I like to cook (Warning! May veer dangerously off topic for a bit)!
Had I been born at the right time, I too could have been a celebrity chef, in the mould of Jamie 'floppy mouth' Oliver or Ainsley 'shiny' Harriott.

I own a lovely set of pans, bequeathed to me by my ex mother in law. They were worth about £150 when new, some 13 years ago. If the house caught fire, I'd probably want to save them before they melted. Or at least badly scorched...

Which, by the magic of time-travel, takes me back to last week's QOTW and a particular pet peeve that I'd forgotten about. I was probably getting my bowels in an uproar about so many other things and it slipped my mind.

We are 'blessed' in the UK with an incredible amount of foody-TV, where self righteous knob-ends with GCSEs in woodwork try and preach to the masses about how to cook, how to eat, and what consistency your poo should be. These bastards piss me off somewhat, but particularly with their terminology.

Case in point: pan frying. This is a particularly meaningless phrase. For fucks sake, what else are you going to use to fry food? "Hmm, I fancy a steak tonight, I could grill it, but the grill is knackered. I know! I'll use my plastic sieve. Since I like my steaks rare, there's little chance of the plastic melting onto the gas ring before the steak is done to perfection".

Gaaaaaaaaah!!! You're frying something! In a pan! It's the the logical instrument of choice to use for the purpose!!! The same goes for oven-baking...

Following this illogical turn of phrase, should we then say, "Ainsley, this pan-fried sea-bass looks lovely. Wozza has done me proud, considering I spent less than a fiver in Asda on the ingredients, most of which he procured from the all-purpose BBC studio kitchen. Would you mind awfully if I mouth-ate some now? After which I would like to retire to the green room so I can stomach-digest it. Then, upon arriving home, I will take great delight in arse-shitting the remnants some 4 hours later. And, I'll also cock-piss the wine I've quaffed whilst you tried your best to interfere with the cooking process"?

Personally, I would take Percy pepper ginder and ram it up his arse, base first, then grind the pepper so far up his colon that it would make his eyes water.

And, unrelated, but... that tit who does the voice overs for Big Brother in the UK - Marcus fucking Bentley. My ex line-manager is a friend of his sister, and told me that he doesn't actually talk in that horrible faux-Geordie accent at all (no Geordie talks like that anyway). No, Marcus isn't even a Geordie.

He's from Stockton-on-Tees. Which is in the same region, granted, but they sound nothing like Geordies, in the same way that Glasweigans sound nothing like someone from Edinburgh.

So yes, my pans - I would save them. If only for the potential pleasure of spanging every TV chef across the back of the head with...
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Tue 13 May 2008, 0:43, 23 replies)

oo-oo-oo, ghost. (Because ghosts actually say ghost, in case you didn't know.)
Last week I haunted the vaults at the Tower of London and the Bank of England, making myself known by disrupting furniture and moving stuff about.

Those were my most treasured possessions.

Length? About 99.9% pure.
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Tue 13 May 2008, 0:12, Reply)

Favourite childhood toy
What always brings a huge smile to my face is Lego. I honestly believe that its the greatest toy you could ever have. Just one small kit with some imagination equals months of fun.

I cant imagine childhood without it

(and i still have a HUGE box of it under my bed which i occasionally craft into an intersteller space fighter....and make the noises as i run around the room shooting the imaginary laser)
( KISS.ME.WHERE.I.POO Signed the sex offenders register on, Mon 12 May 2008, 23:33, 5 replies)

not very exciting but...
2 rings, one a solid silver belt buckle ring given by my mam to my granda for his silver wedding anniversary, and the one my granda gave back to say thank you, which is a one of a kind, its a 2 shilling piece (i think, old silver big coin), hollowed and boared out into a ring.

My mam said she's never worn hers cos it didn't fit, and my granda gave his back to her on his deathbed and said he wanted the two rings to stay together (sounds at once lord of the rings, and also a bit gay), but the day after he died, my mam came to me and said that no matter what they had to be together. so I wore them for a while, now they're on a chain in my drawer.

Both are a bit of a mess now, the belt buckle one was worn everyday for 30 odd years, and the other one is an old coin. so go fig.


Now for the pun... I think I might polish my mam's ring tomorrow...
(anothercold1 likes a good bit of brisket., Mon 12 May 2008, 23:14, Reply)

I don't care if I sound like the most materialistic, tight fisted bastard this week...
...but sod nostalgia.

