Awards Moderator Frankie Crisp Posted January 30 Awards Moderator Share Posted January 30 (edited) This thread is wonderful. When I get a minute, I’ll write about how and why my Mum got chucked out of the Houses of Parliament. Edited January 30 by Frankie Crisp Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Paid Members Devon Malcolm Posted January 30 Author Paid Members Share Posted January 30 I'm still reeling from the fact that sand appears to play such a pivotal role in our lives. I didn't even mention that when my dad's at work and he's at a place with no running water (not an issue at Casa Healy, I'd imagine) he cleans his mug out with sand. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Paid Members Scratch Posted January 30 Paid Members Share Posted January 30 (edited) I was born and grew up by the sea. Up until he was 32, my dad worked as a fisherman having first gone to sea on his dad’s boat when he was 13. Despite this, my dad has never learned to swim. As kids, if we could ever persuade him to come in the shallow end of the pool with us, he’d cling onto the side and kick his legs, but he’d just sink - he must be made of lead or something. He's a really quiet man, and I’ve never known him to tell stories of things he’s done but I was at least aware he’d leave in the middle of the night when I was little to go fishing in the North Sea in the pitch black, and return early in the morning with loads of fresh fish. The other day, I said to him how he was lucky to have never fallen overboard given he can’t swim. He very calmly replied: ”Oh I did. Three times.” Assuming he’d have had a life jacket on, I was quick to praise it for saving his life. ”Oh we didn’t have life jackets, they just got in the way” Somewhat bemused as to how he’s still on this earth, I asked how the hell he managed to survive falling in 3 times. ”A torch and a big stick” was his answer. Edited January 30 by Scratch Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Paid Members Gus Mears Posted January 31 Paid Members Share Posted January 31 (edited) It's three years today since my dad died. I think I miss him more than any point since. The last few years of his life, when the drink had ruined him what was left was a rough impression, made it hard to grieve at the time. What was there to grieve? His life was shit and he hated it. Rehab stints and hospital detoxes punctuated by relapses and operations to keep him from dying before his liver inevitably packed in (though he couldn't hold on another six months for my wedding, the arse). Three years on and I think less and less about the end. It feels like I've got him back in a weird sort of way, even the version of him in my mind's eye and when I dream about him is healthier, more like the man I want to remember. The man who I did have some wonderful times with. He wasn't really built for this world and while had a lot of talent in certain ways (music not least) it makes me laugh reading stories of superhuman strength and even just general competence from other dad's. I can guarantee that had Scratch's story happened to him then he would have drowned and in Devon's he would have watched as I plummeted two floors to my doom. My abiding memories are daft things happening to him, like when a buzzard flew through his sunroof on the A303 and he was trying to push it back out by the arse while avoiding talons, his parked car getting written off by a milk float and another getting written off in the same spot by a dustbin lorry six months later. He always looked a bit like Eyeore after about 1996 and I can't really blame him. We went to hospital after a conker fell from a tree and broke his nose and he made the local news in Bristol when he nearly got killed by a deadly snake in a crate he was unpacking at work. He couldn't do anything practical and flooded the sandwich shop downstairs one Sunday after fucking up plumbing a washer. I miss him a lot. Edited January 31 by Gus Mears Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Callum1993 Posted January 31 Share Posted January 31 My Mam for years has had a fear of walking in the snow/ice in case of falling yet to my knowledge has never fallen in such conditions yet has fallen numerous times in circumstances which were mostly her fault. Once when I was a kid we’d just moved house so she popped round to see the neighbours and introduce herself. As she was walking out looking happy with the impression she’d given she tripped over their front step and face planted the pavement. Nothing was hurt other than her pride and probably the neighbour’s opinion of her. Another time when I was a kid she decided to empty a pan of oil that had been used for chips and for some reason that she still can’t explain decided to just pour it into a bin bag. She then attempted to put the bin bag in the bin outside not realising that the oil would just leak out of the bottom. She then proceeded to slip slowly on the oil until she was doing the splits( Ooh Kenneth Williams) out of the back door between the kitchen and the back garden and couldn’t get up for an hour. Don’t think her legs have ever recovered from that one. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
