Childhood games

In one game I remember from childhood one guy would be Mr. Wolf and turn his back to the others, who'd say in unison, "What time is it, Mr. Wolf?" He'd say "Twelve noon" or "Quarter to three" or something like that, and the others would creep closer to him.  But once in a while he'd say "Dinner time!" then catch the closest one.  The idea was to creep so close to Mr. Wolf that you could catch him after one of the regular times, but not so close that he'd catch you at dinner time.

There was also king's square, a sort of four-way tennis played with a big ball, with someone in one of four adjacent squares, and if you couldn't bounce the ball into someone else's zone after it had been in yours, you'd be out. (There was a neutral circle in the middle called the "belly button.") My sister Moira recalls how three of the players would unite their efforts to get the fourth one out. Not very sporting...

And there was a game where we'd start by reciting, "Chinese torture has begun!  No more laughing, no more fun!  If you show your teeth or tongue, you must pay a penalty!"

Remember on The Beverley Hillbillies how Granny was always going down to her root cellar?  We played the basement game Murder in the Dark, except that my brother renamed it Granny's Root Cellar!

Pests

Ever have the experience of swatting a mosquito just after she's bitten you and drawing a little streak of your own blood along your arm or leg? (Today I avoid swatting bugs out of vague principle...)

One kind of pest I dislike is a dog who runs toward you and barks at the same time.  That really frightens me!

I read that during Hell Week at South Carolina's Citadel military school, the upperclassmen march the plebs into nearby swamps and make them stand still as the mosquitoes bite them.  Another institution for the South to be proud of! (Here we have two kinds of pests.)

In the movie Mr. Holland's Opus schoolteacher Richard Dreyfus says, "Sometimes the best way to deal with a pest is to ignore him." Well, that's easy to say when the pest is bothering someone else instead of you!

Donald Trump has always struck me as a pest. (I'm just glad I don't have to work for him!) Dr. Phil also seems like a pest, as do Howard Stern and anyone on Fox News...

The bank

I have an account at the local TD Canada Trust branch.  There's a woman working there called Rosa who always remembers my name. (I try to say hello to her.) A month or two ago I got a new access card, but the ATM kept rejecting it!  They just issued me a new one.

I recently had to shift most of my money into term deposits that won't come due till I'm 65.  That allowed me to qualify for Ontario Disability Support Payments because of my Asperger's Syndrome.

When I lived in England 22 years ago, opening a bank account was a pain in the neck! (They seem to think that by letting you entrust your money to them, they're granting you some big privilege!) Also, while Canadian banks will give you an automatic readout of your balance, with British banks--at least back then--you had to keep track of it yourself.  I'll bet they had a lot of overdrafts!  I can only hope they've changed since then.

There's a really funny Stephen Leacock story, "My Financial Career," about a guy opening his first bank account.  At one point he mistakenly walks into the vault!

Hats

I used to own a Tilley Endurables hat.  But when I was in London five years ago, I was in a subway station and a sudden gust of wind blew it off my head and onto the rails! (I hadn't even reached the platform.) This was just before I returned home, so I didn't get the chance to wait for the staff to rescue it then claim it at Lost and Found, which I imagine would have taken weeks anyway.

After I got home I bought a classic fedora at a boutique in Eaton Centre that also sold scarves.  I also have a summer hat that I bought at Target.

Hats have gone out of fashion in recent decades.  I guess that's because of John F. Kennedy and the '60s counterculture.  I really started wearing a hat in my thirties because my hairline was receding and I was afraid of getting sunburnt on the top of my head.

My fedora is handy for a new Meetup group I've joined for people interested in vintage clothes.  I also have a green cardigan and a corduroy jacket.  I ought to buy a bowtie too.

Sometimes I wish I had a stovepipe hat like Lincoln wore...

Flat

For a few years my sister and I lived in an apartment (part of a triplex). This was just after we'd moved to Toronto and before we bought a house of our own.  It was located just south of the TTC place where they later set up the Wychwood Barns complex. Back then they kept old buses and streetcars there before junking them.  As a result, they had regular patrols to deter thieves, with the result that nearby houses were also safe from burglars.

Our apartment was on the second of three stories.  The downstairs neighbors once complained about the noise--slamming doors and such--but I noticed that one night they watched the Oscars show with a bunch of friends and whenever their favorite movie won they'd cheer loudly. (This was back when the Oscars show went on past midnight.)

The apartment's furnishings were somewhat old-fashioned.  We got heat from a radiator with white coils.  And our refrigeration was the sort that you had to defrost once in a while.  In the back yard was a pear tree, though it had seen better days.  There was a loud-mouthed neighbor you could often hear yelling at his wife in Russian.

Mice

My mother was terribly afraid of mice.  Just mentioning the word "mouse" freaked her out.  She might have made a good Victorian lady.

We used to have a problem with mice in our house.  Once I managed to catch one in my glasses case and release him outdoors. (What was I going to do, kill him?) I was surprised how little it was.

In one of James Thurber's stories, he wrote about an eccentric relative who'd leave food next to the mouseholes! (Mother liked Thurber.)

I once saw a cartoon of a cat singing:

Love to eat them mousies!

Mousies what I love to eat!

Bite their little heads off,

Nibble on their tiny feet!

The dentist

Dentistry isn't my favorite subject.  It reminds me that I'm naturally a coward.  Recently my current dentist mentioned that one of my old fillings was unusually close to a nerve.  I think I remember getting that one!

I remember getting my wisdom teeth pulled when I was about thirty.  The hard part is waiting hours for the local anaesthetic to wear off.  It's like being punched in the mouth times a thousand! I'll soon be getting root canal work, which doesn't sound fun.

I suppose that sugar causes tooth decay because there's a curse on it:  growing sugar cane is backbreaking work, and it was mostly sugar production that led to the big increase in New World slavery in the 17th and 18th centuries.

I still have all my non-wisdom teeth, but they're somewhat crooked, and I've thought of getting them straightened.  But it's likely to cost a lot of money, and I don't know if it's worth it at my age.

Once I was eating ice cream and a jagged little piece of plastic from the container got into it. When I felt it in my mouth, I thought it was one of my teeth and got quite a fright!