Don’t mind me, I am confused most of the time Robert, can’t make head nor tail of science.
bit like a glass of heavy water - drops like a rock through the kidneys!
bit like collecting things ain’t it just - gets a bit heavy at times. I’ve been collecting books for years sometimes cheap at jumble sales - then cd’s then dvd’s bloody hundreds of them costs me a fortune in shelf space - and I’ve moved six times so now I’m collecting cardboard boxes and keeping them - just in case I move again!
haven’t listened to me cd’s for yonks managed to get through heart beat [complete series] twice and that’s it - now who on earth shall I bequeath them to cos they are weighing me down!
wonder if anyone collects things in heaven - I hear they have vast libraries up there but none that can fall to dust!
I had to get rid of a load of books and video tapes recently Gumbud, the local charity shop called around and collected them for me.
Heaven brings to mind the time we were burying an old school friend. John O’Connor was never very bright at school and turned his hand to petty thieving when he left, while we all went on to find respectable employment he graduated to housebreaking and it became his speciality, however he was taken to the church and the priest began the task of trying to say something good about John, he started off with the usual “In my Fathers house there are many mansions…” I burst out laughing when my mate beside me nudged and said “There won’t be much left in them when John gets there.
AHA!
What?
Oh…I thought I’d just seen a tiger with half a bullet in it,wearing a pair of smoking pink wellies as it wrestled a croc egg it’d just stolen through the window of a church it had just burgled…darn this confusion!
It’s brought on by having the track lined with …well…just imagine Hulk Hogan in knickers…as I attempt to get a 25 ton excavator through the gaps between Victorian prison buildings whilst being harangued by what can only be described as hippos with zits! Trust moi-by comparison,hungry tigers are NADA!
I RESIGN!
Well,I would…but luckily the job has been completed-well,my part has-so I can now move on to…oh,DEEP joy-hmp Eastwood Park!..what the HECK?!?
Apparently,E/P is having a ‘leisure complex’ built within the razor wire due to a high rate of…well…let’s say ‘depression’.
I think I’m going to ask for Jem to accompany me on this one,as my personal bodyguard.
Fight off them Wimminz,Jem!!!
Well you know what I always say Pug, God bless the hard workers for where would us old pensioners be without them, keep it up young man, and we thank God you have the strength for it.
That reminds me we might pop over to Galway races on me free pass next week, I hear their giving the pints at half price to pensioners.;-)
I like that Gumbud, but no need to hide, Leprechauns are exempt from the smoking ban here, Darby O’Gill, their leader, sent a special delegation to government house pointing out that a Leprechaun without his pipe is like a fish without a tail, tourists would be outraged to come across a pipeless Leprechaun and tourism would suffer greatly, so that was that.
Ah,but SURELY,as the Leprechauns are the embodiment of healthy freedom,they’d be puffing on E-pipes,Jem?
After all,those e-pips can do Cherry,Vanilla,or even mint!
Nothing like a kiss from a leprechaun with minty breath,bro!
The name’s Mups
Well if its not the Leprechauns Jem, its two mice racing their Go-Karts. Their tyres don’t half burn going round the corners.
when I was young living in the “capital of Ireland” of shore - to be sure I was told that there were leprechauns at the bottom of the gardens - but they were in fact rejects from the Emerald Isle. some only had one wellie - others no pipes and then there were the hatless ones - oh a terrible sight to see begorra!
when can I see them I asked the Da - ah well laddie me lad just around dusk if ya sit right quiet and neither make a sound ya will see them down by the cabbage patch. But Da I said we ain’t got a cabbage patch or even a garden - well wots dat tree doin down there me laddie says Da pointed to a privet tree sitting in an orange box with soil around - ain’t that a garden to be sure to be sure?
and we may plant some cabbages around it next season!
and thus began the start of the “when I was a lad” series!
[CENTER]the when I was a lad series[/CENTER]
when I was a very very young lad I am told I had golden, well, blonde, well fair dreadlocks due to the fact that my dear Ma couldn’t bring herself to cut them. I had my first haircut at 5 yrs although I cannot recall the event. but somewhere in my untidy den there is a small B/W shot of me sitting on me tricycle with me blonde dreadlocks - I will try to hunt it down.
the photo I don’t have and ever wish to have is my bright pink knitted outfit again around the 4 yr old stage
-
the Ma had of course knitted this proudly perhaps this is the reason I never spoke to her for 20 yrs in later years - I think I recall being extremely reluctant to venture out but pushed I was in my pink outfit - my blushes turned it red and so did the well aimed brick thrown at me by probably a jealous boy
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direct hit to the forehead and fresh red blood streaming down onto the lovely pink outfit - top and pants ya know - well at least it had to be removed and possibly never seen the light of day again!
Mups my apologies for that stupid mistake.
Your name always brings Buddy Holly to mind “Mups sa daisy how you drive me crazy but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore” not to mention “Meg and Sue”, sorry Peggy Sue
I came over all sentimental reading the opening of the ‘Lad’ series, looking forward to more Gumbud.
well you can have a go too Jem!!
You bin in the sun too long today Jem?
I’m afraid so Mups, but I got a great tan. I was looking like a corpse I was so white, I’m looking like a brown corpse now, but feel great.
Just me and the Sandeman.
Sit down and pour yourself a fine glass of Sandeman
As good for a King as it is for a handyman
On any bottle there’s no better bloke
Than the long thin figure in the jet black cloak
Of aches and pains we may all complain
Just pour some port down your big red lane
In no time atal you’ll be a new man
With the power and strength of Genghis Khan
So to all ye fair maids and auld ones too
I lift my glass and bid you adieu.
I feel I want to be alone
To relax here on my cushioned throne
Now it’s time to have a chat
Just me and the man in the caballero’s hat.
http://i736.photobucket.com/albums/xx4/jemflux/sandeman-l-port_2.jpg
you really ought to copyright these if they’re yours Jem?
[CENTER]Bombed Sites, Burglars and Bicycles[/CENTER]
My first house, that of my birth was at the epicenter of three adjourning streets. I lived at NO 1 XXXXXX – we all had a bombed site which was the first beginnings of the modern kindergarten! Each street ‘owned’ their own bombed site – ours was small, compact and ‘clean’ no rumble so we were able to engage in a whole range of games from cricket, marbles and house building. The other two sites were interesting and not totally out of bounds but we stuck to ours firmly. The other sites were larger, undulating [not unchallenging for curious kids] and covered in damaged bricks[hazardous at times]. So we played happily within earshot and eyesight of the Ma and Da. We also had right next door to NO 1 a pub – more of that later.
For some reason unfathomable to me apart from ‘we can’t afford it’ I never had a bicycle or tricycle until me teen years but that didn’t stop me acquiring others. One particular girl I think had a tricycle and would happily loan it to me frequently and off I would go tearing around the place doing two wheel acrobats until her dear mother would appear yelling her head off and rescuing the tricycle from me – re-ensconcing her daughter and threatening us both if the order of things changed again! It did change again of course next day and the next day and the next day – I think today we call it resilience!
Burglars will come later
The ‘Ma and Da’ that’s real Dublin talk Gumbud, but I think that’s where we got our accent from-Liverpool, lots of words we say are similar, boook never buck, skoo-el for school etc. there used to be a trick question doing the rounds in pubs years ago and I was caught out meself on it, “Where is the nearest city to Dublin?” the answer is Liverpool, most folks start to go west inland or south and say Waterford, not a bit of it as miles go Liverpool is nearest.
We used to envy all the kids over there playing on the bombed sites, we would see it on Pathe News in the picture house. “Jaysus they must find great things in all that rubble” all so innocent of the horrors of war.