Oh OK
But only if you return him in MINT condition!
(SusK, Thu 17 Aug 2006, 21:43, Reply)

well
This is a bit of a personal bloody question this week isn't it? Lots of cans of worms being opened as everyone pours out their most emotionalist moments.

I ran away from my house once with a mate called paul (no not that paul), who was a tear away chav criminal druggie. We took acid and embarked on our mission to survive by being big bad crook gangstars, such as you might find in Bracknell or Egham. Our first port of call was a garage door where the two of us, fifteen at the time had decided to put our thirty combined years to the task of stealing a car. The acid was really kicking in at this point and my mouth was as dry as a week old sausage, like what you find when you're cleaning out the barbeque and there's some stuff at the bottom which fell through the metal grid.

The garage door was open and we walked in. There was no car, but strangely enough, right where the car should have been, smack in the center of the garage was a fridge. A big bloody white fridge; plugged in and humming, right there in the center of the room. Apart from the fridge the place was virtually empty.

Dazzled by the pure white shininess of this glittering yet practical apparition we stepped solemnly forward. As one man we stood before the fridge, I on the left Paul on the right. I put out a hand and pulled on the top compartment.

Awestruck! Yes completely awestruck we beheld the light which poured from the fridge into our acid raddled dinner plate pupils Murmuring strange comments about the divineness of it all we allowed our eyes to adjust to examine the contents.

We burst out laughing as we discovered, what I could only describe as the best-stocked fridge in the entire world. Five shelves laden to the brim with can upon can of Fosters neatly packaged into packs of 24. Still giggling as we crunched across the gravel driveway, our arms aching under the strain of all the beer, we proceeded to Paul's gyppo mate's caravan and drunk every single can of beer.

Completely forgetting the problems with the family I trudged home on my own at 6am the next morning, happily spluttering up vomit along the way. Soaked with spew and crap I knocked on the door of my house and flopped into the door, ignoring my mother who silently regarded my piss stained blood shot appearance.

I'd managed to run away from home for about twenty hours. I was a criminal, but it didn't matter - I'd had a great night.



-edit. Read some of the other stories and a few appear quite similar to mine. Must have been a trend at the time.
(batteryoperatedlettuce Soon to be nine b3ta yrs old, Thu 17 Aug 2006, 20:48, Reply)

Tesco slags
bout a year and a half ago i started working as a male checkout-whore in the Great Notley Tescos. Little did my current employers know that i was looking for other, non-retarded jobs at the time, and after being there just a week i found myself being accepted for an office junior role in a firm of colchester-based accountants (my current job to this day).

I was starting said new job on a Monday, and so had decided to make the Friday my last day at Tescos, regardless of the fact that i was supposed to work 9 hours on the Saturday. So Friday afternoon comes round and i had told pretty much every fat 50 yr old gossip-hound working there that i was leaving, but had so far been too chickenshit to tell my manager, a timid, scowelling woman in her mid 30s who looked lke she had a lemon up her arse and wasn't liking it one bit.

So anyway, i gets called into a meeting with said scowling woman and another manager who, having heard from some fucking Windowlicker on produce about my proposed departure, decide to lecture me for 15 minutes whilst constantly using phrases like "It's just not on" and "really let us down here" and all that Wank. So toward the end of their highly impressive speech, my manager tells me that i "simply have to work Saturday" as my last day, because apparently i'm required to "meet her half-way" (referring to the fact that they're still going to pay me for a full week, which they legally have to do anyway).

Straight away i knew exactly what needed to be done. I agreed to her proposal, and left the conference room to go back to my checkout and continue mindlessly scanning overpriced products...or so the bitch thought..

Instead i grabbed my coat and bag from the locker room and bombed in through the store and out the front doors, feelin' like a RIGHT rebel...i even said goodbye to the old crippled security guard as i left.

WHAT A BADASS MOFO(/twat)!!


lol.
(BatCountry organised, attended, and was thrown out on, Thu 17 Aug 2006, 19:52, Reply)

I ran away from this QOTW because it's so pony.

