I went to the park again yesterday.
And sure enough, it happened again.
Picture the now very familiar scene; I’m lying on the grass, staring semi meditatively into the sky, a soft breeze playing across my skin, cool grass beneath my feet, dragonflies playing, birdies twittering etc., etc.
Fifteen minutes in, some school kids arrive.
Cue ominous ‘Jaws’ theme tune.
‘Well,’ I reason with myself firmly, fighting the urge to bolt, ‘they’ve just finished their school day, so they’re bound to want a bit of fresh air. But in the quietest, most boring part of the park?! But still. They’re here. So chill.’
Then more arrive.
And even more.
Within ten minutes, it’s as if an entire school has decamped into this little patch of tranquility, and the air is filled with shouting, chatter, shrieks and laughs.
I’m perplexed. Is it some kind of budget school sports day? And even if it was, there are vast open areas of land much more suitable for kids to go and let off steam, so why are they in the twee granny garden?
I turn my head to look at the lady on my left to see if she is equally horrified. She is reading, has iPod earphones in and obviously doesn’t give a shit.
Normal, see? <twirls fore finger in direction of cranium>
I really want to leave now, but I’m determined to hang in there for at least an hour. I’d only just got there!
‘Here!,’ yells an excited boy suddenly, ‘let’s do it here! You go that side and we’ll go here!’
All of a sudden the earth starts to vibrate, and as I prop myself up on one arm, two boys, one either side of my rug bolt past me, sprint to the bottom of the copse, turn around, and hurtle back up and past me again. They both then tag someone else, and that couple of sweaty youths fly past, almost taking one of my Havaianas with them.
Startled, I sit upright and look around properly. There are two sections of this little nook of the park bisected by a path; the area on the other side of the path is almost empty.
I’m getting irritated now because I feel like an inanimate piece of gym equipment, a flag, bean bag or something that divides the two team tracks. Nice to know I’m still good for something. 😦
Perhaps if I hang around long enough, they’ll run twice around my rug and tag me or something.
Seriously am I invisible or what?
But I lie back down and put my book over my face resolutely; I am staying at least another thirty minutes, come what may.
After five minutes or so, the race appears to be over.
I sigh, shift on my rug, settle myself and start to nod off….
Suddenly I wake to what sounds like a Stamford Bridge on a Saturday afternoon. I sit up sharply and look behind me.
About three feet from my rug and army of mums have set up camp with their rugs, McDonalds/KFC picnics (stinky) and their respective rug rats.
I turn to look at the other side of the park.
What kind of fucking fuckery is this? Why does this keep happening to me?
Why are space invaders forever in my face? Didn’t they get the ‘Fuck the hell off, you intrusive wankers’ psychic memo?
Mind you, I don’t think I’m alone. There seems to be some kind of perverse, reverse law of attraction where certain poor sods like me attract the very thing we want to repel.
- It’s always the woman that doesn’t like kids that ends up holding someone’s snot encrusted baby whilst it’s siblings leave yoghurt, tears and chocolate stains all over her best pashmina after ‘borrowing’ it for their den.
- It’s always the kid who’s allergic to insect stings that gets chased by that freakishly big, pulsating bee with an attitude problem.
- And it’s always the chap who’s allergic to cats that the naughty pussy stalks around the room, and swipes her sneeze inducing fur all over his rust corduroys. To be fair, that’s quite funny though 🙂 .
Why is this so?
And can we do anything about it?
Dear Gary, Psychic Empaths, can you advise?
Love Sista S x