Odds and Ends

Why anybody thinks it’s a natural progression of knowledge that action equates to understanding I do not know. I knew I started puberty visibly in 1969, at Fernlea School from the incident I recounted in my last post. The connection that what I could do with my penis had anything to do with human reproduction was not made. This was an exciting time and I had to make discoveries. Since I spent huge amounts of time on my own, and interactions with other children were controlled by their desires, it just never dawned on me that they could provide answers.

My best friend in primary school was Murray, but it was deemed by the ‘powers that be’ that we were not good for one another. Maybe that came about when we saw one of our fill-in teachers waiting at a bus stop after school one day and he wanted to harass her, and did. I didn’t know what harassment was, but looking back that is a good word for it. He would roll stones in front of her, and make snide nasty comments as she ignored him. She stood her ground, she did not move an inch. She looked nervous. I started feeling nervous too. I knew this wasn’t right and I said to Murray ‘C’mon let’s go, we’ve got things to do.” But he was obsessed with harassing her. He would not stop. Then he got bored I think, and we left. It was such a relief.

He got a hiding for that, I know he did, he got a hiding at school and he got a hiding at home, and he tried to put the blame on me. Maybe she told the truth, I tried to stop it? I have this vision in my head of him being dragged past me, tears pouring out of his eyes, bright red stripes across the back of his legs, they probably went up his back too! He was shouting and pointing at me, “He was there too!” That’s true, I was there too.

That was one of the last times I saw Murray at Fernlea School, that I can remember. He was in the same class as me so we must have had more contact, I just can’t remember it. When we got to Parkway Intermediate we were separated, in different classes. All the selection classes, there’s a word for it I can’t remember it, the ones that the student elects to do, we weren’t in together. We didn’t do anything together. At breaks he didn’t want to talk to me. It was really sad. I was really sad. I felt abandoned.

Doing the right thing has a down side.

My Grandfather visited us in 1970. I had to give up my bed because I was the oldest. How does that work out, what’s age got to do with it? I’ll be less put out because I’m older? The divan bed wasn’t uncomfortable it was just different. It wasn’t like the stress and uncertainty of being thrown out of my sisters bed a couple of years before.

My mother didn’t believe in warm sheets, or she couldn’t afford them, or something? It was summer sheets all year round. Argggg, it was cold, in bed, to start with. Shivering temperatures. Sometimes we stayed at Mrs Redpath’s house and she had duvet’s, oh they were great, instant warmth! No hot water bottle required, that lost heat, so that at some god forsaken time in the morning I rolled on to it and it was, of course, freezing! God I hate being cold.

Parents should think about their children who don’t sleep with a partner, and don’t have anybody to snuggle up against on cold mornings and nights! That would have been very helpful.

So my technique to warm up in bed was to take the plunge, and spread right out, I want to warm up as much of this summer sheet as I can. If I just stayed in one position I’d only warm up that bit, then the bit of sheet I rolled to would be freezing. Then I’d gently and slowly massage my whole body into the sheet. This is a technique I’d been using for years, it worked perfectly. I would warm up in no time flat. That’s what friction does, I learned in Science that’s what that was called, friction!

Friction also did something else the first night my Grandfather stayed in 1970. I was just going though my well proven routine and all of a sudden I had the most fantastic feeling I have ever experienced in my entire life. It was bloody amazing. And something else happened at that very moment of that most fantastic feeling, I thought I wet myself! I was wet, “oh fuck” I thought “I’m in the shit now! I’m gonna get a hiding for this, wetting myself is a no no!” I wet myself enough during the day accidentally, I don’t know why, it just happened, my mind was thinking one thing whilst my bladder was doing something else, there was just no connection, from time to time.

But I didn’t feel like peeing, I’d already peed before I went to bed. This was not pee! No it was sticky. And it didn’t smell like pee, and it didn’t taste like pee. It was dark, I couldn’t see what it looked like and my penis was rock solid hard so I wasn’t about to get up and turn the light on. Hiding an erect penis is bloody hard work in pajamas!

I decided I’d just gather all this stuff up in my hands and wipe it on my pajama jacket. That’ll do. Then I thought “I have got to do that again, but how did I do it the first time?” I had a think about that. I spent a lot of time thinking. I decided that if I concentrated my efforts on just my penis, that I didn’t know was called a ‘penis’, I’d be able to achieve the effect more quickly. I decided it had something to do with warmth. So all I needed to do was mimic the effect of massaging my entire body into the cold sheet, with both my hands. So I rolled my penis between my hands, slowly to start with, and as the sensation got more intense, speeding up this rolling technique. It worked too, but it took all night!

I was so tired the next morning, I got hardly any sleep at all. I got into trouble at school for falling asleep in class. But it was worth it. It really was. I have discovered something fantastic and I had no desire to share it with anybody. All I had to do was work out what it was!