Memories

Seamus was a substitute teacher who taught our class in the last year of primary school. We kind of called him Seamus behind his back because he lived just down the road from us, and that's what the parents called him.

I remember we'd been doing some lessons about the dangers of smoking. It was the usual stuff - rancid, rotting lungs that had been damaged by years of smoke filling them. Do you remember those specimens? The little microscopic bits of lung that were blackened and corroded? Yuck.

But one morning Seamus took the anti-smoking campaign to an entirely new level - he strutted into the classroom and produced a packet of cigarettes. Making quite a display of the next part, he took a cigarette out of the pack and lit it up. The constant background noise of the classroom died away as everybody realised the teacher was smoking in the class!

It seems the lost art of Halloween bonfire building is actually lost. Aside from officially sanctioned bonfires and fireworks displays, there are very few ad-hoc bonfires being built in neighbourhoods. So today I'm going to play old-timer and recount for you how we built bonfires back in the day.

I discovered a terrific thread on Ask Metafilter that asks "What does it take to be a Dad?"

For me, my father spent a lot of time working to make ends meet, but from the hazy childhood memories I do have, we did spend quite a bit of time together.

Having said that, during my teenage years, I strove to be the exact opposite of my father. I hated his smoking and vowed I would never fall into that trap (even now). He worked as a bricklayer and was adamant that I should educate myself and avoid this kind of hard labour.

Back then, he had an occassional bad temper, but he's mellowed in later years. Unfortunately, I've inherited the volatility.

However, I'll always remember the Saturdays. On Saturday, I used to help out as he cleaned chimneys around the town, talked to old ladies and supped cups of tea. Those were great days...