Getting lost & Going on the lam

I used to be an expert at getting lost, making myself scarce, zipping off, disappearing, escaping their clutches and going on the lam.

My advantages were size and speed.

They were bigger and longer limbed.

But I could fit under the hedge. In fact I could speed off through the hole in the hedge without slowing.

By the time my pursuers had left the back garden and gone round to next door, I was out of that garden, under the next hedge, and the next one, the next one, the next one, all the way to the end of the row.

In my pyjamas of course. And maybe a dressing gown.

I can’t remember what the neighbours made of my lightning visits, but they put a smile on my face.

What happened? Why did they stop? I can’t remember.

The hedge grew? I grew? (Shouldn’t really be a question mark there.) We moved? (Perhaps to escape exasperated neighbours.)

It’s about time I did more running. I can’t fit under the hedges anymore, but I might be able to hoke out a dressing gown to run in

(If you’ve managed to find your way this far, you can continue on to the rest of the Loose Bloggers Consortium who are also posting on the topic in the title. Scroll down the right hand side of the screen and you find their links listed.)



Filed under D - Loose Bloggers Consortium, family history

26 responses to “Getting lost & Going on the lam

  1. This is genuinely funny, entertaining and nostalgically truthful to most I think.

    I ran off often, so often I think my mother stopped fretting -I always returned on my own. Even before I could walk, I disappeared on her. As the story goes; as an infant she would put me outside to sleep in the warmth of the early morning sun while she did her chores. The neighbours, an older couple who sat out most of day on their side veranda, would see her coddle me all up in blankets in a stroller. The he would sneak down, snatch me, take me back to back so they could watch me sleep and get a peak of my mother go briefly insane for a moment.

    • Thank you for the first bit. It is true anyway.

      Those neighbours sound fiendish. Your poor Mum.

      I used to be left outside to sleep in the pram too. Fresh air. Maybe an anti-cat net. I hear people are arrested in America for less.

  2. I never ran away from home, never mind through a hedge. I can feel the twiggy branches on my legs as I write. It makes me want to curl up under a blanket.

  3. Tarem

    Really wonderful.
    Thanks from me.

  4. We ran away from each other. I grew up in a rural setting and hiding, chasing and running were primetime sports.

    Clotheslines at twilight disappear. Hit one of those bad boys at full speed and it’s like Wiley Cayote chasing the Road Runner. Get out the Acme Med Kit!

  5. Ran away from home (San Diego) at age 15. I became the first female lumberjack (lumber Jill) — at least that I’m aware of — on the Columbia River (runs between Oregon and Washington state). Had the time of my life! Didn’t return “home” until I was well into my 20’s (although I’d certainly made contact with my folks, especially Mom, several times in-between).

    Running away is MORE and LESS than it’s cracked up to be — both.

  6. I never ran away when I was a kid. Though why I never absconded from my awful boarding school, where I was constantly bullied, I still can’t explain. Maybe because the authoritarian regime had successfully undermined any sense of individual initiative.

  7. 29

    To keep your kids in your garden don’t live beside neighbours with a large friendly Pyrenean mountain dog when he visits you he leaves a large Romanesque archway. Of course, the advantage is that the complete pursuing battalion can troop through it at speed.

  8. I suspect the spirit of the going on of “the 1am” is still with you! It has likely all stood you in good stead for zipping out of all manner of awkward and unsavoury situations in adult life!!

  9. Once again you give me a good laugh, much needed. Still, I’m lookin’ at the big head (looks like a horse) and wondering why it didn’t slow you down. Blessings – Maxi

  10. I can relate to the bloke on the lamb. I went on one running away from a young lady who insisted that I get married to her when I was not ready.

    • Comments are closed back at that post of yours, so I’ll remark here on what good fortune you’ve had. Brings to mind Lucky Jim by Kingsley Amis, for a long time my favourite book.

  11. Ben Mann

    I like your writing style.
    Good site.

  12. What an adventure…maybe you can still hide ‘behind’ a hedge!! Go man go…put on your running shoes and take off that dressing gown! Do people still wear one?

    • blackwatertown

      My goodness, what sort of an uncivilised place do you come from?
      Running without one’s dressing gown on?! Scandalous.
      Next thing you know the Olympics will be permitting shot putters to loosen their cravats.
      Dear oh dear.
      Hell in a handbasket – that’s where the world’s going to these days.

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