Things your kids will never do
Discussion
ttest looking shoe aroundlowdrag said:
I was thinking of posting a thread about this and came across the same. I haven't read the whole of it, but I so remember cap guns, cowboy outfits (and indian) popguns, klike a 12 bore with corks, playing with bows and arrows, eating gobstoppers and aniseed balls, going to the sweet shop with its enormous jars and choosing 2 oz of each, or just one if you had not much. And as regards paying, 3d was a lot, more like pennies. And on that subject I had a golliwog moneybox and one put a penny in his hand, pressed the lever, and he swallowed it. My tin toys, my Meccano, my Hornby Dublo, my Lone Ranger and other annuals delivered by Father Xmas, the wondrous moment when sweets came off ration and I made myself sick, the moments family gave me their ration of cheese, visiting family and watching the biscuit barrel hanging there until I was offered a McVities Plain Chocolate Digestive, going to Fratton Park, being passed over all the 46,000 spectators and sitting on the wall next to the pitch, watching my heros, riding in the double decker and the conductor giving me a roll of paper which I streamed out of the window, going to the bakery and coming home with a hot cottage loaf, the top half of which had disappeared when I arrived, helping the milkman on a Saturday, delivering the milk and me with th reins in my hand, also rushing to pick up the steaming mess behind with a shovel to feed the vegetable plot, visiting Verrechias in North End for a wafer ice-cream, also their van delivering to the road and rushing outside with just 4d to buy another wafer, taking the chain ferry to Gosport, Saturday matinées, the tea shop above with the waitresses in black, playing with catapults in the churchyard, learning .22 shooting at school at 9 yrs old then going on to the CCF and firing Brens and Lee Enfields, having my own .401 then 16 bore and then 12 bore, being given a car at 14 when the MOT (Ten year Test) came in and the car failed, building a fixed-wheel cowhorn bike and having races in the woods, finding in the barn spotlamps and radios from the war (I assume Dad's Army) plus 50 grenades we threw in the lake to stun trout, my Dad giving me white cartridges for the 12 bore left over from Dad's Army, the Colt 45 he had hidden in the cupboard, (with ammo)riding my first motor bike with but 2 speeds, a Sun 98cc 2-stroke, thumbing a lift to Leeds from London and hitting the ton for the first time in a DB4, Soho in the 60s, especially Wardour street, seeing the Beatles on the Apple roof and Clapton at the Albert Hall. Riding my motor bikes without a helmet, riding my BSA Gold star to work, buying my Tiger 100 for £25,
Oh my life, how I could go on. My kids nor my tiny ones will ever see this. The Mudlarks, the kids who fought in the evil mud near the dockyard when the tide was out for a halfpenny casually tossed, Pompey Lil, probably insane, pushing her Pedigree pram around full of cats, the newspaper seller near the Guildhall with green lips because if you gave him 6d he's spit out two pennies change. Trams. double-deckers, steam trains which gave you a black face when you went into a tunnel if the window was open, fires in the fields from the sparks, POSB savings, being paid in cash, learning how to "tap a phone" which was in no way like today but tapping the 2-digit code to the next village, the on and on from village to village until you got to London and chatted for free, phones with no dial for that matter, having the telephone exchange in the village (our number was Droxford 51 and the restaurant there still finishes with 51), piece rate work, driving the tractor during the harvest at 14, carrying 1cwt sacks at 16, moving 36 gallon barrels of beer (hogsheads)onto the stillage in the cellar, buying Domino cigarettes in fives in a band of paper, playing darts in the pub, playing for the next pint using the tissue paper from a packet of Weights put over the pint glass with a sixpence in the middle and burning holes with a cigarette end until the sixpence fell in, hiding in snow holes in Feb 1963 waiting for the pigeons to land on the sprouts and the Pigeon Clearance Society giving us the cartridges, killing seven with one barrel they were so weak, eating sprouts with lead shot in as a consequence, going to see the neighbour and drawing water from the well for her.
I think I should write a book.