Yeah I've got a photo of myself and my girlfriend kissing on one of our first dates that lives next to my bed.

Yeah I've got various bits and bobs that remind me of the good times - a sea shell from Camber Sands beach (don't ask - it means a lot to me), a couple of pebbles from Port Wrinkle (Cornwall), a Captain Haddock figurine (all of 3" tall), a crazy half-zombie I christened Nero that sits atop one of my speakers.

Yeah I've got important documents that determine my life - passport, naturalisation certificate, birth certificate, degree certificate, driving license (paper section).

If my room was on fire, would I rescue all these things that characterise who I am? Would I fuck.

I'd head straight for my bag of cymbals (those things are expensive to us decent drummers, and I've got around £1000 worth sitting in my bag), my hifi (£1500ish - and I don't care if it weighs a tonne and is utterly unwieldly - where theres a will theres a way), my laptop and my wallet, then dash out the door and watch my flat burn.

Yeah, I could get them all back on insurance, but who want's to wait that long...?!
(Stuffed Chimp, Mon 12 May 2008, 22:39, 2 replies)

Oooo hard.
What I WOULD save is deffo my pudding... pudding is my pet ferret (http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-sctm/v215/193/7/642930167/n642930167_728608_583.jpg) who I love even if the little shit *cough* I mean bundle of love does occasionally keep me awake at 3am banging on her bars. However I'm not sure you can count a ferret as a possession...

I probably should say the id rip down one of the little signs all around my room, on valentines day my girlfriend put them up when I was out at work. They all say 'I (heart) You' and I still keep a few up because they make me smile when I'm feeling down.

...But I'm a materialistic little bastard so Id probably grab my MP3 player and external hard drive :P
(Guilt wants to get in your moist confines, Mon 12 May 2008, 22:36, Reply)

REAL Souveniers
Bits of paint from the Golden Gate bridge, Gold Leaf from a sacred Buddist Temple, Chunks of the Gran Can, Rust from the Statue of Liberty and even a bit of Alcatraz. All in a little box under my bed along with various girlfriend's pubic hair.
(catbrain likes the hairy scratchings bestest, Mon 12 May 2008, 21:54, 5 replies)

I own a ridiculous number of basses for just one person
i have 8 and they rack up value wise to about £4.5k in there is a sixties fender and a Billy sheehan signature series yamaha, but of all my ridiculous number of instruments the one i'd save is my first bass a meagre tanglewood jazz bass.
as well as being the bass i learned to play on, its signed by billy sheehan who was my utter GOD when i first picked up the instrument and it meant a hell of a lot to me to meet him, get him to sign my bass and he really could not of been nicer.
Despite since moving away from bass to other instruments that still by far means the most to me and i am convinced it plays better than any other bass on the planet (although i am almost CERTAINLY wrong). :)
either that or a plastic cup i was given after i passed out at my first concert, its utterly worthless but it still makes me smile :D
( Sheehan forevermore owes Ttssattsr beer, Mon 12 May 2008, 21:36, 2 replies)

damn you Frank spencer
for reminding me - what I would not save is my stupid fucking name
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Mon 12 May 2008, 21:34, Reply)

What'd I rescue in event of a fire?
Fairly dull answer alert!
My Insurance papers. And probably the eeePC + custom solar-charger so I wasn't 'net-less.

Everything else (keys, wallet, mobile, work cards) is kept in my last-worn set of jeans anyway, so assuming I was dressed when I went outside (or was in bed and could get dressed quickly) I'd be fine...

A bottle of Ketel One, Noilly Prat, a martini glass, some ice and a cocktail shaker wouldn't go amiss either!
( uberdeity Wondered why Owen Lars knew of the term "hell" on, Mon 12 May 2008, 20:53, Reply)

My new rock
I went to Hawaii last summer for a week with three friends. One night we drove a few hours to Volcano National Park to see the new lava flows.

It really is amazing to see the angry-colon colored lava pour forth from cracks in the earth into the ocean. There is much steam and all sorts of violent popping noises involved.