( Snollock Biffer I don't really sniff Bollocks, Thu 17 Aug 2006, 19:38, Reply)

When i was in school aged about 7
a boy in my year ran away. He took his dog, an apple and a can of beans and hid behind the local church. The reason? His mum wouldn't let him watch Monkey.
( DumbMonkey The penis mightier than the sword, Thu 17 Aug 2006, 16:23, Reply)

I can't believe it's taken me all week to remember this
A few months ago my parents were clearing out a load of old papers and found this:


In case you can't read it very well, it says:
"Dear Dad
I am getting married
this is a goodbye letter
Love from your
Darling
Darter (sic)
I love you so much
I will cry"

I don't know how old I was, but it must have been during the period I was obsessed with the Disney film of The Little Mermaid. My dad now keeps it in a tankard thing on our fireplace - I think he wants to show my boyfriend in the event we get engaged. Great...
( useful_idiot, Thu 17 Aug 2006, 15:41, Reply)

Missions.
I once ran away, this was in my years of taking silly naughty drugs. Anyway one night I took too much acid and thought how far can I get from home and away from my moaning grandparents before the hallucinations and trailbacks stop.

I thought mmmmmm I might get to the Lake District or even South Cheshire or maybe over into Yorkshire.

Cue me 6 hours later in the pub round the corner twatted on Kronenburg watching the snooker balls talk. Saw my brother a few doors down the road and he owed me a pint or two.

Running away? - ITS FOR FULL ON CÚNTS - GET A BACKBONE YOU BUNCH OF FÚCKING FLUMPS
(hoogie Original Cunt Horse Author, Thu 17 Aug 2006, 15:00, Reply)

I ran away from home in 1976
I fled to some local woods, ate only what I could catch and kill, drank rainwater, and educated myself by reading at random from an old, ripped-in-half bible I found under a goat.

I never went back home and now I am President of the United fucking states !

PRAISE THE MOTHERFUCKING LORD !
( Goatworrier had your mum and she was shit, Thu 17 Aug 2006, 11:25, Reply)

I was working for a company that offered Printing Services in Walsall
It was a family-run business - Dad, Mum, Daughter and Daughter's Fiance. All of them were cnuts and treated the non-family staff like shit. I used to sit upstairs and design invoice forms and the like for local businesses.

One day Daughter had a great idea - she'd found some old yellow sweatshirts in a cupboard with the firm's logo on them. She thought it would be spiffing if the staff could wear them to work. Mine was three sizes too small. And made for a girl.

Realising I stood no chance of arguing with the boss's daughter, but that equally there was no way I was going to wear a shitty uniform for a job that didn't even involve facing customers, I quit that very night and ran away to Leeds for a few weeks. Then I moved to London, Leeds is fucking grim.
( emvee cruor deo cruoris, Thu 17 Aug 2006, 10:54, Reply)

I worked for a shitty online advertising company
doing web dev in Newcastle.

I went for lunch one day and didn't go back, by the end of the day I was living in Oxford.
( CowJam, Thu 17 Aug 2006, 10:40, Reply)

Ran away from Hull to California
via a kind of long route.........
Due to gnarly abuse by stepfather, moved to Scunthorpe, then Nottingham without telling anyone. When I finally told mum, she said I was daft.
Then ran away to Brighton after being in a violent relationship.
After about 4 years, went back to Hull, met a fella - bloody great bloke and still is - and we moved to California.
Divorced him, and now I've finally found my feet, my life and my home with wonderful hubby and great friends.
And thank fuck my family are 6,000 miles away - love 'em to bits, but jeez, how far do you have to run to get away from them?
( Batshitmentalist is sane for once, Thu 17 Aug 2006, 7:08, Reply)

I stripped off and walked into the Humber... sort of.
Living in Hull, working for a piss-pot company selling accounting software (exciting huh?), spending my modest salary on beer in the same pub night in night out... talking the same shit, night in night out with my mates(who i love but, yknow...), dreading the next day of office 'banter' about big brother etc etc, I decided enough was enough... i sold everything i owned save for a few cds and clothes (on Ebay, where else) and ran away to Thailand. I didn't bother to tell most people. Just sent them a bunch of postcards. Fantastic... i'm like Reginald Perrin.

POP!
(griffo, Thu 17 Aug 2006, 5:09, Reply)

Just recently

My urine has ran away from my bladder into my y-fronts in eager anticipation for a new QOTW.
(Lt Columbo, Thu 17 Aug 2006, 2:40, Reply)

Misspent Youth
This will be very long most likely. Apologies in advanced, but it's all true, and hopefully at least mildly entertaining.

When I was 14, my parents stuck me in a boarding school. Less than two weeks in, I ran away. Called my Dad from a phonebox and he said he'd come pick me up, and to wait there. Well he grassed me to the school and the most dreaded teacher in school appeared a few minutes to drag me back. My Dad DID come over to see me however. He did what was best for my safety, and even at the time I didn't hold it against him.