They do at least teach punctuation these days! Please take a class before writing that book. It's all interesting stuff, but a pain to read.Oh my life, how I could go on. My kids nor my tiny ones will ever see this. The Mudlarks, the kids who fought in the evil mud near the dockyard when the tide was out for a halfpenny casually tossed, Pompey Lil, probably insane, pushing her Pedigree pram around full of cats, the newspaper seller near the Guildhall with green lips because if you gave him 6d he's spit out two pennies change. Trams. double-deckers, steam trains which gave you a black face when you went into a tunnel if the window was open, fires in the fields from the sparks, POSB savings, being paid in cash, learning how to "tap a phone" which was in no way like today but tapping the 2-digit code to the next village, the on and on from village to village until you got to London and chatted for free, phones with no dial for that matter, having the telephone exchange in the village (our number was Droxford 51 and the restaurant there still finishes with 51), piece rate work, driving the tractor during the harvest at 14, carrying 1cwt sacks at 16, moving 36 gallon barrels of beer (hogsheads)onto the stillage in the cellar, buying Domino cigarettes in fives in a band of paper, playing darts in the pub, playing for the next pint using the tissue paper from a packet of Weights put over the pint glass with a sixpence in the middle and burning holes with a cigarette end until the sixpence fell in, hiding in snow holes in Feb 1963 waiting for the pigeons to land on the sprouts and the Pigeon Clearance Society giving us the cartridges, killing seven with one barrel they were so weak, eating sprouts with lead shot in as a consequence, going to see the neighbour and drawing water from the well for her.
I think I should write a book.
Edited by lowdrag on Monday 12th October 19:38
Zod said:
lowdrag said:
I was thinking of posting a thread about this and came across the same. I haven't read the whole of it, but I so remember cap guns, cowboy outfits (and indian) popguns, klike a 12 bore with corks, playing with bows and arrows, eating gobstoppers and aniseed balls, going to the sweet shop with its enormous jars and choosing 2 oz of each, or just one if you had not much. And as regards paying, 3d was a lot, more like pennies. And on that subject I had a golliwog moneybox and one put a penny in his hand, pressed the lever, and he swallowed it. My tin toys, my Meccano, my Hornby Dublo, my Lone Ranger and other annuals delivered by Father Xmas, the wondrous moment when sweets came off ration and I made myself sick, the moments family gave me their ration of cheese, visiting family and watching the biscuit barrel hanging there until I was offered a McVities Plain Chocolate Digestive, going to Fratton Park, being passed over all the 46,000 spectators and sitting on the wall next to the pitch, watching my heros, riding in the double decker and the conductor giving me a roll of paper which I streamed out of the window, going to the bakery and coming home with a hot cottage loaf, the top half of which had disappeared when I arrived, helping the milkman on a Saturday, delivering the milk and me with th reins in my hand, also rushing to pick up the steaming mess behind with a shovel to feed the vegetable plot, visiting Verrechias in North End for a wafer ice-cream, also their van delivering to the road and rushing outside with just 4d to buy another wafer, taking the chain ferry to Gosport, Saturday matinées, the tea shop above with the waitresses in black, playing with catapults in the churchyard, learning .22 shooting at school at 9 yrs old then going on to the CCF and firing Brens and Lee Enfields, having my own .401 then 16 bore and then 12 bore, being given a car at 14 when the MOT (Ten year Test) came in and the car failed, building a fixed-wheel cowhorn bike and having races in the woods, finding in the barn spotlamps and radios from the war (I assume Dad's Army) plus 50 grenades we threw in the lake to stun trout, my Dad giving me white cartridges for the 12 bore left over from Dad's Army, the Colt 45 he had hidden in the cupboard, (with ammo)riding my first motor bike with but 2 speeds, a Sun 98cc 2-stroke, thumbing a lift to Leeds from London and hitting the ton for the first time in a DB4, Soho in the 60s, especially Wardour street, seeing the Beatles on the Apple roof and Clapton at the Albert Hall. Riding my motor bikes without a helmet, riding my BSA Gold star to work, buying my Tiger 100 for £25,
Oh my life, how I could go on. My kids nor my tiny ones will ever see this. The Mudlarks, the kids who fought in the evil mud near the dockyard when the tide was out for a halfpenny casually tossed, Pompey Lil, probably insane, pushing her Pedigree pram around full of cats, the newspaper seller near the Guildhall with green lips because if you gave him 6d he's spit out two pennies change. Trams. double-deckers, steam trains which gave you a black face when you went into a tunnel if the window was open, fires in the fields from the sparks, POSB savings, being paid in cash, learning how to "tap a phone" which was in no way like today but tapping the 2-digit code to the next village, the on and on from village to village until you got to London and chatted for free, phones with no dial for that matter, having the telephone exchange in the village (our number was Droxford 51 and the restaurant there still finishes with 51), piece rate work, driving the tractor during the harvest at 14, carrying 1cwt sacks at 16, moving 36 gallon barrels of beer (hogsheads)onto the stillage in the cellar, buying Domino cigarettes in fives in a band of paper, playing darts in the pub, playing for the next pint using the tissue paper from a packet of Weights put over the pint glass with a sixpence in the middle and burning holes with a cigarette end until the sixpence fell in, hiding in snow holes in Feb 1963 waiting for the pigeons to land on the sprouts and the Pigeon Clearance Society giving us the cartridges, killing seven with one barrel they were so weak, eating sprouts with lead shot in as a consequence, going to see the neighbour and drawing water from the well for her.