After dawn, I found a relatively new outcropping and broke a fist-sized chunk off and took it. It is the only new rock I've ever owned. Previous to this trip, I've only ever had previously owned stones.
(apathymilkshake, Mon 12 May 2008, 20:42, Reply)

My hard drives
all my music has been ripped/downloaded onto them plus all my childrens' baby abd bump pictures and a photo of my placenta (as you do). Don't worry they are backed up too.
( moogy boobles, Mon 12 May 2008, 18:58, Reply)

Nostalgia is a Greek word
Despite my copious beer swillage and foul mouth, I'm a tactile old softie at heart. My friends and family know how much I love them; that doesn't deter me from telling them so frequently. Sweary Jr and I exchange the L-word daily. At the age of 12, it surprises me that he'll still often initiate the exchange in front of his mates.

However, my old man has always been an exception to this rule. I call him by his christian name, and find it hard to refer to him as my father or dad. It's certainly not that I don't love him - I do, very much - but we've always been emotionally constipated with eachother.

As I 've mentioned several times before, I spent 3 years living on the Greek island of Kos. My mother wrote to me every week and occasionally Sweary Senior would add a page at the end. So, in answer to this week's question, it is these letters I would save from a fire. I've spent the entire afternoon reading them (fuck flattening clothes, this stuff is *important*).

One in particular will be selected for rescue, depending on the ferocity of the flames. If you have the appetite to read it, here's an extract:

"..... Continuing family news; communication with Grandad has taken a turn for the worse. You know he mostly blurts disconnected bits of gobbledegook and expects people to instantly decode what the hell he's on about, while, when you want to say something to him, you have to simplify it to the irreducibly gormless - then shout it at least twice. Well, now he specifies the number of words he requires, e.g. "What exactly is Tourettes doing? - in four words". This is often a bit of a challenge and can mean taking liberties with grammar or shortening a sentence, e.g. "Fucked if I know".......

The letter ends thus:

"......in two words,
LOVE, DAD."

I love and respect you millions Dad. I will pluck up the guts to say it aloud to your face xxx

(Or chicken out and show you this.)



*EDIT*
In the likely event of plan C for chicken:

Dad, for all the shit I threw your way, I apologise. I remember that acrimonious drunken phone call I made late one night (when I lived in Dunsmuir Grove?) spitting venemous vitriol at you. You never said a word. (I hope you left the phone on the dresser and walked away.) That is one of my few regrets.
Whenever I had a head-fuck whilst away, be it Kos or the USA, I'd listen to my tape of Keith Jarrett's Köln Concert and think of you. That always gave me strength.





**EDIT**
I showed this to my Dad yesterday :)
It put a lump in his eye, so it did.
(Tears & snot were dripping off my chins when I wrote it.)
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Mon 12 May 2008, 18:36, 15 replies)

Bittersweet.
I have great fondness and huge affection for my collection of floaty spheres. The way they glimmer in a rainbow-esque way as they drift on the slightest breath of air. Tragic is their painfully slow descent to an inevitable conclusion. Teasing me heartlessly all the way down until they disappear, leaving only a wet smudge on the polished timber surface. I'm inconsolable.

Then I dip the little wand into the magical tub of fun and create a whole new gathering of magical treasures. Sometimes it excites me so much I do a little wee.

I seen an electric bubble machine once, and I almost shat. I was deflated when upon closer inspection, I found it's products to be soul-less clones. Zombies devoid of any trace of character or soul, fluttering out like legions of the undead, threatening to overcome the world with their tainted cloudy mis-shapen forms. I hit their creator with a hammer until the threat to my globulous friends was no more and I could go back to marvelling at their aquatic beauty.


Fuck me - it must be getting close to home time if I'm spewing this kind of shite.
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Mon 12 May 2008, 17:43, 4 replies)

My Big Left Toe....
....It sits in a jar on my desk...

...Reminds of the days I was normal...

*Sigh*
(Fluent In Bentish Living in Scatman's World, tis being fun!, Mon 12 May 2008, 17:41, 1 reply)

i have an overactive imagination and too much time on my hands
has anyone else actually worked out a strategy for escaping their house with loved ones/valuable possessions/teddy bears were a fire to start?
(ladyintheradiator, Mon 12 May 2008, 17:34, 13 replies)

my trunk
It's an old wooden trunk of the kind taken to sea by sailors of yore. I keep it at the foot of my bed and it's stashed with a lifetime of curios and valuable items. Here are some of them:

1) Charlie Chaplin's comedy rolling pin. As used by the master in his music hall days in London before he went to Hollywood to make his fortune. He'd mime rolling out a huge piece of pastry so big that it covered the entire audience - an act so funny that in 1906 14 people actually died laughing.

