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Memories are everything. . .
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Apr 23, 2019 03:23:42   #
Rathyatra Loc: Southport, United Kingdom
 
Picked this up from a friend on facebook and thought it was poignant - very much relates to anyone with a Scouse background but I am sure others will have not dissimilar memories.
When I was just a little boy
We didn’t have a lot
My mother kept the lights on
With some silver in the slot
The tv was a rental one
That too was on a meter
But when I cast my mind back
Life back then, seemed so much sweeter
The larder wasn’t always full
Of tasty things to eat
But we didn’t notice hunger
As we played outside in the street
Our clothes weren’t always bought from new
Quite often worn before
But we didn’t follow fashion
Never thought to ask for more
My mother’s purse was empty
Except of course for dreams
But she always found some pennies
To buy us both Ice Creams
Our shoes were always measured
Our hair was always neat
I remember she insisted
You must take care of your feet!
School uniforms were granted
Given by the state
We looked as smart as anyone
When we walked through that school gate
In summer we picked berries
From the hedgerows in the field
Our fingers stained with purple
We delighted in our yield
No games consoles to keep us quiet
Our joy was climbing trees
Making dens in bales of straw
With grass stains on our knees
We didn’t know the world beyond
The place we use to play
We didn’t have a single care
As night just followed day
The girls would make their perfume
With petals from the flowers
Often getting in hot water
Cos the blooms were never ours
We’d nick the fairy liquid tub
To have a water fight
And on the baking concrete
Our names we’d always write
We shared bikes and we shared footballs
Used our sweaters as the goal
And when the bitter winter came
We’d fill buckets up with coal
Every single chimney
Cast a plume into the sky
As we huddled by the fire
With a meat and tatty pie
Bath night was always Sunday
And the tub we had to share
A frozen dash from the bathroom
With vosene suds in your hair
Scratch your name on the frosty pane
Before the curtains shut
Tucked under a heap of blankets
No choice but to stay put
We never took a holiday
Certainly not abroad
A day out to sunny Blackpool
Was all we could afford
We’d paddle in the Irish Sea
And sit down in the foam
Ride a donkey up the beach
And wish we could take it home
Our kitchen was always full of steam
From the endless pans of spuds
And we volunteered for washing up
To play games with the suds
We made toast on the open fire
I can taste it to this day
Dripping in salted butter
It seems half a world away
Every Christmas there were presents
Underneath our tinsel tree
And always we were overjoyed
Whatever they may be
Never really knowing
They had cost our mother dear
And she wouldn’t clear her catalogue
Until Christmas came next year
In and out of houses
Up and down the street
Borrowing cups of sugar
We helped each other make ends meet
The house phone had a lock on it
So we could’nt run the bill
And we only tasted lucozade
If we were gravely ill
The doctor saw you on your sofa
With his stethoscope and bag
A week off school was endless
If you managed with the blag
John craven brought you newsround
Quite against your will
You rarely paid attention
You were waiting for Grange Hill
Vinyl records in the sideboard
And a smoked glass record player
You listened to Madonna
And you hated Leo Sayer
And when you went to bed at night
That then was mother’s time
You’d hear her downstairs singing
To Johnny Cash or Patsy Cline
Life back then was infinite
You never could grow old
There was nothing to be frightened of
With your mother’s hand to hold
Death was never mentioned
Too young to understand
It’s seems that life would just work out
The way you had it planned
But the years passed in minutes
There was no time to spare
Overnight it seems..... the silver threads
Adorned your mother’s hair
Your endless days were over
As time raced away at pace
And the happy days of innocence
Disappeared ... without trace
Don’t waste a single minute
Of this life with which you’re blessed
Things change in just a heartbeat
The ride can come to rest
Good times become just memories
Faces fade and smiles are lost
Don’t wish away a second
Hang on... at any cost
When I was just a little boy
We didn’t have a lot
But one day... all of that nothing
Will be the greatest gift I’ve got .

Reply
Apr 23, 2019 03:43:56   #
Ed Greding Loc: Texas
 
Very nice. As a whole it reminds me of John Donne's question, "Tell me where the lost years are."

Reply
Apr 23, 2019 04:04:43   #
Rathyatra Loc: Southport, United Kingdom
 
Ed Greding wrote:
Very nice. As a whole it reminds me of John Donne's question, "Tell me where the lost years are."



Reply
 
 
Apr 23, 2019 04:59:48   #
jerryc41 Loc: Catskill Mts of NY
 
Lengthy, but nice.

