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» Not Losing Your Virginity
£19.95 Cowboy Boots......
About 1979 / 1980, the coolest things about were cowboy boots and tight jeans.
I was never a cool person but decided I would join the cool set.
New boots...Light tan leather...Check.
Tight jeans...Levi's.....Check.
Check shirt....Check.
I looked *soooo* cool.
Off to local party at house of lad who's parents are going through a divorce and are away. Two cans of Lager, Loud music on the "Entertainment Centre". Rather large girl appears who I've seen occasionaly round school. "Necking" starts then tongues then touching. Can't believe my luck.
About an hour later, "You can walk me home if you like, my parents are out tonight". Bloody Hell, I might actually do it for the first time. It's really, really, really going to happen. I can't believe it! Oh bless those boots for making me look so cool! I am a sex God!
Put on some warm clothes for it is winter. commence walking her home stopping every 50 yards (metres for you young'uns) for cuddles and more fumblings. "How far is it to your house?" I ask, toes becoming sore and very pinched. "Not far"..........About two miles further, My feet are in agony, I'm sitting down every few yards. "Not much further"....."Not much further"....."Not much further"....."Not much further"..... Boots off, starts to rain. Feet cold, wet, sore, erection gone, I know I have to walk about three miles home. sobering up....she's not good looking...........I make my excuses and kiss her tenderly goodnight. We go our seperate ways. I sit on a bench and reflect on the night then walk home in the rain. occasionally putting the boots back on when on rough surfaces.... The pleasure of getting home was incredible, I sat and cried with relief. I also cried myself to sleep the next night when I found out my mission had failed at the end of her street................................................As for those pesky boots, the remained in the bottom of the wardrobe for about 18 months before they were thrown away. They had cost me £19.95. They had cost me far more than that. Occasionaly, I may glance into a shoe shop window and see an almost identical pair. The memories of the pain flood back..............................................................DAMN YOU £19.95 LIGHT TAN COWBOY BOOTS.
(Tue 31st Oct 2006, 9:16, More)
£19.95 Cowboy Boots......
About 1979 / 1980, the coolest things about were cowboy boots and tight jeans.
I was never a cool person but decided I would join the cool set.
New boots...Light tan leather...Check.
Tight jeans...Levi's.....Check.
Check shirt....Check.
I looked *soooo* cool.
Off to local party at house of lad who's parents are going through a divorce and are away. Two cans of Lager, Loud music on the "Entertainment Centre". Rather large girl appears who I've seen occasionaly round school. "Necking" starts then tongues then touching. Can't believe my luck.
About an hour later, "You can walk me home if you like, my parents are out tonight". Bloody Hell, I might actually do it for the first time. It's really, really, really going to happen. I can't believe it! Oh bless those boots for making me look so cool! I am a sex God!
Put on some warm clothes for it is winter. commence walking her home stopping every 50 yards (metres for you young'uns) for cuddles and more fumblings. "How far is it to your house?" I ask, toes becoming sore and very pinched. "Not far"..........About two miles further, My feet are in agony, I'm sitting down every few yards. "Not much further"....."Not much further"....."Not much further"....."Not much further"..... Boots off, starts to rain. Feet cold, wet, sore, erection gone, I know I have to walk about three miles home. sobering up....she's not good looking...........I make my excuses and kiss her tenderly goodnight. We go our seperate ways. I sit on a bench and reflect on the night then walk home in the rain. occasionally putting the boots back on when on rough surfaces.... The pleasure of getting home was incredible, I sat and cried with relief. I also cried myself to sleep the next night when I found out my mission had failed at the end of her street................................................As for those pesky boots, the remained in the bottom of the wardrobe for about 18 months before they were thrown away. They had cost me £19.95. They had cost me far more than that. Occasionaly, I may glance into a shoe shop window and see an almost identical pair. The memories of the pain flood back..............................................................DAMN YOU £19.95 LIGHT TAN COWBOY BOOTS.
(Tue 31st Oct 2006, 9:16, More)
» School Days
Bully almost dismembered......
In Brief...... Hardest kid in our year was Graham Dimelow.
