Home from the Park

Scott Cooper

We were all out for the day in the summer. A picnic if you like. There was our family and my Mums pal's families. About 5 or 6 adults and about 20 or so kids or various ages and abilities. And a couple of dogs.

The sun was shining as it only ever did when you were 6. There was loads of other kids to play with. We were going out for the day. And we were having a picnic. We would probably get chips on the way home. Could it get any better? This was before barbeques you understand.

We went to Holyrood Park at the St Margaret's Loch. Kids always love to play near water. We played rounders, football, chasie, helpy. And we played in the water in our trunks and our shorts. We were constantly told to not go in too deep, to not muck around, to keep to the edge. You know what Mums can be like?

Well we all had a great day. We all got dressed and got ready to go home. It took me ages to get my trunks off under the towel and get my clothes on. I had a real thing then about people seeing my winkie or my body. I didn't even like Mum seeing it. I wasn't abused or anything, I was just shy.

Anyway, I eventually got dressed and as I waited for everyone else to get ready, I took a wander down to the loch side again. I say it was a loch cause that's what it was called. It was really just a big pond in a park with ducks and swans. I was wandering round the edge not paying attention when one of the other kids, a snottery little ******* called Alex, came running up behind me and shoved me headfirst into the pond. It was quite deep at the edge and I went right under. I couldn't swim properly then, so I flailed around a bit until someone came running down to save me. I was screaming.

Now it had been a good day. Sun shining. But it was now getting a little cooler. I was soaking through. Absolutely wringing. My Mum decided that I couldn't walk down the road with all these wet clothes on as they would chafe and I would get sore. She also thought I would get a cold with having the soaking wet clothes on.

So what did she do? She made me put the trunks back on. They weren't even Speedos. They were large navy blue army issue with a white lace to tie them at the front. They were like girls school gym knickers of that time. I was made to walk back home, nobody had cars then, in my trunks. Nothing else. Just my trunks. I wanted to wear the wet clothes. Well you would, wouldn't you? But now I had to walk from Holyrood Park all the way home to Leith. Down Easter Road along Albert Street and down Leith Walk. Must have been at least a mile.

Everyone we passed seemed to enjoy it. It was a Saturday so the whole male population of Leith was drunk and most of the females as well. They were all really witty and funny. NOT. It was really enjoyable for me. NOT.

I bawled the whole way home. My feet were sore cause I had no shoes on. Pavements were rough in those days. Dogshit was everywhere. Nobody picked it up ever. The kids I was with were all a bunch of ********. So were the ****** adults. They all took the complete **** out of me. My Mum was mad cause I was crying. So she did that thing that parents do in this situation that makes no sense whatsoever. She gave me a good whacking. To make me stop crying. It makes so much sense doesn't it?

So I bawled with the humiliation and I bawled with the pain of being whacked on your bare legs.

I never did get chips that day.