Off Topic I Remember When

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Sundays were visiting days. Into the car and around all the aunts and uncles houses to visit. Kids in one room, parents in another. Always got a brilliant tea at Auntie Megs, homemade pies and cake. On the way home stop at the pub, mam and dad go in and have a drink, kids stuck in the and if lucky a couple of bags of salt and shake sent out.
The same for me but I hated it. Lived in Ford Estate but had to go over to Hilton castle, and then I had to eat Battenberg cake and listen to Sing something simple with the Mike Sammes singers, absolutely s hite even for a 6 year old.
 
Nicking lead off the roofs to make fishing weights. Would melt it down in one of my mother's good saucepans then pour it into a spoon for shape.
In them days you’d fish with anything, I used to fish of Roker pier with a fly rod and 4 oz weight, the end of the rod would snap off so I would just shove the line through the next hole down<laugh>
 
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Playing with glass allys (marbles) in the dusty road side gutter - or in the garden playing ‘ringy’ or holey(like golf but played with said allys).



There was always one beggar who would play allys with a big iron benker.







My Dad worked at Ransome Hoffman and Pollard in Greencroft. Would bring bagful of steely's.....ball-bearings. I'd smash them all-out of sight!!
 
Dreading the bat at junior school if stepped out of line. Not sure if anyone had it out was only a rumour.,.it was the 70s so probably real :emoticon-0102-bigsm
 
My dad used to work for Barrs pop (lorry driver) and we always had an assortment of fizzy stuff . . . . I loved cream soda, but he never paid for any (why would he ?) :angel:
He was dodgy as ****, but he always got away with whatever he did.
He was a boxer, winning medals when he was in the army, and he would nearly always hit someone first, then perhaps talk to them. I remember being in the car with him once when somebody 'cut him up' and he chased him for ages before traffic lights ended it :cheesy:

He was a right twat, and we were terrified of him, but he never ever touched us :emoticon-0148-yes:
Me mam did, though . . . . she was lovely, but her slippers were bastards :emoticon-0106-cryin
 
My dad used to work for Barrs pop (lorry driver) and we always had an assortment of fizzy stuff . . . . I loved cream soda, but he never paid for any (why would he ?) :angel:
He was dodgy as ****, but he always got away with whatever he did.
He was a boxer, winning medals when he was in the army, and he would nearly always hit someone first, then perhaps talk to them. I remember being in the car with him once when somebody 'cut him up' and he chased him for ages before traffic lights ended it :cheesy:

He was a right twat, and we were terrified of him, but he never ever touched us :emoticon-0148-yes:
Me mam did, though . . . . she was lovely, but her slippers were bastards :emoticon-0106-cryin

Tough days mate!
 
My dad used to work for Barrs pop (lorry driver) and we always had an assortment of fizzy stuff . . . . I loved cream soda, but he never paid for any (why would he ?) :angel:
He was dodgy as ****, but he always got away with whatever he did.
He was a boxer, winning medals when he was in the army, and he would nearly always hit someone first, then perhaps talk to them. I remember being in the car with him once when somebody 'cut him up' and he chased him for ages before traffic lights ended it :cheesy:

He was a right twat, and we were terrified of him, but he never ever touched us :emoticon-0148-yes:
Me mam did, though . . . . she was lovely, but her slippers were bastards :emoticon-0106-cryin
Christ... If you need to talk there's services out there :)
 
He was a right twat, and we were terrified of him, but he never ever touched us :emoticon-0148-yes:
Me mam did, though . . . . she was lovely, but her slippers were bastards :emoticon-0106-cryin
Was scared of my Dad. He was the discipline, Mum was the sympathiser but was actually the power behind the throne

I can't bring myself to rule by fear with my own kids. Firm discipline, but never fear or violence. Just can't do it. Don't want to do it.
 
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Summer holidays. Breakfast then out I would go. Meet with friends and whatever the day would bring was just fine. Anything from swimming in the river, to fishing, to walking the fells, to bike rides. Home for tea, no bother from mam about where I was, then out again for 20 a side on the rec till it was too dark. Home, supper, bed. Daylight and repeat. No worries in the world.

20 aside, 67 - 0 .... then a voice "next goal wins".