The rubber wars

A war has broken out where I live. Each woman for herself. Each out to prove she can be the biggest, most bouncy, the most elasticated. It's the war of the elastic rubber band balls.

As you know I am a compulsive picker-upper of rubber bands. I wind each band found onto my rubber band ball which is getting bigger and bigger but not at the exponential rate that I think it should be. Am I imagining it but are the surrounding streets just a little tidier and bereft of the little elastic twangy things.



Is this a rubber band I see before me?

Ha ha...first of all my friend, J, reveals herself. We are out walking and she stoops down before I have the chance to pick up a band. She takes it for herself. She takes it for her own rubber band ball. Apparently she and her daughter are active rubber band picker-uppers now.

Then I go see my friend, N, last night and she reveals her huge rubber band ball to which she and her friend are adding daily as they do their constitutional.

It's a thing of honour now to clean up the streets and to create the biggest monster of a rubber band ball. Whose will bounce the highest? Whose will get so large the bands will ping off?

Actually it's great that it's caught on, admittedly just between the three of us but we are doing our bit. I urge you to start your own rubber band balls but be careful it can get obsessive.

I think I'll call us the Robyn Hoods - after all we are a merry 'rubber' band of women! Oh I hear you groan - other suggestions welcome.