Narrow escape?
I wrote to Jim'll Fix It, begging to go on It's a Knockout after a torturous family holiday in Conway where I'd had to watch my favourite show setting up opposite our B&B in preparation for a recording the day AFTER we were to leave.

On another occasion, I wrote to Jim'll to ask him if I could do some cartooning with Rolf Harris.

Basically, I spent my childhood writing to the Beeb;s pedo kingpin, asking him to introduce me to the other pedos.
(Tstar73, Sat 13 May 2017, 0:17, 1 reply)

Space, The Final Frontier.....
Before I tell my story, a quick Public Service Announcement. In about 14 hours, Mrs Legless will be giving birth to our first child.

A B3ta baby. We met through B3ta, QOTW to be specific, and have been together for more than ten years and married for almost 3.


I know we're not the first B3ta baby - I know of any least one who was conceived on a bash - but, if B3ta is still going in another 15 years I'll tell our daughter where her parents met and how we got together.



Anyways - on with the tale.


It's not my happiest childhood memory but it is one of the most profound. It was on July 21st 1969. At school, my class had been taken down to the TV room to witness the moment when Armstrong said those iconic words:

"One small step for a man - one giant leap for mankind"


My little brain almost 'sploded. We (meaning the Yanks) had put a fucking man on the moon!! It was beyond awesome. I was already a prolific reader but most of my adventure reading was earth based. Exploring the Amazon, Eygpt, Africa. I was into H. Rider Haggard, George McDonald Fraser (Flashman), Rudyard Kipling and early Tolkien - pretty much, The Hobbit.


But the moon landing changed everything. I discovered sci-fi. Asimov, E.E.Doc Smith. Hienlen. I read everything from the Golden Age of science fiction. Space was the next frontier. We'd reached the moon so Mars would be next. We'd build a lunar colony, humanity would start to reach for the stars...


But it all turned to shit. Then we had Nixon, the oil crisis of the 70s, and stagnation in really getting our arses off this rock.

But now we have new blood. Neil Dr Grasse Tyson - one of the most elequont speakers for science and space I've ever listened to. Elron Musk - a complete nutter who risks everything on his vision. The guy has huge balls. But he wants to get us into space, onto other planets and start mining asteroids and comets.


I'm rambling now but, the point is, when I was a child, I dreamed that I might get to space. Today, I'm on the cusp of being a dad for the first time and I really think that my daughter might have a fighting chance of doing what I dreamed about as a child.

But only if she wants to.


Cheers
( Legless Mister Stabby - shanks for the memory, Wed 17 May 2017, 14:26, 19 replies)

The Grand Tour...
My father was very fond of history, and decided that since I had reached the grand age of 7 he would take me to Rome to show me the sights. We walked the catacombs, took a fascinating tour of the Colosseum, explored and marvelled at the majestic St. Peter’s. He explained to me the magnificence of the Pantheon and regaled me with tales of the Circus Maximus, and the marvelous machinations of the forum. He was overjoyed when I was impressed by the beauty of the Trevi Fountains and the stunning art on display in the many galleries and churches, and we really did have a great father/son time.
Months later he visited my school and was looking through my work and spotted a folder labelled ‘Trip to Rome with dad’ – he opened it with a beaming smile and read my essay:
“Me and Dad went to Rome and saw lots of history things. On the way back we went to London Zoo and I saw a monkey eat another monkey’s poo and throw it at other monkeys. It was ace.”
(Tugnut Ex of this parish, Tue 16 May 2017, 12:01, 2 replies)

Back on the Sixties...
Yeah, I'm old.

We lived on a dirt road in the middle of nothing, woods all around. Along the sides of the road were raspberry bushes, overhanging the road. In June you could walk along there and eat raspberries to your fill and never come close to depleting them.

Once a ear Mom would send us out with plastic containers to gather as many wild raspberries as we could. We would spend the day gathering them, bringing back our containers to Mom who poured them into a kettle on the stove. She spent the day making jam out of them, and at the same time baked loaves of bread.

That night we would eat jam and bread for dinner, as much as we could fit.

It only happened once a year, and maybe all of five times. But I still remember the wonderful smell.
( Wanderer, Mon 29 May 2017, 21:05, 2 replies)

I won a Scalextric, aged 6.
It was a Kellog's competition on the back of a box of Frosties. Some tie-in with rally cars where you had to put various car components in order of importance - we didn't even own a car.

