Do you remember the time when...?
Sometimes my older sister and I go on a thoroughly unproductive trip down memory lane. I say "unproductive" because the stories are often unpleasant and I don't believe we get catharsis or personal growth out of it. But, the stories are irresistible. Possibly because our childhood was oftentimes black and lonely, the bizarre, amusing and tender episodes shine. Here are a few short memories of the girl next door that make me smile from time to time.
A while ago I talked about our old neighbours who were horrified when my mother's ex, Arnie, ate a pretend poo. One of the neighbours, Cheryl, had a daughter who was a bit simple, and to be kind I will give her a different name - Shona. It is such a cliche to say, but she had a heart of gold and was very kind to me, even though she was fifteen and I was only ten. Once, on her birthday, I gave her some "paint on, peel off" nail polish that was all the rage with girls my age. Even though it had a clear description on the label, Shona came to me concerned that the polish I had given her was faulty. "It goes on really well, but, um, it peels off as soon as it is dry and I have to put it back on again, and then it peels off, so I have to put it on again..."
Shona had some interesting ideas. Someone had told her that brushing too vigorously and too often was damaging to the enamel on your teeth. So Shona only brushed hers once a fortnight. Sometimes, when she needed a boost to her self esteem, Shona would lean up against the street light outside her house, dressed in tight clothing and wrap around glasses, holding a sign that said "Toot".
Poor Shona, not being the sharpest pencil in the bunch made her vulnerable. One evening, my sister and our 20 year old boarder, Steve, challenged Shona to a game of Strip Jack Naked. They plied her with alcohol and cheated their way to victory. Shona concluded the evening by running naked through our house with her arms above her head shouting "I'm a nudie rudie!" Or something to that effect - as were the terms of defeat.
While we did not live what you could call the high life, we had toilet paper more frequently than our neighbours did (that may sound like an odd thing to say, but toilet paper was a precious commodity in families like ours. For good reason do I know that the best way to wipe yourself with a magazine is to scrunch up the pages over and over again until they are soft enough to apply to your bottom). Shona's household was constantly running out, so Shona would frequently come and relieve herself at our house, and would leave looking like she was trying to fake a pregnancy - her jumper bulged with wads of stolen toilet paper. We thought it was hilarious, but my mother would be rightly annoyed.
My mother saw Shona a few years later with two children, well turned out, and looking happy. Here's hoping that life and people have not treated her badly since.
