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This is a question My most treasured possession

What's your most treasured possession? What would you rescue from a fire (be it for sentimental or purely financial reasons)?

My Great-Uncle left me his visitors book which along with boring people like the Queen and Harold Wilson has Spike Milligan's signature in it. It's all loopy.

Either that or my Grandfather's swords.

(, Thu 8 May 2008, 12:38)
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I say boy.
When my stepdad first came into my life, we never got on. From the moment it was clear that he was around to stay, a constant friction in our relationship as stepfather to stepson made life really difficult in the Scentless household.

Neither of us helped the situation, bickering became something of an artform between us as we'd always find something to moan at my mum about with regard to each other. It caused some very problematic situations as time went on, and now I look back and cringe at how much this happened.

That said, as I got older, things got easier, and we started to reason with each other and I soon came to realise that the reason we clashed so much is that we were so much alike in our personalities.

Anyway, during my A-levels, I went into some sort of metaphorphosis from class geek to class slacker, and my grades dropped through the floor. Telling your mother that you've scraped an E in your Pure Mathematics 1 paper when only a year previous you were an A-grade wonder is not a pleasant experience.

This kept happening, to the extent where my stepdad took me to one side after one too many poor results. Expecting a big row, I went on the defensive and started being a right royal moody bastard with him. To my surprise, my stepdad just took it, and then let me calm down, and said words that still hit home today:

"Thing is Scentless, I had nothing when I was your age, no prospects, no potential, no nothing. You've got the world at your feet, everything that I didn't have, and you're kicking it in the face... and it breaks my heart."

The man, who battled with me for years, started to cry. I started too, finally realising my predicament, and it was from then on a mutual understanding was formed. We never talked of it since, but that moment had it's impact.

I turned it round, got decent grades after all at college, walked into uni, and got top marks in the class in the first and second years. I took off on industrial placement in the third year (see my many mentioned Basingstoke related posts), and my stepdad volunteered to help me move down and get sorted.

The day I moved, we said little on the trip down, and barely more as we shifted my stuff into my new abode.

However, as we finished and he prepared to leave, he motioned to shake my hand, and as we did, I grabbed hold of me and gave me a big (but totally hetero and non-strange) hug, and said...

"I'm proud of you, son."

Well blow me if that wasn't some rite-of-passage moment. It was the first time he'd ever called me son (hell, I've never heard my biological father call me it) and I finally realised that despite all the shit I'd caused for the poor bloke, he'd seen through it and had faith in me.

After that, he departed and I was left to sort all my stuff out.

On my bed, there was a box I didn't recognise, and inside I found a Foghorn Leghorn (you know, the big Looney Tunes chicken) plush toy.

My stepdad's nickname for me is Foghorn because of my loud voice (imagine Brian Glover with the volume turned up to 11) and this was obviously my stepdad's way of having a laugh after all the seriousness of the day just gone. What my new housemates thought of what they thought was a big strapping former rugby player hugging what was effectively a kiddie's toy whilst drooling over the evening's Hollyoaks I couldn't say, but I didn't care, I felt good.

To this day (7 years later!!!) I still have it, pride of place, in my front room. It's a reminder to me that no matter what happens to me, or how I'm like with my stepdad, I know that he'll always be looking out for me. If I lost it, I really don't know what I'd do. I think I'd even state in my will that I was to be buried with it.

Apologies for the shit, overlong, soppy and frankly unfunny story, but it means something to me, and I felt I had to get it off my chest.
(, Fri 9 May 2008, 21:06, closed)
great story
no apologies needed for length or lack of humour. i have a lot of respect for anyone who takes someone elses child as their own and your dad seems to have done a great job. cheers for postin.
(, Fri 9 May 2008, 21:52, closed)
Brought a smile to my face
Have a click, lovely story.
(, Fri 9 May 2008, 22:47, closed)
Have a Conditional Clicky
One condition - you confirm that your stepdad knows how much he means to you. Blokes like him are rare.

Edt: Bugrit. Clicked anyway.
(, Mon 12 May 2008, 9:45, closed)

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