Me, the Hulk and Susie...

Apparently I have really strong arms. My boxing instructor told me that not many people, let alone women, can keep solidly boxing for 30 minutes without stopping or dying. Many a time I want to stop or fall on the floor in a sweaty heap and scream ‘Uncle!’ Or ‘Aunt!’ Or ‘Leave me the hell alone!’ But I don’t. I’m not sure why. Possibly it’s sheer stamina or bloody minded determination or maybe its like one of those nonsensical tests at school where Billy is travelling on one train wearing a red sweater, Freddie is travelling in a car eating an ice-cream and Harry is riding a bike wearing a baseball cap – which one will get to point A to B fastest and claim the prize? None of them because Susie thought ‘Stuff the lot of them, I’ll switch the signs around so they all go in different directions and get lost and I’ll win.’

Susie probably had strong arms too.         

Them....

So, I went into town, did bootcamp, the gym and then got in my car and realized I had left not only my lunch and my specs behind at home but more importantly, I left my USB stick with my current work in progress (wip). Quel horreur! How am I supposed to be at my day job all day and not do personal stuff? It would be just wrong. I would probably get a leg cramp or a headache or something. It was only 7:50am so I drove home and I ran into them. Oh the unspeakable, insidious horror of them. I couldn’t believe what was happening on the way into my perfect lovely rainforest suburb. They were everywhere. I couldn’t move because of them. How could there be so many? There were a massive cluster of them choking the streets. I looked left, then right. There was nowhere to turn to avoid them. They closed in on me and I wanted to flee, to scream and fight my way free of them. But it was impossible. They were slow, crawling, deceptive and sinister, all having the same mark of Satan on them – the ‘my family’ sticker. Them. The parents of the snotty Jeminas, hormonal Harrys, precious Tarquins and soon to be pregnant Brittanys. It was the school run. Eeeek! 'My family' are scary enough on normal streets. But outside schools? On the inhumanity of it.  

Unless there’s a croc chasing me…

When I was 13, I was standing in a school gym being told by a Phys Ed Teacher (sports Nazi) that I had to climb the rope (from floor to ceiling) because it would be ‘good for me’ and ‘everyone else is doing it’. At 13, dressed in a skimpy sports skirt, I looked from the floor to the ceiling, and thought there is no way in hell even if I can by some wild stretch of the imagination even get to the top that I want to slide down and get rope burn or will that even be the remotest bit good for me in any way, shape or form. And that everyone else was doing it? If I followed that logic I would have been smoking, drinking and pregnant or at least have a sexually transmitted disease at 13. So, I declined her direction. This had her sending me in the direction of the school Principal, whom I got along with very well, as he had an affinity with army brats, and I sat chatting with him and his secretary until the Phys Ed class was over. Funnily enough, I never got directed to do anything of a rope-like nature after that. Could have a lot to do with the fact that my mother directed the teacher to politely bugger off.

Anyway, today, at boot camp I had to climb a rope net. I personally believe that unless you are in the defence forces or under 10 years of age or stoned or drunk or have a crocodile chasing you, you shouldn’t climb anything made of rope. It’s a personal philosophy I have. Added to that the Jones women are genetically disinclined to do anything with rope.

Ropes – tie people up or down or lasso a horse or join the Navy and do knots. Climb them? Is there a croc chasing me?  

It freaks me out, man....

The neighbourhood where I live has a school close by. On my morning ramble around the Heights I pass through the school and along the streets. The pavement is lined with totem poles to guide the kids who are on foot to school. It’s a good, quaint idea. Most of the totem poles – like the first one – make total sense to me. But these other two? Well, they freak me out, man. Why? Well first up the pirate worries me. He doesn’t look right. It’s that scary lopsided grin that indicates something creepy going on and he doesn’t look sure if he’s happy about it or not. He also looks constipated to me. And what’s with the other one who appears to be in handcuffs? He’s smartly dressed. Is he going to court? Why the cuffs? What did he do? Should he be on the streets? Is he in cahoots with the constipated pirate? Lordy, it freaks me out..

Amarinda Jones
Penn Halligan
www.amarindajones.com
www.amarindajones.blogspot.com
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