A long postponed project was completed last week. The attic was cleared & all recyclable items where recycled - I was bordering on being a real smug friend of the planet.
That smugness wore away fairly rapidly when a Golliwog came to light blinking in the back of the attic. This remnant of a time before political correctness knocked my halo sidewards brave & fast.
The Golly was in poor shape; spongy material oozing from various orifices that any healthy Golly (if such a thing exists) would not possess. This in one way spared me the embarrassment of hawking him/her/it to the charity shop with the other toys.
Golly was put in a black (sorry) plastic refuse sack with other objects of shame (like pink flared jeans & tasteless tacky souvenirs) & off for the dump heads me.
I heaved the bag over the concrete barrier as directed by the attendants into the pit below which housed a prowling bulldozer. The Golly somehow burst the bag open & caught the attention of the staff (the shame). He fleetingly looks me in the eye & turns to the approaching mechanical monster waving his tattered arms at the mauling machine.
He/she/it looked like a Tiananmen Square student in 1989 except for the colouring. There was no happy ending to this one either - the caterpillar crawled cruelly over the brave but doomed Golly. The driver may not have seen Golly or may not have realised what it was - the driver looked young & may have never seen a Golly before.
An unfortunate Golly who lived a life of quiet & shameful seclusion in my attic. Consigned by me to a cruel death & deprived of being reincarnated or recycled as a cute acceptable Teddy.
I have not felt good about this all week & feel that a public confession may lift my burden to some degree.
I understand that my resignation from this site may be required but hope you have it in your heart to forgive me - I am not proud of housing a Golly but should have treated him/her/it better.
What would you have done?
That smugness wore away fairly rapidly when a Golliwog came to light blinking in the back of the attic. This remnant of a time before political correctness knocked my halo sidewards brave & fast.
The Golly was in poor shape; spongy material oozing from various orifices that any healthy Golly (if such a thing exists) would not possess. This in one way spared me the embarrassment of hawking him/her/it to the charity shop with the other toys.
Golly was put in a black (sorry) plastic refuse sack with other objects of shame (like pink flared jeans & tasteless tacky souvenirs) & off for the dump heads me.
I heaved the bag over the concrete barrier as directed by the attendants into the pit below which housed a prowling bulldozer. The Golly somehow burst the bag open & caught the attention of the staff (the shame). He fleetingly looks me in the eye & turns to the approaching mechanical monster waving his tattered arms at the mauling machine.
He/she/it looked like a Tiananmen Square student in 1989 except for the colouring. There was no happy ending to this one either - the caterpillar crawled cruelly over the brave but doomed Golly. The driver may not have seen Golly or may not have realised what it was - the driver looked young & may have never seen a Golly before.
An unfortunate Golly who lived a life of quiet & shameful seclusion in my attic. Consigned by me to a cruel death & deprived of being reincarnated or recycled as a cute acceptable Teddy.
I have not felt good about this all week & feel that a public confession may lift my burden to some degree.
I understand that my resignation from this site may be required but hope you have it in your heart to forgive me - I am not proud of housing a Golly but should have treated him/her/it better.
What would you have done?
.
