Sunday, 15 April 2012

The Brittish Are Coming!

I became obsessed over my AC/DC record and it was in constant rotation.  The summer before i started kindergarten my family moved into a new house on longbourne crescent. I missed the old townhouse on craigleigh crescent and all the memories it held with it. Playing in the courtyard with my sister, throwing my fisher price parachute man as high as i could in the sky repeatedly, convincing one of my friends to put this green slime from the toy store in his hair ( the next day he had a shaved head), watching my friend defecate  in the street because his parents were painting the house and wouldn't let him in, tying one of Christine's skipping ropes to the top of the slide so I could pull myself up like I was Adam West scaling the side of a building, block parties, hitting a girl in the head with a baseball bat then stealing her yoyo, learning to ride a bike with and without training wheels in the same day, but what I missed the most was tormenting an old woman on our street that we referred to as "the witch".

From what I was told she was from Germany and she never left the house. I remember catching glimpses of her through her kitchen window, wearing the trademark shawl she had fashioned out of a black garbage bag. All the kids used to stand outside of her house banging our hockey sticks on the ground while chanting "The British are coming! The British are coming!" She was already crazy and we certainly weren't helping the matter. One day an older boy decided to put some dog shit in her mailbox. My father and his friend John were having a beer on the porch and caught wind of the situation. They forced the kid to go over to her house and remove the poopy contents from her mailbox with his bare hands!

I dont remember exactly what I did on this particular day but it must have been extreme as she actually left the house and showed up knocking on our door furiously. I was seriously scared as I his behind my fathers tree like leg as he dealt with her. Whatever she was going on about didn't seem to matter as my dad was totally on my side and from what I recall I never got in trouble. Looking back I know it was the rush & excitement of thinking a real witch lived on my street, and I was convinced she killed and ate children.

So far my new street had nothing resembling a "haunted house" and there was no crazy witch to mess with. Our new house was way bigger however and I was loving all the extra space. We had a new stereo and it even came with an 8 track component! I was positive we were rich! Being a non materialistic person I didn't dwell on the thought, I was just happy to be able to play my record on a new, kickass stereo that had some serious balls and wattage! My folks on the other hand weren't putting up with the noise levels and I was told to wear headphones! That was fine with me, I'd strap em' on and rock out in our plush rocking chair. I played dirty deeds so much that the records started filling up with skips and scratches, which saddened me as I couldn't enjoy the songs the way they were meant to be heard. This would change however around age 7 when my family took our first shopping trip ever to Buffalo New York...

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