of very butch pals he always kept one eye out for my welfare, but I never felt close enough to confide my fears to him. I think I may have been an embarrassment to him at times but he was a bit of a hero to me - good at sports while my forte was class work. Uncle Ron was a fun chap and at times enjoyed a drink, especially at weekends, but he was always more than kind to me. However, when on the odd occasion I saw alcohol change his personality, it confirmed my hatred of just the smell of any kind of alcohol. Even today if I am partaking of alcoholic beverages, which I occasionally do - occasionally I stress - and start to slur my words or stagger, all of a sudden it’s as if a brick wall comes down and I am instantly totally sober. I think it’s my fear of losing control. Anyhow, in spite of