Life wasn't all nicking Horlicks...

I would just like to say that I used to be sporty, and I have evidence to prove it. Here:

                                            See the ‘moi’↑?

That’s me trying to point myself out in a sophisticated, unassuming way. Like, not boasting or anything, but guys, I’m in the team, see me?

Hockey was my game and I loved tearing down the right hand side of the pitch with a well-controlled ball, to whack a clever and perfectly pitched cross to the three forwards who had broken out from the central mass and were rushing towards the goal. Then one of them would stop my pass and in turn whack it into the goal mouth. We never lost a match! Go Maidstone Girls’ Grammar School third years!

This healthy, exercisey little snippet is added to illustrate the fact that I didn’t spend all my time nicking Horlicks [see previous post ‘Where were our hoodies?’].

Before sport, I sang. And I have proof of the singing activity too:

I know, a Church choir wasn’t X-Factor or anything, but still. We got paid.

Moo is on the extreme right, and Saggy is in the front with the sombre moon face and hairband. This was taken when I was in the last year of Loose Primary School. Life was pretty serious, I was about to sit the 11+…….

But look! Me and Sis were only following in our father's footsteps. The photo below of Him and His Identical Twin, were taken when they were teenagers, just as solemn as me, and I can't even tell which is which...

What is it with my family about dressing up in robes? But anyway, going back to the hockey era, if my Dad reads this he will;

1  Remind me that he used to drive me to matches, and

2  Remind me that I was a bit rough on the pitch, and

3  That a parent commented on it while watching the match, and

4  That the parent was a police officer

In my defence I don’t think that I come from a normal family. 

Hands up who has a Dad that paints lawnmowers purple with a white flower for decoration? Well? And pointing to a lawnmower to prove what exactly? Why?

And, although the quality of the photo below is rubbish, it shows incontrovertibly, that my father thought it was a good idea to try to kick a brick.

                                                   ↑ The brick that was kicked

And, yes, he looks like a mad scientist here. 

And, talking of mad….

Why?

TBH, he didn’t come from a totally normal family himself. Here is Grandad with plaits pigtails:

Don’t tell me that it’s because they used to live in Hong Kong.  Plaits pigtails weren’t mandatory…

Goodness knows what it is he is smoking.

But, dear reader, lest you are worried that I came from a dysfunctional family. I finish my post this week with a lovely family portrait taken by Daddykins, proving, quite frankly, that I was once taller than Jim:

Pale Saggy on the left of Mum, bronzed Moo on the right.

Saggy