Cor you had it cushy spitty. All we had for heating was a sucking a fishermens friend :-D:-D:-D
Still a pleasure to find a bright shiny conker with it’s beautiful autumn chesnut colours that you know deep down in your heart even after all these years was good enough to take on all comers.
Conker playing that we eagerly waited for each year is now deemed dangerous to play. Half the fun was finding the perfect one nestling in it spiky case though I was never keen to spoil that perfection. Much preferred admiring them…so it was even more of a pleasure to leave it intact till it’s glory faded naturally…
Sticking a skewer through a conker, then threading it with string or if your were lucky a shoe lace so you could dangle it and watch it gradually being smashed to bits…along with badly bruised knuckles cos not everyones eyesight was that good and some never fought fair did they being of maim and destroy mentality…but all part of our autumn fun.:shock:
It actually took some bravery to stand there knowing someone was doing there very best to decimate your own little piece of prized Autumn glory…and we were daft enough to do exactly that. No yelping and running away for our lot who were right little toughies and were in it to win it…busted fingers or not.
The best specimens were always still on the tree, just out of reach, my mate Billy was the champion, hence he was known as William the Conkerer.
“Impeached” Isn’t that a lovely word we keep hearing lately, sounds so sweet and it’s so harmless to the common person who can never be impeached, yet it’s a disastrous thought to the most powerful person in the World, the word sends shivers down the spine of any American president, poor old Bill Clinton nearly had a complete breakdown when the Monica scandal leaked out.
When I first proposed to my wife, who was a peach in her own right ;-), I cut in half and cleared out the centre of a beautiful fresh peach, then I wrapped the engagement ring in grease proof paper and inserted it into the centre of the peach, I cut the sulphuric heads off two matchsticks and sunk each one halfway into the inside of the fruit then closed the two halves, it sealed almost seamlessly.
“Take this peach as a token of my undying love for you my dear” says I.
“Is that the best you can do?” says she.
“Part the two halves and see what’s inside my darling, it’s already cut”
She opened it up and unravelled the paper, her eyes lit up and filled with tears of joy as she beheld the diamond cluster ring that was impeached inside the peach, we kissed tenderly then walked off down the moonlit beach.
Beat that Valentino!
That was how I planned it, actually the truth is she had to wait until the night before the engagement party for the ring, I was very busy in work at the time and had to stay back some nights to finish it off on my own time, it was a very close thing to have it ready on time, could you imagine an engagement party with no engagement ring on the girls hand? to hell with impeachment, I would have been impaled on the nearest railing.
Thank you for sharing that lovely memory with us Jem.
Good job that wasn’t done to me though, as one of my weaknesses is fresh Peaches and I would have had that out of your hand and eaten quicker than you could blink. Can you imagine that!..romance would definitely have gone out of the window waiting for the surprise to pass through.
I have always admired Craftmen and can watch someone for hours totally fascinated with their working skills. To be able to apply that to make something special for a loved one has to be so extra special.
Like those carved Love spoons that are passed down in families all carved with so much loving care care. This clip may interest you Jem …made with so much thought but without that tempting peach though. 
Thanks for that video Solo.
None of my relations or ancestors every worked in the jewellery trade, I got in by pure chance as a messenger boy, then when they gave me a chance at the bench I took to it like a duck to water, it’s as if I was born to it, very strange how everything came to me so easily, so automatic, reinforced my positive thoughts on reincarnation. I never looked on it as work because I always enjoyed doing it, and I can tell you if I hadn’t loved it I would have got out of it real quick, probably joined the navy I always fancied being a sailor.
It must be heartbreaking for anyone who has to work in a job they hate, they have my sympathy.
We were talking in the pub at lunchtime today about the old relationship between employer and employee and how it has soured over recent years, we even went as far back as the days when rich folks had servants, and that’s not so long ago as history goes, my grandmother was a parlour maid to a politicians family in a mansion in Liverpool when she was young, she made some lifelong friends with the rest of the staff and often said she spent some of the happiest days of her life in that big house.
If for example a wealthy family had a great cook in their employ or a talented gardener they would be the envy of their social class and would treasure that person, the cook would be happy because his/her efforts were appreciated and he/she would be almost one of the family not to mention they’d have all they could eat and drink into the bargain, all the old cooks male and female always looked well fed jolly and contented.
https://i.postimg.cc/gcQ14Rwy/cooking-in-edwardian-times-pat-nicolle.jpg
Today workers are just digits that can be moved added or subtracted at will, no more job security and an end to the old “jobs for life” and “permanent staff” when you could make long term plans for your family without worrying about being out on your ear at a moments notice, progress how are yeh!
