Profile for sittingduck:
none
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
[read all their answers]
- a member for 21 years, 9 months and 30 days
- has posted 63 messages on the main board
- has posted 148 messages on the talk board
- has posted 62 messages on the links board
- (including 14 links)
- has posted 292 stories and 1796 replies on question of the week
- They liked 90 pictures, 30 links, 8 talk posts, and 445 qotw answers.
- Ignore this user
- Add this user as a friend
- send me a message
none
Recent front page messages:
none
Best answers to questions:
» Family Feuds
Accidental Personality change
My memories of my dad before I was10 are quite good. He wasn't the most demonstrative of parents but he was funny, a big Goons & Python fan he used to say "he fallen in da water" in a bluebottle voice when someone fell in water on the telly and do other silly voices all the time. He played hockey for a local team so we used to play hockey in the garden and go to his matches. I remember holidays going to see steam trains all warm nice memories, all a bit hazy as childhood memories of a 40 year old are but good memories.
He cycled to work and on his journey to work he had to negotiate a huge and very busy roundabout (long since converted to a traffic light complex) As he was turning right at this roundabout someone knocked him off his bike and he hit his head on the kerb. Apparently he lay unconscious there without anyone stopping for some time eventually an ambulance was called and he was taken to A&E. I remember being picked up from school by mum (me & my sister normally walked home as this was the 70's paedophiles weren't invented yet) and thinking he was dead because of how upset my mum looked.
In hospital he was in a coma for 2 weeks and hospital for over a month and then onto a convalescing home. Then finally he came home. Except that he hadn't come home, my dad actually died on that roundabout, because the man that came home was an utter cunt. To everyone but especially to me, never physically but he would lash out with words when ever he could. I tried my best to please him and he tried his best to make me cry. Eventually by about 13 he was drinking quite heavily I could manage to spend some time in the front room watching telly without him telling what a worthless pile of shit I was because he was pissed and a bit jolly. I'd keep an eye on how much he had so I could bail before he got nasty drunk. Also by this time I could honestly say I couldn't care less about him, and when my parents divorced I was glad to see the back of him. I'd still go and see him in Derby but only very occasionally he wasn’t abusive anymore but it was like talking to a robot. So soon those visits stopped too. Years passed I moved on with my life, Mrs Duck & our daughter were important now not some old drunk bastard
That all changed about a year ago, I received a phone call from a social worker from Derby who had tracked me down on account of our unusual surname. Apparently he had been found in a confused state and taken into hospital. He was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease which caused dementia. Me & my sister dropped everything to go and visit him. It’s funny if you had asked me hypothetically would you drop everything to go and help your dad I’d have said an emphatic no. But as soon as I took that call I was there.
When he saw us he cried tears of relief (something he would never have done post accident) he also told us he loved us and that we were good kids, words I’d have killed, or at least maimed for, when I was 11. We moved him, as soon as we could, to a nursing home near us and now I go to se him twice a week.
The Parkinson’s is killing him but the dementia has fucked with what ever bit of the brain was making him act like a cunt. We do puzzles and have some amazingly surreal conversations due to his dementia but essentially it’s Dad.
I don’t know how long we have got before he becomes so demented there’s no Dad left or the Parkinson’s shuts down his body and he dies. Whatever at lest I got my dad back for a bit.
Life is too short to feud
Apologies for length and lack of chuckles but it was quite cathartic to type it all out
(Tue 17th Nov 2009, 10:59, More)
Accidental Personality change
My memories of my dad before I was10 are quite good. He wasn't the most demonstrative of parents but he was funny, a big Goons & Python fan he used to say "he fallen in da water" in a bluebottle voice when someone fell in water on the telly and do other silly voices all the time. He played hockey for a local team so we used to play hockey in the garden and go to his matches. I remember holidays going to see steam trains all warm nice memories, all a bit hazy as childhood memories of a 40 year old are but good memories.
He cycled to work and on his journey to work he had to negotiate a huge and very busy roundabout (long since converted to a traffic light complex) As he was turning right at this roundabout someone knocked him off his bike and he hit his head on the kerb. Apparently he lay unconscious there without anyone stopping for some time eventually an ambulance was called and he was taken to A&E. I remember being picked up from school by mum (me & my sister normally walked home as this was the 70's paedophiles weren't invented yet) and thinking he was dead because of how upset my mum looked.