So, fast forward six months. We've just come back from summer holiday. The fifth year kids are put in charge, and of course go batshit insane power crazy. My bed squeaked. Everytime I moved, it squeaked. One of the fifth years saw this as a direct attempt at insubordination, and would punch me in the stomach when it did so. Delightful individual.

So I planned an elaborate escape. Well, elaborate for a 14 year old I guess. First of all, I told one of my few friends there I was planning on leaving, and would be doing so at midnight. This was a ruse, as I actually planned on leaving at 11:20pm. I wanted to tell him I was going at an exact time so if he decided to tell anyone because he was concerned, I'd be long gone. I did the usual cliche... Put pillows under the covers, shaped it to look like a body was there etc... Got dressed, packed my bag, and left a note under the pillow saying I'd left. (So they didn't think I'd been taken by Freddie Kruger or Gary Glitter or similar.)

I crawled out through the bathroom window (doors were locked, obviously) and ran through the grounds. ALMOST got caught by the groundskeeper as he was still up in his little shack, but I ducked and continued on and out of the gates.

Now I knew the route to get back to the main road. It was a seven mile hike though. I was sure I knew what I was doing, so I started walking.

Now I had a cunning plan. I thought "Cars will go past and see me walking... How can I alter my appearance. I know, I'll limp!" Yep, at 14 years of age, my great attempt at disguising myself was to limp. I was a scrawny little bastard so quite obviously a kid. Despite many MANY cars driving past me, not one stopped. No, my cunning disguise worked perfectly. The roads got pretty busy at a couple of points, and I thought for sure that any minute now, a police car would pull up and it'd all be over. Nope... I was left unmolested. (In every sense.)

About an hour into my epic quest, I made it to the bridge across the river. I was a couple of miles from the main road now. Yay! Nothing had stopped me so far. Bristling with renewed confidence that this was a plan of sheer genius, I kept trudging on. Not far to go. It was about 1am at this point. I figured I could be home by midday at the absolute latest.

Now came the tragic error. I had, apparently, not paid enough attention when travelling to the school... At the end of this road, I should have turned left down the main "A" road. My plan was to strike out for the Holiday Inn about 6 miles down that road from where I was at that point. By the time I got there, as the plan went, it'd be close to daylight. I could get to the Holiday Inn phones and not wake my parents that early, but early enough that I'd be the one to call them first, NOT THE SCHOOL! The key was to get there before 7am. At this point, I had about 5 hours to cover six miles. I didn't want my parents to be scared that something bad had happened to me.

So, with the planned destination one direction, I stupidly I went the other way, completely blivious to the fact that I was heading in the wrong direction. Somehow I managed to cross a busy motorway junction without getting obliterated, and was on my way. Every step, a step closer to freedom, adulthood, HOME.

Now I kept walking north, hoping to see something I'd recognise, which of course I didn't. By this point, it's about 2:30am. I've been walking that way for over an hour, and I have no idea where I am... So I admit defeat and go into a phonebox and call the police. Literally as I'm dialling, a police car pulls up. Despite being pretty scared by this point, I manage to crack a joke to myself... "Now THAT'S service".

Policeman asks me what I'm doing. I figure it's all over. I'm totally lost, no idea where I am. If I lie, he's going to be suspicious, so I may as well just tell the truth, so I just say "I'm lost. I've just run away from boarding school. Can you help me?" He helps me into the car and we go back to the station.

He calls my parents, but it'll be a while before they can get there because, obviously, they're asleep, so I'm going to be stuck in the police station for a bit. I remember being very tired, barely able to stay awake, and eating Kit-Kat's waiting for one or both of my parents to turn up. I remember being a little concerned about their reaction, but really, by this point, I didn't care.

Turns out it was my Dad that came to get me. I later found out my mothers reaction was "I'm not going anywhere. He can bloody stay there." and going back to sleep, thus setting the tone for a parental relationship that would end incredibly acrimoniously some 15 years later. (NOTE, this was the first time I'd ever done anything irretrievably stupid.)

My Dad wasn't mad that I remember. Just glad I was safe. I don't remember the drive home. What I do remember is that by getting lost, I'd apparently wound up in a really bad neighbourhood, and was told I was incredibly lucky to have not had anything very nasty happen to me there.