Ah,Jem-may I just quickly point that not EVERYONE wishes to be informed they have a 'job for life,old chap?
I mean-informing the commanding officer of 321 E.O.D. [yes,my mob] for instance,that he’d expected you to remain longer,after you’d just been blown up for the third time…or discovering a cure for being too healthy,thus depriving THOUSANDS of people the chance to ring in “Wib a reaby bad code-by doze is blogged”…or even just having a “Piss off,we’re CLOSED!” national holiday whenever the sun is bright and the sea is warm and even the seagulls are naked-ALL or ANY these things would require parliament to cease acting like spoiled snot-boxes and actually act as if they’d actually FINISHED reading ‘‘Now we are five’’ and take clear action.
So tell me,Jembo…who’s the last person YOU can recall as honest enough to say “This is too much for me,I’m not up to it” and walk away WITHOUT a massive pay-off??? HMMM??? {wotcha Jem,btw}
Work, funny thing that, I wouldn’t want me working for me, it would be too painful to watch.
Jem, spitty and Pug…Interesting views on jobs.
I was fortunate to have only ever taken a job because I wanted to learn or for experience so I could walk away any time…and if neccessary did so…with another job lined up and waiting.
One of my old relatives had been a Laundress. With todays technology that sounds simple enough but back in the day that meant back breaking work for little pay and very long hours by very young girls.
Even though the explanations of her days work and how she progressed through the many stages of laundry work interested me you could see the damage those years had done to her, yet she had still loved that job and companionship but although a very hard worker she said she never felt secure in the job.
One because accidents often happened with the huge Coppers, Mangles and rollers where young arms could be lost at a moments loss of concentration through tiredness or if you were sick you would be replaced without warning. You were only as good as your last days work…which made you work all the more harder.
The days of sticking 2 fingers up at a job have long gone but it was fun whilst it lasted. 
Sometimes you have to break the rule to get a job done.
Sunday smile…a reminder of watching for Mr Hitchcocks cameo appearances.
Always great to hear from you Pug me lad, I hope your in the pink.;-)
Yes I know you’ve been in many scrapes in your day Pug, your a survivor by all accounts. I’ve always had great respect for the men and women at the dangerous end of things.
Then there are the ones who do nothing and certainly don’t risk their lives for their country, who get fabulous money for doing nothing, the politicians, they will try every trick and pull every stroke in the book to hold onto that golden goose, they will never willingly walk away, they never do, some are like chameleons and change colour when it suits them, eventually they have to be dragged kicking and screaming out, it’s like trying to get a periwinkle out of the shell with a spoon. I’ve no time for any self centred politicians of any party, I don’t bother with politics at all, nor do I vote anymore, they are all tarred with the same brush as far as I’m concerned, and they can all go to hell in the same boat, born liars the lot of them as has been proved to the British public over the last couple of years.
Yes Solo, a lot of jobs were dangerous back then, I’ve soldered tens of thousands of items on asbestos pads with the blowtorch blowing the dust into my face all my working life with thankfully no ill effects (I still use asbestos pads for soldering in the shed)
Sure enough the days of walking out of one job and into another were short lived, but good while it lasted.
Nice clip that showing Hitchcock’s appearances, I read something years ago about Hitch being obsessed with Tippi Hedren when they were making the film “Marnie”, but with Hollywood stories you never know the real truth.
Seemed Hitch was a bit of an oddball…dressed in drag and liked blondes namely Grace Kelly, Vera Miles, Kim Novack, Janet leigh and Tippi Hedren…but don’t most men prefer blondes!
All I know is that he made brilliant films Marnie being one of my favourites along with The Birds and Phycho…so his being a bit odd never coloured my views of his abilities. We had enough oddballs of our own without worrying about Hitch and his antics.
Reading autobiographies of someones life story often paints a different picture than you imagined from their screen image or presence…and there again I would never imagined that Miss Hedren would have kept lions in her home at Shambala where her daughter Melanie Griffiths slept and played with them…now that is odd and far worse than dressing up in a dress surely ;-).
Ah the plot thickens, Tippi kept lions, I knew a forest ranger who kept mountain goats, he was arrested after a report was sent to the police by the RSPCA.;-)
I’m trying to imagine Hitch standing in high heels, a flowery frock with a ribbon in his hair, and his big belly sticking out, somehow the vision just won’t take form, thank God for the defensive mechanism in the brain that blocks horrible images out.
Surely the strangest cross dresser of the lot had to be J. Edgar Hoover, for relaxation after a hard day in the interview room and hoarse from screaming at every actor in Hollywood “Are you a member of the communist party!”, his favourite method of relaxing was to don a pair of white bobby socks and a pink poodle skirt, try to connect that with his fat bulldog face dancing around a living room.