In hospital he was in a coma for 2 weeks and hospital for over a month and then onto a convalescing home. Then finally he came home. Except that he hadn't come home, my dad actually died on that roundabout, because the man that came home was an utter cunt. To everyone but especially to me, never physically but he would lash out with words when ever he could. I tried my best to please him and he tried his best to make me cry. Eventually by about 13 he was drinking quite heavily I could manage to spend some time in the front room watching telly without him telling what a worthless pile of shit I was because he was pissed and a bit jolly. I'd keep an eye on how much he had so I could bail before he got nasty drunk. Also by this time I could honestly say I couldn't care less about him, and when my parents divorced I was glad to see the back of him. I'd still go and see him in Derby but only very occasionally he wasn’t abusive anymore but it was like talking to a robot. So soon those visits stopped too. Years passed I moved on with my life, Mrs Duck & our daughter were important now not some old drunk bastard
That all changed about a year ago, I received a phone call from a social worker from Derby who had tracked me down on account of our unusual surname. Apparently he had been found in a confused state and taken into hospital. He was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease which caused dementia. Me & my sister dropped everything to go and visit him. It’s funny if you had asked me hypothetically would you drop everything to go and help your dad I’d have said an emphatic no. But as soon as I took that call I was there.
When he saw us he cried tears of relief (something he would never have done post accident) he also told us he loved us and that we were good kids, words I’d have killed, or at least maimed for, when I was 11. We moved him, as soon as we could, to a nursing home near us and now I go to se him twice a week.
The Parkinson’s is killing him but the dementia has fucked with what ever bit of the brain was making him act like a cunt. We do puzzles and have some amazingly surreal conversations due to his dementia but essentially it’s Dad.
I don’t know how long we have got before he becomes so demented there’s no Dad left or the Parkinson’s shuts down his body and he dies. Whatever at lest I got my dad back for a bit.
Life is too short to feud
Apologies for length and lack of chuckles but it was quite cathartic to type it all out
(Tue 17th Nov 2009, 10:59, More)
» Caught!
Rakky's story reminded me
I used to work in a lab. I was on my own with the radio on. Most experiments I did required incubation periods. I was sort of twiddling my thumbs during a 10 min incubations when "Hit me baby one more time" by Britney came on the radio I was singing along when a genius thought came to me. I quicky filled a rubber glove with some helum so I could make the high notes in the "still believe" backing vocal.
When doing this very silly thing one of the professors of the department came in to ask me somthing. My voice was still squeaky when I answered him.
(Fri 4th Jun 2010, 16:01, More)
Rakky's story reminded me
I used to work in a lab. I was on my own with the radio on. Most experiments I did required incubation periods. I was sort of twiddling my thumbs during a 10 min incubations when "Hit me baby one more time" by Britney came on the radio I was singing along when a genius thought came to me. I quicky filled a rubber glove with some helum so I could make the high notes in the "still believe" backing vocal.
When doing this very silly thing one of the professors of the department came in to ask me somthing. My voice was still squeaky when I answered him.
(Fri 4th Jun 2010, 16:01, More)
» Neighbours
Time warp
When I was a bloody student the last of our student rents was actually a nice house (the other 2 were so stupendously rough it would be rude to shitholes to call them shitholes)
It was in a quiet cul-de-sac and when we moved in a load of kids were playing football in the street. So me and one of my house mates went out and had a kick about with them. We had loads of fun. This happened fairly regularly
When it was hot in May we had a massive street-wide water fight. Our kitchen & bathroom being used for refills (the mums weren't happy about loads of wet kids running in and out their houses fucking up their carpets) once again we had loads of fun.
Later that year I was studying for my finals and the doorbell rang, I went and answered it. One of the kids form the street was there holding a football
"Can you come out and play?"
awwwww so sweeeet so I said "Sorry my mum wont let me" which was sort of true because I needed to pass my degree or my mum would have been furious ;o)
(Fri 2nd Oct 2009, 12:54, More)
Time warp
When I was a bloody student the last of our student rents was actually a nice house (the other 2 were so stupendously rough it would be rude to shitholes to call them shitholes)
It was in a quiet cul-de-sac and when we moved in a load of kids were playing football in the street. So me and one of my house mates went out and had a kick about with them. We had loads of fun. This happened fairly regularly
When it was hot in May we had a massive street-wide water fight. Our kitchen & bathroom being used for refills (the mums weren't happy about loads of wet kids running in and out their houses fucking up their carpets) once again we had loads of fun.
