Your growing up years

Two Gun Bob said:
Flashback memories courtesy of my dystopian mindset. I have no idea what dystopian mindset means but it fits in rather well with this story line so let us continue.

First available memory circa 4 years old . An auntie in Withington buying me a cornet with a flake in it. Proper made up as the poorer children in the street couldn't afford flakes and so I saved that for last as a badge of honour.

Circa 4 years old. Being captured by the hill people and moved by horse and cart to Rozzendorf and nair to return back to my ancestral home. I cried until journeys end and I am still to this very day featured on the back of milk cartons in Withington.

Circa 5 years old..First day at school and all on our hands and knees as one of our class had shit her self and we all wanted a gander.

Circa 7 years old. Losing out as Jesus in our school nativity to a long haired yeti with not an ounce of acting nuance and instead being cast as a crappy Shepard lad but mother said without the crappy shepherd lad showing the wise men the way then Jesus would not have gotten his gold frankenstein or grrr.

Circa 8 years old ..Watching mothers clothes spiraling and or floating down past our bedroom window sill as father emptied the contents of her wardrobe down into the garden because she said she never had enough clothes but there seemed to be an awful lot falling down and at times it looked like a reconstruction of Arnhem. After that he disappeared into the distance with not a backward glance and we never saw him again.

Circa nine years old. Working as an alter boy and being taken to a house of a deceased church member to waft the incense on her open coffin. I had to make my way home in the dark a mile away down past the brook and desolate lane frantically breaking from a trot into a mad gallop as my sphincter gave way to liquid fear. When I got home I moved all my glow in the dark Frankenstein figurines into the cupboard and slept with the light on for a firther 9 years : (

That is all:
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alter boy...

I believe today it’s called transgender...
 
Two Gun Bob said:
Flashback memories courtesy of my dystopian mindset. I have no idea what dystopian mindset means but it fits in rather well with this story line so let us continue.

First available memory circa 4 years old . An auntie in Withington buying me a cornet with a flake in it. Proper made up as the poorer children in the street couldn't afford flakes and so I saved that for last as a badge of honour.

Circa 4 years old. Being captured by the hill people and moved by horse and cart to Rozzendorf and nair to return back to my ancestral home. I cried until journeys end and I am still to this very day featured on the back of milk cartons in Withington.

Circa 5 years old..First day at school and all on our hands and knees as one of our class had shit her self and we all wanted a gander.

Circa 7 years old. Losing out as Jesus in our school nativity to a long haired yeti with not an ounce of acting nuance and instead being cast as a crappy Shepard lad but mother said without the crappy shepherd lad showing the wise men the way then Jesus would not have gotten his gold frankenstein or grrr.

Circa 8 years old ..Watching mothers clothes spiraling and or floating down past our bedroom window sill as father emptied the contents of her wardrobe down into the garden because she said she never had enough clothes but there seemed to be an awful lot falling down and at times it looked like a reconstruction of Arnhem. After that he disappeared into the distance with not a backward glance and we never saw him again.

Circa nine years old. Working as an alter boy and being taken to a house of a deceased church member to waft the incense on her open coffin. I had to make my way home in the dark a mile away down past the brook and desolate lane frantically breaking from a trot into a mad gallop as my sphincter gave way to liquid fear. When I got home I moved all my glow in the dark Frankenstein figurines into the cupboard and slept with the light on for a firther 9 years : (

That is all:
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You should write your autobiography Bob. It would undoubtedly be a fine literary work full of interest and fascinating vignettes. Don’t let the film rights go for less than a seven figure sum.
 
Saddleworth2 said:
You should write your autobiography Bob. It would undoubtedly be a fine literary work full of interest and fascinating vignettes. Don’t let the film rights go for less than a seven figure sum.
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Seven figures sounds handsome but I have a ranch to run.
 
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Remember riding on the old open platforms of buses, when you wanted to get off you'd hold the rail and step backwards off the bus as it slowed down but didn't stop and the conductor would just ring twice for the driver to continue. Not possible today.

Putting the big pre-decimal pennies on railway lines for them to get crushed flat by the engine.
Summer evenings when it was light till 10 o'clock watching the express trains rush by to far-off places like Windermere and wondering if I'd ever travel to such exotic locations, or if the bad girl from across the road would come by and lift her skirt.

Matchbox rugby in the school yard.

Friday nights stood outside the pub mam & dad were in with a packet of Smith's crisps to keep me going. Home to bed with Radio Luxemburg on under the covers as you fell asleep, later replaced by Caroline (Radio Caroline.)
 
Late 60s, proper winters, open the back door, if you could into a complete snow drift. Snow sticking to your wooly mittens. Snow men and igloo type constructions in all our garden and then, to the horror of my mum, dad got out the Morris Traveller.......and tied my sledge to the bumper bar. Down Worcester rd, right onto Reading drive, all the way round and sometime we'd go round again. Remember coming back looking like Scott of the Antarctic in not much more than a Parka and a pair of turn up shorts with a pair of bright red skinny legs hanging out.
For some reason the sight of warm dog shit as it melted its way down to the pavement fascinated me......
 
Lived in a rolled up newspaper at the bottom of a septic tank,so what the fuck did I care.
 
denislawsbackheel said:
alter boy...

I believe today it’s called transgender...
Click to expand...

He was a decent priest and the salt of the earth and if he had not received the calling then I feel he would have married a real female because he used to have a keen eye out for the ladies. I can only thank the good lord that there wasn't a nunnery nearby or I may not have been her to recant this tale. To this day If I see a Nun I still have flashbacks but their wasn't any counseling back then and we just had to crack on with the cards dealt. They were fooking harpies and that's swearing!
 