2) A diamond ring with a stone as big as a door knob - about 250 carats. I found this at the bottom of a well that some skinheads had thrown me down back in the 80s, As they laughed and jeered at me from a distant aperture, I became instantly rich beyond my wildest dreams.

3) A carved mahogany dildo made by the Hut-Tut-At-Ut tribe in Malawi. It was used to break in virgins during the Utubu ceremony and my particular dildo has 114 scratches on it, representing hymens stretched. A German offered me £2000 for it, but it's a rare item I won't part with.

4) John Lennon's bogie - flicked from the balcony of the Odeon in central Liverpool in 1956. My mother, then a teenager, said it landed in her hair during a matinee and she went upstairs to kick John in the bollocks until the police were called. The joke was on him him, because Christies have valued the bogey at £14,000.

5) A Disney rarity featuring Mickey Mouse humping Minnie up the arse dressed in a Nazi uniform. It was drawn by Walt himself after he'd spent an evening sniffing strong solvents while depressed. He then posted the illustration at random...to my grandmother. For years, she used it as a dart board, but missed it with every dart on account of being a blind paraplegic.

6) The sword of Alexander the Great. Stolen by my Uncle Bert from a museum in Turkey, the sword is jewel encrusted and features the scratches and nicks of a hundred illustrious historical battles. I sometimes get it out and imagine that I, too, have conquered the known world.

7) The thorn of crowns - yes THAT one. The very one worn by Jesus of Nazareth. Nobody know how it came into out family in an unmarked parcel from Palestine, but it has been authenticated by a local priest and whenever I take it out the trunk I hear heavenly choruses. It has the ability to heal the sick and confers eternal life on all who acknowledge its power.

8) The missing pieces of film from the Zapruder tape filmed in Dallas on the exact day when JFK was shot. I found it inside a book called "Me and my Vulva" in a sex shop in Hamburg. The missing frames show that shots emanated from a gun shop at the precise moment Mr 'Blind' John Squinter was testing a rifle.

9) A portal that allows one to travel through the time-space continuum at will, visiting innumerable worlds and periods. Only last week I went to one of those planets Shatner used to go to, where all the people are hot women in satin bodysuits.

10) A bottle opener once used by Barry McSpaxworth, an old schoolmate of mine who was able to suck his own knob. He left it to me in his will when he choked on his boner one New Year.
(frankspencer, Mon 12 May 2008, 17:11, 15 replies)

So long as it doesn't happen today...
Until today I would have said my computer.

It contains all the music that I have written over the past 10 years, as well as all the recordings of my band for the last couple of years.

However, having read through pages of people talking about saving their external hard drives; a dim light gradually flickered into being above my bald and shiny head. With the words "external hard drive" buzzing about my brain, I slowly realised that I could back everything up onto one convenient box and not risk losing a (third of a) lifetime's hard work.

Sometimes I wonder how I've made it this far...
( Moey, Mon 12 May 2008, 17:09, 8 replies)

I was burglarized last year..
which was annoying, but most of the stuff taken was replaceable apart from school work that I hadn't paid enough attention to originally to be able to redo.

After the inital "OMFG they've taken so much stuff" I found myself manically searching for something that I sincerely doubt anyone would want to steal: a ring.

Not an engagement ring or an expensive ring or anything like that, just a £5 ring that my first love gave me for xmas 4 years ago. It was originally silver but has turned kind of orangey in places.

I wore it loads, until 2 years ago it went missing for several weeks and I feared that my jealous horrible boyfriend at the time had taken it, but I found it again and kept it safe.

After that I didn't wear it often, but when I was down I used to put it on for a day and remember the good times. I'm not saying I haven't been happy since him.. but I'd be lying if I said that I don't often miss him.. or that when waking up with other people I've never wished it was him.. or that it doesn't still physically hurt whenever I hear his latest girl-troubles..

Anyway, last time I tried it on I discovered that the uni-weight I've put on means it no longer fits. So my most treasured possession is now totally useless, but nothing else can make me cry and smile at the same time.

Apologies for sappiness *hides*
(snow15white wants some lithium, Mon 12 May 2008, 16:44, 2 replies)

my friend had
a copy of 'Monkey Planet', the novel which was turned into 'Planet of the Apes', signed by Sylvia Anderson, who did the Thunderbirds.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Mon 12 May 2008, 16:01, 3 replies)

My cock
It's my cock and only me or special ladies are allowed to touch it. I will protect it with my life!
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Mon 12 May 2008, 15:56, 5 replies)

all I have to my name is
a pair of yellow fishing waders and a driving license in the name of Emily Berkenstein.


