Heil Fiver
Not strictly nativity but aged 6 i was one of the few kids who didn't have school dinners, nary even a packed lunch. For some reason my mum used to come and pick us kids up and take us home for dinner.

The only other kids to do this were jehovas witnesses.

Now I could ramble on about the pointlessness of this lunching arrangement, especially as we only had packed lunch fayre when we got home, and the 15 minute walk to and fro halved actual lunch munching time and was probably a bit inconvenient for the old lass all in too.

Not to mention our missing out on countless games of you show me yours - i'll show you mine and various elastic arms and leg entanglement conundrums, games of hopskotch and step skipping to oddly meaningless rhymes which were probably about killing black people but jollied up through the ages with cheery analogy.

Still, home for lunch it was. Us and the jo-vos.

It was on one such day around easter time that I was noseying in my grandad's shaving bag and happened upon a razor. A good old fashioned single blade. None of this 5 blade and a strip that goos up protruding nasal hair bollocks. This was a blade that could kill people.

And so, being a young man who knew that one day I'd have to master this tool as an older man I tried it. Without foam. Oh, and moving sideways not up and down.

WAAAAAAAAAAAH!

MUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMM

After a severe bollocking, a change of clothes, and another bollocking punctuated by a kick up the arse from gramps, I was cleaned up sufficiently to go back to school.

To school with a plaster across my top lip that left me looking (side parting in a basin cut style hair considered) like a very small Hitler. In a home knitted bobbly woollen jumper.

I arrived back with 5 minutes of play to spare only to be rounded upon by Richard the bully who called me Hitler and kicked me in the arm without explanation.

WAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH

MIIIISSSSSSSSSS

A quick check by the nurse later, and my arm was not broken but I'd damaged something. so into a sling it went.

A pretty shit day for the 6 year old Heyzeus.

Now the coupe de grace for this hour of hell was after lunch. Today was indeed the easter bonnet parade.

It was also the day, the only ocassion that I ever, in my life, won anything on my own, to my own merit.

This despite me having a plaster moustache, arm slung across my chest, indeed like a little reicher, and an old rabbit shaped pyjama case on my head for a bonnet.
(Heyzeus, Mon 30 Mar 2009, 23:26, Reply)