If I only had a brain.

I got “the call” from school. The number pops up, and you just know that they are not calling you so see how your day is going. Or to let you know that your kid did something so incredible. Someone had either fucked up big time, or was unwell.

Turns out Harry had fallen awkwardly and had injured his thumb. I asked to speak to him. I asked him whether a bandage would assist in the bragging rights of the injured area.

It reminded me of watching my little brother playing soccer when he was about 5. One of the opponents would touch him, and he would fall down like a sack of shit, weeping, until Mum would race onto the field to administer the “magic water.”

Then he would be up again, racing around for a few minutes before the cycle was repeated.

The bandage is the modern day “magic water”.


So the injury got him out of tennis. We dropped Jack off and hit up the supermarket. I was in desperate need of vital things. Like milk. Harry needed a new lunchbox, so I was inspecting the selection when I noticed the strangest thing.

For the sake of anonymity, I have removed the details, but there it was. A lunch box with a name and a number attached. The name and the number of a boy, who is friends with Harry. I took a photo.

I sent the photo to my friend, the mother of the boy, who we shall refer to as Barb because indeed that is her name. I didn’t really want to leave it there, for all to see or in case the local pervert purchased it and called her, so I threw it up to the top of the shelves. WAY UP HIGH.

It was later, when I left the shop, I got a text back from Barb. Turned out that she had purchased the lunchbox, used it and found it to be faulty, so returned it. 

She then texted.

Can you peel the sticker off. Thanks.

Which is of course what any normal person would have done in the first place. But we are not dealing with anyone of intelligence. We are dealing with me.

I felt so bad. I returned to the supermarket and to the place where the lunch boxes are kept, via the broom isle.

The plan was to use the broom to try and get the lunchbox down and remove the sticker. I was in too deep. It had to be done.

In theory, it was a very good plan.

What resulted was a barrage of boxes coming tumbling down onto my head and a lot of shoppers staring at me. I was going to try to explain.

“My friend Barb bought her son a lunchbox but it was faulty so she returned it. But she left the name and her number on in. Instead of returning it to the manufacturer, this LAZY ASS supermarket just popped it back onto the shelf, hoping someone whose kid’s name is Toby and has the same number might buy it. And because I was concerned, I threw it up the top there. AND I NOW KNOW THAT I SHOULD HAVE JUST PEELED THE STICKER OFF IT….THANK YOU VERY MUCH.”

But instead, I dusted myself off and returned the broom back to the proper isle. I waltzed out of the supermarket, with a song playing repeatedly in my head…..

I could wile away the hours
Conferrin’ with the flowers
Consultin’ with the rain
And my head I’d be scratchin’
While my thoughts were busy hatchin’
If I only had a brain

What do you mean, you’ve never done anything stupid?