I will award 50 geek points to anyone who can guess the reference
( willenium Fist bump for verification, Mon 12 May 2008, 15:51, 14 replies)

I don't have many, as most of my possessions are mass-produced things that would be expensive to replace but the loss of which would not affect me emotionally (save for annoyance).
My data is more valuable than the machines it's stored on -- replacing my PS2 would cost only money, but regaining all my game saves would take many hours of work. I do have a few rare games and other items, but I have them only as a gamer and as a collector; I'm not emotionally attached to them.

If I had to answer with one item, it would be my signed copy of A Feast For Crows by George R R Martin. It's not signed by Martin, but it is signed by Michel Ancel (the creator of Rayman), Tim Wright (CoLD SToRAGE), and Paul Barnaby and Andrew Barabas (Bob & Barn, writers of the music for Primal). I took that book with me to read on the train to Videogames Live 2006, and there was a meet-and-greet afterwards. That book was the only paper I had on me, so I passed that down to be signed. Not only am I gleeful about having met Michel Ancel and CoLD SToRAGE, but it holds many lovely memories for me. I went to VGL with one of my friends, and we both had a lovely time there.
( Bob Todd whee, Mon 12 May 2008, 15:27, Reply)

In addition to all the materialistic stuff I posted last week
there are a few other things that I would refuse to part with:

My photos from last year; as much as I've bitched about what a pain in the arse living in Pervland was, and how much Stalker Girl pissed me off in Switzerland before that, I have some incredible photos of amazing places and people that, as they live all over the world, I may never see again.

I also have a traditional Greek keyring with a butterfly on it that my roommate gave me when she left Italy, a Chinese New Year card from a friend in Beijing, a 'good luck in your finals' card from my parents (thanks parents, will need it), the empty bottle of cheap Tesco Merlot from the night I met Mr Maladicta which I now use as a vase for my cherry blossom fairy lights, my nan's engagement ring which lives in my jewellery box at my parents' (mainly because if I lost it, my dad would kill me), the leaflet from the memorial service for my grandad I wasn't able to attend, plus a little cuddly pig with "This piggy loves you" on it I got him when I as very small (it was the only thing of his I desperately wanted to keep), a pendant with a Chinese dragon on that technically belongs to Mr Maladicta but he never wears it, a string of rainbow fuzzy felt beads (each one is about the diameter of a 2p coin) that I bought from a contrada market in Siena, a Venetian glass heart pendant I bought in Rome, the huge PACE flag I use as a blind that I also bought in Siena, my Université de Lausanne ID card, the Rilo Kiley single bought for my last birthday by Jamesthegill and his missus, my collection of Paris metro tickets (no, really), a little wooden Buddha that used to belong to my mum (I stroke him in times of stress) and, while he's not a possession as such, Mr Maladicta.

My nan does not feel the same way about my grandad's stuff: the things that couldn't be sent to the charity shop or farmed out to the rest of the family were piled in the back garden and burned. I like to think they were accompanied by a tiny Irish lady with snow-white hair waving a clothes prop and doing some kind of war-dance. They really didn't get on.

EDIT: I have just realised that I have lost my treasured photo of my first Latin master, the legendary Brother Stevens (he wasn't actually a monk, he just looked like one) and his photo was on my wall to remind me to Read The Fucking Question and to check things thoroughly which, as a confirmed slacker, I sometimes forget to do.
( Maladicta, Mon 12 May 2008, 15:01, Reply)

I had almost forgotten about this.
My grandfather served as the ship's surgeon on the SS President Roosevelt, and during a storm they got a distress call from the SS Antinoe. Grandpa was instrumental in helping rescue the men from the Antinoe, and the survivors were so grateful that they gave him a medal which currently sits in a dresser drawer in my bedroom with my other family heirlooms, and a copy of the story he sold to the papers. (I think it was the NY Times, but not sure.)

A quick Google search turned up a wreck report here. It's rather dry reading, but gives the essential facts.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 12 May 2008, 14:59, Reply)

B3TA
Does anyone else feel proud of the B3TA username??