Later that year I was studying for my finals and the doorbell rang, I went and answered it. One of the kids form the street was there holding a football
"Can you come out and play?"
awwwww so sweeeet so I said "Sorry my mum wont let me" which was sort of true because I needed to pass my degree or my mum would have been furious ;o)
(Fri 2nd Oct 2009, 12:54, More)
» Hotel Splendido
Baaaasil
I stayed in a hotel in Norfolk on a business trip. The hotel was lovely and the guy running it was Basil Fawlty to a tee. The best Fawlty moment was over breakfast. I had the full english, when he brought it out I asked for ketchup our conversation went something like this (he shouted like Basil too in that unhinged, loosing it kind of way)
"Thank you can I have some ketchup please"
"those are proper sausages you know none of your crappy walls stuff"
"They look lovely but I like a bit of ketchup with my sausages"
"you've got a bloody tomato have that"
"It's a nice tomato but I really want some ketchup"
"oh for FUCK SAKE!!"
He stomps off. Everyone is looking at me like the ketchup loving pikey I am.
He stomps back in with a tiny bottle of unopened ketchup (I feel I may have been the first not to back down or perhaps he throws out the offending bottle once it's opened) and slammed it down on the table in front of me with such ferocity I thought it might shatter.
"your fucking ketchup sir"
stomp stomp stomp
I ate the delicious sausages with ketchup with tears of mirth streaming down my face
Length short, Girth fat ....nicely grilled
(Tue 22nd Jan 2008, 13:07, More)
Baaaasil
I stayed in a hotel in Norfolk on a business trip. The hotel was lovely and the guy running it was Basil Fawlty to a tee. The best Fawlty moment was over breakfast. I had the full english, when he brought it out I asked for ketchup our conversation went something like this (he shouted like Basil too in that unhinged, loosing it kind of way)
"Thank you can I have some ketchup please"
"those are proper sausages you know none of your crappy walls stuff"
"They look lovely but I like a bit of ketchup with my sausages"
"you've got a bloody tomato have that"
"It's a nice tomato but I really want some ketchup"
"oh for FUCK SAKE!!"
He stomps off. Everyone is looking at me like the ketchup loving pikey I am.
He stomps back in with a tiny bottle of unopened ketchup (I feel I may have been the first not to back down or perhaps he throws out the offending bottle once it's opened) and slammed it down on the table in front of me with such ferocity I thought it might shatter.
"your fucking ketchup sir"
stomp stomp stomp
I ate the delicious sausages with ketchup with tears of mirth streaming down my face
Length short, Girth fat ....nicely grilled
(Tue 22nd Jan 2008, 13:07, More)
» Neighbours
Bloody students
Me and Mrs Duck used to have some students living next door to us. For the most part they were good lads. However the person who had the room adjacent to our bedroom did have a problem with the volume of his stereo
One morning we were woken up at about 3am to the sound of the littlest hobo, sesame street, the fall guy, knight rider and other similar themes all at a volume so high it may as well have been a stereo in our room. After this hilarious ironic musical smorgasbord some techno followed for about an hour. Me & Mrs Duck had a cup of tea and a little reminisce about when we used to take drugs and annoy the neighbours.
Finaly the music stopped then the porn started, at the same volume! While he was bashing the bishop I found a live CD and queued up the end of a track and cranked up the volume so as soon as he finished he got a lovely round of applause.
(Fri 2nd Oct 2009, 10:38, More)
Bloody students
Me and Mrs Duck used to have some students living next door to us. For the most part they were good lads. However the person who had the room adjacent to our bedroom did have a problem with the volume of his stereo
One morning we were woken up at about 3am to the sound of the littlest hobo, sesame street, the fall guy, knight rider and other similar themes all at a volume so high it may as well have been a stereo in our room. After this hilarious ironic musical smorgasbord some techno followed for about an hour. Me & Mrs Duck had a cup of tea and a little reminisce about when we used to take drugs and annoy the neighbours.
Finaly the music stopped then the porn started, at the same volume! While he was bashing the bishop I found a live CD and queued up the end of a track and cranked up the volume so as soon as he finished he got a lovely round of applause.
(Fri 2nd Oct 2009, 10:38, More)