I think I should write a book.
They do at least teach punctuation these days! Please take a class before writing that book. It's all interesting stuff, but a pain to read.Oh my life, how I could go on. My kids nor my tiny ones will ever see this. The Mudlarks, the kids who fought in the evil mud near the dockyard when the tide was out for a halfpenny casually tossed, Pompey Lil, probably insane, pushing her Pedigree pram around full of cats, the newspaper seller near the Guildhall with green lips because if you gave him 6d he's spit out two pennies change. Trams. double-deckers, steam trains which gave you a black face when you went into a tunnel if the window was open, fires in the fields from the sparks, POSB savings, being paid in cash, learning how to "tap a phone" which was in no way like today but tapping the 2-digit code to the next village, the on and on from village to village until you got to London and chatted for free, phones with no dial for that matter, having the telephone exchange in the village (our number was Droxford 51 and the restaurant there still finishes with 51), piece rate work, driving the tractor during the harvest at 14, carrying 1cwt sacks at 16, moving 36 gallon barrels of beer (hogsheads)onto the stillage in the cellar, buying Domino cigarettes in fives in a band of paper, playing darts in the pub, playing for the next pint using the tissue paper from a packet of Weights put over the pint glass with a sixpence in the middle and burning holes with a cigarette end until the sixpence fell in, hiding in snow holes in Feb 1963 waiting for the pigeons to land on the sprouts and the Pigeon Clearance Society giving us the cartridges, killing seven with one barrel they were so weak, eating sprouts with lead shot in as a consequence, going to see the neighbour and drawing water from the well for her.
I think I should write a book.
Edited by lowdrag on Monday 12th October 19:38
ETA: Maybe that is something our kids will never do, have the attention span to read large pieces of text like that, we want our info in small easy to digest snippets
Cotty said:
Difference round my way is usually 20mins, but its a no brainer if you have had a beer or two so can't drive.
If they are that busy I can pick somewhere else to order from. Im surrounded by curry houses, pizza, chinese, kebab, etc etc
Same here, but my favourite gets really busy, and if I'm sat there chatting to them, my order invariably makes its way faster up the queue.If they are that busy I can pick somewhere else to order from. Im surrounded by curry houses, pizza, chinese, kebab, etc etc
As another reason for why collect when they can deliver, the kids of today way well also have a spouse of the future keeping an eye on their waistline being blissfully ignorant of the couple of poppadoms polished off whilst waiting for the takeaway!
No Bend said:
Johnnytheboy said:
Funkycoldribena said:
Be a mod/rocker/goth/punk/grunge/skinhead etc,they all seem to be homogeneous clones nowadays.
That's very true - tribalism based on music seems to be in terminal decline, or at best seems to be something that can be picked up and put down at will. I think this is symptomatic of the decline in relative importance of music as a form of entertainment.
Yes, created bands have been around for a long time as well, but they never flooded the market with their beiberesque shyte.
Music tribalism was a huge part of my life from his age onwards to even now. The X Factor generation really are missing something special.
killingjoker said:
No Bend said:
Johnnytheboy said:
Funkycoldribena said:
Be a mod/rocker/goth/punk/grunge/skinhead etc,they all seem to be homogeneous clones nowadays.
That's very true - tribalism based on music seems to be in terminal decline, or at best seems to be something that can be picked up and put down at will. I think this is symptomatic of the decline in relative importance of music as a form of entertainment.
Yes, created bands have been around for a long time as well, but they never flooded the market with their beiberesque shyte.
Music tribalism was a huge part of my life from his age onwards to even now. The X Factor generation really are missing something special.
