Leisurely Scribbles (part 5) (Part 1)

Hobbies & Pastimes Hobbies & Pastimes: Chat / Discussions
13002

Sorry I’ve been absent,chaps and chappettes-‘life’ took a hold and was difficult to sort out.

Ah,yes-Jem,I was taught to drive in Shetland,when I was five years old.
Yes,honestly. I used to drive a Ford Dexter tractor across Unst,to Saxa Vord,where Big Dan would load the little trailer with sacks of cattle food,then I’d pootle back home across the island…and I was five!

But it wasn’t an unusual thing-and no,I’m not making it up.
ALL us kids could drive a small tractor when we were five-it was expected.
We used to play and have fun by legging it straight over the cliff,then dropping into the sea and swim to ‘The Willy’-which was a tall,thin stick of rock sticking up out of the sea…then we’d have LOADS of fun climbing it and throwing each other off it,or ‘bombing’ into the water…then we’d swim back,climb back up the cliff-face…and make VERY sure we collected as many puffin eggs as possible on the way up,so we wouldn’t be given a bllcking when we got back,as we’d have two-sometimes three,jumpers filled with fresh eggs. [we still got told off…but gently]

It seemed crazy to me,when I was first sent to Mainland UK,that weedy kids were frightened to go off the top board when we had swimming lessons. We ‘Shets’ just whizzed off the clifftop,dropping into the sea,at home…the heroic ‘wellards’ who’d try to beat us up when we arrived in the homes,were too scared to drop a poxy thirty feet into clear,still water!

Oh-and changing the subject entirely…Jem,my very first car,that I bought and paid tax,insurance etc on,was a Mk1 Vauxhall Viva. I’d driven others,like a Morris Oxford & a Russian estate car called a ‘Moskvitch’,which was a 1500cc heavy,4-door estate with no redeeming features,but the Viva was the first one I bought,with my own money. [the others were my stepfather’s]

It was actually funny…because I’d drive to my girlfriend’s home,park outside her garden gate,then go in and sit chatting/etc with her and her parents until Mr McLenahan arrived. He was my driving instructor.
I’d then go out for an hour’s lesson with him…and I still remember the day Mr McLenahan told me he’d booked my driving test. He told me that once we’d arrived back at my girlfriend’s house…and as he told me,he looked over at my Vauxhall Viva parked beside her garden gate and said ‘‘So be careful and cautious-your test is on Tuesday’’ and gave me a massive smile. [this was on the Saturday before,so just two days before the Big Event]

He KNEW that I was driving the 6 miles each way to/from my girlfriend’s house-but said nothing,just smiled. Then,when the Big Day arrived,I turned up at the test centre,was asked a few questions regarding white lines and the difference between a pelican crossing and a zebra crossing,then off we went…and the examiner fell asleep!
Straight up…the examiner was snoring beside me,as I drove around the town! I had NO idea what to do…do I wake him,risking making him angry,or do I go ‘‘Hurr-HMM’’ as I loudly clear my throat,so he wakes up-but is embarrassed,so fails me? What do I do?
So sod it…I put 25 miles on the clock,which showed in the speedo…then went back to the test centre,parked-then nudged him. He woke up,a bit startled,looked all around him,said ‘‘Right,let’s get started’’…and I said ‘‘Sir,I’ve done 25 miles-as you can see here on the odometer-I’ve been driving for nearly an hour as I didn’t want to wake you’’.

I passed. …and yes,that’s a true story. ALL of it.

13003

I just loved that story Pugsy.
I was pregnant when I took my driving test, I think the examiner was scared I would give birth on the test, I was expecting twins, so of course, I was big.
He asked me on the test, how would I do a hill start.
Up or downhill I asked, I know I know, but that is what I asked.

I used to drive Subaru’s, wow they have speed, the first was a yellow coupe and a kick on the accelerator and it would take off!!!
Oh, I have more stories about my Subaru’s, I loved my red one, the problem being was the fuses if I put the radio on at night, the lights went out!!! I was giving my friend a lift back from Uni one night, she put the radio on, and of course, out went the headlights in an unlit area, ARE YOU PLAYING CHICKEN? She shouted!!!
My next was a silver Subaru, for goodness sake, the horn had a mind of its own, it would just go off for no reason, Yes I have experienced road rage from other drivers.
So, after those experiences of second-hand cars, I decided to have new.
I am happy I made that choice.