The kind of kid who would punch you hard as he walked past just......because he would.
Anyway.
Metalwork lesson: Don't know if children are still allowed to do such things but lathes, milling machines etc. are in full swing, being operated by poorly supervised 14 year olds. Somebody is using a lathe with a bar of metal in it about 4 feet long. this means that part of the ragged ended metal (about 18" perhaps) is through the headstock of the lathe and spinning around quite quickly.
In these circumstances, standard practice is to put a piece of brightly coloured rag on the end to warn passers-by. No brightly coloured rag has been placed on the end......
It is about 1975 and school jumpers are made of indestructable man made stuff like nylon or other equally hard-wearing sweaty stuff.
People examine floor or ceiling as Graham Dimelow comes walking through the room......
People look up as the blood curdling screaming starts. He's walked past the spinning bar and the sharp spinning end has engaged in the "weave" of his jumper.
Lathes do not stop under such circumstances but continue slowly in their task. the front of the jumper is twisted into a thick, rope like sausage and, as the material is twisted up, Graham's waist is gradually reduced to ever smaller proportions.
The noise changes from a sort of suprised grunt, to a Arrrrrrrggggh, to a EEEEeeeeeee as, all air is squeezed out and organs are moved about.
Credit to the kid on the lathe, he stops it before death occurs and as people do in the seconds after something like this we all proceed to loudly exclaim "Fuckin' Ellllllll" and do errrrr......nothing.
Hero of the moment is Mr. Beckett, the "Hard Man" metalwork teacher who dashes over, takes one look, runs to the wall and returns with a large hacksaw. The twisted part of the jumper is sawn through and returns to normal size. Graham falls to the floor, gasping for breath.
Nobody Laughs.
After a short interval, Graham recovers and gets to his feet, the hole in his jumper went from waist to neck and armpit to armpit.
Mr Beckett went outside for a smoke.
Years later, it still makes me cringe, five more seconds would have resulted in a kid being literally squeezed in half before our very eyes.
Length? about 4 feet.
Diameter? About 12" round the waist.
Ian.
(Fri 30th Jan 2009, 9:39, More)
Bully almost dismembered......
In Brief...... Hardest kid in our year was Graham Dimelow.
The kind of kid who would punch you hard as he walked past just......because he would.
Anyway.
Metalwork lesson: Don't know if children are still allowed to do such things but lathes, milling machines etc. are in full swing, being operated by poorly supervised 14 year olds. Somebody is using a lathe with a bar of metal in it about 4 feet long. this means that part of the ragged ended metal (about 18" perhaps) is through the headstock of the lathe and spinning around quite quickly.
In these circumstances, standard practice is to put a piece of brightly coloured rag on the end to warn passers-by. No brightly coloured rag has been placed on the end......
It is about 1975 and school jumpers are made of indestructable man made stuff like nylon or other equally hard-wearing sweaty stuff.
People examine floor or ceiling as Graham Dimelow comes walking through the room......
People look up as the blood curdling screaming starts. He's walked past the spinning bar and the sharp spinning end has engaged in the "weave" of his jumper.
Lathes do not stop under such circumstances but continue slowly in their task. the front of the jumper is twisted into a thick, rope like sausage and, as the material is twisted up, Graham's waist is gradually reduced to ever smaller proportions.
The noise changes from a sort of suprised grunt, to a Arrrrrrrggggh, to a EEEEeeeeeee as, all air is squeezed out and organs are moved about.
Credit to the kid on the lathe, he stops it before death occurs and as people do in the seconds after something like this we all proceed to loudly exclaim "Fuckin' Ellllllll" and do errrrr......nothing.
Hero of the moment is Mr. Beckett, the "Hard Man" metalwork teacher who dashes over, takes one look, runs to the wall and returns with a large hacksaw. The twisted part of the jumper is sawn through and returns to normal size. Graham falls to the floor, gasping for breath.
Nobody Laughs.
After a short interval, Graham recovers and gets to his feet, the hole in his jumper went from waist to neck and armpit to armpit.
