Oh Mak's!

Ever since I woke up this morning and had my daily dose of, I've been trying remember if anything quite as gross as Mak's putting her hand into the toilet bowl had happened to me.

It is kind of gross right, a voluntary toilet bowl hand insertion thing - even if was flushed, or so Mak's claimed, its just kind of well, "Ewwwwwww!".

The best that I can come up with is to confess to having swarm in the Wellewatte Canal one day - an extremely short immersion I hasten to mention, and only undertaken as it was a rescue mission.

I was crossing the canal near Kinross, across the railway bridge - this was way before there was any Marine Drive and the only way across was the rail tack or swim.

As I crossed, eyes and ears open for a train from either direction my Frisbee slipped out from under my t and down between the sleepers into the canal.

Now this was no ordinary Frisbee, it was a Championship one weighing in at 2.3 ounces and 'frizzed' like a dream - it could bounce of the ground, go up and away and come back to me, soar through the air like an eagle, pass over my shoulders, between my legs; this was My Precious

Well it slipped out and down and the next thing I know is that its been tossed and pummeled by the waves spot in the middle of the damn canal!

So, I stepped in, I walked to the end of the bridge, clambered down and slid into the water, breast stroking my way, head held high till I reached it.

That's still not as gross as Mak's and her toilet bowel, right?