The discussions of sex, sexual health and sexuality are regulars within the centre.  As part of our youth worker tool kit we are always well prepared to tackle these very sensitive issues.  Indeed only the other night such a topic of conversation arose with a group of young people discussing their own sexual health with the workers.  This conversation lead to the subject of why women shave their legs/armpits/bikini line but men don’t?  One particular young man, Ernest, was very interested in the subject and in particular about whether waxing caused a lot of pain.  After a very intense ending to the night Ernest announced that he was going home to try it!  Once he got there he was going for the full monty, a complete ‘back, crack and sack’ shearing.  The staff said he should think about it, and perhaps test it out on an inconspicuous place because the itching alone would be unbearable.  He agreed that perhaps he had not thought it through fully and would leave it for another day.

Obviously once Ernest left the centre we only have his account of what happened.  The following is what we have put together from what he has told the staff:

Once he had got home he was desperate for the toilet and rushed into the bathroom.  There he spied a box of waxing strips.  He couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer, reach for the strips and decided that the best place to start would be the ‘sack’!!!  He applied several strips, thinking that it was better to get the pain over done with in one go, as quick as possible.  As he began tearing the strips from his pubic region the pain became immense as he started bleeding from the torn hair follicles.  The box must have been an old one because as he pulled the remaining strips off the paper backing came away leaving the wax still attached.  It was then he saw his sister’s ‘VEET’ cream and decided that must be better than the pain he was going through.  Not fully reading the instructions, Ernest quickly applied the cream to this sensitive area, spreading it evenly over the now broken and bleeding skin.  The immense pain turned to a mind blowing stinging heat and he jumped up and down on the spot, running round in circles to try and work through the pain.  15 minutes after applying the cream and it was now that Ernest read the instructions and turned the shower on to get the cream off.

Unfortunately for Ernest, you are supposed to remove the cream before 10 minutes and the shower was taking an age to warm up.  Ernest jumped in and started to wash down his private parts.  The cream had now set hard and wasn’t coming off, so he began scrubbing with his sister’s loofer!  The pain was now in the back of his mind as he was now panicking about getting the cream off scrubbing harder and harder.  Eventually Ernest did get the cream and wax off his scrotum and he did indeed remove all hair from that region.  Unfortunately the combination of waxing, bleeding and scrubbing had left him with the most awful bruising.  He wasn’t afraid to share this with everyone in the centre, pulling the trousers down just far enough so people could see the bruise without much else.  You would think that this experience would have put Ernest off removing hair forever.  Not a bit of it!  He is now planning (with the use of the extra sensitive bikini line cream) his next ‘hair cut’.  Of course this is once the colour has gone from his shorts!!

Now obviously this story is all the testimony of Ernest, who is prone to the odd exaggeration.  I have attached a picture of Donal MacIntyre  having fallen lots during his time on Dancing on Ice.  This bruise is the best comparison I could find to the purple/yellow/orange/red/green mess that lay just below Ernest’s belt line!

(taken from http://www.mirror.co.uk/celebs/news/2009/03/21/ice-queen-or-lord-of-the-rinks-who-will-win-dancing-on-ice-exclusive-115875-21215082/)

You may have noticed that there were a few weeks between our first and second postings.  Partly this was to do with working very hard over the half-term break and partly to do with the fact I haven’t been able to stop laughing since our risk assessment trip into the darkest depths of North Wales.

Let me set the scene.  We were planning our summer programme and decided that we should have a day trip to North Wales and partake in several activities.  A colleague of ours (lets call him Norman) had been to a centre just outside of Llangollen and completed a risk assessment for some quad biking up in the North Wales hills.  We like’d Norman’s idea so we decided to see if there was anything else we could plan in.  Hooray there was!!!  Clay pigeon shooting, horse riding and hover-crafting it could be a grand day out.  The date was set, we had booked the appointment, I had just got sat nav on my phone and Sue had just bought her super duper, ultra speedy, new car.