simonworden Posted January 31 Share Posted January 31 Scratch has reminded me of a bizarre incident with my Dad from about 14 years ago that he confessed to a while later. In 2010, he finally got round to having his bowel taken out and having a permanent colostomy bag inserted. Being an invasive procedure he was given what I can only describe as Flinstone's chewable morphine tablets to take home. Not being known as a man of moderation, he decided to take these as frequently as possible which once they ran out and he wasn't allowed anymore created some interesting and less pleasant reactions/ side affects I won't go into. The most interesting one was what I'll call 'energetic insomnia' where he was finding himself wide awake at night and full of energy. On one night he decided to go for a rather long walk which led him down the dark, misty, unpaved lanes from our village into Christchurch and along to Mudeford harbor all while wearing his pajamas, dressing gown and slippers before proceeding back through more unpaved roads and a marshland full of wild horses. Amazingly, at no point did he get stopped by any patrolling police cars or any of the night fishermen on the harbor which is sadly a big suicide hotspot. The only interaction he remembers is a dog walker asking if he was alright to which he replied "F Off" and continued walking. Nobody had any clue that this had occurred for about a year when he confessed it all and still continues to baffle us. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
wordsfromlee Posted January 31 Share Posted January 31 Dad text me to say that they've got some friends visiting for the weekend so have been to do a big shop to stock up. My sister went round and found this. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SuperBacon Posted January 31 Share Posted January 31 Too right! No need to waste chateau neuf d'pap (is that right?) on bloody freeloaders. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Fog Dude Posted January 31 Share Posted January 31 23 minutes ago, SuperBacon said: Too right! No need to waste chateau neuf d'pap (is that right?) on bloody freeloaders. Since you asked, it's Châteauneuf du Pape. The "d-apostrophe" only goes before vowel sounds. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SuperBacon Posted January 31 Share Posted January 31 13 minutes ago, Fog Dude said: Since you asked, it's Châteauneuf du Pape. The "d-apostrophe" only goes before vowel sounds. Never change etc. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Fog Dude Posted January 31 Share Posted January 31 Suppose I could, in keeping with the thrust of the thread, add that Nana Foggy had lots of tins of gone-off rice pudding and the like in her cupboard when she passed... because behind them, it's where she'd been hiding the bottles of hard liquor that she'd been self-medicating with. Actually come to think of it, that's probably not the type of anecdote for the jovial spirit of this discussion so far. Should probably stick to turning every convo into a grammar lecture instead. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SuperBacon Posted January 31 Share Posted January 31 1 minute ago, Fog Dude said: Should probably stick to turning every convo into a grammar lecture instead. Grandma lecture > Grammar lecture. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Awards Moderator Frankie Crisp Posted January 31 Awards Moderator Share Posted January 31 (edited) You could have at least called her Grammar Foggy. Edited January 31 by Frankie Crisp Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
wordsfromlee Posted January 31 Share Posted January 31 39 minutes ago, SuperBacon said: Too right! No need to waste chateau neuf d'pap (is that right?) on bloody freeloaders. No, no ,no. You misunderstood me. Thats my mums tipple of choice. My mum is the kind of woman that smokes one of those brands of fags that are usually kept on the bottom row that you never see anyone buy. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
SuperBacon Posted January 31 Share Posted January 31 Just now, wordsfromlee said: No, no ,no. You misunderstood me. Thats my mums tipple of choice. My mum is the kind of woman that smokes one of those brands of fags that are usually kept on the bottom row that you never see anyone buy. As an on/off smoker who has never been precious about brands, I'd like to know. I'll buy a Berkeley or Sterling nowadays, and Richmonds back in the day. No shame in my game. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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