Читать книгу The Adventures of Kesha the Russian Boy - Константин Воскресенский - Страница 6

A little boy with no pranks is like a pair of shoes that fasten with Velcro: flat, predictable and uninteresting. Little boys should always have at least a little bit of zest and mischief going on in their heads, or else where would we get our brave and daring heroes come from?

It's hard to tell whether this story is one of recklessness or not, but at the age of five I went out without my parent's permission and got the bus to the nearby village of Sertyakino, where there was a pea field. I had no adult supervision, I was just with a mate of mine, Roma, from the second floor. He was wise and experienced, two years older than me. At this age, you can feel the difference: it's like a high school student hanging out with a university graduate.

We were quickly ratted out, and on my return home, instead of being greeted with bread and salt[7], I got a good spanking from my mum before being made to sit in the corner. By the way, in my time, the corner was often used. We can't really do that these days, times are different.

Just imagine: a whole field of peas! I don't know if it was a fodder field or not, but either way, it was an unreal even by adult standards. I often have to drive along this road even now, and these memories of it are the best. The smack I got at the end of that day pales in comparison to the joy of that pea field. I'd felt such a rush of freedom, an impenetrable sense of excitement on the edge of a big adventure with a hint of mischief. Just like the Russian poet Sergey Vasilyev said in his song: «Everything around me is kolkhoz[8], and everything around is mine!» And it all paid off in the end: stuffing my face with young, springy, juicy peas…