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« Grades Sixers | Main | What A Muddle »


The other evening, on my way to the ballet studio, I saw a few boys walking home from a hockey match/practice. That was a sight I have not seen for a long while. Somehow, hockey is not a 'happening' game now. One will see kids with basketballs, footballs, badminton and these days, golf, but hockey sticks, I hardly ever.

When I was in school, I was not one of those athletic types. In fact, I remember an incident at a friendly netball match between classes. For some strange reason, I was placed in the team. The rest of the team told me to take a break, sit down and cheer them on. They preferred to play 1 person less.

During a P.E. lesson we had volleyball and I sprained my wrist hitting the ball. I had to lay off piano lessons for a few weeks. Then there was a time during sports practice when we had to go for the javelin tryout. When I 'membalinged the lembing' I hit myself on the head. How did I do that? Heaven knows! The teachers were so worried I suffered a concussion.

The only game I was ever interested in was hockey. But of course, I was never very good. And bruised shins came part and parcel with hockey. Maybe I stopped playing because of that, I can't remember. Perhaps I got interested because those days when I was in school, national and international hockey players were a gorgeous bunch. Ya, THAT might have been the reason.


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