The Milky Bar Kid.

Hello, hello, hello,

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I know what you are thinking.

Why do I say that three times, when just once, would do fine.

What am I adding to the greeting by saying it that way.

It is just overkill…and general showing off.

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Well, words are free, and I am feeling generous!

So come on, lighten up, it is Saturday.

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I do not know why I feel in such a good mood today, but I do, and that’s good.

It probably means that the day will go along wonderfully, just because my mood is so up, up, up.

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Don’t you agree with me?

If I was in a low mood then I would notice every less than excellent thing and put a negative slant on it.

I have great faith in the ability of us humans, to see what we want and expect to see, and therefore ignore all contrary auditory, sensory or commonsense input totally.

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My father was very capable of doing that,  and I can remember one particular instance, right off the top of my head.

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I was in my teens, and one day, when I was alone in the house, I got a long spelk of wood buried in my finger, but which I eventually managed to pull out with a pair of tweezers.

I was a bit worried about it though, because I had just been reading that, if you got a deep puncture wound, and it did not bleed, then you could get Tetanus from it because the wound would not get washed out.

It therefore seemed sensible to fill up a pint glass with water and pour in a lot of Dettol disinfectant, before putting my fingers in, and hopefully letting the disinfectant permeate the wound, and hopefully that would be enough stop me dying a horrible death from an untreatable disease.

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As you have probably gathered by now, I am blessed with far too much imagination for my own comfort.

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Earlier that day, I had had a small altercation with my father, because when he went to get a cup of tea at breakfast time there had been no milk left in the bottle.

He said that I had been greedy and drunk all the milk so that there was none left for his cuo of tea.

I argued that I had not done it, which was the truth, but because I loved a drink of milk he did not believe me.

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My father had finally gone off to work feeling very annoyed with me , and I was left feeling very badly done to in turn, but I soon forgot all about the whole thing and was looking forward to Big H coming to pick me up, so that we could go out and party.

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Once I had stood in the kitchen for ages, holding my fingers in the disinfectant, I went into the bathroon to wash my hands and put on an Elastoplast band aid, if the wound looked OK.

I had left the glass on the bench, in case I needed to give it another soak .

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I don’t know if you have ever used Dettol.  It is a transparent, orangey coloured liquid, but when you pour it into water it all goes very, very milky looking.

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When I eventually walked back into the kitchen, my father was standing there, looking at me.  He had the pint of Dettol water clasped in his hand,

I looked at him, a bit confused.

“Ha Ha”, he said to me, “I think that I win this one!”

Totally bemused, I watched him quickly lift up the glass and swiftly swig down the whole of the contents as if it was beer, right down  to the last drop, before thumping it  back down, empty, onto the bench top.

“So how do you like that then” he said triumphantly, before his face crumpled into an expression of total and complete horror.

He staggered about, clutching his throat, before disappearing off into the bathroom at great speed, and staying in there for ages.

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Oh god, it was hilarious.

I absolutely wet myself laughing, I was in hysterics, and every time I tried to  stop, I kept seeing his face again, and off it all started again.

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He had been so determined to drink my milk, that he totally disregarded the smell, the cloudiness, and the faint pink colour down towards the bottom of the glass.

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It was months before he was able to see the funny side.

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Fun days.

Have a fun day yourself, but stick to your own drinks ‘cos it is safer that way.

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LOL

J

In case you are wondering, spelk is a Geordie term for a splinter of wood.

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