Lollipop

Who amongst us can truthfully say that they have never directed an outburst at a Public Servant?

Perhaps a veiled angry mumbling under our breath at an officious employee of the local council on a Council Tax issue.

This may have extended to a gesture, one handed, two handed or a mixture of digits between the ten available in the direction of a car parking attendant at the municipal facility.

There is that sense of moral justification at putting a non recyclable item in your recycling bin just to cause trouble at the waste transfer station.

The chances are that the feeling and consequential action are of a negative nature, borne out of frustration and disappointment. You may feel bad at your own behaviour and attitude and quickly come to a realisation that you have just gone that bit too far, an overreaction to be regretted but with little prospect of redress.

I have no such remorse at my own behaviour today and I will explain why.

The scene; a busy suburban road.
The Time; about 8.40am.
The Circumstance; School dropping off time.

The action;

I drove slowly along the road, intentionally slow , in order that the Lollipop Lady would be in the middle of the road marshalling the infant attendees and parents from kerb to kerb. Any sooner and she would be chatting to youngsters at the school gate, any later and I would have driven past and missed my opportunity.

Sure enough I could see a child on the left hand pavement making a move across the grass verge towards the gap in the parked cars. The Lollipop Lady had spotted the impending silent request for assistance in the hazardous crossing of the road.

She was the same public servant who had controlled that position for, to my knowledge, the last 15 years. When my children were at the school I would drop them off by car or on foot but we had no need for her service as we lived on the same side of the street as the school itself. If we arrived early and the palisade gate onto the playground had not yet been unlocked by a member of staff we would pass the time talking with the Lollipop Lady.

Soon I realised that a common interest was football.

She was a Leeds United supporter, quite a fanatic and this was evidenced by a tattoo of the club crest on her ankle, prominently displayed above her stout plimsolls worn with no socks.

Dropping off before school, picking up for and returning after home dinners and at the end of school meant that our football based banter, veiled insults about our respective teams, mine being Hull City, and the inevitable post mortems or analysis of the weekend or mid week results gave plenty of opportunity to engage in conversation.

Other dads, grandads and uncles were drawn into the quite intensive debates and fiercely contested loyalties. She was easily the equal to our male testosterone fired emotions about the beautiful game and we respected her for that.

Even after my own children had left for secondary school I still had to drive past the school gates on a daily basis to get to my place of work and short snatches of dialogue or expressive gestures flew back and forth briefly between open driver side car window and the verge poised high viz clad figure, whatever the weather.

Our teams fluctuated in their league positions and fortunes. There were good days for me and not. The Lollipop Lady could be quite cynical and scathing on my bad days but at the same time quite magnanimous.

So, as for today.

My timing was perfect and I rolled the car up the western slope of the speed bump so that it coasted down just at the moment that the Lollipop stick turned and made for the school side kerb.

Simultaneously I flicked the electric window switch and as the pane slipped through the rubberised seal to retract into the door top I launched the bunch of white flowers in the direction of the fluorescent coat and hat.

I had hope to source some proper Yorkshire Roses but could only get my hands on large headed daisies from a vase at home.

They were a bit light and even when thrown like a large dart they made little progress through the warming morning air.

My force of hand was just enough to land the bunch at her feet.

I shouted that they were for her team, Leeds United, as they had beaten Watford,  Hull City's arch rivals to the second automatic promotion place of the Championship and I felt that this had to be acknowledged.

After all, me and the Lollipop Lady had history.

She laughed aloud and beamed so as to almost outshine her safety wear. As I drove away, still at under the required 20mph, I glanced in the wing mirror.

It was clear that she appreciated the gesture but being a true follower of the mighty Leeds, who really never did anyone any favours knowingly, she left the flowers in the road and I saw them crushed under the wheels of a following vehicle.