Category: My own stories
The Bun Story
Words by me (Fiona)
We have a story in my family that is shared regularly, with newcomers and even just as a reason to laugh.
At me.
It is known as ‘The Bun Story’ and it not only causes much mirth at family dinners, it also has some lessons.
The story is:
“When I was about 10 years old there were 2 left over fruit buns sitting on the kitchen bench.
For reasons unknown to this day I took a bite out of one.
Then denied it.
It became a ‘thing’. A ‘thing’ my mum now says she totally wished she had never started.
I recall being lined up against the fridge with my younger sister and brother while being asked ‘who bit the bun’. None of us spoke up.
The longer I didn’t speak up the harder it became to say anything.
Then my brother (who didn’t like fruit buns) was accused directly, but denied it (well it wasn’t actually him!).
Eventually, and it still feels like it went for a long time, we were all punished with no treats for the week.
You might think the story ends there, and wonder why it is so funny… but please step forward with me to a late hour two years later.
Yes,
2
years
later.
Sobbing like my heart was breaking, I went into my parent’s bedroom. “It was me, I bit the bun” I confessed through the tears.
They looked at me in shock for a nano second and then started laughing.
A lot!
And a family story was born.”
So now you know The Bun Story.
And what did I learn from this?
- If you don’t confess right away it just gets harder and harder.
- Having someone else punished for an action you took feels awful.
- If you confess to a relatively minor crime after 2 years people will laugh, a lot.
I encourage you to always own your errors, apologise as soon as you can and never let someone else take the blame.
Coaching Vlog #20
Fiona’s Coaching Vlog #19
A reorg, HCD training and trying to squeeze in coaching!
Coaching vlog #18
DDIY – or Don’t Do It Yourself
Words by me (Fiona)
My goal for the summer break was to convert my exes ‘man cave’ into my ‘she-shed’. This involved emptying, cleaning, acid staining the floor, sealing the floor, painting the walls and moving my gym equipment in. And I had 2 weeks. And all within my skill set (or so I thought).
It started well with a trip to the tip and a new power washer to clean the concrete floor. The acid stain (actually an ethanol or methanol (I forget which) based one) was sprayed on. And I waited with excitement for my floor to turn a lovely teal. 4-6 hours they said. I waited 8 hours before realising the lime levels in my concrete were obviously too low to activate much colour. I had more pale than bright teal. But onwards I went, the option of paying more money to dye the concrete (without guaranteed results) was tempting but I resisted. It is ‘only a shed’ became a mantra.
I did my first coat of seal and visited often as it dried. Patchy. But I had a second coat to go!
I also learned something at this stage – do not seal your concrete floor in bare feet – any seal you walk in will seal the dirt to the soles of your feet for several days!
I applied the second coat (in boots and gloves), trying to make sure the non-shiny parts got more paint. It dried. Patchy. I reminded myself that it is only a shed. It would be fine. About this time, I looked at the curing time – 7 days and I was closing in on my second week of leave! I planned to paint the walls on day 3 (90% cured) before moving the gym into the she-shed on day 8 (a couple of days before going back to work).
Then I looked at the floor again the next day, and the next. And did a third coat of seal. I’ll be honest, it is still patchy. But it is only a shed. I refuse to do a 4th coat.
The delayed painting day arrived. Not something I have done much of. I stirred my paint, lay down plastic drop sheets, with some old towels as extra protection. I found a roller and tray that fit. I used a brush to cut in one panel of the wall and started rolling. Paint went on the wall. And on me. The screws I had chosen not to remove meant more brushwork. Some rolled parts were patchy (theme?) and some had so much paint they dripped. Lines appeared from the edge of the roller. This was not going well! I stepped back to contemplate my technique and how to fix it… onto the edge of my paint tray! Thankfully I only clipped it and it didn’t spill. But it did tear my drop sheet. And finish my journey into painting walls. I was done!
I logged onto airtasker. I will skim over the next 36 hours other than to say that sometimes I am too trusting and the person who accepted my job and then delayed for over 24 hours (with legitimate sounding excuses) before no longer responding to me did not deserve that faith that people try to do the right thing. I was played. (Will I ever understand the pleasure someone gets from doing stuff like that? Probably not.)
Fast forward to lunch time the next day and a different person is out there painting the walls… He showed up 😊. He may have been (self-confessed) the worlds slowest painter, but by 2am I was driving him to the station and the walls were done. OK, so my acid stain spray technique may mean that there are teal patches bleeding through on most of the lower parts of the walls… but it was done!
Lucky it is ‘only a shed’!
Coaching vlog #17
Rappelling Part 5 – Jumps two and three!
Story by Fiona (me)
Once all the paying jumpers were on the ground floor Troy leapt spectacularly from the roof to the ground – 100% faith in his son to stop him before he hit the ground. The sight was awe-inspiring in the truest sense.
Another nervous jumper and I received wonderful hugs from Troy, as a congratulations and well done. I will be honest – it felt great!
Then it was back up to the roof for jump 2 of 3. I was looking forward to it.
Until Troy told us he was upping the ante!
Jump 2 we were given the option of jumping off a standing position, on top of the wall, toes hanging over, leaning forward 45 degrees… oh my goodness!
Then, we were told we could walk down to the first of 3 flags then push off from the wall, loosen our hands and jump to the next flag!
This time around I waited further back in the group, until I realised my nerves were getting worse.