I found out I'd won, many months after, when "father christmas" delivered a Mini Cooper Rally edition Scalextric and a letter from Tony the Tiger telling me to stay "Gggggggrrrrreeeeaaaatttt!".
( Linbox has a serious dunk habit, Wed 17 May 2017, 2:51, Reply)

Lavender
The scent still clings, somewhere. I'm sure it's synthetic; some jarring in my olfactory bulb that confuses my brain and makes me think I can smell her. My memories are hazy and piecemeal, like a synaesthetic collage. The curve of her hair, the warm softness of her hand, enveloping mine. The rich sound of her voice, bestowing a safety and security that I've never really felt since. But mostly, the smell.

Her perfume was Yardley English Lavender. She wore it subtly, so the smell mixed with her own aromas: vanilla, cocoa butter, Imperial Leather soap. It was a smell that filled my nostrils as I hugged her, when I'd skinned my knee, when I'd broken my toy car, when I'd eaten too much jelly and ice cream and felt sick. It was a smell that I'll forever associate with comfort, with complete love and protection.

The smell lingered for a while after she'd gone. I think my father was loathe to clean too much, lest he completely washed her away. His need for it was probably as great as mine. In time, we healed, albeit with scars: invisible to the naked eye, but very real, and very tender when prodded in the right way. I kept a bottle of the perfume, and every year, on her birthday, I spray just a little bit onto my pillow, and cuddle it, pushing my tear-streaked face into the warm softness, just like I used to as a child.

Sometimes I catch the tiniest amount of it on the breeze. Perhaps someone wears something with a hint of lavender; maybe someone has a bush in their garden. For a second, I'm caught up in the swirling vortex - the curve of her hair, the warm softness of her hand, enveloping mine. The rich sound of her voice, bestowing a safety and security that I've never really felt since.

I might not remember you too well, Mum, but I miss you.
(SalariosDecentes was under the radar on, Tue 16 May 2017, 8:33, 1 reply)

The Saturday afternoon when this episode of Dr Who came on:
The Volcano God was bemused. The mortal stood before him was clearly a man, yet expected him to believe it was female. and it wanted him to fuck it.
"Oh come ON sweetie" pouted Skagra "I'm ready for this, you CAN'T kill me, I'm immortal".
The Volcano God shrugged and started massaging his firey prick. His napalm filled balls roiled sluggishly.
"You do realise that human flesh simply can't take this temperature? That you'll be roasted from the inside out?" He questioned.
"Boring sweetie, I'm a Time Lord silly" Giggled Skagra as he presented his saggy hairy arse to the Volcano God.
"Hold on" The Volcano God said "Is, is that Vaseline you've used as a lube? Are you completely fucking insane? Not content with the fact that this WILL kill you, you've made what is about to happen worse by smearing yourself with petroleum?"
Skagra simpered "Just get on with it sweetie, I don't have all day you know. Well, actually, I do. What with being a Time Lord and all."
As the Volcano God's burning prick neared Skagra's hole his arse hairs crisped away to cinders. The Volcano God grabbed Skagra's haunches, instantly roasting his handprints into Skagra's flesh. Skagra was too shocked to even scream, and worse was to come.
The flaming head of the Volcano God's cock charred Skagra's sphincter as it entered, destroying it utterly in the process.
Skagra's rectum was flash-fried, the agony intense.
Skagra was already half dead as the Volcano God withdrew and thrust again. His flesh burned so badly that between his waist and his thighs what wasn't ashes was like overdone steak.
The Volcano God shuddered as he climaxed. His burning seed forcing it's way through Skagra's ruined colon into what was left of his intestines. The whole of Skagra's body was aflame now, his eyes boiled away in their sockets, his brain starting to crisp in his skull.
Skagra's mouth fell open to scream, but as it did his throat burned away as he finally died, and all that came out was a smoke ring.
The Volcano God looked down at the burnt corpse with little regret. He HAD warned Skagra what would happen, after all.
Here is some honey
THE END.
( stuj (^(^;;^)^) GO TEAM SPIDERS!(^(^;;^)^), Wed 31 May 2017, 16:55, 12 replies)

God its a drab fest of replies
Fave child(ish) memory, reaching 15, being allowed a pt-time job at the local Supermarket and earning money! Then one night me and a friend had this idea of hiding behind a hedge and stretching some disused fishing line across a quiet road to a random door knocker. Back behind the hedge we pulled on this line for what seemed like an hour.
"Knock, knock, knock"
"Knock, knock, knock"
"Knock, knock"
"Knock, knock, knock"
Hilarious stuff but no-one answered so I yanked on the line, broke it and we emerged from behind the hedge.
Then this woman screamed "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING!!??", so we scarpered. A day later the local paper ran this article about how hooligans had played a deadly prank and stretched some line/cable fuggin Destroyers anchor chain etc across a road that could've garrotted a motorcyclist. Bad enough but the best was yet to come.
Cue Saturday morning and I turned up to my Supermarket job. What news awaited? That enraged woman who screamed at us for the prank - I fucking worked with her.
(luckylife , 0 guests and 3 bots are online, Wed 17 May 2017, 23:30, Reply)

Summers at my aunt's house
Waking up to the sound of a cockerel crowing, going downstairs to find a peaceful kitchen and breakfast waiting, before a day out in the car to the lake district or the beach or even just to the shops. Having a nice time without 2 sisters and a brother screaming for attention and stressed out parents trying to cope.
Selfish, i know, but those were my happy times.
( Smash Monkey 2 The damp spastic, Sat 13 May 2017, 12:03, 1 reply)

Vacations were at a lake with rocky shores
Ma used to throw oranges out into the water and we would swim out for them.