I have quite I few memories when I was little but they are only tiny things like one time I was driving around our front lawn in a toy car and another getting whacked in the eye with a snowball. I'm not sure which one comes first chronologically.

My first proper memory was being ill and not going to nursery school. I remember seeing a news story about a massive fire and my mum saying her friend from work was on holiday there and that she hoped that she was okay. Up until a few years ago I always thought it was the Flixborough disaster. Then I saw a film about the Summerland fire on the Isle Of Man and that footage was more like what I remember seeing on TV. To be honest though, It was obviously that one as my mum's friend was much more likely to have been on holiday on the Isle Of Man, than having a relaxing break at the Flixborough Chemical Plant.
 
Two Gun Bob said:
He was a decent priest and the salt of the earth and if he had not received the calling then I feel he would have married a real female because he used to have a keen eye out for the ladies. I can only thank the good lord that there wasn't a nunnery nearby or I may not have been her to recant this tale. To this day If I see a Nun I still have flashbacks but their wasn't any counseling back then and we just had to crack on with the cards dealt. They were fooking harpies and that's swearing!
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One day we will meet up Bob and sort this shit out.

I know some decent bars & restaurants in M22.
 
SebastianBlue said:
Also partly down to the overprotection of parents now, as well.

I will say that nothing compares to the lack of freedom given to American children, though. I am still continually surprised by how much colleagues and mates control what their children do here. Nearly every moment is accounted for, tracked, scheduled, and so on.

It’s really not good for their long-term development. There are movements here away from that, though, and I hope they grow and elsewhere, as well.
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We had a colleague from Oklahoma over in our office last summer. She was able to watch her son via webcam, knew when he was arriving home and was also able to track his car movements. She had the privilege of sitting next to me and one day called me over to show me where her son was on a map, and was able to say "He will be home in 3....2....1.." and he drove up their drive as seen on the webcam. She couldn't understand how strange I found it.
 
Nebuchadnezzar said:
We had a colleague from Oklahoma over in our office last summer. She was able to watch her son via webcam, knew when he was arriving home and was also able to track his car movements. She had the privilege of sitting next to me and one day called me over to show me where her son was on a map, and was able to say "He will be home in 3....2....1.." and he drove up their drive as seen on the webcam. She couldn't understand how strange I found it.
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I’ve seen a few examples of this very situation, including one of my colleagues that sets a threshold on speed for their vehicle so it will alert them if their son goes above it whilst driving, can prohibit the use of the stereo whilst he is in it, and, as you saw, track exactly where it is at all times. He can even use a talk feature to speak directly through the vehicle speakers if he likes. He is also one of the parents I know that practically schedules every waking moment of his son’s life to “maximise her education”.

I understand that he is just doing it because they are is his only child and he wants what he thinks is best for his son, but it all seems so stifling and stunting to me. I am not sure how you can develop in to an independent, capable, confident adult when your parents are controlling every aspect of your life and you have little to no opportunity to adventure (within reason, of course), make mistakes, learn lessons, and discover who you are because every hour of your day is accounted for and tracked.
 
SebastianBlue said:
I’ve seen a few examples of this very situation, including one of my colleagues that sets a threshold on speed for their vehicle so it will alert them if their son goes above it whilst driving, can prohibit the use of the stereo whilst he is in it, and, as you saw, track exactly where it is at all times. He can even use a talk feature to speak directly through the vehicle speakers if he likes. He is also one of the parents I know that practically schedules every waking moment of his son’s life to “maximise her education”.

I understand that he is just doing it because they are is his only child and he wants what he thinks is best for his son, but it all seems so stifling and stunting to me. I am not sure how you can develop in to an independent, capable, confident adult when your parents are controlling every aspect of your life and you have little to no opportunity to adventure (within reason, of course), make mistakes, learn lessons, and discover who you are because every hour of your day is accounted for and tracked.
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It's absolutely bizarre. One day we saw that he had deviated slightly from the route. She looked troubled for a moment until a look of relief spread across her face...."phew! I guess he went to the burger joint!"

I'm not sure what I was more horrified by; he can never sneak off to his secret girlfriends without Mum knowing (crucial part of male teen years), or the fact he wouldn't know me if I passed him in the street but for that very moment, I knew exactly where he was and he had no clue.
 
A smack head father but great mum who has always worked hatd to give us as much as she could we were poor but happy 2 brothers and 2 twins sisters im the youngest. Were still pretty close not sure i can think of a time any of us have said i love you. My mum maybe did when i was younger but i dont remember a time. I now cant say them words enough to my two boys.
 
Lived on a long avenue in Withington, and for years there were only 2 or 3 cars. Most families had one breadwinner, conscription ended, and a vaccination had been invented to prevent polio, later replaced by a sugar lump coated with the vaccine. Smallpox jab left a scar, living past 70 was much rarer than nowadays for males, everybody smoked; apart from chippies most meals were home-cooked. Bus fares were cheap, buses plentiful, trains also. Butlin's and Middleton Towers for a week, Blackpool and Southport for week-ends. Belle Vue, Heaton Park and Wythenshawe park/Platt Fields for picnics.
Deansgate for the Catholic Walks. Sundays for me were spent on Hough End, every pitch used, the changing rooms were wooden huts next to the railway line but they got torched. The big games were very well attended, the Johny Carey cup usually involved semi's between L'pool and Manchester teams. Plod on push-bikes and those Velocettes( the first stealth vehicles :) ). The old clay pits next to Hans Renold in Heaton Mersey were popular for fishing rafting and catching frogs and newts, dick-heads with air-rifles were always a danger. Saturday matinee's at the Scala, speedway, stock-cars and Radio Luxemburg, as you got older, still used to see "teddy boys" at the snooker hall on Burton rd. Without a doubt, kids today have far far more to worry about than we had.....
 
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