Troy must have sensed my fear as he called me up. To my shock he didn’t ask if I was going to stand, we laughed about the fact that there was zero chance of that happening. I also decided not to do the jumping. It seemed like a complexity I didn’t need!
Round 3 was the fun round. Nothing new to learn. I applied my learnings – don’t wait too long (I went third) and I also decided to do a couple of jumps. It is possible I was motivated by having sore hands from holding on so tight, but regardless of why – I jumped down a section of the wall! Twice.
The high from all the adrenaline lasted longer than the hour Troy predicted.
I apologise publicly to everyone I spoke to in the few hours following – I may have been a bit hyper and spoken a few too many words per minute!
If you are thinking about stepping out of your comfort zone may I suggest Rap Jumping? The feeling of achievement when you have done it is amazing – but doesn’t beat the joy of walking down a wall!
Rappelling Part 4 – My Rap Jump
Words by me (Fiona)
Troy and I were in agreement that I had to go next before my nerve deserted me entirely, so I stepped up to the bottom of the steps. My harness (all three buckles), my gloves and my helmet were checked. The brake and the rope were attached, and I held the rope loosely (possibly…).
Troy checked the previous person was out of the way and then it was time for me to walk up the stairs.
I did that kind of mindlessly, and then when I got to the top I realised I was not going to be able to proceed.
There was no way I was going to be able to even sit on the edge, and go over? No chance!
I told Troy I was sorry, but I could not proceed. He told me to take my time, and I think I tried to explain that I didn’t need time, I was not able to do it. What I actually said may or may not have resembled that! Troy was the epitome of patience. I had time.
Then he deployed his masterstroke (he told us later that he had studied neuroscience) and asked me what story I wanted to be telling in an hour – that I walked down the wall or that I didn’t walk down the wall. Troy was unaware that I had written a blog committing to jumping, that I was going to have to tell a public story one way or the other, but that question apparently made me think about the future and took my brain out of its hijacked state.
I decided that I did want to proceed after all. So slowly I put my left leg over the wall, sat down and then (with Troy’s help) put my right leg over.
At this stage terror was again my main emotion. I was sitting on a wall 7 stories above the ground, attached to a rope and Troy’s hand on my harness. And I was going forward, not back to the safety of the roof.
And forward I went. As I went off the wall Troy made sure I was in control and I was off. Walking down the wall!
That felt amazing!! I was walking down a 7 story building, loosely holding a rope. I thought (and possibly yelled) “I am so glad I did this”. I could feel my grin.
Near the bottom I stopped on instruction and tried to jump towards my catcher (Troy’s son). He helped me the final few metres and unhooked the rope.
Then I sat down, quite suddenly I think. I was pleasantly surprised how easily the cross legged position was to get into!
Those who had gone before me were full of compliments and reassurance. They were unaware of the delay at the top as they could only see once I sat on the wall!
Apparently, my technique was pretty good.
This story does not end here! Come back tomorrow for jumps 2 and 3 where they upped the ante…
Rappelling Part 3 – On the Roof
Words by me (Fiona)
After a bunch of introductions, paperwork checks, exchanges of stories (2 people only found out what they were doing when they arrived!), and late arrivals we headed up to the roof of the 7-story building.
Troy was our main instructor, with 2 people working with him (I know they were Troy’s son and a person on their first day but sadly their names didn’t stick in my overwhelmed brain!), and he delivered our safety instructions as well as some history of rap jumping. I think SAS was mentioned? I do recall that it allowed our armed forces to shoot as they rappelled rather than be vulnerable going down backwards. And it was known around the world as the ‘Aussie Rappell’.
There were white lines painted on the roof, a set of 4ish black wooden steps leading up to the wall on the edge of the roof. A single rope was thrown over the edge of the roof, attached to a frame in the concrete. We were told where we could and could not stand without specific direction (the purpose of the white lines) and then sent over to the row of 9 harnesses.
I hesitated physically for the first time as they showed us how to step into the harness. Once I had it on this would be real. Was I really going to go down from this roof face first attached to a single rope? I decided I was willing to commit to wearing the harness, but must have had that terrified look still as the person helping me tighten the three buckles checked in on how I was feeling. I think my response was ‘sick’. And not in a youthful ‘this is awesome’ way. He warned me that as I came down the wall the harness may press on my stomach so to be aware of that. Luckily the ‘sick’ feeling was more in my head than my belly.
Next we put on out helmets and gloves then lined up parallel to the rope. You would think the mention of how many tonnes the rope could support would reassure me… but it didn’t help much to be honest! At the question ‘who is the most nervous’ I was happy to put up my hand. I doubted anyone else was more scared.
The benefit of being the most nervous was that I was the one who got to test the braking mechanism – hold the rope to brake, let it slide to go – while leaning forward at 45 degrees on the safety of the roof. It held me easily – and even walking forward without it ‘braked’ was an effort.
It was shortly after this that it was time to start. We had a demonstration, it looked easy, but I doubted it was! Walk up the steps, put your left leg over the wall, sit on the wall, put your right leg over, lean forward, walk down the wall. Simple right?
Unlike my willingness to volunteer to be the most nervous, I did not volunteer to be first down the wall! Luckily a few people went before me, but then, by mutual agreement between myself and Troy it was my turn. So up I walked, with shaking knees, to take my turn.
To be continued.