Later I came to the conclusion that she had wished her kids were more like her dogs.
(the other guy not the one that gave you coochie warts, Wed 10 May 2017, 17:22, 3 replies)

When I was five my family went for a holiday to Queensland.
It was two days driving to get there. On the way our caravan flipped over and smashed all over the road. We spent the night with the family of the scrap wreckers and then spent the whole holiday in a tent. It rained so heavy that our campground was under two foot of water. On the drive back there were terrible floods and we got stuck somewhere and had to sleep on the floor of a cafe waiting for the waters to subside. The raised road looked like an island in the sea. But this wasn't the best memory. During the holiday we visited the Big Pineapple, which was a pineapple farm with giant two story pineapple you could climb to the top of and look out over the pineapple plants, and I got a plastic ruler with photos on it, mainly photos of pineapples.
When I got back to school all the the other kids had ordinary wooden rulers and I had one with motherfucking pineapples on it! That was a good memory.
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Wed 10 May 2017, 2:18, 1 reply)

Dumb Dog
Most of my favourite childhood memories revolve around our pet dog; an insanely amiable black Labrador/mutt. Picture him joyously bounding toward you; tail like a propeller, huge pink slobbery tongue flapping around, big fat ass, inside-out ears
flopping about randomly...

Ye gods, but he was a utter moron.

He kept trying to sniff the goldfish in the pond. Not catch: sniff.

He'd waddle up wagging to the pond, stare at the disinterested Koi in puzzlement, and stick in his snout in for a good, deep sniff. Of course, after inhaling a gout of pond water, he'd fall back sneezing and coughing, and run around the garden shaking his head and whimpering.

Not just the once, oh no.

Not only was our dog was the only dog ever to be out-thought by Goldfish, he was constantly surprised to find out water was - like - wet. My childhood was punctuated by madden dog sneezes.

In summer, the dog would also suck off the low-hanging blackcurrants from the canes - he didn't like them (bitter as hell until sugar-treated) but it was Human Food and therefore must be good, right?!

You would hear this 'shlurpk!' noise, and turn to see the dog with his eyes shut in pain, trying to chew off his own tongue. He wouldn't spit them out or anything sensible, of course; just kept desperately chewing and gagging. Oh, the variety of doggy expressions! Then you'd wait another 30minutes, and there would be another 'shlurpk!' noise...

In Scotland when on holiday, my dad managed to Caber-toss a dead pine thicker than your leg. Because you have to Do These Things when in Scotland, you know.

Of course, to Dumb Dog, tossed caber = thrown stick.

We turned around at an odd scraping noise, to find the dim-witted hound gamely struggling along, a friggin tree unevenly balanced in his jaws.

He'd fart so loud in his sleep that he awake with a jump.

Ah, I'd give anything to give that dumb dog one last hug.
(IChewCandlewax, Thu 1 Jun 2017, 16:55, Reply)

Endless meadows of fun
I grew up in a house surrounded by open fields. Behind us, cows grazed during the autumn when the grass had been cut, but during the summer it was waist high grass. Ideal for making "tunnels" on your hands and knees that connected flattened areas to sit in an hang out. The farmer would cut and bale the grass, and pay us 20p a day to help load bales onto his flat bed trailer. In the next field, there was a pond to catch newts and sticklebacks, and plenty of dry stone walls to sit against as shelter from the wind, or again just hang out.

The very next field was a pre digital Porn Hub. It was a common that was used to dump spoil from a few houses near by. As a dumping ground we would find various items - tins of dumped paint that I liberated so my dad could paint the inside of his garage, old bikes and mopeds etc. But there was almost an endless supply of jazz mags - with tattered edges and sticky pages, and big titted birds with what looked like tribbles glued to their gashes rather than the modern day fish-finger. My greatest find was a set of playing cards with nudes on the back, that was so appealing in many ways - fitted in my Wrangler pocket, could be concealed under my bed or in my school (carrier) bag, and produced at will as a source of merriment or when relaxing in a gentleman's way.

