SOME RUDE LAD!

It has been a while since my last entry. I know you all have been waiting with bated breath for more of my ramblings.

Many years ago during the time of the Norman Invasion of Britain. I lived a quiet life with my grandparent's in a little town called Collingwood, Ontario.
I blamed everything that went wrong whether I caused it or not on some "Rude Lad".

One week was particularly memorable, as "The Rude Lad" was in trouble more than usual. My Grandfather was a very proud English Man from Crewe, he was one of 8 children who came over with his parents from Stafford shire to a new life in the wilds of Canada. He was a Ridgway one of the Ridgway Tea and China ilk; although I believe a his father was one of the younger sons who got nothing but the name. He and his Brothers and two in-laws all served in WWI and they all came back to Canada. He was also training to go into the Priesthood (Vicar) , so he was a Proud Protestant and a member of the local Orange Lodge in Collingwood. My Grandmother was a Heis, she was of German descent a direct relative of the Kaiser and she was Roman Catholic.

My family might have been the stuff that the "Irish Rovers" Wrote about in their "Orange and the Green". Who knows. It made great sport for half of the Family jeered the other at "St. Patrick's Day" marches and when the "Orange Men" marches the other half jeered them. Then they all got together for a family dinner and then went to the local Legion for refreshment.

Now back to the story a, before I put you all to sleep . My grandfather who was John by the way. Loved to deck himself out when he went to a Lodge meeting and to put on his best Fedora. Which he kept safely in a hat box in the bottom of his cedar chest with a lock on it. He would take it out with white gloves on; then brush the rim very carefully and make sure the feathers were all in place and admire himself in the mirror, before venturing out in the night air to the Lodge. If it was raining he would cover up the hat with some thing to keep it from getting ruined and do the same ceremony to put it back in place when he got back home.

Needless to say one day Granddad forgot to lock his cedar chest. The "Rude Lad" discovered this event and took advantage of the fact. Although so I understand as I was told by the "Rude Lad" of what transpired with his Fedora.

Grand Father came down the stairs with his face awash in disbelief and I think shock and dismay as well. He took his hat out of the hat box to show my Grandmother and the rim was torn in half the whole thing looked as though it was chewed up by a dog and crushed beyond recognition as to what it was. It took him several years of saving up and having it shipped from the Old Country , so he loved this hat.

He looked me straight in the eye and pointed at me. As if I would know what happened to it. I told him directly without flinching that I didn't do it Granddad. It was some "Rude LAD" that did it. He patted me on the head and said" I know you wouldn't do this , It certainly was done by a; "Rude Lad" do you know what happened to my best Fedora?"

Well Grand Dad. The "Rude Lad" saw that your cedar chest wasn't locked and took your hat box out of the bottom of the chest . He was looking for sweets and when he didn't see any . The "Rude Lad" opened your hat box to peek and see what was there. It wasn't me! It was the "Rude Lad". He then put it on his head and started to jump around the room and "Duke" came running in (Duke was our Great Dane). That only followed orders from a 5 year old. He knocked the "Rude Lad" over and the hat tumbled to the floor and rolled. Duke then grabbed hold of it and started to chew it up. The "Rude Lad' quickly grabbed it and tried to get it away form Duke. Who thought it was a game and held on to it even harder. So it was pulled and yanked and torn up.

It wasn't me, Granddad it was Duke and the "Rude Lad". The "Rude Lad" then stomped on it to keep it from duke who also trod on it. He then jumped on it and squished it all up and put it back in your hat box and closed the cedar chest and put the lock on it. So you wouldn't notice what he had done.

Granddad, I was told was almost busting out with laughter at the very bold face lie I was telling him. He then patted me on the head, told me I was a good boy and not at all like the "Rude Lad". He put the Hat on his head the brim hanging around his neck and the rest of the hat in tatters and boldly strode out to the Lodge meeting. I am not sure but I thought I heard laughter coming down from the street as he walked up the road.

The Dog was found a new home the same week, I never really figured that out until years later. The "Rude Lad" had no supper that night, I am sure; and a sore bottom.

Duke had already that week destroyed my Grandmothers white and purple polka dot dress. That was hanging on the washing line and as he was asleep on the washing line stand. The dress blew upon him once too often from the wind and he ate the sleeves. We also destroyed one of my Grandmother's favorite quilts playing " El Toro" and he ate his way through that as well. A 120lb. dog was a little much for my Mother's pocket book to keep replacing damaged things.. I imagine she was looking for the receipt to send me back to Eatons as well. ( Please look at earlier story).

BUT IT WASN'T ME!!!! IT WAS THE " SOME RUDE LAD".