As they rightly say it takes all sorts to make a world.
Of course there’s nothing wrong with all that these day, and rightly so if that’s what you fancy, but may I suggest they change the words of that old song “Oh Lord it’s so hard to be humble” to “Oh Lord it’s so hard to be normal”
Who would have thought Hoover had a softer side…just goes to show what goes on behind 4 walls needs to stay behind 4 walls or you could be well and truly ‘umbled’ or rumbled in his case :-D:-D:-D
There are few pleasures in life that can be better than the smell of bacon cooking…so it was heartening to read today that those in the know now say “it isn’t as bad” as they told us it was. Not that I took any notice of that bit of advice anyway.
I can leave an ‘almost’ full English breakfast alone as I don’t care for beans or those hash brown thingies which turns the full English into a half American breckers anyway but nothing on this planet would make me give up a bacon butty.
As any trucker will tell you a bacon butty is well and truly part of our British culture right down to the core and over the years many of our men/women have happily marched on having been topped up with a cuppa and a bacon butty from the good old Naafi wagons who knew the way to a heart was through the stomach
Rather than deprive us of a national treasure by scare mongering, shame the know alls didn’t mention buying nitrate free bacon is safe. Right I’m off to dip my bread in bacon fat…uncured of course
I’m glad to hear you eat a good old fashioned breakfast Solo, Phyllis is the same, she wouldn’t miss her “Irish” breakfasts for the world, there’s little difference to the English breakfast, and thank God she’s as healthy as sin. A bowl of porridge does me, eat what you like when you like and to hell with the experts.;-)
There was a real howler of a wind outside in the early hours this morning, I just knew as I lay in bed that something was going to be damaged or blown away, and sure enough as I looked out the bedroom window there was the felt blown off the little summer house and the wooden gate at the wall blown off it’s hinges, I was busy all day on the roof putting things right again, now I hear there’s a hurricane coming on Thursday, ah well no rest for the wicked.
I suppose they’ll be a lot of people up on the roofs repairing the damage after Thursday, I hope not.
my roof is firm as are my foundations thus far, that is no guarantee of long term integrity though.
It’s ‘‘Awite,Toots-the usual for me,bacon,egg,beans,slysa toast,tea no sugar…and my faggotty mate’d like freshly squeezed orange,gluten-free cereal,fat-free milk and a slice of multi-seed bread with olive spread,cut into quarters,please darlin’…’’
THIS,is recognised as REAL trucker’s,grub from Shetland to the Scilly Isles and everywhere in between,these days!
So when of late,we’re inundated not JUST with plebian mincing dorks calling themselves ‘truckers’ who burst into tears if their hand-selected mug of decaf tea isn’t stirred anticlockwise for thirteen seconds exactly,but who actually have NO idea how a 32-speed range-change twin-selector gearbox works,but know EXACTLY how suncream should be applied for maximum advantage…and who still believe CB Radio is the devil’s work,but who can get 140 channels on Net-poxy-flix within a nano-second…even though they end up NOT avoiding the cock-up at the M4/M25 caused by some prat yakking on his mobile…weeeeell…I imagine my feelings regarding such pansyboy ‘pretend’ drivers,who can change gears downward ONLY if the bloody cruise-control is automatically disengaged when brakes are hit and burnt out,rather than downing gears in 4-clump twin-splitter sectors,thus bringing the 44 [usually] ton vehicle to a SAFE graduated deceleration whilst retaining FULL control AND still bringing warning to other HGV CB users of whatever it is that’s gone t1ts-up THIS time…um…[I do apologise-I just realised the vehemence incorporated within…I’ll shut-up & sod off-sorry]
Well said Pugs. We have had to wait awhile for those words of wisdom from you and they were well worth the wait.
So much more than the safety basics for youngsters to be distracted from these days which are far more important and only realised when things go wrong. You would think being in charge of a something like a 22 wheeler would be enough to think about 
No matter where I travelled coming back to the UK and stopping for a friendly truck stop breakfast or meal always meant you were well and truly home…and we had our favourites
Something to consider Jem. Living so close to the sea front I lost my garden shed roof in a bad gale and the chap that sorted me out suggested that I grow a clematis over it…pinning it down so to speak.
I took his advice and planed the evergreen white Armandii and it didn’t take long to cover the shed. Smells and looks gorgeous and is also somewhere for the birds to go. It has weathered many gales and storms and kept my roof safe.
Anyway lets hope Lorenzo runs out of puff. You and Phyllis stay safe.
Similer to this…