We were in England years ago, in the winter. We were staying in bed and breakfasts, and the first one had no heat. When we traveled to Oxford, the first place we looked at had an "electric fire," powered by shillings. Walking into that warm room was like heaven after spending three weeks in a fridge.

Reply
Apr 23, 2019 06:52:30   #
tommy2 Loc: Fort Worth, Texas
 
jerryc41 wrote:
Lengthy, but nice.
...spending three weeks in a fridge.

Did that for a couple years in the early sixties.
One summer the temperature reached just barely over 70F and saw folks suffering - I was down to only two sweaters. Returning to south Texas in January with temperatures in the 70's for a week I had a heat stroke. So glad I returned home in the winter!
Wouldn't trade the full experience for anything in the whole world though. I get homesick just looking at some photos of the UK countryside posted here on UHH.

Reply
Apr 23, 2019 07:12:12   #
chippy65 Loc: Cambridge
 
walking to school in the bitter winter of 1947, in shorts. Blackouts, food shortage. Frozen school milk

Tees-Side.....six foot drifts........took it in your stride......seemed "normal"............ Food still rationed

Reply
Apr 23, 2019 07:27:36   #
foathog Loc: Greensboro, NC
 
Now let's all get melancholia and contemplate suicide.



Rathyatra wrote:
Picked this up from a friend on facebook and thought it was poignant - very much relates to anyone with a Scouse background but I am sure others will have not dissimilar memories.
When I was just a little boy
We didn’t have a lot
My mother kept the lights on
With some silver in the slot
The tv was a rental one
That too was on a meter
But when I cast my mind back
Life back then, seemed so much sweeter
The larder wasn’t always full
Of tasty things to eat
But we didn’t notice hunger
As we played outside in the street
Our clothes weren’t always bought from new
Quite often worn before
But we didn’t follow fashion
Never thought to ask for more
My mother’s purse was empty
Except of course for dreams
But she always found some pennies
To buy us both Ice Creams
Our shoes were always measured
Our hair was always neat
I remember she insisted
You must take care of your feet!
School uniforms were granted
Given by the state
We looked as smart as anyone
When we walked through that school gate
In summer we picked berries
From the hedgerows in the field
Our fingers stained with purple
We delighted in our yield
No games consoles to keep us quiet
Our joy was climbing trees
Making dens in bales of straw
With grass stains on our knees
We didn’t know the world beyond
The place we use to play
We didn’t have a single care
As night just followed day
The girls would make their perfume
With petals from the flowers
Often getting in hot water
Cos the blooms were never ours
We’d nick the fairy liquid tub
To have a water fight
And on the baking concrete
Our names we’d always write
We shared bikes and we shared footballs
Used our sweaters as the goal
And when the bitter winter came
We’d fill buckets up with coal
Every single chimney
Cast a plume into the sky
As we huddled by the fire
With a meat and tatty pie
Bath night was always Sunday
And the tub we had to share
A frozen dash from the bathroom
With vosene suds in your hair
Scratch your name on the frosty pane
Before the curtains shut
Tucked under a heap of blankets
No choice but to stay put
We never took a holiday
Certainly not abroad
A day out to sunny Blackpool
Was all we could afford
We’d paddle in the Irish Sea
And sit down in the foam
Ride a donkey up the beach
And wish we could take it home
Our kitchen was always full of steam
From the endless pans of spuds
And we volunteered for washing up
To play games with the suds
We made toast on the open fire
I can taste it to this day
Dripping in salted butter
It seems half a world away
Every Christmas there were presents
Underneath our tinsel tree
And always we were overjoyed
Whatever they may be
Never really knowing
They had cost our mother dear
And she wouldn’t clear her catalogue
Until Christmas came next year
In and out of houses
Up and down the street
Borrowing cups of sugar
We helped each other make ends meet
The house phone had a lock on it
So we could’nt run the bill
And we only tasted lucozade
If we were gravely ill
The doctor saw you on your sofa
With his stethoscope and bag
A week off school was endless
If you managed with the blag
John craven brought you newsround
Quite against your will
You rarely paid attention
You were waiting for Grange Hill
Vinyl records in the sideboard
And a smoked glass record player
You listened to Madonna
And you hated Leo Sayer
And when you went to bed at night
That then was mother’s time
You’d hear her downstairs singing
To Johnny Cash or Patsy Cline
Life back then was infinite
You never could grow old
There was nothing to be frightened of
With your mother’s hand to hold
Death was never mentioned
Too young to understand
It’s seems that life would just work out
The way you had it planned
But the years passed in minutes
There was no time to spare
Overnight it seems..... the silver threads
Adorned your mother’s hair
Your endless days were over
As time raced away at pace
And the happy days of innocence
Disappeared ... without trace
Don’t waste a single minute
Of this life with which you’re blessed
Things change in just a heartbeat
The ride can come to rest
Good times become just memories
Faces fade and smiles are lost
Don’t wish away a second
Hang on... at any cost
When I was just a little boy
We didn’t have a lot
But one day... all of that nothing
Will be the greatest gift I’ve got .
Picked this up from a friend on facebook and thoug... (show quote)

