I got the stick in school for smoking - aged fifty-one!

Earlier today I went along to an arts and crafts fair at a local private boys school. It was a glorious autumn day and with the school set in vast grounds overlooking both the river and the city, the stage was set for one of those priceless, Sydney Sunday mornings.

It has been a long time since I have been to an event at any school, and memories of my own school fetes with prizes of goldfish in plastic bags and bottles of Tizer for sixpence, soon vanished. For one thing they had a bistro and a cafe with actual waitresses, menus on a display stand - and price tags to match ($3 for a coffee $8 for a salmon sandwich).

Considering this is a Catholic school, I was also quite surprised by the young female attendant on a stall showcasing motor bikes. Deeply tanned, skin tight trousers and a very low cut blouse that showed of attributes that can best be described by the old saying, "you don't get many of those to the pound" she looked nothing like the women who handed out civil defence leaflets at my old school fetes. At least those leaflets taught me something - if anyone drops a nuclear bomb, the first thing you do is hide under a desk or table. And yes - that was the advise they gave!

Being in a school environment bought back old memories and old feelings. After an hour I was dying for a cigarette. In other words - smoking in school!

Pointing to a bench (well away from the crowd) that had obviously been used by smokers, I asked one of the attendants if it was all right to smoke outside. I was told that as long as it was outside it was OK. Before the anti-smoking Nazis, let their cups overflow with their normal, self-righteous piety, when I smoke outside (1) I do not smoke anywhere near any other person (2) I always carry a little portable ash-tray. I show more consideration to non-smokers than many non-smoking-drivers, show to me - a non-driving smoker subjected to their exhaust fumes.

I walked around the vast playing fields and found a plastic chair under a tree. There was not a soul in sight, let alone anywhere near me. I took out a cigarette and lit it - smoking in school once more!

I enjoyed the cigarette and the thought that no longer was I a helpless schoolboy, I was a mature, independent adult more than capable of holding his own in any dispute. I was safe. No one could do a damn thing to me.

It was then that I heard a crack - and a large stick from the tree fell on my head.

Maybe I should have remembered this was a Catholic school and who the great Headmaster in the sky is!

But it seems I wasn't not the worst offender. As I walked through one of several car parking areas, I heard another crack and a large tree limb fell on some poor buggers Volvo. I wonder what he did to deserve that!

Footnote. Trees do not like me. This is now the fourth time something similar has happened. Even walking along the street a few months ago, a large tree branch narrowly missed me when it broke off in the wind!