I was returned to boarding school the next afternoon. Teachers were all freaked out and eyed me with suspicion, like I'd just stumbled upon their stash of something illegal, or like by doing this, I had somehow stripped them of some power. It was really strange. The kids, who normally treated me like shit, treated me like the returning hero. "Would you like my dessert?" and that sort of thing. Got a few lectures from various authority figures, but mostly, things DID improve. Not sure if it was respect from the other kids, or the fact they thought I was deranged enough that I might stab them while they slept, but whatever the case, things were more bearable after that.

I never ran away again, though my parents took me out of the school a few months later, realising that me and boarding school would never get on, and that if they'd left me there, they may as well have just renamed me Hilts and bought me a baseball mitt...
(Bonedwarf is the size of a lemon, Wed 16 Aug 2006, 23:28, Reply)

Karma's a bitch
When I was about four I was in Marks & Spencers in Cardiff with my mum and my gran, and like all little kids do, I found shopping very, very boring (I'd be so much richer if I still did... shame). I was a bookish kid and still am, so my mum was stopping me from complaining, because granny was dithering for hours over two identical dresses, with a book she'd bought me.

"Bugger this," thinks I, and sits down under a rack of skirts with my book. I carry on reading, mum and granny move a little further on. I got completely engrossed in the book for I don't remember how long, and the next thing I remember is my frantic mum picking me up yelling "found her!" while granny freaks out about me possibly having been abducted by some kiddy-fiddler.

Epilogue: This took place the best part of 17 years ago (I'm 20 now and a little too old to worry about kiddy-fiddlers). My granny still grabs my hand when we cross roads, follows me round shops - and I mean walks literally two feet behind me - and if she can't see me anywhere will go round the shop calling for me until I go 'oh for fuck's sake' and wave to her. If I do get to go shopping on my own she spends the entire time I'm gone asking whoever she's with if I'll be OK and shouldn't they phone me to check I'm not dead. I'm obviously still paying for freaking my mum out like that. And because I pressed the emergency stop on the escalators in BHS the same day.
( Maladicta, Wed 16 Aug 2006, 21:27, Reply)

a slipper thing
When i was eight years old, i remember my mum and brother arguing with me over something i hadn't done, it became clear to me then i was on a lost cause, not only had the whole world turned against me, but clearly my brother was mummy's favourite and she didn't love me anymore. I decided to run upstairs, get a few clothes together, emptied my piggybank and ran downstairs shouting, "I'm running away, and never coming back!!!" to which my mum and brother shouted, "Good!" I walked down the garden path carefully planing my journey. It was about half an hour into the escape that it started pouring with rain. It was then the realisation hit me as the purple slippers i was wearing, were soaking up the puddles in the street. Embarassment took a hold, as i quickly walked back home...............
(angiebaby Oh these chains......, Wed 16 Aug 2006, 20:07, Reply)

I ran away...
and i still havent gone back. N no i dont plan to either and dnt worry no one is there to miss me, they all died. Well this is nice.
(Fluent In Bentish Living in Scatman's World, tis being fun!, Wed 16 Aug 2006, 19:29, Reply)

Gotta love those Train Conductors...
I was a bit of a dramatic child, and whenever anything didn't go my way i'd do something extreme to get a reaction. Thankfully i'm (slightly) more mature now.

Anyway, when I was about 11 or 12 I decided to run away, not as i'd done in the past, down the local park with a sleeping bag and a couple of packets of crisps, but to Scotland, where the majority of my family live. I had no idea how, but decided to walk down to the motorway and try and hitch. The motorway is quite a way away, and I got a lot of funny looks walking along the back roads with no pavements to get there.

When I finally reached the motorway (the A14) I stuck my thumb out and hoped for the best. There weren't many takers, and after about an hour I was about to give up when a small Fiat pulled up behind me. I ran to the car and was greeted with a man with long hair and in a Metallica T-Shirt. As we drove along, I told him my plan, and to his credit, he didn't tell me to stop being a muppet, instead he said he would buy me a ticket for the train, on the condition I get permission from my mum. So we get off the motorway and head back into Cambridge to his mate's house to use his phone.

My mum didn't answer, and the guy couldn't be convinced to buy me the ticket anyway. I had my heart set on the train plan now, and was going to do it, no matter what. So the guy took me to the train station anyway, and rather than buying me a ticket, gave me a tenner for some food on the way.

