Apr2013_So whats been happening

by Ryle Winn

A couple of weeks ago my 10 year old grandson Tom came down with what the doctor diagnosed as one of those viral things which translated into 675 or maybe 855 spots all over him, but who’s counting.

The doctor said he had to stay home for a week because he had a virus and penicillin doesn’t work on them.  It didn’t pre-50s and doesn’t now either.  So really we’ve come full circle.  Anyway it was a pretty fair chance that what he had was contagious. 

Be all that as it may Tom was pretty stoked.  He wasn’t sick but he was – technically.  The first day with Grandma and Pa was fun because he got to ride around on his bike in the rain, clean out the cake tins, clean out the fridge and freezer, then look around for smoko.  From 11am to 12.30 he did another 87 laps on the aforementioned bike then wolfed down a man sized meal and subsequently complained about being bored.  It was going to be a long week.

I remember when I was a kid (bloody long time ago) scamming the odd sick day.  Generally it was something to do with (a) getting the cuts and not reporting the crime to my parents;  (b) catching lobbies in the drain instead of doing my homework;  (c) punching my mate Jimmy and giving him a black eye;  (d) his mate threatening me with two black eyes if I came to school tomorrow.  That last one held a bit of weight. 

But sometimes things go awry.  Imagine my scene.  Warm in bed.  Cold outside.  Pretend to be sick.  Maybe a put-on minor cough.  Siblings packed off to school.  Younger sister poking her tongue out as she left.  Mum brings me in a newly filled hot water bottle.  Warm in bed.  Cold outside.  Go back to sleep.

At 10 o’clock I feel pretty good and practice my new forward rolls on the bed.  Mum checks my raging temp and its normal. My fake cough has given me a raspy throat but Mum seems oblivious.  That’s blown it.  She wants me to get up.  I have a light-bulb moment when her back’s turned.  I grab the thermometer and jam it down beside the hot water bottle for maximum effect. 

‘Mum I feel really, really sick. I’ve got a really high temperature.  I can’t get out.  Cough, cough!’

My plan came unstuck.  The mercury had shot up and the old thermo nearly busted its boiler.  So did old Mum.  Know what she did?  Bloody made me get dressed and go to school at 10.30 with a note for the teacher.  I didn’t get to read the note. I didn’t have to.  I had to do yesterday’s homework at big-lunch and got kept in after school to do my homework for tomorrow. 

Is there any justice in this world?   

Email:  RMWINN@bigpond.com