"Come on George" and Other Imaginary Friends

Did you have an imaginary friend? I did, (more of mine later) and my sister had a great one. He was a football player and went by the name of "Come on George". My sister is 5 years younger than me, but I was a bit of a weedy kid anyway and acted quite young for my age. My sister's name is Mandy, instead of calling her 'Little Sister', I called her Ickle Ditder. I had a speech impediment, awww!







So she's about 3 and that makes me 8 at the time. It was a nice sunny day and after a few groans I agreed to play her favourite game with her, "George", and a giant stuffed rabbit who we called "Mr Rushby" owing to him bearing a strong resemblance to our favourite neighbour. (Although Mr R didn't have quite such long ears :o)






The game began where we got ourselves on a pushalong Mobo scooter; Mandy at the front of the footboard and me precariously balanced behind her with each of my arms trying to keep her in place. Mr Rushby is squatting on the handlebars. (The rabbit, not the neighbour!)




Now this is where the game took such strange turns and quirks that it's obvious to see in hindsight that one day I would end up on mood controlling medication. (Or my "Comical Pills" as Daddio affectionately calls them.) Of course, I swear that I just went along with Mandy's instructions.






Right, so off we go out the back door and into the passage. The passage is open each end to the elements and runs from the back yard to the front garden. The passage is the number 11 Bus, not just this particular day - ALWAYS*.(see below)










Embedded in the brick wall between the courses of bricks is a shiny red pebble. This is the bell button that the bus conductor pushes to let the driver know when to stop, simple really!










I also double up at the bus conductor because I've got the right type of bag strewn across my chest - the driver is invisible.









Even though we had the scooter we had to catch the bus because it was too far to scoot, at least 5 yards!













We arrive at our destination, Sincil Bank Football Ground, otherwise known as the Front Doorstep. (Up the Imps!!!)


















So, our little tiny bums are seated on the even tinier doorstep. Oooooh what I wouldn't give for an executive box!









"There he is," shouts Ickle Ditder. "Coooooeeeee, George!" She's waving frantically looking over at her imaginary hero as he runs onto the 'pitch', scowling at me til I join in.




I do the ref's whistle to start the match - I can do a REALLY LOUD whistle through my fingers. (God, I'm talented!)



"Come on George! Come on George!" we shout encouragingly. Ickle Ditder looks to the 'pitch', groans and puts her head in her hands. "That was wubbish!" she declares. "Let's go 'ome."





The game has lasted about 2 minutes, .......not each way, ...........2 minutes in total.


Mumsie is smiling fondly out the front window.




I look at her in disbelief, "What a waste of time" I shrill.




We get back on the scooter, then the 'number 11 bus'. The imaginary bus drops us off at the back door.








Mumsie hands us a glass of Kia-ora.

"What's up wi' you?" she asks me.

I repeat myself, "That was a complete waste of time!"






Mumsie says, "Never mind, George might play better next time. "





With this, staring blankly towards the horizon, she puts her hand in her pinny pocket, takes out a small brown bottle and tips out what looks like an orange "Smartie". She takes a gulp of my Kia-ora.














"Besides, sometimes the fun's in the journey"


Do you like my new image?










To be continued.....................................................................