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Acceptance
A few years back I was invited to a swanky works do at a top hotel in Leeds. That afternoon was probably the hottest of the year and to cool down before the ceremony, myself and some others decided to take a dip in the hotel pool. Upon arriving at the pool, we were quickly aware it was inhabited by two fairly smart looking girls. I decided to act cool and take a jacuzzi.
Making sure eye contact was prevelant, I lay down and proceeded to look for the button to shoot bubbles around the vitals, all the while smirking casually and eyeballing the ladies. That was when I realised I was getting some funny looks and giggles. It then took five or so minutes of fiddling around before it dawned on me that the so-called jacuzzi I was revelling in, was in fact, a kid's pool. Daft sod.As a youngster I fancied myself as a demon fast bowler, one occasion, I must have been about eleven, I was bowling at my brother in a recreation ground just outside my grandparents house. Having my then eight year old brother in all sorts of trouble with my speedy deliveries I was pretty cat with cream happy. My granddad, a keen cricketer himself in days gone by then appeared and began to watch, prompting me to boast. I managed to persuade my granddad to pad up and face some of my deliveries. I began my run up feeling really good and put down my best ever delivery, a peach of a ball, at pace.
It moved in the air, deviated on the seam and took out my granddad's middle stump (it would have removed Ian Botham) prompting more boasting from me and after forceful persuasion my granddad agreed I was going to be a white Malcolm Marshall. Then my mother appeared, alerted by my brother, she wasn't happy. It appears that my bowling a cricket ball at speed to a 72 year old half-blind man with slightly restricted movement due to a stroke in non-existent light had not been appreciated and I was despatched to bed immediately without supper.