Go into any city centre on a weekend you will see groups of goths, emos, punks as well as the xfactor lot who arguably are a tribe in their own right
It only seems that there used to be more punks for example because punk was more popular years ago, yesterdays punks are todays xfactor chart music fans
lowdrag said:
I was thinking of posting a thread about this and came across the same. I haven't read the whole of it, but I so remember cap guns, cowboy outfits (and indian) popguns, klike a 12 bore with corks, playing with bows and arrows, eating gobstoppers and aniseed balls, going to the sweet shop with its enormous jars and choosing 2 oz of each, or just one if you had not much. And as regards paying, 3d was a lot, more like pennies. And on that subject I had a golliwog moneybox and one put a penny in his hand, pressed the lever, and he swallowed it. My tin toys, my Meccano, my Hornby Dublo, my Lone Ranger and other annuals delivered by Father Xmas, the wondrous moment when sweets came off ration and I made myself sick, the moments family gave me their ration of cheese, visiting family and watching the biscuit barrel hanging there until I was offered a McVities Plain Chocolate Digestive, going to Fratton Park, being passed over all the 46,000 spectators and sitting on the wall next to the pitch, watching my heros, riding in the double decker and the conductor giving me a roll of paper which I streamed out of the window, going to the bakery and coming home with a hot cottage loaf, the top half of which had disappeared when I arrived, helping the milkman on a Saturday, delivering the milk and me with th reins in my hand, also rushing to pick up the steaming mess behind with a shovel to feed the vegetable plot, visiting Verrechias in North End for a wafer ice-cream, also their van delivering to the road and rushing outside with just 4d to buy another wafer, taking the chain ferry to Gosport, Saturday matinées, the tea shop above with the waitresses in black, playing with catapults in the churchyard, learning .22 shooting at school at 9 yrs old then going on to the CCF and firing Brens and Lee Enfields, having my own .401 then 16 bore and then 12 bore, being given a car at 14 when the MOT (Ten year Test) came in and the car failed, building a fixed-wheel cowhorn bike and having races in the woods, finding in the barn spotlamps and radios from the war (I assume Dad's Army) plus 50 grenades we threw in the lake to stun trout, my Dad giving me white cartridges for the 12 bore left over from Dad's Army, the Colt 45 he had hidden in the cupboard, (with ammo)riding my first motor bike with but 2 speeds, a Sun 98cc 2-stroke, thumbing a lift to Leeds from London and hitting the ton for the first time in a DB4, Soho in the 60s, especially Wardour street, seeing the Beatles on the Apple roof and Clapton at the Albert Hall. Riding my motor bikes without a helmet, riding my BSA Gold star to work, buying my Tiger 100 for £25,
Oh my life, how I could go on. My kids nor my tiny ones will ever see this. The Mudlarks, the kids who fought in the evil mud near the dockyard when the tide was out for a halfpenny casually tossed, Pompey Lil, probably insane, pushing her Pedigree pram around full of cats, the newspaper seller near the Guildhall with green lips because if you gave him 6d he's spit out two pennies change. Trams. double-deckers, steam trains which gave you a black face when you went into a tunnel if the window was open, fires in the fields from the sparks, POSB savings, being paid in cash, learning how to "tap a phone" which was in no way like today but tapping the 2-digit code to the next village, the on and on from village to village until you got to London and chatted for free, phones with no dial for that matter, having the telephone exchange in the village (our number was Droxford 51 and the restaurant there still finishes with 51), piece rate work, driving the tractor during the harvest at 14, carrying 1cwt sacks at 16, moving 36 gallon barrels of beer (hogsheads)onto the stillage in the cellar, buying Domino cigarettes in fives in a band of paper, playing darts in the pub, playing for the next pint using the tissue paper from a packet of Weights put over the pint glass with a sixpence in the middle and burning holes with a cigarette end until the sixpence fell in, hiding in snow holes in Feb 1963 waiting for the pigeons to land on the sprouts and the Pigeon Clearance Society giving us the cartridges, killing seven with one barrel they were so weak, eating sprouts with lead shot in as a consequence, going to see the neighbour and drawing water from the well for her.
I think I should write a book.
You'd be in prison for most of that these days,sounds like you had a great childhood.Oh my life, how I could go on. My kids nor my tiny ones will ever see this. The Mudlarks, the kids who fought in the evil mud near the dockyard when the tide was out for a halfpenny casually tossed, Pompey Lil, probably insane, pushing her Pedigree pram around full of cats, the newspaper seller near the Guildhall with green lips because if you gave him 6d he's spit out two pennies change. Trams. double-deckers, steam trains which gave you a black face when you went into a tunnel if the window was open, fires in the fields from the sparks, POSB savings, being paid in cash, learning how to "tap a phone" which was in no way like today but tapping the 2-digit code to the next village, the on and on from village to village until you got to London and chatted for free, phones with no dial for that matter, having the telephone exchange in the village (our number was Droxford 51 and the restaurant there still finishes with 51), piece rate work, driving the tractor during the harvest at 14, carrying 1cwt sacks at 16, moving 36 gallon barrels of beer (hogsheads)onto the stillage in the cellar, buying Domino cigarettes in fives in a band of paper, playing darts in the pub, playing for the next pint using the tissue paper from a packet of Weights put over the pint glass with a sixpence in the middle and burning holes with a cigarette end until the sixpence fell in, hiding in snow holes in Feb 1963 waiting for the pigeons to land on the sprouts and the Pigeon Clearance Society giving us the cartridges, killing seven with one barrel they were so weak, eating sprouts with lead shot in as a consequence, going to see the neighbour and drawing water from the well for her.
