It's all about me


Now, spifflication is a word I’ve not heard nor read for a long time, let alone spoken. I saw it today on Margaret Rose Stringer’s blog. (I never did get around to taking part in her Love It Or Hate It challenges)

spifflicateI first heard the word in the late 1960s, whilst in Grade Six, at George Street State School in Hamilton. My teacher suggested he would spifflicate me if I failed to get my Herald, the swimming qualification for swimming 25 yards. I had already failed to swim the distance the last Friday session, only making it about 12 feet from the end before standing up. When I saw him next he asked me how I went, and I recall saying something smart like “Start spifflicating!”

I achieved my Herald the following Friday, but only after I remembered being told the last time,  that I could have dog-paddled the last bit.  So that is what I did.   I always have trouble with the breathing part and lying around reading in a home-made chaff bag hammock isn’t conducive to being fit!

I  used the word a lot to my younger siblings, in a threatening manner, for some time afterwards.


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