13004

Great tale Pug, so the old saying is true then, “Let sleeping dogs lie” Paid off handsomely for you me lad.;-):slight_smile:

“We all live in a yellow Subaru, a yellow Subaru, we all live…” :smiley:

Civil servants are a tightly knit bunch, governments come and go but the good old civil servants will always remain, they know how to look out for one another too, I know, I’ve got a few cousins in the service, they are like coppers in a way, very sympathetic to one another, kick one and they all limp.
I was recently overpaid a weeks pension by mistake, not my mistake I hasten to add, nor was it the mistake of the girl in the post office, but some civil servants mistake in the welfare office. Like the honest idiot I am I went up to the social welfare office to give the money back, luckily for me I had to ask one of the attendants where to go about the mistake, he listened to my tale then called me aside out of the main corridor. He told me to keep the money, trying to fix the mistake would only cause trouble for someone in the job, best to keep it and let the Hare sit, that’s the policy more or less, says he.
Well he didn’t have to tell me twice, I was off like a shot and my conscience was clear. One does not rock the boat where the civil service is concerned, if they want to give you a present and then say they’re right then let them be, never look a gift horse in the mouth.
The simple lesson here is that no matter how honest you are, when the government gives you something for nothing take it and enjoy it, seldom is wonderful.:slight_smile:

13005

I refuse to believe this POXY forum.

I just spent a full 15 minutes writing a true story…and the ^!*!!@! forum timed me out!
So it’s fkn GONE.

Sod this-so am I.

NO point to this.

13006

Go Pug, whilst your integrity is intact.

13007

Write it in word, then copy and paste.
Spitty we don’t want Pugsy to go. :lol:

13008

Of course we don’t, but are we being selfish?

13009

Don’t mention shellfish!

13010

Is that with or without an R in the month?:lol:

13011

No! an F in the month.:lol:

13012

Mad fool. X

13013

13014

Just what I would say Sweetie, That used to happen to me a bit Pug, but then I started to type out what I was going to say on a blank page, then copy and paste it in, saves a lot of frustration.
We’d all love to hear the story by the way.:wink:

Spitty I thought you said ‘Sombody got an ‘F’ in the mouth’ :smiley:

I got a good giggle today while watching a serious historical film called “The Black Rose”
It’s set in the 1300’s.
Picture this scene, a Norman castle is surrounded by a ragged mob of Saxon rebels led by Tyrone Power, a head peers out of the castle tower and looks down, then Power shouts up “You are completed surrounded, I’ll give you five minutes to come out” Five minutesI!!, and not a sign of a watch on any of them, were clocks even invented then? it’s a wonder all the film executives didn’t spot that in the viewing room before it was released, would have only cost a few bob then to fix it, a bad slip up there for a big budget film back in 1950.
How did they calculate five minutes back in the 1300’s, or half an hour even without a clock?, did they have hour glass pocket watches and portable sun dials? I have seen some beautiful French carriage clocks used for travelling long distances in coaches, but they came centuries later.

13015

Lovely post Jem, true about time.
Try to judge time without a clock?

Our Pugsy is in a lot of pain just now.
So the best we can do is pray he gets better. x

13016

You lovely Possums. x

13017

Remember the 1960’s?

“Bodgie”

Young man walking in Customs Street
On a silent, rain washed Sunday.
Thick soled shoes in their silent wandering.
Dogged by the shadows of the late sun’s making,
Lonely heart and icy hand.
Alter ego in a mirrored doorway,
Shoulders straighten, walk up Queen Street,
Shafts of light from an open doorway,
Music sounds and a burst of laughter
Runs like a wave to the hastening feet,
Carries him on to the warm , welcome tide.

13018

Government Tourist Bureau
Whenever a cruise ship came into Auckland it meant very early wake ups to travel out on the pilot boat before the cruise ship had passed Rangitoto Island. There were tours to arrange, tourists to be smiled at and a lot of hectic organisation. The ship today was the Orsova, packed with Americans eager to get ashore and look around during their one day in port. By the time the ship was alongside about 30 coaches were full , at least on paper, and getting their cargoes of people ashore was running smoothly. Most were off to Rotorua to see the thermal pools, the geysers and the Maori guides who would show them through whakarewarewa and the Maori village.
Half way through the day would be lunch pre-arranged , usually at a large facility that could handle up to 300 at a time. One such was the Orange Hall at Matamata and our section of 10 buses arrived at the car park just as the entire staff walked out of a fight with management over wages. Everything was ready to go and after a brief managerial conference all the Tourist Bureau staff who were couriers on the buses became waitresses or kitchen staff. A frantic hour saw all the visitors fed and as the coffee was being consumed, the hungry workers sought to grab something to eat for themselves. The desserts were a choice between fruit salad and ice cream or poached pears with chocolate sauce. It was only then that it was discovered that we had been serving pears with gravy, and not a single complaint! They must have thought it was a local dish!

