Scribblers are like peas in a pod, but, that will be of no use when the shit hits the fan.
when I lived in jolly old ‘honkers’ one of our first missions was to learn to use chopsticks deftly and rapidly - we practiced picking up peas - cooked ones I hear you ask ? - Nah that’s was too easy - solid frozen ones - now there was a challenge - stepping over peas could be fraught with dangers!
Mushy peas.
Dried peas were the answer.
Do you like those tiny ones?
Pretty pois.
nah they were too deftly poissssssssssssssssssssssed!
I like them best, they are sweeter.
Green peas, why green?
Never seen any other colour.
Chickpeas.
Oh yeah Blackeyed peas.
Good Night Possums.
Good Night John Boy. X
goodnight mary ellen!
Good Morning Possums.
I will have to think of a theme for today.
Thinking cap on.
well considerin that we are an all male choir on here with the exception of one - what about the trauma of the first serious girl friend [I don’t mean to suggest the girl was serious but that the event was?]
Lovely idea Gummy.
I will come back later.
I can post about my son and his first and current dilemma!
well I might start then - my first serious girlfriend was in the cheshire countryside and we did have a few country walks across the fields and rested under the shade of an oak or summat.
Her mother didn’t like me much but because we all went to the same church she had to be nice - but she displayed class racism at a time I didn’t know it was that but knew it was something I didn’t like.
she lived in a large grand house on the outskirts of the village which had a second floor conservatory - that’s how grand they were! but I WAS madly in love so put up with it all. the mother had her eye on a young farmer across the way and was continually trying to host social events that involved him. However one guy fawkes night I did ‘arrange’ for me village mates to disrupt his farm fire event. like you don’t have private fire events in our village right?
I think honestly the girl was confused by what her mother was trying to do and I wasn’t assertive enough - can you believe that so in the end I lost her!
'COURSE I can believe you lost a girl,gumnuts!
After all,you’re supposed to impress her parents,not make them puke!
My firsty was Philamena Molloy.
An Irish girl,that I didn’t even realise was my girlfriend,until I was told by her brother,Chris! Chris and I went swimming together,climbed trees,made catapults,built bicycles out of bits,etc,etc…and his sister was often with us-but I was totally unaware she was my girlfriend!
Sad,eh? The one thing that stays in my mind was helping Philly to get a foot-up,when we were climbing a haystack-and I saw her knickers as I looked up when she was standing on my shoulders! Ohhhhh,boy…
The first proper one was Karen, we met in June, just as she had completed here exams, unfortunately her future had already been plotted, and was due to start University in the September, “76” that was one “Hot” summer, me a scumbag from the Estate, and she, a young lady from the Royal Town.
Yebbut…you’ll always have the ‘‘Summer of ‘76’’ to look back on with fondness,spitty. No divorces,no arguments,no ‘differences’…just,pure romance’,mate. Good on yer,spitty.
Yes, 76 was the start of a ten year phase.
Well,you’re doing better than me,mate.
I have a family that detests my presence on their planet,a Spanish wolf as a pet,plus one Greyhound who was being retired at 4yo…and Shitlegs,who’s tiny,yet has more mouth than the Amazon!
“The fools, the fools, the love sick fools, the ‘oh what might have been’ fools” (George Henry Moore)
Tales to bring a sentimental tear to the eye, thank you lads for the memories.
Love, young love, don’t talk to me about young love, if ever a boy suffered it was me.
It all takes me back to the childhood love I had, the love that dare not speak it’s name, no not that one, the love between a boy and his first cousin, strictly taboo back then.
How could I ever forget dear sweet lovable Ann, the girl who taught me how to smoke properly, how to dance and how to yodel, amongst many other things, the girl I shared a nicked bottle of our granny’s sherry with under the old apple tree, and how she was suddenly plucked from my young life and taken to Canada with her family all those years ago, she then married a drummer in a band, I’m all choked up now and I can’t go on, farewell my lovely Ann of a thousand tricks.
Like the song, her future in the system was talked about and planned, but she gave it up for music and the drummer in a free electric band
ya getting too damned handy with that Utube thingy Jem - well some of us bemoan the loves we’ve lost others breath a sigh of relief - bye sweet relief! [she was a bit of the fat side! - well just the left side!]
nb: that stands for nob! - RJ bit on the late side as usual?