Before I went to primary school my parents tried sending me to playschool for a bit, the problem was I really didn't care much for playschool. My little sister was sick a lot when she was little so I think it didn't really suit my mum too much to be dropping me to playschool and since I didn't like it anyway I just ended up not really going much.
The first place she tried to send me was where my 2 older sisters had gone. I think I may have went there a few times, but not very many. I vaguely remember a climbing frame and some twat on top not letting anybody else climb up because he was the king of the castle or something. I didn't appreciate that. I also vaguely remember walking around looking for one kid who I maybe knew (although maybe I didn't have any friends there) and walking to the side of the building near the trees down to 2 or so other kids. I don't know why I remember that and it's probably not important.
The next day when mum went to drop me off I didn't want to go. It was shit and I liked being at home. The teacher came to the door to welcome my mum and me but I wouldn't let go of my mum. I grabbed her hair as she was putting me down and wouldn't let go. I think she had no choice but to bring me home. In fact I think I may have tried the same trick the first day but she made me go that day.
My dislike for this playschool is pretty irrelevant. I'm a little curious as to why I hated it so much, my mum says I used to hate loud noises when I was little and I know I was a very timid kid so a playschool full of noisy children probably wasn't my cup of tea, especially if a few of them were pushy; that would have put me off all the other kids too probably.
So a while later my mum decided to try a different playschool. This one was closer to our house which maybe she thought I would prefer, or maybe it was just the only other playschool anywhere nearby and she wanted for me to give it a second go. It also had less kids in it so I guess that was a bonus too. Either way I ended up having to attend the playschool which is in a methodist church near enough to my house. I don't really know how many times I went to this one either but I have 2 memories of it which stand out.
Chronologically later and of much lesser importance is when loads of kids brought in their bikes and everybody was cycling around the hall. The hall was probably tiny but I remember it being plenty big enough for kids to cycle around in. I hadn't brought a bike though so I couldn't join in. I think I had a friend in this playschool but she was using her bike, or someone else was using hers and I didn't want to take somebody who I didn't know's bike and have them have to tell me to get off it. I think my mum was there and she was encouraging me to just go grab a bike nobody was using but I was having none of it.
The former and more forming memory has to do with jam sandwiches.
There was a particularly bossy down-syndrome kid in the class. My sister always laughs when my mum tells this story but I don't. She wasn't there, it wasn't fucking funny. I didn't laugh. Although I do have a big smile on my face thinking about it now. So, this down syndrome kid, I don't know how old he was or many details, I just remember he was pretty big and really strong so basically any kid in the class had to do whatever he wanted. He was the law. It just so happened that one day what he wanted conflicted with what I wanted. I don't really remember how or why it happened, but I know the outcome: my jam sandwiches, the lunch that my mummy had made for me and I had brought to playschool, ended up in my pockets. The kid squished them and stuffed them in my pockets. I really liked jam sandwiches when I was little and that turned me off them quite a bit. I couldn't eat them because this other kid had mauled them and now they were in my pockets and it was all just a big mess. I'm pretty sure I cried and it put me off going back, but I think I did...
Eventually... Maybe even only for that playing with bikes day.
In summary, I was an easily offended child and very afraid of getting into trouble. I think events such as the jam sandwich incident really didn't help towards my confidence as a child. It set a trend which carried on throughout a lot of my life which will probably be demonstrated in more of these types of entries.
Here's a chooon that I was blaazing to with Shane.
The lyrics kinda remind me of "A song of fire and Ice" (a.k.a game of thrones books) which I'm reading the latest of at the moment. They're really annoying to read because you find yourself thinking about it far too much. It's very geeky. Sometimes when I'm reading passages of the book I can just imagine the fat author getting so much pleasure from describing the vast amounts of food or the sex-related scenes. It creeps me out. I wish I hadn't seen what he looks like because I never would have thought about that if I didn't think about the book as someone's work, I would have just seen it for what it is.