I think I should write a book.
Edited by lowdrag on Monday 12th October 19:38
DannyScene said:
killingjoker said:
No Bend said:
Johnnytheboy said:
Funkycoldribena said:
Be a mod/rocker/goth/punk/grunge/skinhead etc,they all seem to be homogeneous clones nowadays.
That's very true - tribalism based on music seems to be in terminal decline, or at best seems to be something that can be picked up and put down at will. I think this is symptomatic of the decline in relative importance of music as a form of entertainment.
Yes, created bands have been around for a long time as well, but they never flooded the market with their beiberesque shyte.
Music tribalism was a huge part of my life from his age onwards to even now. The X Factor generation really are missing something special.
Go into any city centre on a weekend you will see groups of goths, emos, punks as well as the xfactor lot who arguably are a tribe in their own right
It only seems that there used to be more punks for example because punk was more popular years ago, yesterdays punks are todays xfactor chart music fans
gtidriver said:
You'd be in prison for most of that these days,sounds like you had a great childhood.
That's the point of it; today even swings in the park have to have a soft layer underneath to save the poor darlings. We swam from Stamshaw across to Whale island at weekends to play on the assault course, we had fights throwing bangers at each other, then progressed to air bombs to get further away! Lighting a jumping jack on the bus just as you got off was another favourite. Even our toys would be considered dangerous today, but how I loved my Meccano (I still have the gear set in its box) and am thinking of introducing my grandson to it. We were paid in February 1963 to keep the pigeons off the sprouts, hiding in snow holes with our 12 bores. It was the hardest winter I have ever known, but we had great fun because we couldn't get out, all roads being blocked. At 16 I was driving a Landrover to meet the milkman and baker and all then delivering to farms. The police knew I was doing it but didn't care that I wasn't old enough to drive. We were a country community.When we dismantled the hayricks we all stood around facing outwards, guns in hand, the terriers barking as the rats tried to escape and those that did we shot. Towards the end it was the vixen and her cubs, but they never made it either. At harvest time I sat on the combine 12 bore ready but broken, as the remaining corn grew smaller and smaller until the vixen and cubs made a break for it. And working in the summer in a chicken house, deep litter as it was called, was fun when it came to remove the deep litter. Loads of rats, so we wore boots with trousers well tucked in, and we carried lengths of hosepipe properly corked with sand in and beat the buggers to death. In both the hayrick and the chicken episodes I had rats run up my back and jump off my shoulder. But that was country life then.
