Patience is the Best Virtue.

In a small, square room leading off to the side of the upstairs landing was our bathroom. It was pretty bog standard (excuse the pun), on one wall we had the bath which took up a third of the room, a sink in the middle under the window and the toilet on the wall opposite the bath. We were getting a new bathroom fitted.

Mum had wanted the update for a long time now that she could not hide her excitement. She had chose the colour of the bath and had co-ordinated all the fixtures and fittings to make everything perfect.

The anticipation of delivery, for the goods was unbearable for mum, everyday she would ask dad "When is the delivery going to come?" or "How long will it take the fitter to install everything?". Dad just kept saying be patient it will be soon.

When the delivery did finally arrive dad contacted his fitter and asked him how long it would take and what it would cost. Once everything was agreed dad told mum.

"My friends husband fits bathrooms and he said he could do it cheaper and quicker" mum said to dad whilst eating lunch.

"No way, I have met him and he is not a professional fitter, he is just a handy man who does odd jobs here and there" dad replied "Don't worry my fitter is good and he will get the job done properly, be patient".

The children were excited too, we had heard so much about the new bathroom that we too were eager for it to be installed and seeing the old bath in the skip just increased our enthusiasm.

Everything had started off really well but then a hitch occurred, dad had got the measurements of the bath incorrect and the bath was too long for the room. The fitter had already gone home and so work had stopped, luckily it was only the bath left to fit as the toilet and sink had already been installed but mum was devastated and kept telling dad that if her friends husband had done it, he would have finished by now and managed to fit the bath in. Dad just kept saying it won't take that long once the bath has been exchanged.

The next day while dad was out mum decided to take matters in her own hands to rectify the situation so she called on her friend for help. An hour later the friends husband arrived to fit the bath.

In the evening we all waited downstairs for dad to come home, mum was beside herself with worry.

"What will your dad say?" she kept asking us, not really expecting us to answer. We all sat there waiting.

"It's ok, the bath will be delivered tommorow and the fitter will fit it on the same day" dad came in the house shouting for mum to hear. She just burst into tears.

Dad walked into the the room and asked mum "Whats the matter why are you crying" he was really concerned.

"Umm, when you went I contacted my friend who sent her husband to install the bath" mum said through the tears.

"How?, the bath is too long it won't fit".

"I just thought it won't hurt to try" mum said and took dad upstairs to see the bathroom.

There was a pile of rubble in the hallway and as it turned out mum was right, the handy man did manage to fit the bath in but because the bath was too long he had made a hole in the wall to make it fit. So all you could see standing on the landing was the rim of the bath poking out of the wall.

It was such a sight that all dad could do was laugh. Mum promised never to take matters into her own hands again. Next day Dad's fitter took out the long bath and plasterboarded the wall.

Physical Education

Inspired by true events.

"I hate P/E" Mo cried to her sisters. "I am going to ask mum if I can get a day off".

Me and my sisters watched her go to ask mum but we all knew what the answer would be. It would be the same as it was on Monday evening and last week and come to think of it the week before.

"The exercise is good for you, so you have to go". As predicted mum replied.

P/E in school was really horrible, not only did you face the embarrassment of being picked last for netball or rounders, but having to wear leotards and prance about doing some sort of ballet or other dance activity. Having to watch the other girls climb up ropes quickly; you being the only one who can't hold on and falling on your butt each time.

"I have to find a way to get out of P/E, will you help me"? my sister asked us; she was so desperate but we did not know what to do.

Days went by and finally the day came when I went to school and a friend of mine had broken her arm so she was exempt from doing P/E. Exempt from doing P/E, hhhmmmm. When I got home I told Mo about this revelation.

"How shall I do it though, the bone is not an easy thing to break" my sister asked me.

"I know, I will push you down the stairs" I was quite serious at the time and I think Mo freaked out abit. "Noway! that would hurt", she said.

"Duh, of course it will hurt but it will hurt when your arm is broken anyway".

She would not listen to reason for that idea to take place so alas we decided to hit her arm with a shoe (honestly, we looked for a hammer but could not find one). After about three hits she moved her fingers towards me and said "This is not going to break my arm; your not even hitting it hard enough". So back to the drawing board we went.

"Hey, what about a black eye"? she said looking towards me with a glint in her eye. "That would work and it will be alot easier to achieve".

"I suppose" I said not sounding too convinced.

"I know, I will hit your eye with the shoe and then you can hit mine".

"Huh, the shoe! that will hurt look how big it is". I said with sheer panick on my face.

"Yeh your right". I could see by her facial expression she was searching for other items to use; to be fair I was also thinking of what to use because the thought of going to school with a black eye was sounding so supercool.

"A Spoon! we will use a spoon, a couple of short and sharp blasts to the eye will defo do the trick" she said and asked me to get the spoon.

I ran down and got the spoon. On my return we both sat on the bed facing each other totally ready for the procedure to start.

"I will hit you first then once your done, you can hit my eye" Mo said, far too enthusiastically. I agreed.

The first hit hurt but it wasn't that bad as Mo had done it lighter than expected. No! it hadn't turn black on the first hit so again Mo hit me in the eye and again and again. After the fourth hit we checked my eye and no it was still not black but it had started to hurt alot more.

"How many more" I pleaded with her. "Just a few because it looks darker than before".

So one hit after the another pounded against my eye making the pain really intense (as you can imagine). I am sure Mo was getting far too much pleasure now so again I questioned how many more. "Just a few, are you in pain"?

"Ofcourse I am! it really hurts and when will it be my turn"?

