Poking Seaweed with a Stick and Running Away from the Smell by Alison Whitelock Page A

Vladimir’s Deli to stock up on jars of gherkins and pork ring sausages and although I still went with her I stayed in the car, my new vegetarian principles preventing me from entering any establishment that sold dead animals. On the way home though I’d sit in the back seat of the car with my buttocks firmly clenched, one eye on the jar of gherkins and the other on the pork ring sausages sticking out of the brown paper bag laughing at me.
    I think back to those days with enormous fondness yet the memories are tinged with a certain sadness, for exposing my arse had become my signature tune as it were, something I had identified with so strongly and for so long. And today, as I pass the delicatessen counter in the ­supermarket my buttocks clench in conditioned response to past traumas and the desire to lift my skirt to the waist and go running through the meat section exposing my arse overwhelms me.
    And of course I blame my mother for all of this and some day when I’m old and can no longer contain my urges I’ll be rugby tackled by a security guard in the supermarket, the police will be called and I’ll be frog-marched to the manager’s office and charged with indecent exposure.
    Freud would have a field day.

17
Right there in God’s house for Chrissake
    Beatrice the Brown Owl had warned us if we wanted to graduate some day from the Brownies to the Girl Guides then we had to be in church every Sunday at one o’clock and right away I got concerned ’cause that’s when my favourite TV show, Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) came on telly. Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) was about a detective agency and had two detectives in it—one called Randall and the other called Hopkirk. One day Hopkirk is murdered and Randall is left alone to solve the crimes. Then, out of the blue, Hopkirk reappears as a ghost wearing a white suit and he sits on Randall’s desk and helps him solve all the mysteries and crimes that come up. So, the way I saw it, Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) was in a way about God and the church and everything, what with Hopkirk having died yet still able to come back from the dead, and I was sure it was on at this prime time so that all good Christians could take faith in the fact that there was some kind of life after death and that you could still come back from the dead and appear on the telly and maybe help solve the odd crime or two if you had a mind to.
    In the end I decided I’d better go to church after all ’cause something told me Brownies shouldn’t be having thoughts of putting sawn-off shot guns into their daddies’ mouths and so at quarter to one the following Sunday, I put on my red vinyl Sunday coat and made the trip to church by foot. The service was long and I fidgeted in the pew and picked the skin from around my fingers till they bled and just when I thought I couldn’t take another moment of the boredom the minister announced how he looked forward to seeing us all again next week.
    You fuckin’ beauty, I thought, desperate to get out of there and get home and get the telly on, thinking maybe if I was lucky I’d catch the end of Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) . I started shuffling out of the pew only to be rooted to the spot the very next moment as the minister announced, ‘All Brownies should now proceed to the church hall for the Sunday school.’
    â€˜You’re fuckin’ kidding me,’ I thought to myself as I dragged my body through the vestibule and into the Sunday school hall for another hour of drudgery. The other Brownies were in the church hall too and chatted excitedly amongst themselves about the different points the minister had raised during the sermon. As for me, I could only think about Randall and Hopkirk (Deceased) . We had to break into different groups and I hate it when you have to do that ’cause I just wanted to stay with my best pal Maggie. We sat around in our groups and