lowdrag said:
I was thinking of posting a thread about this and came across the same. I haven't read the whole of it, but I so remember cap guns, cowboy outfits (and indian) popguns, klike a 12 bore with corks, playing with bows and arrows, eating gobstoppers and aniseed balls, going to the sweet shop with its enormous jars and choosing 2 oz of each, or just one if you had not much. And as regards paying, 3d was a lot, more like pennies. And on that subject I had a golliwog moneybox and one put a penny in his hand, pressed the lever, and he swallowed it. My tin toys, my Meccano, my Hornby Dublo, my Lone Ranger and other annuals delivered by Father Xmas, the wondrous moment when sweets came off ration and I made myself sick, the moments family gave me their ration of cheese, visiting family and watching the biscuit barrel hanging there until I was offered a McVities Plain Chocolate Digestive, going to Fratton Park, being passed over all the 46,000 spectators and sitting on the wall next to the pitch, watching my heros, riding in the double decker and the conductor giving me a roll of paper which I streamed out of the window, going to the bakery and coming home with a hot cottage loaf, the top half of which had disappeared when I arrived, helping the milkman on a Saturday, delivering the milk and me with th reins in my hand, also rushing to pick up the steaming mess behind with a shovel to feed the vegetable plot, visiting Verrechias in North End for a wafer ice-cream, also their van delivering to the road and rushing outside with just 4d to buy another wafer, taking the chain ferry to Gosport, Saturday matinées, the tea shop above with the waitresses in black, playing with catapults in the churchyard, learning .22 shooting at school at 9 yrs old then going on to the CCF and firing Brens and Lee Enfields, having my own .401 then 16 bore and then 12 bore, being given a car at 14 when the MOT (Ten year Test) came in and the car failed, building a fixed-wheel cowhorn bike and having races in the woods, finding in the barn spotlamps and radios from the war (I assume Dad's Army) plus 50 grenades we threw in the lake to stun trout, my Dad giving me white cartridges for the 12 bore left over from Dad's Army, the Colt 45 he had hidden in the cupboard, (with ammo)riding my first motor bike with but 2 speeds, a Sun 98cc 2-stroke, thumbing a lift to Leeds from London and hitting the ton for the first time in a DB4, Soho in the 60s, especially Wardour street, seeing the Beatles on the Apple roof and Clapton at the Albert Hall. Riding my motor bikes without a helmet, riding my BSA Gold star to work, buying my Tiger 100 for £25,
Oh my life, how I could go on. My kids nor my tiny ones will ever see this. The Mudlarks, the kids who fought in the evil mud near the dockyard when the tide was out for a halfpenny casually tossed, Pompey Lil, probably insane, pushing her Pedigree pram around full of cats, the newspaper seller near the Guildhall with green lips because if you gave him 6d he's spit out two pennies change. Trams. double-deckers, steam trains which gave you a black face when you went into a tunnel if the window was open, fires in the fields from the sparks, POSB savings, being paid in cash, learning how to "tap a phone" which was in no way like today but tapping the 2-digit code to the next village, the on and on from village to village until you got to London and chatted for free, phones with no dial for that matter, having the telephone exchange in the village (our number was Droxford 51 and the restaurant there still finishes with 51), piece rate work, driving the tractor during the harvest at 14, carrying 1cwt sacks at 16, moving 36 gallon barrels of beer (hogsheads)onto the stillage in the cellar, buying Domino cigarettes in fives in a band of paper, playing darts in the pub, playing for the next pint using the tissue paper from a packet of Weights put over the pint glass with a sixpence in the middle and burning holes with a cigarette end until the sixpence fell in, hiding in snow holes in Feb 1963 waiting for the pigeons to land on the sprouts and the Pigeon Clearance Society giving us the cartridges, killing seven with one barrel they were so weak, eating sprouts with lead shot in as a consequence, going to see the neighbour and drawing water from the well for her.
I think I should write a book.
Haha, Sounds just like my father, He has talked about 'Pompey Lil' before with her cats in a pram. He also said about 'Borrowing' his fathers bike, Cycling down Portsdown Hill, having brake failure, then then trying to pedal backwards to apply the rear brake and the chain breaking then hurtling into a hawthorn hedge.Then Being found by the local Bobby and being given a clip round the ear for being so stupid, then having the same from his father for taking his bike in the first place.Oh my life, how I could go on. My kids nor my tiny ones will ever see this. The Mudlarks, the kids who fought in the evil mud near the dockyard when the tide was out for a halfpenny casually tossed, Pompey Lil, probably insane, pushing her Pedigree pram around full of cats, the newspaper seller near the Guildhall with green lips because if you gave him 6d he's spit out two pennies change. Trams. double-deckers, steam trains which gave you a black face when you went into a tunnel if the window was open, fires in the fields from the sparks, POSB savings, being paid in cash, learning how to "tap a phone" which was in no way like today but tapping the 2-digit code to the next village, the on and on from village to village until you got to London and chatted for free, phones with no dial for that matter, having the telephone exchange in the village (our number was Droxford 51 and the restaurant there still finishes with 51), piece rate work, driving the tractor during the harvest at 14, carrying 1cwt sacks at 16, moving 36 gallon barrels of beer (hogsheads)onto the stillage in the cellar, buying Domino cigarettes in fives in a band of paper, playing darts in the pub, playing for the next pint using the tissue paper from a packet of Weights put over the pint glass with a sixpence in the middle and burning holes with a cigarette end until the sixpence fell in, hiding in snow holes in Feb 1963 waiting for the pigeons to land on the sprouts and the Pigeon Clearance Society giving us the cartridges, killing seven with one barrel they were so weak, eating sprouts with lead shot in as a consequence, going to see the neighbour and drawing water from the well for her.
I think I should write a book.
Edited by lowdrag on Monday 12th October 19:38
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