Raspberries & Condoms – by Sheila

Jae and I had a wander around the town of Amalfi, when we were on our recent training week (aka “holiday”) – part of our preparation for taking on Kilimanjaro in August.  We looked in shop windows at the lemon soaps, drinks and spices, then Jae thought of sending a postcard back to her colleagues at Exodus Travel.  She was very struck by this rather surprising postcard showing the Amalfi sea front, with what looks like nine little babies sitting on their own in the sand.  She went in and bought it, but somehow we never got round to acquiring a stamp – but it’s the thought that counts, isn’t it?

One of the things I really loved during the week was earing into other people’s conversations.  I loved walking along listening to people chatter: I needed all my energy just to keep walking.

I spent a couple of Septembers in the early 1980s doing a job in which I could spend all day every day listening to others enjoying a good blether.  I was employed as a raspberry picker in a local farm.  The rows of canes were as tall as me, so it was possible just to stand in the sunshine quietly picking, while the sound of Kentish women having often quite barmy conversations drifted around me.  It was arguably the best job I have ever done!

However, one of the funniest snippets of conversation I have ever heard was on a much more recent occasion.  A year or two ago, Jae and I were bowling along in my car with her two young sons – Oscar’s brothers – in the back.  They were chattering away about what they had been doing at school during the previous week.  They both attend the same excellent – I suppose I should say “outstanding” – village school.  They started talking about a sex education class they had attended. Yes, it seems to happen in primary school these days. The only sex education I ever had was at age sixteen.  Most of my age group had already left school at fifteen, so why it took place then, I can’t imagine.

Anyway, the little boys had clearly been provided with quite a lot to think about.  They started talking about condoms and their potential uses, which somehow led on to multiple births.  Then they worked out the connection!  If you want to have twins, you need to wear two condoms, and if you want to have quadruplets you have to wear four!!!!  Jae and I, sitting in the front seat, had a real problem keeping our chortles silent.

I haven’t heard the boys’ opinion of the postcard Jae bought in Amalfi: I would love to hear their explanation for the nine babies sitting apparently abandoned on the beach. Two of them do look as if they might be twins, so that could be something to do with it I suppose!