Child LabourThere is a special part of Hell I'd like to reserve for those arses that order every single Sunday paper. Do you know how heavy that makes the bundle of papers some poor kid (ie me) has to lug around? Funny how your papers always seemed to get mangled in your letterbox...
I loved my paper round, but, looking back, I was getting paid peanuts to ruin my back and cycle around in the cold and dark. How were you exploited as a child?
(
chthonic, Fri 17 Feb 2006, 12:05)
« Go Back
Posh child labourIt is a well known fact that all young girls are into either horses or ballet or both. Lack of willpower with regard to eating disorders meant that I was firmly in the horse camp, which is how I managed to end up as a polo groom for a summer when I was 15.
We worked from 7 - 5 every day, shovelling shit, cleaning tack and fending off the advances of middle aged, fat blokes, all for the princely sum of - nothing. Just the chance to have a go on a horsey and maybe get a few free lessons (I think I managed 2 total in a 3 month period). Oh, and I broke my wrist and had a horse fall backwards into a river on top of me. Yay!
It did however allow me to segue into goal judging at polo when I was 16 - 5 quid for 45 minutes of standing at one end of a pitch wearing a hard hat and carrying a bucket of balls. Sounds easy. Until 8 people on horses who can't really ride and don't really notice that you are there thunder towards you waving big sticks around their heads. And then swear at you when you don't run with the speed of Linford Christie to replace balls for penalties and the like. However, I can now swear like a sailor in a variety of languages, which provides hours of entertainment.
I'm trying to sound bitter, but really I had a great time. Damn.
(, Fri 17 Feb 2006, 14:08, Reply)
« Go Back