We set out early (who knew there were two 7:30s in a day) Sue driving over to Bolton to pick me up and we were off.  As we got to the end of the motorway we were making good time (of course Sue had been keeping to the speed limit!!) I received a phone call from Eric from the centre we were planning to visit first.  Apparently using the Sat Nav would lead into an empty field so he gave directions.  Apparently we turn right at McDonalds, then straight onto the A4500, then something about the HSBC bank…    … the car park is on the left across the road from the Quad centre.  The blank bit in the middle there is the bit that I forgot!!!!  We found McDonalds, the A4500 and the HSBC at which we turned right (should have gone straight on!!).

As I pointed out Sue was driving her brand spanky new car that she had only got the day previous and was having trouble reversing, not just the actual act of moving backwards but she couldn’t find the correct gear.  As we turned right at the HSBC the road became very very narrow, very very very steep very very quickly and Sue was not happy to say the least.  We carried on up this hill for about 5 minutes and decided that this couldn’t be the correct way.  I suggested using the sat nav, even though it would put us in the middle of a field it would have to be close enough for us to find where we were going.  NOT A CHANCE!  The sat nav did indeed put us in the middle of a field which in turn was in the middle of another field which in turn was in the middle of another field… you can see where this is going sufficed to say there wasn’t a building in sight and it was a clear day.

We turned round, obviously not reversing as Sue couldn’t find the gear, and headed back the way we had come.  Unfortunately we didn’t know which way that was!  We rang Eric to see if we could get him to give us directions.  The North Wales hills do not allow for very good mobile signals so we spent 10 minutes trying to get a signal then 10 minutes trying to get hold of Eric who obviously didn’t have a signal so we left a message.

As we set off again we turned up yet another hill.  This was more bendy than the others and was only a single track. After about 2 minutes we rounded yet another bend and was immediately confronted by a farmer, his tractor and his sheep dog.  Sue slammed on the breaks (thank which ever God you believe in for ABS!) and let out an amazingly high pitch scream.  While doing this she through her arms in the air and refused move while repeatedly chanting the mantra ‘What do I do now, I can’t reverse?’.  I am afraid to say that I wasn’t really any help as I couldn’t stop laughing.  This problem was made worse by the fact that the farmer’s dog now decided to attack the car; running in, barking at the bumper and biting the tyres.  Thankfully the farmer was only just passed a passing point so he reversed and beckoned Sue to drive forward.  Every time she moved forward the dog would run in and attack the car.  The farmer kept beckoning, Sue kept edging forward, the dog kept attacking the car and I kept laughing!  As Sue is an ardent animal lover she really didn’t want to run the dog down so 10 minutes after our first meeting we eventually passed the now red faced farmer and his entourage (I believed he mouthed the words ‘bloody tourists!’ as we passed).  As we set off up the hill again the last we saw of the debacle was the insane Border Collie chasing us up the hill as fast as his little legs would carry him.

By the time we had got to the top of this hill we finally got a signal and a message from Eric.  Apparently when we left our message we were nowhere near and we’d been driving in the opposite direction for the last ten minutes!  We needed to get across to Holyhead to risk assess a residential activity so decided to call it a day.  We rang Eric (he didn’t have a signal so we left a message), apologised for wasting his time and turned round to head toward Anglesey.  Since the day we have been told that we can’t use the centre anyway because of an insurance problem so we wouldn’t have been able to go anyway.

So we were now on our way to Anglesey…

So we were now on our way to Anglesey.  I still hadn’t stop laughing and Sue was starting to get a little upset with me.  I had actually laughed that much that I was starting to think I was having a brain embolism as I was now getting a pain at the back of my skull but only in one point.  I had turned the Sat Nav on as we didn’t actually know where we were and it had a much better chance of getting us Anglesey than we did.  We rang Frank Butcher the man we were to meet at the Youth Hostel to tell him that we were running late but we were on our way.  Apparently the Sat Nav would be able to find him as several people before us had used it and had had no problems.

All was going well, I had stopped laughing, we had found the main drag into Anglesey and we were now crossing the bridge and onto the final leg of our journey.  Unfortunately we came across some road works and diversion signs, we only needed to get to the next junction but the road had been closed.  ‘No worries’ I said to Sue ‘We’ll come off at the diversions.  The Sat Nav will automatically re plan the route.’  These were to be famous last words!!  As we came off the road it did indeed recalculate the route but it kept trying to take us back to the road works so we thought it best to follow the diversion.  This meant that my phone kept recalculating our journey until at last it picked a route that followed the coast directly to the Youth Hostel. 

