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This is a question Thrown away: The stuff you loved and lost.

Smash Wogan writes, "we all love our Mums, but we all know that Mums can be cunts, throwing out our carefully hoarded crap that we know is going to be worth millions some day."

What priceless junk have you lost because someone just threw it out?

Zero points for "all my porn". Unless it was particularly good porn...

(, Thu 14 Aug 2008, 16:32)
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My Jacket
When I was 14 I finally bought a Levi denim jacket. I'd wanted one for ages and had saved up and eventually bought my beautiful, shiny jacket.

We went through a lot together, me and my Levi. I was wearing it when I had my first pint in a pub. I was still wearing it, 4 years later, when I had my first *legal* pint in a pub.

In the blazing hot summer of '76 I was lying on that jacket as I lost my virginity to a strumpet from Durham. And I was wearing it, a year later, when I walked out of my school gates for the last time.

I was wearing it when I walked into the Army Recruiting Office and took the Queens Shilling and it was one of the first things I dug out and put on when I told the Queen where she could stick her shilling.

I was wearing it when I met Anne, the first great love of my life, and it was still on my back, two and half years later, when we split for the final time.

It was my friend and companion on so many life-changing (and in some, life-warping) experiences. I hitch-hiked round Europe in that jacket. I slept on countless floors, after parties, with that jacket as a pillow.

Over the years, old faithful had been washed, patched, slashed and sewn up. It had patches on it's patches and the cuffs were distant memory. It had faded from dark blue to a kind of off-white, the victim of thousands of hours of sunlight and the occasional washing when it became too stiff to put on.

That jacket had become a visual representation of my march from spotty, gawky teenager to spotty, gawky man.

I loved it.

My mother hated it.

Several times I'd come home from work and had to rescue it from the dustbin. Each time my mother claimed that she hadn't touched it and that it had walked to the dustbin itself and thrown itself in as:

"It wanted to be with the rest of the smelly rubbish"

But I still loved it.

Then, one fateful day, I came home and it was gone. I searched the house, checked the rubbish, but it was gone. I eventually noticed a wisp of smoke at the bottom of the garden and went to check it out. There, amongst the smouldering remains of a garden bonfire, I found the copper buttons marked LEVI amongst the ashes.

I nearly wept.

(, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 2:07, 4 replies)
ahahaha, you live with your mom

(, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 2:17, closed)

I but I do visit your Mum occasionally. Along with the Coldstream Guards.
(, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 2:29, closed)
"It wanted to be with the rest of the smelly rubbish"
Ha ha ha ha!

A tragic tale though. It earns a click from me.
(, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 7:52, closed)
Did she even buy you a new jacket?
I always wanted one of those - couldnt afford it tho cos we was po'.
(, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 10:20, closed)

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