The Giant Pole

A long pole appeared in the yard at the back of the house. My father dug a four foot hole and sank the pole into it and there it stood in splendid isolation for years. It was about fifteen feet high. The neighbours all thought that it was a flag pole but it wasn't. It was a climbing pole.

I spent hours shinning up and down it. I was the best giant pole climber in the area which wasn't surprising because no one else had one.

In a field not far from where we lived there was another pole, a real flag pole and I decided I'd climb that one too. Our pole was smooth and great for sliding back down. This pole was rough and reduced my shorts to something resembling a mini-skirt. It could have been worse I suppose.

Cartoon from The Reign of Ellen. Click the cartoon for a larger version.