Well it was that time of the year again. With the kids are shortly to break up for the summer holidays sports day was upon us once more. I could barely disguise my glee knowing that the children so look forward to the occasion – what with their mums, dads and/or foster parents all turning up to watch.
And thus it was that I trembled with excitement as the first event – the 50 metre dash – started. Obviously I had to explain to little Billy Speedster, a young athlete of some prowess, that we can have no single winner in any race as we frown on the overtly competitiveness nature of sports these days. As it was a racing certainty Billy could out pace anyone in the school I was not too taken aback when he replied, ‘Well you can fuck off as I’m going to thrash the fucking lot of them Miss.’ I took great comfort from the fact he called me ‘Miss’ as only last week he’d called me a ‘Boring bitch’ so things are certainly on the up insofar as his manners are concerned. Inevitably though he took no notice when halfway through the race when I asked him to slow down so the girls could catch up save for putting two fingers up at me. Never mind.
Next was the three-legged race. Alison Hopley asked me if she could partake in this event with her best friend Marion, a sweet girl. However I had to explain to Alison that as she only had the one leg it would not be fair on Marion, a child of slight stature if she had to effectively drag her to the finish – which, in essence is what would have happened. Alison burst into tears and asked, ‘Well what race can I enter?’ Having had a good think I came up with the idea that she could do a 25 metre hop all by herself. She gave it a jolly good try yet collapsed exhausted after just 5 metres – it was a very hot day mind – however all the parents gave her the bestest of cheers even though the child herself was left bereft by what in hindsight I know she will see as a character building experience.
Denis Watkins did cheat in the egg & spoon race though. So as to avoid the mess of smashed eggs we had previously hard boiled them all – sensible thinking on my part. The problem here was that Denis, known as Fat Boy within his peer group ate his egg before the race even started then tripped up a number of other children and scoffed their eggs as well. I pointed out to Denis that that was somewhat unfair and he replied, ‘So fucking what.’ Naughty boy, however when I explained that eating all the eggs would likely make him pass wind and bung him up on the number two front he just laughed in my face – I drew a positive from the smile upon his face and gave him a great big cuddle even though strictly speaking that is out of order these days. What a risk taker I am when it comes to the children’s welfare.
As soon as I got home I penned a little poem about the day’s events.
Sports day comes but once a year
A chance for kids to play and run
Little Billy whizzed for dear life
And at solo hopping Alison won
Even portly Denis
Joined in the one event
Yet so challenged on the weight front is he
His tee-shirt looked more like a tent
To think of the emissions
That will emit from that child’s bum
With all those boiled eggs gobbled up
He’ll fart to kingdom come!
There, that was sweet wasn’t it? I’m going make up some signed framed prints of this poem and hand it to the kids on the last day of term. I can barely contain myself knowing that the little look in their eyes as I award them my gift of poetry will light up my life.
Still must be getting along – jolly hockey sticks and all that!