you needent keep askin wot time is it down there - sounds like I’ve fallen down some p-lug hole - wez is always 7 - 8hrs ahead of yuz dependin on the microwave settings!
OMG sweetie - I think you’ve found my heaven - brandy /wine and muscat - you do know the way to a mans heart /wallet and nether regions don’t you!
If you’re still wondering,Sweetikins,EDH=Efficient Deck Hand.
Actually,I served on several Union Castle ships - including the SA Oranje,which your hubby will know was the South African version of the MV Pendennis Castle. Of all the U/C ships I served on,I still remember the Tantallon Castle,which was originally a Liberty Vessel donated by they colonials,‘joorin’ the worr’,with the greatest affection. It took a LOT of handling to operate the derricks & booms,plus all the hatches were ‘tarp-and-wedge’,so took a bit of securing for rough seas…yep - regardless of ANY sarcastic remarks now incoming,the four years I spent in the Merchant Navy,prior to joining 45 RMC,were bloody marvellous-my old schoolmates were all juniors in offices,or on apprentice wages for learning skills that computers very quickly did them out of,whilst I was travelling the world as a wide-eyed teenage boy…and getting paid for doing it! I later earned my ‘Home Trade’ skipper’s ticket-and still hold it [1200-ton coasters,NOT 120,000-ton ocean goers]-but my ticket is for the UK/continental shelf only,NOT for heading out across the Pacific.
'ere wez go dangle his derrick and his boom again - watch out sweetikins or 'ell ave ya trusted up in a tarp and wedge and secured for rough seas - and those seas and seamen can be rough!
Pugsie ya can spin a yarn as good as Tristan Jones!
Going to Sea was never of any interest, plus, there was the reduced risk of contracting “non pacific urethritis”.
It’s been a while since Jack Tar showed up!
UNCLE BOB
My late uncle, Robert John, known to all & sundry as “Bob” spent 52 years at sea.
Sunk 3 times in WW2 , survived & later served in Korea.
Bob ran away to sea aged just 14, I use that term “ran away” loosely because he was a little “snot” as granny used to say. I guess she knew him as well as anyone can & was probably pleased to have a spare bed, for she had 8 other kids to struggle with. All these mouths to feed, often with the addition of a lodger or two. That 2 up 2 down terraced slum, along with hundreds of others in this Port City were condemned in 1936 & demolished the same year. The horses, kept in the back garden went to knacker’s yard, poor things.
Uncle Bob was my fathers’ next up older brother. There were 3 brothers namely Joseph Edward, known as Ted, then Robert John, known as Bob, and lastly my dad William, known as Bill.
Bob was a clever man, but he wasn’t clever enough to keep the fortune that he earned during his lifetime, or rather, amassed from his mainly gambling activities. He joked in later life that 90% of his income had been lavished on cigarettes, whiskey & wild, wild women. The remainder he just squandered. Although he probably didn’t coin that phrase he was the living embodiment of it.
I have led a sheltered life & am still amazed at the number of times uncle Bob was entrusted to babysit young Robert. Having been named after him, I would like to think he regarded me as somewhat special. It was a long while before it twigged that the dogs & horses which he generously gave lots of his money towards their care & upkeep was in fact gambling.
He took me to the Greyhound Racing, the Football Ground, and the Races & once to the Speedway.
Unsurprisingly he lost me every time.
Bob tagged onto my dad when his brother Bill married my mum Olive. It was an odd arrangement, Bob was at sea most of the year & lodged with us when on leave. This went on until I was 5 or 6 years of age.Bob was sick on mum’s lino once too often & dad was given an ultimatum.
“Either he goes or I go”.
Bob went to stay with his older sister Amelia, known as Sylvia & a widow at quite an early age. Bob was completely undomesticated & relied on my aunt Sylvia for everything. Many years later when they were both in their eighties Sylvia died. Bob was bereft, lost all interest in life & took to his bed. He died 2 weeks after her.
In keeping with this maritime theme, my peers may well be interested in my dad’s brother Bob, uncle Bob and the ships he sailed upon.
I have mislaid his WW2 assignments but list below his Certificates of discharge.
1955-1967
ASTURIAS
EMPIRE ORWELL
GLASGOW
ALCANTARA
IVERNIA
WINCHESTER CASTLE
SOUTHERN CROSS
PRETORIA CASTLE
TRANSVAAL CASTLE
PENDENNIS CASTLE
FRANCONIA
S. A. VAAL
S.A. ORANJE
REINA DEL MAR
NORTHERN STAR
1968-1972
CASTLE LINES
REGENT
PECOS
1973-1975.
EDINBURGH CASTLE
DRAGON
After this date when 63 he seems to have retired, or more likely
no ship would take him on because of his Trade Union militancy.
Thanks Bob for those shared memories of your Bob.
Reading through it strikes you how what good, solid down to earth dependable mens names they used to have. (Apart from your Bob that is but as he was a dependable gambler I suppose he was in a way)
Even reading of them years later you knew if they had had monikers like Bear, North, Ransom or such it would not have had the same sense of dependability.
