5. Lunch- The canteen is scraping to bottom of the food chain, quite literally. This week they served us dehydrated slugs. Not satisfied with serving food that is already dead they are now sucking all its life force before they serve it!
4. Frogpool Practise- The weekly torture I have to attend. Not because I am especially athletic or talented but due to a lack of frogs of the right physical build (small and lanky) to play in the sub positions.
With an impending match against Northend Comprehensive this week it was sooooooo much worse. Sir Chatternack enforced an extra 2 hours after school practise. Then Mungo Frog was taken ill with an especially bad case of pond rot and I was moved to central sub. This put me right in the most vulnerable position for a scrum with the other team's bulls.
3. Parent Teacher Conference- Mum and Dad went to see Mr. Barking, he was not exactly encouraging about my progress. In fact he said that although my scores in biped sociology were good unless I improved in bogology, croak music and PSHE (Pond Studies and Habitat Ecology) then I am not going to achieve my Bog Standard Certificate and the end of next year.
Mum and Dad ripped into me as soon as they hopped back onto the pad. I suggested that maybe I should drop out of the Frogpool team so I could spend more time on my course work. Mum and Dad went strangely quiet and Dad muttered something about having to continue the family tradition. What family tradition? Mum only ever played far wing bull for a single term and Dad never got selected for the team at all.
2. West Bogside Sports Academy V Northend Comprehensive- The match lived down to all my worst expectations. Northend's bulls were massive and I could tell they had me in their sights before I'd even jumped into the pool.
As soon as the ref croaked I dived downwards hoping to avoid trouble near the pool floor. Three Northend bulls got there before me and I was ambushed. They pushed me to the surface and flung me through the air. As I hurtled backwards I manged to twist and land on a pad. With a massive leap I skimmed off two more pads and was heading towards Northend's goal line. One more hop and I would make a touch down!
I made contact with the final pad and let my muscles recoil propelling me towards the line. As I did a bull broke the water's surface rising upwards to block me. But not a Northend bull, no, it was Pixie and she had vengeance in her eyes! We made a mid air collision and plunged back into the pool my moment of glory vanished into the murky depths with us. I grappled to get away from Pixie but as I did I heard an unsettling ripping sound and my webbs exploded into pain. I had to be pulled from the pool by the medic toad who administered first aid pool side before Mum and Dad collected me and took me to the local quack.
1. Visiting The Local Quack- The nearest thing we have to a doctor in the bog is a small duck. He used to live in an ornamental garden pond at a biped hospital. This is where he acquired an interest in medicine and gained what knowledge he has and from my experience is that is not a lot!
He poked and prodded me and diagnosed torn webbing (which I think I could have done myself). He then stitched it back up using pond weed. A duck's bill is not designed for stitching, and there is no pain relief in the bog. Newton said they could here me in Eastside!
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| The local Quack |
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