When I was a kid we would normally spend our Summer’s in Germany visiting family. We would spend a few days in the city staying with my Aunty, Uncle and two cousins. My cousin’s seemed to have everything. Any toy you could imagine, they had. Plus they were German toys so ultimately more appealing.
One year I remember the four cousins playing with a huge box of little people and things that were tipped all over the floor for us to build towns with etc. Well I became fixated with this tweeny tiny plastic pink person, no bigger than my thumb. I would not let go of this thing. I genuinely was absolutely in love with what can only be described as something not dissimilar to a kinder egg surprise toy. It was pretty much worthless and no-one cared that I was playing with it but, and here is a confession no-one but my sister has ever heard; I had to have it. I could have asked my cousin for it and she would have given it to me but nope, for a reason even I don’t know, I stole it! I tried to justify it to myself, you know, she has so many toys she won’t even notice (which she didn’t) and no-one could ever love this little plastic girl as much as I would (and they really couldn’t) but after two decades I feel I must confess, because kids, stealing is not cool. Even for love!
Staying on a simular theme here is confession number 2. I would like to say it is the only other time I have stolen something but when I wrack my brain I seem to find an alarming amount of examples of me fulfilling the Scouse girl image. Shot glasses and beer mats don’t really count though do they?
Well for this second occasion of theft I had an accomplice. My sister and I were, and still are, thick as thieves (whole new and literal meaning to the saying). We did fight as kids but when we were on the same side, world you better watch out.
So during the Summer in question, pogs were HUGE! We had a respectable collection between us but there was a kid who lived about 5 roads away who had an absolutely huge and specialist collection. He was the envy of everyone but his parents were very strict and wouldn’t let him play out once it was evening. Me and my sister hatched a plan to steal his pogs and it was a good plan. He was allowed to play with his pogs on his front door step but go no further and that was pretty boring so no-one played with him. Well when we rocked up of course he was happy to have friends to play with so got all the pogs out and played a few games with us while we slyly snook a huge load of them out in our own bag.
I don’t know if we were either very good and stealthy robbers or he didn’t care and just wanted company, but he never said a thing and when it was dinner time we ran home with a huge bag of pogs. Our Dad spotted them as soon as we got home but we told him we had won them fair and square. All would have been fine but for one thing; our darn conscious’ start acting up. Well by the time we had finished dinner we were racked with guilt. We resolved to give them all back but how? We couldn’t very well just hand them over and admit what we had done. No we would have to go play another game and sneak them back in. Easier said than done as we were due baths and bed. Well after a lot of begging our folks let us out for 30mins. Then we had to convince the kid’s parents to let us play with him. Impossible they said, he was already in bed! (No wonder this boy had no friends poor sod) so thinking on our feet we told them we thought we had left one of our all time favourite pogs there and could we search through his collection. Thankfully the Dad said yes and we were in. Got all the pogs back in and home for bath time. Summer holiday’s were full of adventures before kids had tablets.
Confession number 3. Sometimes I pretend my 3 month is nursing on me when she is actually just sleeping. I could put her down or pass her to someone else but I don’t and I don’t care who knows it 😊