As every boy knows (or should know), if you crush the seed of a wattle (some might call a wattle a mimosa or an acacia) and spit on it, it is a stink bomb. Money need not be spent on purchasing stink bombs from the local trick shop. Of course, there might be places in the world where wattle trees won’t grow, such as at the North Pole, so Santa’s elves may have to buy theirs. A spat-upon crushed wattle seed stinks like the most humongous fart. It is colossally funny. It is a marvellous trick to play, especially on girls. (This is in the days before it was decided that both sexes were the same).
Larry and Barnaby were seven-year olds. Larry’s older brother had told him about stink bombs. Larry and Barnaby got some wattle seeds. They crushed them and when they were in the classroom they spat on them, hid them, and waited. What a stink!
The teacher entered the room and everyone stood up. (This was in the old days when pupils stood up when someone important entered the room). The teacher didn’t blink an eye. Pooh! The smell!
“It’s a bit chilly in here,” said the teacher. “Shut the windows.” (This is in the days when classrooms windows could be opened and closed).
“I have to go and see Mrs Turner in Room Seven,” said the teacher. “While I am gone I want you to do Exercise Fourteen on Page Seven.” (This is in the days when pupils could briefly be left on their own to do some work).
The other boys ganged up on Larry and Barnaby. The two boys had to find and pick up the stink bombs and toss them out the window.
This was done. The teacher returned. No one, except for Bianca, had done Exercise Fourteen on Page Seven. Nothing was ever said. (This is in the days when teachers didn’t have to write long reports on every misdemeanour of every child and file it permanently on a computer).
Ah! Stink bombs need not be dealt with again, until next year’s new batch of boys.
How things change!!
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I hope you never used stink bombs!!
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Hmm…
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As you know Bruce I’m an Aussie and I never knew about the stink bomb or are you pulling our leg? Of course I wish I had known about it to send the teacher packing in the pre-digital /coddling age.
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It’s only the wattle as in the picture. There are lots of different wattles (as you know) and the variety seems to be the most common variety that seeds every where (at least in NZ).
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Oh I see. My father was the botanist aficionado in the household and he never told me!
By the way, I have been listening to that Bach Mass in C Minor a lot. It’s wonderful. Thank you very much.
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If you went to church on a Sunday and they did the Bach you’d never get out in time for brunch!
Your father clearly didn’t want you to know!!
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That is true. Instead the Catholic churches here in Colombia have hijacked melodies from Dylan and Simon and Garfunkel to revel the parishioners. It’s no wonder people have left in droves for more evangelical alternatives. I don’t have an opinion on the matter since the debate between the dogmatic and traditionalists and liberals is always essential.
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I can only bark at Bach. I haven’t been to church for over 20 years – and I half think I should do something about eternal insurance????
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‘Eternal insurance’. That gave me a good chuckle for the first time today. Just keep posting your marvelous stories and I’m sure there will be room for you inside the heavenly gates. That comes from someone who’ll be drinking the wine just outside wondering how in heavens you just sip it!
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!!
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Just some silly humour Bruce. I had ‘drinking wine’ on my mind since I was analysing some Dylan lyrics and wondered why he wrote ‘drank the wine’ instead of ‘sipped the wine’. On Tuesday that post comes out. You see I have planned ahead. Great minds think alike!
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That is very unfair to titillate like that! (titillate is not a word I use very often). I am queued until September 19th 2019!!
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I would use titillate more often if I could.
Ok, you’re making me envious now. September 19th! I’m falling way behind here. I’m only queued up to this Thursday. This week I will go to work so I can at least get two weeks ahead. You’re a great inspiration Bruce.
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I did not know this about mimosa seeds. Can it be true? I may have to see if it works…
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As I said to observationblogger below, it’s a particular kind of mimosa. There’s a link somewhere that explains it. I shall try and find it before WP send this message!
http://www.terrain.net.nz/friends-of-te-henui-group/weeds-by-scientific-names/acacia-mearnsii-black-wattle.html
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Oh, that is very interesting. I may still have to see if it works with a local mimosa…
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Make sure the window opens first!
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This is a lovely story that speaks volumes on the simplicity of the bygone era. It appears that while we have been able to chuck the wattle seeds out of the window for good, the stink has stayed for good.
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Now that’s a profound philosophical thought.
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I’m going to find that tree… being mischievous can be fun…
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You ain’t called badfinger for nothing…
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Ah, I learned this useful trick too late – the tree was cut down in May! I would have stashed some seeds.
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Saved by the axe!!
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You are right, one day the girls would discover the stinky property of the beans by accident 🙂
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Ah, the good old days, when I was in school. Now you can’t leave the little darlings along for seconds!
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I used to take my class (13 year olds) down to the creek to write poems! Imagine these days being able to take them anywhere near water without written parental consent!
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(This is in the days before it was decided that both sexes were the same). I’m glad you threw this in. That’s one of the craziest stink bombs we’re dealing with today. You can be persecuted in some super liberal countries just for saying something like that.
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I don’t like to say it too loud (because I’m a coward) but there’s some crazy things happening out there.
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Lol, I’ll post a video as a reply to your comment on my blog. It’s mad. And these are educated people. They say education saves!
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Well I’m an Aussie Sheila and I say thanks for the memories. We used to get a great laugh from stink bombs as kids.
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Thank goodness someone knows they exist in the real!! I hope you didn’t spit on them – that would be so unlady-like.
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Too busy trying to figure out how to throw my pen into the ceiling like the boys.
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And ink fights!
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That teacher had a great strategy – borne of long experience I’m sure! My geography teacher used to come in for 5 minutes at the start of the lesson, leave and re-appear just before the end, no idea where he went to….
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It was Geography – perhaps you were meant to find him in the atlas.
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Ahhh, I guess that’s why I didn’t take it for my exams!
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