Who Do You Want To Be?

There were some kids outside earlier playing. Nothing unusual about that,you say. And certainly not in the weather that we currently have. Twelve degrees on Wednesday and something like twenty eight today is some jump. I digress. The kids here werent doing hopscotch or hide and seek or whatever. No. One was pretending he was a fire engine and another was visualising himself as someone from a maximum security stockade escaping to the Limerick underground. I'm sure he's wanted by some government somewhere. I jest,I jest.

Wich set me off on a train of thought. When I was those kids height I didnt want to be a fire engine (I will leave that to a Michael Bay franchise) or a secret agent (you dont really have the build for it at age 4). All I ever wanted to be was a cowboy. A fuckin cowboy. Think about it. Imagine you shot some Indians and made a break for the border,the authorities would come along and say "Who took out Chief Jay and his gang"? and all some dopey onlooker would or could say was "He called himself The Man With No Name". I thought that was fuckin brilliant. HOW could they pin a crime (or now shades of grand larceny) that I took the Natives land (a sandbox) on someone with no moniker? Fantastic. I revelled in this dreamworld for as long as I could. Sheriff? Fuck that,you can keep your badge. I wanted to be one of them Billy The Kid characters,again,someone with a long string of aliases that ran as long as his arm.

I'm not saying by any means that kids today should revert to stuff that we used to do, far from it. If they want to be four or eighteen wheeled objects, go for it. I'll just keep on lassooing their legs if they step out of line. I don't think I will get to Texas to play up those cowboy images, although mother does call me a cowboy on occasion for some reason. So I'm probably halfway there already.