I was shitting myself, as the furthest i'd bunked the train before was a couple of stops on the local village route. I got out at Peterborough, having no idea what to do next. So I got on a train to Sheffield. On the way I was asked for a ticket, which of course I didn't have. I told the conductor my story and he took pity on me. He got his map out, and told me the route to go, and the times of the trains to catch. I had to spend the night in Sheffield Train Station, not a nice experience when you're a scared 11 year old and the waiting room is full of weird people you don't know. Thankfully nothing happened and I got the 6 am train to Glasgow.

I'd like to meet the driver of the Fiat and the Conductor again to thank them, as without them I would have got no-where near Glasgow in double the time.

A two day journey to Scotland me and my family will never forget.
(NexusWR Long time listener, first time caller, Wed 16 Aug 2006, 18:36, Reply)

Travel teh UK
After rowing with my mum and step dad for another night about being stuck on t'internet alllll night and about how dangerous and life ruining sites like b3ta are, I decided that I was going to run away forever.

Being only 16, and somewhat naive, I grabbed a suitcase from the loft and began sifting through my crap to pack the essential "running away" kit. Mainly my PC base unit, a keyboard, mouse, some speakers, my 56k modem and a 14" monitor wrapped in several black bags. I thought it best to also pack some clothes just in case, so shoved a few pairs of underwear and t-shirts in another black bag.

Armed with my PC and a few spare clothes, I nicked £100 out of my step dads wallet, wrote a leaving note, and rested until the first train at 7am. I stupidly fell asleep on the sofa waiting (as this was about 1am), and mum had got up, read my note I'd left, thought I'd gone and come back, so left me to sleep on the sofa. Bah!

I duely got up a few hours later whilst everyone was still asleep, called a taxi, and went to Birmingham New Street to pick a train. Any train.

I ended up in Basingstoke, trying to find someone I knew from teh good old IRC chat rooms.

That didnt work out, so I decided to carry on travelling armed with my PC under one arm and a bag of clothes under the other, and ended up living with mates online for various lengths of time from:

- Basingstoke
- Bromley
- Falkirk
- Redditch
- Birmingham
- Dundee
- Falkirk (and declared myself homeless, woo yay!)
- Newcastle
- Liverpool
- Canterbury
- Maidstone

...finally moving back home to Redditch, nearly 18 months later.

That was nearly 4 years ago now... owww.

Bah, if only I could do it all again, it was all such good times. Plus it might be a bit easier having a laptop now... hmmm...
(Dark_J, Wed 16 Aug 2006, 18:05, Reply)

Barred from Chad
Well, not me, but a friend.

A mate of mine (X) was doing some charity work in Chad - a mainly desert country in the middle of Africa. One day he met a comely Chadian lass and, even though there was a language barrier (he couldn't speak French, she couldn't speak English), he went back to her house for tea.

When he got there he was introduced to the girl's mum, who welcomed him into the house rather eagerly. During the meal, the mum said something intelligible to X and, not wanting to be rude, he nodded his head in pretend agreement (in the same way I do whenever talking to a Glaswegian). The mother then turned to the girl and let forth a similar stream of words, to which the girl said "oui".

To X's astonishment, the mother then said, in English, "You are now engaged!". "Like f*ck am I," thought X, who bolted out of the house and left the country as soon as possible.

The longshot of it is, he's not allowed back in Timbuktu - which is obviously a great inconvenience, given how it's right in the middle of the Sahara Desert.
(silencer, Wed 16 Aug 2006, 17:37, Reply)

I had the police looking for me in 7 counties
I was in care as a child, and due to me being a "ward of court" this legally had to continue until I was 18 instead of the normal 16.

So that I didn't have to stay in the childrens home, I lived in a small flat with a social worker living above me and keeping an eye on me. It was pretty cushty - especially as they paid my rent, severely subsidised my electricity ( I paid about 50p a week) and gave me £90 a week to live off.

I decided that I wanted to go to the Reading Festival. I asked my social worker if I could, who refused point blank, about which I was pretty naffed. At this point I was a bit of a stoner (what do you expect with a childrens home in Totnes?) but had never tried anything stronger than a bit of weed.

I went to a local pub who served me, and met up with my dealer and a few of his mates. It so happened that they were about to hitch down to the Camelford festie. It also so happened that I decided to try acid for the first time.

The combination of these two things meant that I decided to hitch down with them all. Apart from a bizarre interlude where a couple of us strode into Paignton zoo without paying and tried to talk to the elephant, the journey was fairly uneventful.