The main reason your piece struck a chord was Bobs gambling. Many is the time I was sent on errands but two still stay with me.
First was for beer. You were given an enamel jug nearly as big as yourself and once filled was a right bugger to carry. Having skipped down a few back entries you hopped into a backyard and tapped on the door. An arm came out, a voice asked who sent you then if you gave the right answer the arm took your jug. You were given it back all heavy, frothy and reeking of hops. Once you had steadied yourself you were told to “make yourself scarce” So you did. Proof being non existent in home brew by the time you got home you were half squiffy from licking the slops of your arms
For the second errand you were entrusted with a scrap of paper with secret writing on it. It could be the back of a fag packet, bit of a letter , anything. You were also told ‘if you see a copper don’t stop at where you were supposed to stop’ Heavy stuff for a nipper to handle. Where I was supposed to stop was our back street bookies window. You tapped on it, gave the name of who sent you, handed over the precious bit of paper and always a shilling. I either got change or not, mostly not and then told to “make yourself scarce”
Making myself scarce became a habit that I still adhere to today should the occasion arise.
appra pro - just been browsing youtube as one does on a dark and stormy night and found the almost entire series of the Famous Five - no not books but films - how spiffing!! - that enid blytons family must have inherited a large fortune??
The Candy Bar cruise has started!!!
Get thee to that thread if you are all coming!!!
I’ll stay here, and keep the post connoisseurs busy, Crusin don’t float my Boat.
We’ll see:mrgreen:
Best of luck with the cruise Sweetie, don’t drink too much and fall overboard. I’m a landlubber, I like to keep me feet firmly on the ground.
Black Velvet is never drank here Gummy, at least I’ve never seen it ordered and I’ve been in a heck of a lot of pubs in me day, I believe it’s a nauseating concoction of champagne and stout, created by a London barman in 1861 to mourn the death of Queen Vic’s beloved Albert, the only thing nice about the drink is it’s attractive name.
On the other hand, Joe Sheridan, a barman at Shannon Airport created Irish coffee in 1942, it went on to a World famous drink, and it tastes good too.
The quicker one drinks the sooner one gets drunk, all the good spirit drinkers I know could go all day just sipping spirits, none of your John Wayne straight down the hatch stuff for good spirit drinkers, it’s an art in itself.
I don’t touch spirits now, but I always sip my port and take my time when drinking pints.
Of course when I was in me prime I alway kept up with the lads round for round, drink never made me rowdy or cranky, just wanted to talk, laugh and maybe sing a song or two, as they say if it don’t agree with you best to give it a miss.
I’ve no time for folks who become nasty or violent with drink.
Both my children are Saturday night only drinkers except when the lad comes over to me we both have a few pints in the local, his missus does the driving him home as he’s like me, never drove in his life.
We prefer to leave the driving to the ladies in the family, and why not, sure they love it, and may I add they are far better at it than any man, and that ain’t ass lickin’.:-)
Gentleman Jem, I know you do not participate in threads that feature virtual insanity.
But the two cuddly bears have asked for a cabin.
As for Spitty, he IS likely to do a fly over.
I am lucky as my son who lives at home is a teetotaler.
So any driving is never a problem when we go out.
I remember those enamel beer jugs well Solo.
We lived in Granby Lane in the city centre, we moved out in 1950 when I was 5.
I remember one day the granny asked the brother and me to go up to the shop and ask the shopkeeper, a Mr. Cronin, for five Woodbines and we were to tell him they were for her. when we got to the shop we were mesmerised looking at all the big jars of sweets and the brother coaxed me to spent the few coppers on a big bag of ‘Nutty Favourites’. We got the hiding of our lives when we got back and she never sent us on an errand again.
This is Granby Lane in or around 1928, the old lady with the two children is my great grandmother and the kids are her grandchildren, she dealt in bottles and rags (note her small stall on the left) the man with the hat is her son and the woman his wife.
We lived in the building on the extreme right, on the top floor and I was born in the room where you can see the full window. The shop on the left “The Mission” was a holy shop and sold all sorts of religious stuff.
That Dominican church is still there though everything else was knocked down and rebuilt on.
https://s26.postimg.org/7v18nbyp5/vlcsnap-2012-08-01-18h54m07s82.png
wot you were born and lived in a church??
talk about living next to godliness!
Not the church Gummy, in the building on the right side of the photo with the black and white brickwork.
A very holy man called Matt Talbot dropped dead in Granby Lane in 1924, right under the window of the room where I was born, I think the pope is making him a saint shortly.
So in your next post you may address me as “Your Grace”
Here’s the better picture I was trying to find. Thems all me relations standing out for the reporters cameraman, so that photo was taken in 1924 not 1928 as I previously said.https://s13.postimg.org/vaj9biws7/tumblr_inline_ns5pi3_JFFb1s6ejau_500_copy.jpg
it reminds me of the comfort of living in tight knit communities and the safety - you have ya neighbours; church and supermarket!
So many questions, so little time, what the heck.