b3ta.com user grumpy old ratbag
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» Bedroom Disasters

Out of the mouths of babes....
Many years ago, my 3rd son, then aged about 7, said at breakfast,
"Mummy, did you have a nightmare last night?"
"Um - not sure..."
"You were going 'ooh, ooh, ooh!' it went on for AGES!"
I went scarlet and caught my husband's eye. He was beaming across the scrambled eggs....
(Fri 24th Jun 2011, 14:54, More)

» Morning After Souvenirs

Shapeless Mass
Not me, but my Dad...

When he was a student in the 1930s, Dad and two of his friends thought it would be a wizard wheeze to sew three boiler suits together and go to a fancy dress party as a Shapeless Mass. Of course being students they all had too much to drink and found it even harder to get around in this conjoined manner. Eventually after aimlessly staggering round the streets of London they fell down the stairs of a Tube station. Dad woke up in hospital. His Morning After souvenir was a broken arm; one of the others had a broken leg and a broken hand, and the third was concussed.

When we were kids my siblings and I thought this story was mega cool. It still makes me smile.
(Sat 28th Apr 2012, 13:27, More)

» Bedroom Disasters

Smell it and see
Never eat chocolate in bed - but if you do, never EVER unkowingly drop a small piece on the sheet then sit on it wearing a pale coloured nightie. Telling your husband to smell it is not the best way to end the embarrassment.
(Fri 24th Jun 2011, 11:57, More)

» Bodge Jobs

Bodge Jobs
In the late 1970s we had to get together a scratch ceilidh band at short notice for a charity barn dance. Barn dances used to be held in real barns with bales of hay chucked around for 'atmosphere' whilst bands were put on a 'stage' made from a some kind rickety cart which was never large enough. On this particular occasion we were pleased to have with us a pleasant young man called Simon who was a good useful musician and an asset to the band. Unfortunately there weren't enough inputs on the amp so Simon said not to worry, he'd improvise, and stuck a couple of wires into one of the input sockets alongside the jack that was already in there.

You can see what's coming. can't you?

The first two dances went very well. Halfway through the third, I noticed a strange smell that seemed to be emanating from the amplification equipment. The others had also noticed it and at the end of the dance we could see that smoke was starting to emerge. "Not to worry" said Simon, who spoke with such authority and, given the nature of his day job, we assumed he knew about stuff like that. So we did not protest when he fiddled around with the wiring, stopping the smoke.

A little later we started to notice the distinctive aroma drifting our way once more. This time there was quite a lot more smoke. One of the organisers came and stopped the dance, and gave us an almighty bollocking about safety (no 'health and' in those days) and fire risks, and so on ad nauseam. The trouble was, we had difficulty keeping straight faces, especially when he started ranting about reporting us to fire safety officers.

Simon was a fireman.....
(Tue 15th Mar 2011, 15:16, More)

» Awesome teachers

Awesome teachers
The euphoria of my having done well in the eleven plus in the late 1950s very quickly turned to despair after the first term at the very posh girls’ school to which I was ‘privileged’ to win a scholarship. It was a dreadful place.

The one saving grace was the music teacher, who was inspiring, kind and very entertaining. One thing she did was allow us to bring in our pop records (45rpm vinyl singles in those days) to the musical appreciation lessons, so that the likes of the Beatles and Manfred Mann were given as much respect as Mozart and Beethoven. This sort of thing was frowned on by several parents, but she said good music was good music wherever it came from. This has stayed with me to the extent that I can appreciate a lovely tune regardless of the source. We felt she was on our side, especially after she hinted that she didn't like the head mistress - a Thatcher-like hag who was hated by all pupils and parents. She - the music teacher - was also the best choir mistress I've ever known and there are many happy memories of choir concerts (we were well known locally and much in demand). If it hadn’t been for her I’m not sure I’d have survived my teens.

Having assumed all my former teachers were long dead I was flabbergasted to discover she was still alive, so I got in touch and last week we met. Apart from her hair now being white, she’s hardly changed in 46 years. We had a lovely nostalgic chat and a good laugh.

Thank you Miss W for saving my life…..
(Fri 18th Mar 2011, 10:28, More)
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