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)

Alright, Stig.

( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Wed 17 May 2017, 16:14, closed)