As Sue drove up, what should be described as a beautiful coastline, we took in the views and checked out some of the houses musing about whether we should move our families out to Anglesey.  It was then that my phone beeped.  I looked down and to horror saw that the battery power of my phone was down to one bar.  The Sat Nav had been on for the best part of 3 hours and all the recalculating of routes in last 15 minutes had drained the life from the battery.  I turned to Sue and explained what the beep was ‘Don’t worry, it says that we are only 2 minutes away.  The batteries should last for that long just put your foot down!’  Sue did as was requested and we zoomed down the coast hopeful that we’d reach our destination.  ‘We’re only a minute away according this to the route.’  The women on my phone said ‘In 300 yrds turn left’ we did all of a sudden the readings on the phone said we were now 6 minutes away! ‘Nooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!’ was the chorus from Sue and myself.  The phone was now taking us some wild goose chase.  Turn left, now turn right, now right again, now left (there wasn’t even road to the left).  You know when you see on films when the hero’s friend is on his last legs, just before he takes his last gasp of air and he starts hallucinating about his life?  I think that was what was happening to my phone because as we reached the non-existent left the screen went blank.

We were now stuck somewhere in the middle of Anglesey with no idea where to go but knowing that the place we needed to get to was somewhere between 2 and 6 minutes away.  We decided to head towards the town, there must be someone there who knew where the Youth Hostel was or if not know where we could buy a map.  Once we had found the town and a place to park I headed to the post office.  They must would know where it is, they deliver post to them.  I entered and found a friendly looking teller, ‘Do you know where the Youth Hostel is?’ I asked ready with pen and paper to take the directions.  Her reply was disheartening to say the least ‘Do we have one?  Agnes this young man wants to know where the Youth Hostel is?’ (now I know I’m 34 but this woman was well into her 70′s so to her I’m young. Right!!!)  Agnes replied in kind ‘Do we have one?’. I left the post office deflated but they had said the newsagent next door sold maps so I went there.

I asked the same questions again in the newsagent’s.  ‘Do we have one?’ came the predictable reply, ‘Are you sure it’s in Anglesey?’.  I let them have the postcode and they confirmed it was indeed in Anglesey but the code actually covered most of the island.  The assistant pointed me in the direction of the maps but they were only maps of roads not a symbol of church, steeple, school or Youth Hostel in sight!  I bought one anyway.  As I was leaving one of the local residents said ‘My husband is in the car park and he has a Sat Nav.’ I nearly cried following her to the vehicle.  Her husband checked his landmarks and even entered the post code but couldn’t help (yet another 20 minutes wasted on SATELLITE NAVIGATION!)

I returned to the car and recapped my jaunt to Sue.  She took it badly and refused to move any further, she was staying in this car forever.  I then had a brain wave, yes I do have them every now and then despite what Sue says!  As a precaution, just in case the Sat Nav broke, I had printed our route from the AA website.  Even though I had only used the postcode to get directions, it would have the road name of our destination at the end and now I had a map with just road names on!  I told Sue.  After 5 minutes of verbal abuse for not remembering that I had these directions 30 minutes ago she drove very quickly to our destination.

We finally reached the Youth Hostel with Frank looking at his watch.  The upshot is that we now have to return in August for our summer programme residential.  This time we’re taking written directions!

Trust me these are all true:

Coming down for tea during a residential:   ’You said we were having spaghetti not pasta’

Talking about bikini waxing:    ‘I could never do that to my neville regions’   When asked ‘Do you mean nether regions?’ She replied ‘Isn’t that near Holland?’

Telling us about a recent night out:   ‘…then she fell over and made a noise like standing on dead cat.’

Discussing the spaghetti comment above, a young woman was asked about chips and potatoes:  ‘They’re not the same either chips are square and potatoes are round!’

In bygone age to present day the dreaded brew rears its temptress head, and those of youth in vain bring forth to their dwelling of eve.

In the hope that their new found homes become the wine-vat they yearn,

for as the bringers of strength and virtue shall we save them from themselves.