Oh, and we used to get really fresh eggs.
( Piper Alpha is being a grumpy northerm bastard on:, Wed 17 May 2017, 12:42, 1 reply)

Disney in California and Florida as a kid
They were pretty epic. Running around all day in the sun, eating ice creams, going on rollercoasters, watching fireworks at night, your entire life seeming to depend on getting the unbelievably cool glow stick bracelets (the devastation when they stopped working the next day was also quite epic!).

It will be great to take the little one someday, but it's probably not quite as much fun when you've paid for it/nagged about suncream/worried about sugar and calories in ice cream/lost the energy of a 9 year old...
( rachelswipe with a fork, Mon 15 May 2017, 11:18, 5 replies)

When a skip was delivered...
...and everyone in the street came out to watch it being unloaded. I always feel a pang of sadness watching this wondrous ceremony unfold as people hurry past oblivious.
(Flare, Sat 13 May 2017, 18:22, 1 reply)

Not a specific memory
but memories of childhood in general

Xmas day just after you got home from mass, knowing you had the rest of the day with no religious interruptions (forced to attend church :( )

On holiday and finding a shop that had a treasure trove of toys that you dont get at home.

Speaking of which - those polystyrene planes with the little propeller at the front.

Playing out with friends and getting so exhausted you cant breathe for gasping for a drink of water.

When you are 2 and the highlight of the day is seeing the bin men in their lorry outside

Being off sick, and finally getting your head around how to load a C64 game, and knowing its all yours for the rest of the day.

Being off sick and your mum making you food whilst you play on said C64

camping in the back garden

Eating breakfast the next morning in the tent

Finding an old toy in the loft and discovering it all over again - ie scalectric

Hearing someone shout "Cartoons are on" at 5:15 on a saturday, bolting it into the front room, and watching each one hoping at the end you dont see "thats all folks" , or fist bumping and shouting "Yes" when another cartoon starts up

Getting up so early on a saturday for cartoons, that the TV schedule hasnt actually started yet. (ie girl at the blackboard test screen)

the very rare occurance your parents take you to mcdonalds. They always get a tea/coffee which just looks wrong with a burger and fries.

sitting watching casualty on a saturday knowing its 15 mins past your bedtime. So you keep as quiet as possible to stay up as long as possible

Being in bed during daylight in the summer when you can hear the kids next door still playing out

supermarkets being no bigger than the average corner shop. Yet still being able to do a weekly big shop from it

Milk delivered to the door

Ill think of more.
(Dan dan dan They tik urh jerbs!!!, Fri 12 May 2017, 18:09, 7 replies)

Mrs Christie
Name not changed.

Was about 80. We went to France with her on a school trip and on one of the slides at the water park her tits flopped out.

A few weeks later when she was covering our class, one of the lads had drawn a picture of Mrs Christie with big saggy tits hanging out on a slide, on one of these roller blackboards, you know the type? Yeah you do.

When she came in and roled it down to reveal the picture...oh how we laughed.

She's well dead now. Lol
( spanishfly is so fucking sexy people impersonate him, Tue 9 May 2017, 20:33, 1 reply)

I applied to go on Jim'll Fix It
Thank fuck I didn't get through
(LetsGetDownToIt, Tue 9 May 2017, 9:22, 2 replies)

goldfish
When I was about 8 years old I entered a colouring competition and every child who entered received a goldfish family, mummy, daddy and baby (two big, one small). The goldfish were hand delivered to my home one night (yes, really), in their plastic bag of water, and I was rather chuffed. Unfortunately, I hadn't told my parents that I had entered this competition, so mad scramble to find a bowl to put them in, and then the next day off to the shops to find a suitable home for my little family.
I wasn't allowed to enter any more competitions.......
Also, we had a huge mulberry tree, so I always got to keep the silkworms over the school holidays. Many nights listening to the flutter of moth wings in the cardboard container with the plastic top. Also picking the mulberries when they were ripe and having the juice run down your arm, on clothes, faces.... we all ended up looking like victims of a mass slaughter..good times.
(Monkee girl not a monkee, not a girl, Tue 9 May 2017, 2:35, Reply)

My older sister was being a bitch.
No memory of what she was giving me shit about, just that she was being an asshole, lying on the couch with her head on a pillow. Being six years older, she felt that she could give me shit with impunity.

So five year old me, who has been watching Superman, does a flying leap with both fists extended, just like Superman. Two little fists land on either side of her nose.

She had to go to school with two black eyes.
( Wanderer, Mon 8 May 2017, 19:55, Reply)

oh great, first the newsletter comes back and then this.
Why can't you just let b3ta die with dignity?
( 2 Can Chunder Word to your mums, I came to prod bums, Mon 8 May 2017, 15:34, Reply)