Screen Shot 2015-09-18 at 9.48.15 am

Retrograde is in Mercury (or is it the other way around?) which may explain a lot of shit that happened this week. It also is the last day of school for the term. So that means SCHOOL DISCO YO!

You could come as your favourite character from a book, film or TV show. This is Jack, missing his maracas in a loose attempt to pull off Peter Allen, and this is his “Sweetheart” who is dressed as Elle Woods. Complete with small dog in a handbag.

They have been “Sweethearts” for about a year now, preferring that term to boyfriend/girlfriend. They play a lot. Mainly jumping on the trampoline, doing dance routines and gymnastics. They both have a necklace which is half a heart, and when they are together, you can match them up and they say SWEETHEART.

So sweet.

Not like my experience with puppy love.

On the 30th March my book “As Yet Untitled”  is coming out. I thought I would share with you an exert from it.

I put the word out via my little gang of friends, that I was ready to “go with” someone. It was perhaps kind of like a tender of sorts. At recess and lunch, interested suitors were put forward.

“Alan said he would go with you.” Came the word.

And I would be all like… Alan! He has fricking warts!

And then there was more.

“Peter said he would go with you.”

Sweet Mary mother of GOD! Peter shat in his pants two years ago. Was this it for me? Was I already scraping the bottom of the barrel at the age of 11?

“Paul said he would go with you.”

 “Ryan or Waters?”

“Paul Ryan.”

And that is how I got my first boyfriend. Through a complex system of gossiping and bartering. Now the term “go with” was the vernacular at the time and the ironic thing was that you ended up going nowhere. It was just a label.

Now that I had my boyfriend, what to do with him? The answer my friends, was handball. Using chalk, a huge grid was drawn up on the concrete with allocated spots for King, Queen, Jack and Dunce. We played mixed doubles, with each square accommodating one happy couple.

I was a very good handball player and Paul proved to be a good match for me in that instance. We didn’t speak much. Just played handball a lot.

 The relationship, due to the non-verbal nature of it, failed to thrive. But little did I know just how bad things had gotten. I was on the precipice of being dumped.

It all started on a school excursion one day. All the kids raced to the back of the bus, trampling smaller ones who got in their way. I was not that concerned about sitting at the back of the bus, so took my seat about half way down the aisle. Word travelled down to me that Paul had saved me a seat at the back of the bus.

He wanted me to sit next to him? Who was he fucking kidding? No WAY.

It was this simple act of defiance that was Paul and my undoing. The next day in the playground at recess, one of Paul’s mates told my friend Penny that Paul wanted to break up with me. Penny delivered the bad news to me, and I banished myself to the girls bathroom for the rest of eternity.

Eternity lasted until the end of recess bell, which rang out approximately 7 minutes later. I had a choice to make. I could remain sobbing in the bathroom, a victim of public humiliation, or I could straighten myself out, splash some water on my face and bravely take my place in the class line. Which is what I did.

I lined up in the Year 5 line while Paul stood near me in the year 6 line. I looked across and down at him, and when I caught his eye, I mouthed slowly and deliberately…

“I hate you.”

Romantic stuff hey! I only hope our sweethearts up there, drift apart over something far less dramatic.

Have you ever been dumped in the playground?