Mr Beckett went outside for a smoke.
Years later, it still makes me cringe, five more seconds would have resulted in a kid being literally squeezed in half before our very eyes.
Length? about 4 feet.
Diameter? About 12" round the waist.
Ian.
(Fri 30th Jan 2009, 9:39, More)
» Shit Stories
I was at a bike rally one weekend
I was busting for a shit. I walked the full length of the field getting more and more desparate. At the end of the field was a solitary Portaloo. Marvellous. I dashed in and......You should have seen it. There was a mound of shit to about six inches below the lid. (It was a non-flushing variety). Ah well, any port in a storm. I pulled my leathers down and sat........Ahhhhhhhhh, bliss. Except........I happened to do one of those turds you occasionally do that seem to be about fifteen inches long. As I was shitting this out, it bottomed out on top of the pile and stopped leaving my arse. I had to gradually lift myself off it so that it could finish coming out of my arse. It ended up looking like excalibur rising from the lake, about six inches higher than the lid. I walked back up the field sniggering away to myself. I can still imagine the look on the next persons face when the saw it.
(Thu 6th May 2004, 17:12, More)
I was at a bike rally one weekend
I was busting for a shit. I walked the full length of the field getting more and more desparate. At the end of the field was a solitary Portaloo. Marvellous. I dashed in and......You should have seen it. There was a mound of shit to about six inches below the lid. (It was a non-flushing variety). Ah well, any port in a storm. I pulled my leathers down and sat........Ahhhhhhhhh, bliss. Except........I happened to do one of those turds you occasionally do that seem to be about fifteen inches long. As I was shitting this out, it bottomed out on top of the pile and stopped leaving my arse. I had to gradually lift myself off it so that it could finish coming out of my arse. It ended up looking like excalibur rising from the lake, about six inches higher than the lid. I walked back up the field sniggering away to myself. I can still imagine the look on the next persons face when the saw it.
(Thu 6th May 2004, 17:12, More)
» I witnessed a crime
Ambulance.
Years ago, I moved into a new house. I was living quietly in a small cul-de-sac, going to work for long hours and coming home late and therefore, I didn't know many of the residents well.
I had noticed the woman across the road was pregnant though.
Late one night, I was woken by something. I peek through the curtains and across the road is an ambulance. The house is well lit up and there are people in and out of the door.
"Oh dear" I think, "I hope the baby / mother are OK".
Back to bed.
About three days later, I'm woken again. Much more noise this time. Woman screaming in the street, Police arrive, more shouting. Loads of grief.
Another couple of days later, I make discreet enquiries about "the troubles" and find out the people across the road had returned from holiday to find a very empty house.
The "ambulance" I saw was one of those old auctioned off jobbies.
Ideal for filling with burgled goods, no questions asked.
I thought about letting people know but.....
I didn't want to be known as "That bloke across the road who say all our worldly goods being nicked and never said anything".
20 tears later, .........Still saying nothing!
Ian.
Length? About 16 feet.
(Sat 16th Feb 2008, 21:51, More)
Ambulance.
Years ago, I moved into a new house. I was living quietly in a small cul-de-sac, going to work for long hours and coming home late and therefore, I didn't know many of the residents well.
I had noticed the woman across the road was pregnant though.
Late one night, I was woken by something. I peek through the curtains and across the road is an ambulance. The house is well lit up and there are people in and out of the door.
"Oh dear" I think, "I hope the baby / mother are OK".
Back to bed.
About three days later, I'm woken again. Much more noise this time. Woman screaming in the street, Police arrive, more shouting. Loads of grief.
Another couple of days later, I make discreet enquiries about "the troubles" and find out the people across the road had returned from holiday to find a very empty house.
The "ambulance" I saw was one of those old auctioned off jobbies.
Ideal for filling with burgled goods, no questions asked.
I thought about letting people know but.....
I didn't want to be known as "That bloke across the road who say all our worldly goods being nicked and never said anything".
20 tears later, .........Still saying nothing!
Ian.
Length? About 16 feet.
(Sat 16th Feb 2008, 21:51, More)