Just ten more she said so the countdown began. 10, 9, 8, the pain was so intense and it seems Mo was getting really into the swing of it because the hits were getting stronger. 7, 6, 5. "Stop! now it really hurts". 4, "just three more". I could not take the pain, 3, yes she just kept on hitting harder, 2, I was literally crying now, 1. The hitting had stopped, it was all over, I wiped my face and asked Mo if it had worked. "Well, it has gone reddish so I don't know".

It was my turn now and taking the spoon from my sister, I started to smile.

"Uh, I don't think so, I can see how much pain your in so there is noway I am going to let you hit my eye", saying this she got up laughing and walked away so I ran to tell my mum.

The next day I did have a beautiful black eye and yes I did go to show it off at school and yes it just happened to be a P/E day. I was so happy approaching the teacher and saying I can't do P/E because I had a black eye.

"Black eye, what has that got to do with your hands and feet" the teacher laughed.
"Go get into your leotard".

A Glass of Orange a Day

Inspired by true events.

Drinking is a part of life, be it water, juice or pop, everybody has to drink (not alcohol though)but have you ever drank juice from a carton and placed it back into the fridge thinking you would never get caught? Or what about drinking tobacco spit from a coke can because it looked like coke? Or maybe reaching out and grabbing your sisters drink and spitting in it so she can't take it back and it becomes yours? I would hope non of the above has occurred but if it has then uuggh, totally gross.

"It is going to be the best party ever" my sister said on Saturday morning. I was not amused but I think that was due to jealousy more so than anything else.

"It's my Birthday party and all my friends will be there and I'm going to get loads of presents and".

"Blah, blah, blah, boring" I said trying so hard not to show that i was indeed very jealous.

"Have you seen the cake? Mum has done loads to eat" she continued.

It was true mum had brought a large cake and all the other party food and drink needed to have a wicked party. My sister had new clothes to put on and her dress was gorgeous I am not even going to describe it because I wanted it to be mine.

My sister was lapping up the attention and being such a brat, making innocent facial expressions to get what she wanted and everyone having to run around her because it was her birthday.

The party was planned for the evening and all her friends would be there, we had decorated the room and laid out a massive table with all her favourite foods on; the drinks well just Orange squash actually. Coke was very expensive and mum thought it would be too much sugar for us to have (especially since she read a recent article in the newspaper which indicated one glass of sugar in every glass of coke or something like that)so instead we had orange squash. It was ok though because my sister loved orange squash.

So the evening came and the party was in full swing, my sister showing off with all her presents and jumping around playing games like 'blindmans bluff' and 'British Bulldog'. Always wanting to win. We had eaten loads and my sister was going through the orange juice like it was the last time she would have it.

"Stop running around like that you will make yourself sick" mum yelled at her, trying to calm her down.

Little did I know that maybe I too should have stopped jumping around. As i picked up a glass to drink some more squash I felt a rising in my stomach and as quickly as that I was being sick in the only thing I had in my hand. The Glass.

Turning my face away from the others I quickly wiped my face on my sleeve and placed the glass on the table. It looked orange in colour and staring at it made me feel worse so I walked away to freshen up. Luckily nobody had seen and I was relieved to think I would not get into trouble with mum for it.

On my return I watched everybody having fun; it had totally slipped my mind about the glass full of sick on the table. Just a happen glance towards it, I remembered but as I walked towards it my sister had got to it first and before I could say anything ............

Life in La La Land

Inspired by true events.

Buses, what can be said to describe the bleak rides people take to school, work or even leisure places. Breathing in odours from the person sitting next to you which you hope was just bad perfume. Or getting a whiff of early morning bad breath when someone asks you to let them pass. Or maybe seeing your stop is approaching but your sitting at the back of a full bus; having to push forward brushing past farty old men and uppity women who make 'tut, tut' noises at you.

Well, that is to name but a few happenings of my own experiences while riding on a bus (the bad breath more so than the others) except, ofcourse on the day (actually it was night) of the best holiday I ever went to.

"The bus will leave at exactly 2am, so you had better get to bed early" mother had advised me.
I was so excited about the trip that I just could not bear to sleep so soon. Friends and relatives had come to see us off and I was having such a good time discussing what i was going to do on my holiday that before I knew it, it was already 2am and me,my brother and my parents were on the bus waving goodbye to all.

I sat next to my mother and looked around the bus, it was going to be a long ride and as mum had already sarted to doze off I just thought what a boring start to my holiday. To make matters worse there was not enough leg room to feel comfortable and a big man behind my seat just wanted to stretch and as you can imagine my seat would get the brunt of it. I just lay my head forward against the seat infront and closed my eyes and thought 'The journey begins'.

I lifted my head and looked out the window and realised that an hour had already passed, everyone was more or less tyring to sleep or talking in whispers as not too disturb anyone. Looking around the bus I noticed a woman at the back sitting with a black long dress and she was looking straight at me.

I turned my head to face the front quickly as she had totally spooked me. There was something about her face that made me feel so uneasy. I didn't want to look back again but my curiosity had got the better of me; so slowly I turned my head toward the back. She had gone!! Where could she go the bus had not stopped and the windows were all closed? I frantically looked around the rest of the bus having to stand up just to see each seat. She had just disappeared.

I sat back down and thought of telling my mum when out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of her black dress. She was there. Standing there at the front of the bus looking straight at me except this time she had an axe in her hand. In a split second of seeing it she flung it towards me, I shouted NO!

"Stop it, you idiot you are embarassing me"
"huh" I said in a daze.
"I can't take you anywhere, your snoring is making other passengers stare and wipe that drool from your mouth, it's disgusting your dribbling on the floor" mum said angrily.

"Huuh". I lifted my head from the front chair and looked up to see the passengers across the walkway looking at me and laughing while I wiped the drool from my mouth. Not to mention my brother who was in hysterics.