As in those unholy places we recover those of which threaten the sanctity of our young

We will destroy those liquors that remove all sensibility from those in our charge.

I send this medium to the darkest pit ne’er to return and ne’er be tasted upon the lips of those too young

With truth of heart and honour bound we rejoice and celebrate in all that we do.

And those who have taken liberty shall in silent sorrow away by their leave.

Thy face must mask the sorrow and vexation at their loss but who am I to control those defeated dreams for in all their mourning they shall be truly thankful.

AhhhhSue

Translation:

We came, we found, we poured it down the sink, now be grateful you don’t have a hangover!!!!

AhhhhChris

What Are They Like?

We had had a problem with the young people choosing to smoke a different ‘type’ of tobacco around the outside of the building, and as a staff team we decided to have ZERO TOLERANCE (don’t know why but think this should be said in super hero style voice!!).  Anyway we were doing well and the amount of young people was definitely reducing but as usual there are those young people who want to be little scamps and not adhere to behaviour expectations. On this particular evening the group that are affectionately called our ‘Stoners’ (endearing term) showed up on mass all declaring that they hadn’t been smoking, so of course (after turning into a police sniffer dog, I think my senses are now that good that I could have told you the soil content of where any substance has been grown) I welcomed them with open arms and in they came.  The group engaged with the staff and joined in a couple of the activities so I began to feel pleased with myself that the efforts the team had made had started to pay off.

My joy was a little premature, one of the young men (lets call him John) came to me while I was serving in the ‘Snack Shack’ and asked if he could make his own hot chocolate.  This is not unusual as apparently there is a consensus that neither Chris nor I can make good hot chocolate (although mine is definitely better than his!). As I looked up I met the gaze of 10-15 young men all stood looking from me to John then John to me, all of them with those silly grins that really does highlight that something is going on. With my suspicions aroused I then began to pay more attention to what this young man was doing, he showed me the cup with the dry chocolate in and since my face was naked (didn’t have my glasses on) I couldn’t see anything strange. As he poured the hot water in I grabbed John’s cup poured its contents down the sink and began apologising profusely for giving him a dirty cup. 

“I could have killed you John with the amount of fungus that was in that mug.  Here have a fresh one”

As I said this, the colour quickly drained from John’s face and one of the onlookers shouted that I just poured his ten bag away. I turned to him and asked if indeed he had put something in the cup, he slouched his shoulders and replied no.  John spent the rest of the night sulking in a corner, being ribbed by his friends of course I have no idea about what! But how could I have lived with myself giving him that dirty mug?

Why do young people pour alcohol in sprite bottles mix it with coke and then wonder why we are suspicious of its contents?

This happened recently to me while working one Friday night at the centre.  One of our young women, Ethel, came in under the influence and tried to convince me that the much diluted brown liquid was in fact water.  With this in mind I again thought that it was my duty of care to save her from this bottle’s contaminated contents, water should not be brown.  As I poured the liquid away and replaced it with my own spring water, I was sure I heard her say something about Bacardi, but yet Ethel adamantly denied that alcohol had been present.  In fact, as our members know the consequences if they are found with alcohol, Ethel actually thanked me for replacing the tainted toxic substance that was in her bottle. 

On that very same evening Mavis asked if I would put her bottle in the fridge for her.  Of course I said yes as it was only “a bottle of coke” although it did look suspiciously diluted. Mavis swore that there was nothing other than cola in the bottle, so in good faith I did as she asked. When she returned for her bottle she did not notice that it no longer resembled cold tea. She stayed for the rest of the evening and I watched her drink from this bottle, she seemed to be getting more and more inebriated off its contents so much so that by the end of the evening she could hardly stand and she was slurring her words. I told Mavis that I must phone her parents as I did not want her to make her own way home in this state, I offered to get her a glass of water before I did this so that she could sober up a little before her parents came. Mavis’ recovery was outstanding for after just a few sips from the glass she was fully in control and accredited her sobriety to me. Little did she realise that once she had handed the bottle over to me and was out of sight I had replaced the contents of her bottle with a fresh can of coke.  So her sobriety really was down to me but not in the way that Mavis originally thought.