The festival was supposed to last for the weekend but it went on for a week. I enjoyed myself thoroughly, even though the tent we were all supposed to be kipping in was nicked and we had to hunt around for places to lay our heads. I went into the village one day and took my weeks money out twice from different cash machines. The third time I tried, the machine eat my card, which was fair enough I suppose.

When I got back, I found out that the police had been looking for me in seven counties between Devon and Reading. But not in Cornwall (where I now live). Hah!
(teasus likes tea, Wed 16 Aug 2006, 17:20, Reply)

Phantom meeting
Having blagged the job interview I was suitably pleased to have a respectable IT job, until 1 day I was asked to do something I had fibbed about on my CV. Turns out it had to be done that day so I quickly got on Outlook and setup up a series of fictional meetings back to back for the day... Then I ran!

I rushed down the stairs and accross the car park determined to escape before too many people spotted I'd even been at work.

I went to the cinema and watched the sequel to the Matrix, then I went home and worked on my classic Mk1 Astra GTE. When it was about 20 mins before the end of the working day I went back looking tired. Apologised I hadn't had time to help and admired the efforts of the rest of the team. :)

See, running away from responsibility can be good!
(golddust QOTW now revolves around being a cunt, Wed 16 Aug 2006, 17:02, Reply)

I ran away from Australia once...
I'd been seeing an Australian girl (in England) whose visa had ran out. We'd got on well, had a lot of laughs and were sad to part. I decided to sort my debt out, save some money and go and see her. She knew of this plan, and seemed well up for it.

I can remember the moment when I got off the plane. I'd just had a 24 hour journey, and had scrimped, saved, lived of sugar sandwiches and baked beans on toast for the previous 8 months (I even gave up beer!). When I saw her I instantly knew something wasn't right, and after a bit of questioning found out that she wasn't up for it. Great.

It would have been nice ot find this out BEFORE I got on the plane. Before I bought the ticket would have been even nicer. Before I made any life altering decisions would have been nicer still... or so I thought.

So I bought a ticket to Thailand and left as soon as I could.

Then this happened.

Then I hooked up with the girl I was in the cell with in the other story (classy eh?). Next thing I know I'm on a bus to Isaan to go and meet her parents.

It was kind of cool being up there in a little village at her folks house, what with big cows roaming their garden, their lack of front door, and going fishing using a mad net thing with her uncle. All was good until her mum sat down next to me and started talking to me in Thai. I got said girl to translate: "My mum say, because I number one daughter and people in village see me with you, you must get engaged to me to show you have proper respect for my family".

So I ran away to the furthest corner of Thailand I could. I got a job giving out flyers on the beach for a nightclub. Life was good. I got free beer.

Then I met a swiss guy with his own long tail boat, he was going on a mission further south. So I ran away with him, my girlfriend at the time and his 2 swiss kids. It was probably the best adventure I've had.

If you run away enough you're bound to end up with something good.
(ralphseviltwin, Wed 16 Aug 2006, 16:27, Reply)

Nothing original really.......
I certainly did the typical running away thing. Went with a packet of biscuits for rations thinking "I'll make the bitch worry", only to return several hours later soaked to the skin (it was p!ssing down that day)and obviously without concern since I usually stayed away longer when playing out.

I did once creat a stir though. Yet another rainy day, and I had been rummaging through the back of the cupboards etc. finding old toys I hadn't played with in a while. I shuffled under my bed and found it to be a rather cozy little den where I promptly fell asleep for 3-4 hours. Cue frantic searching by my mother, after which I came downstairs wondering what all the fuss was about.

My last tale (thank fook - I hear you cry) is one I haven't read here yet, about the threat of going to live with the 'other' parent. Having a storming row with my mam (probably about something insignificant - I can only have been about 7) I picked up the phone with a hearty "Fuck you I'm going to live with my Dad" who told me over the phone to be a good boy and say sorry to my mam. The feeling was similar to when you get into a fight and realise your mates have p!ssed off. I should have realised what the response would be really, since I had watched my brother do the exact same thing a couple of years previously...

In response to an earlier post, I have often looked at the petrol guage showing full on 'payday morning' and thinking "I could get tho the other end of the ountry and start a new life" only to rationalise that "I'd be fooked if that pay didn't go in there next month"..... ahh to be a wage-slave.......

Not great, I know - just thought I'd share
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Wed 16 Aug 2006, 15:58, Reply)