13019

Buses and coaches,eh Ciderman?

Ok-a true tale;

The day I took my PSV [as it was then] licence,a lady named Irene was chosen to take it with me on the same vehicle. We had ‘Talker Morse’ as our examiner. He’d done some of the training too…which was how he earned his nickname. Ok,so in the depot,we did the usual safety checks,tryes,oil,water,lights external & internal,fire extinguishers,etc…and off we set. Irene was driving first. We were driving an old Bristol ‘double-decker’,that had a setperate cab for the driver,which had a small window that gave a view of the doors. The glass had been removed,so that lessons and exams could be invigilated by the instructor/examiner via it. Long story shortened,Irene just could NOT get the hang of the gearbox and kept crunching it and/or missing gears. When we got to the A12,Talker asked her to pull into a layby,then swapped us over. Irene was in floods of tears. I was asked to take over while he calmed her down. Now-as I said,I’d been driving tractors since I was five,so the David Brown 6-speed crash-box was no biggy.
I pulled out onto the A12,heading north…and was in silence. NO instructions or ‘TSK!’'s were coming through the little window. Ok…I decided he was deliberately waiting for me to cock right up…but Talker didn’t know I’d spent AGES driving my stepfather’s Guy Warrior,which had the same gearbox.

He used to drive it through London at night,get to Hammersmith,then we’d swap seats,he’d hand me his licence and say ‘‘If you get stopped,you’re me’’ and immediately fall asleep. So I used to drive the artic-which in those days was just 32 tons,with a rope-and-sheet load,along to the M4,then continue until the M5,turn south,then pull up at the entrance to Gt Portberry Dock,where we’d swap back.

ANYWAY [sorry] I poodled along in the bus,not knowing what to do,when to turn off,etc. So i just drove,until I got to Colchester,where I decided I’d best take control of events,so I went down the slip-road,around the doughnut,then back south,via Stanway until I could get back onto the A12. [there was a bridge we had to avoid in a double-decker,so I couldn’t just swing straight back onto the A12,I had to drive through Stanway]

I had NO idea what was going on,or even if they were both ok…so as I got level with Mountnessing,just north of Romford,I pulled off,stopping in a layby.
…and you know what?
Those two sods were both sat upstairs in the front bench seat,enjoying the trip,chatting,pointing out things as we passed them-and laughed their bloody heads off when I appeared at the top of the stairs…the SODS!

I passed…flying colours…but what got me was that Talker used to relay that story to trainee drivers for YEARS after!

I drove ‘deckers’ for Eastern National…and I met Irene about 15 months later. She’d also managed a pass-but on the new-fangled automatic single-deckers. No ‘decker’ licence,no crash-box gears. I eventually moved back to Shetland,which has it’s own service,then went on to gain my HGV1,STGO & my ‘Triple A’ licences…which you’ll all fall asleep just thinking about,so I’ll desist.

[but yes,every single word IS true. It’s all on record]

Umm…sorry…I got carried away as I re-lived that. Sorry…

13020

I went to boarding school in Colchester Pugs.
When I was 15 I sat my drivers licence in Auckland, New Zealand and the traffic cop sat beside me and told me where to go for the practical test. Afterwards we stopped outside the station and he plied me with questions re the road code. Everything went well for most of the questions until he said “How close can you park to a pedestrian crossing” I hadn’t a clue so I said “200 yards?”. He looked at me, winked and said “Well you’d be alright there!”
:mrgreen:

13021

Ciderman, Pears with gravy sounds like something that a chap I worked with would relish, a most peculiar eater if ever I met one. I clearly remember one very hot day he sent the boy out for an ice lolly at the tea break, he then took plain bread and butter slices from his lunch box, he pulled the stick out of the lemon flavoured lolly and placed the lolly between two slices of bread, took a huge bite and swallowed it down with his tea, after that nothing surprised me in the sandwich line.:slight_smile:
Lovely poem. Yes the 60’s were very happy times for the missus and me, we have many fond memories of that great decade, plenty of work, good wages, job security, happy contented people, and smashing music, what more could a person ask for, great to have lived through it, we’ll never see times like that again. i would not like to be starting out again the way things are today.

Great story Pug, worth waiting for, you know your driving stuff inside out, fair play to you.
I hope your feeling better, you ’sound’ in great form.;-):slight_smile:
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