Olly Murs Broke my Lightbulb

It's been a while since I've written anything. I think I needed some time out - to deal with my own emotions since the passing of my mum but also to deal with the emotional turmoil that happens when a child begins therapy.

To be fair, TJ has coped really well and therapy now seems to be helping him. He is more settled and can handle his emotions in an appropriate manner - even school are pleased with him - which makes a nice change.

However, one recent incident has prompted me to put the proverbial pen to paper (or finger to keyboard) once again.

It involved TJ, his best friend, a football and Olly Murs - yes, Olly Murs, who broke my lightbulb!

TJ and his friend were playing outside the house on Saturday - they were kicking the football up and down the driveway - doing 'tricks' apparently. Anyway, I needed to pop out to the local shop to get some milk - I asked TJ if he wanted to come. 'I'm ten now," came the repy, "I can stay here by myself."

Well, I would only be a few minutes, so I told him it was ok as long as he and his friend stayed at the house. I also knew that my neighbour was in - she's a retired lady who single handedly runs her own branch of neighbourhood watch - if it happens on our street then she knows all about it.

So I nipped out.

Ten minutes later I pulled into my driveway to see both boys rapidly sweeping and shovelling bits into the bin.

'What's happened?" I asked.

"Well," TJ began, "We were playing football when this boy came and 'toe-punched' the ball upwards and it hit the garage light and broke it."

Sure enough the two boys were sweeping up thousands of timy bits of glass.

I took over. "It's ok boys," I said, "I'll do it - you just make sure there's no glass on you." There wasn't.

Afterwards we had a chat about what had happened.

'You see," began best friend,' We were just minding our own business when this guy came up and asked if he could play. We said he could and he toe punched the ball and when the bulb broke he ran away."

"Who was this boy?" I asked in my best Hercule Poirot manner.

"You don't know him," came the reply.

"Try me", I said.

"It Olly," TJ chipped in, "Yes, Olly - Olly Murs!"

"Olly Murs?" I said, "Olly Murs the singer?"

The boys looked blank - 'Erm, Yes - thats what we call him!" said best friend.

"Really?" I said, "Would I know this boy?"

"Erm, probably not, " said TJ, "He lives a few streets away - we just know him from school."

"Right," I said, "Let's go and have a look down the park and see if he is there."

The boys began to look worried and started shuffling.

"Then," I said, "When we find him we can get his dad to pay for my lightbulb."

"When I said he lived near by - I think he was actually from somewhere else," came the measured reply from TJ, "I think he was on holiday here."

"Yes," said best friend, "He was on holiday."

"But', I carried on, now enjoying myself, "You said you knew him. You said he called himself Olly Murs."

"He's probably not even called Olly at all," said TJ. "I bet he made that name up."

"I'll bet he did," I said. "Anyway, maybe we should take the ball to the park where it won't do any damage and I can walk the dogs."

I finished sweeping and through the remaining glass away.

Suddenly, the lady from over the road popped her head out. "I don't know what the boys have been saying she said, but there was no other boy here - just the two of them - they broke the bulb - not this Olly Murs chap."

"Thanks," I said, "I had worked it out - I'm going to make sure they tell the truth eventually."

"Oh good," she said, "I'd have hated for you to have gone round to Olly Murs dad's house and accuse him of something he hasn't done."

"Don't worry," I said, "Olly Murs is quite safe from me."

She smiled and went back inside.

Something tells me she doesn't know who Olly Murs is...