I have a name reffering to ass kissing which makes me feel proud..............Fuck me i need to grow up
( KISS.ME.WHERE.I.POO Signed the sex offenders register on, Mon 12 May 2008, 14:58, 52 replies)

I don't have any valuables
But I do have a cabbage in the fridge that I've been keeping for over a month now to annoy my housemate.

It's indestructible, and I've called it Gerald.

He's done about 5 weeks now. Although certainly no longer edible, Gerald has remarkably retained structural integrity.

If the house burnt down, I'd definitely try and save Gerald. We've been through a lot.
( rofl harris, Mon 12 May 2008, 14:45, 14 replies)

Hmmm.
I'm not going to say any of my friends/family, because they're not in my possession. I'm lucky enough to have an amazing family and a wonderful Mr BobFossil, but I'm not going to claim that I own them.

Don't get me wrong, I like having stuff. Possessions are lovely. However, they're not the most important thing in life. Every birthday and christmas, my brother asks me what I want from him. And every year, I can honestly never think of anything I want or need. So I ask him to surprise me. I'd rather get something that has been specifically thought about and chosen for me, than a random DVD that could have come from anyone. Possessions just don't bother me too much.

That said, there is one thing that I would be heartbroken to lose. My flute. It was made by the Haynes company for me (to my exact measurements and specifications) in 1999. I went to Boston to order it. It's the best flute I have ever played. I call it "Beryl" after my Grandma, who left me the money in her will to go towards getting myself a proper, professional-standard flute that would last me the rest of my life. It's beautiful. I actually feel like I have an emotional connection to it, even though it's an inanimate object made out of metal. Having spent at least 4 hours a day playing it, growing as a musician whilst making the parallel journey into womanhood (whilst at a rugger-bugger school full of idiots that bullied me, and looked down on me for being a musician), it felt like my best friend.

Less than a year after bringing it back to the UK, I broke my ring finger. Well, ripped it open, to be honest. The end joint was shattered into over 30 tiny shards of bone, the artery cut, and the nerves severed. It took months to heal (it's weirdly bulbous at the end these days), partially because the nurse at the hospital couldn't stitch it back together, it was so pulped. The nail has grown back. The shards of bone have fused back together. However, the nerves could not mend, and the joint itself is buggered. Whilst I have a top joint in that finger, there is little to no sensation in it, and movement is extremely stiff. I cannot move it anywhere near as fast as I'd need to, to be professional. Essentially, my dreams of being a top-flight professional flautist were as shattered as my finger.

I'm still in music: I'm a semi-pro singer, I work in the classical music industry, and I'm perfectly happy. However, that flute is there to remind me what could have been. It's there to remind me that my Grandma had enough faith in me to leave me money for a proper flute. And mostly, it's there to remind me not to dick around on my bike ever again.
(The Empress it seems you CAN polish a turd!, Mon 12 May 2008, 14:43, 11 replies)

I have a few.
A Teddy Bear called Oswald which was bought for me by my Godfather and his wife when i was born and he has been in my room since I was a baby. Sadly my Godfather died last year, so it holds more significance now than ever. Especially after finding out about his life at his funeral. It turned out that he used to work for the Secret Services during the Cold War, intercepting calls and messages and such and was fluent in Russian. Something I had never known in 22 years of knowing the man.

Second is another stuffed toy, Sully from Monsters Inc. It was the first present I got from my ex girlfriend, the only woman I have ever loved and still love with all my heart. I sleep with it on my bed every night.

Third is probably my Antoria Folk guitar. I had been playing the guitar for quite a while and had never played a guitar that really felt my own. Then I met a fella who I started a band with and played this guitar he had. I was home. It sounds like a weird thing, but any guitarists out there will know what I mean. I was talking to him about how much I loved it and he said that I could have it. He wouldnt even take any money from me for it because I loved it so much :)

The last treasured possesion of mine is my music collection. But in particular my Vinyl collection. It is made up of 1000's of records that I have collected over the years, but mainly is made up of my Dad's vinyl collection that he gave to me when I was 13. My dad was a huge music fan in the late 60's and 70's and spent every penny he had on records, so I have some of the most amazing records on original pressing including the complete Beach Boys and Who discographys until CD's started taking over. It is like a goldmine of memories and I would be genuinely heart broken if anything were to ever happen to it.

That's all....
( Redsushi! Whoop! Whoop! Yes, that one!, Mon 12 May 2008, 14:26, 2 replies)