Reply
 
 
Apr 23, 2019 09:14:24   #
jaymatt Loc: Alexandria, Indiana
 
Ed Greding wrote:
Very nice. As a whole it reminds me of John Donne's question, "Tell me where the lost years are."


And Donne said that around 1600--go figure!

Reply
Apr 24, 2019 11:24:02   #
Scouser Loc: British Columbia
 
Did I hear 'Scouse' in the background and 1947? That would be my second year in infants school at Broad Square in Norris Green.
Do you remember milk bottles with cardboard tops? The first kid up used to rush out to the front step and bring in the bottles in the winter. The milkman used to come round at the crack of dawn. By getting-up time the milk was partially frozen and the bottle top was standing on top of a column of frozen cream. If you were quick you could mix it with a spoonful of sugar and you had instant ice cream to start your day off. Hard lines for the second kid up!
And what about the wet and snowy weather? Off to school in shorts, year round, with red rings around your legs where the tops of your wellies would rub your legs raw. This was made worse by slogging through 12" of snow in 10" high wellies! No such thing as 'snow days', they hadn't been invented yet.
To make matters worse, there was never any heat on in the school cloakroom, so you went home that night with your blue gabardine mack and you wellies still as cold and wet as they were that morning. Sometimes, if you didn't remember to leave your boots upside down, you had to drain them before putting them back on.
Some would call it character building, I'm not so sure, more like chillblain building!

Reply
Apr 24, 2019 11:52:50   #
Earnest Botello Loc: Hockley, Texas
 
That was great, Bill, thanks for bringing up fond memories of growing up. I would do it all again if I could.

Reply
Apr 24, 2019 15:08:23   #
John N Loc: HP14 3QF Stokenchurch, UK
 
London buses in the smogs of late 1950 / early 1960. I could hear them, I could feel them but I couldn't see them. The smogs were a killer, but to a 5 yr. old it was just another adventure.

Reply
 
 
Apr 25, 2019 07:47:51   #
B_meyer5.55NY
 
snif,snif....Loved it.

Life is short. Live it to the fullest.....every day.

Reply
Apr 25, 2019 13:18:55   #
jack schade Loc: La Pine Oregon
 


Jack

Reply
Apr 25, 2019 18:38:18   #
SteveR Loc: Michigan
 
Rathyatra wrote:
Picked this up from a friend on facebook and thought it was poignant - very much relates to anyone with a Scouse background but I am sure others will have not dissimilar memories.
When I was just a little boy
We didn’t have a lot
My mother kept the lights on
With some silver in the slot
The tv was a rental one
That too was on a meter
But when I cast my mind back
Life back then, seemed so much sweeter
The larder wasn’t always full
Of tasty things to eat
But we didn’t notice hunger
As we played outside in the street
Our clothes weren’t always bought from new
Quite often worn before
But we didn’t follow fashion
Never thought to ask for more
My mother’s purse was empty
Except of course for dreams
But she always found some pennies
To buy us both Ice Creams
Our shoes were always measured
Our hair was always neat
I remember she insisted
You must take care of your feet!
School uniforms were granted
Given by the state
We looked as smart as anyone
When we walked through that school gate
In summer we picked berries
From the hedgerows in the field
Our fingers stained with purple
We delighted in our yield
No games consoles to keep us quiet
Our joy was climbing trees
Making dens in bales of straw
With grass stains on our knees
We didn’t know the world beyond
The place we use to play
We didn’t have a single care
As night just followed day
The girls would make their perfume
With petals from the flowers
Often getting in hot water
Cos the blooms were never ours
We’d nick the fairy liquid tub
To have a water fight
And on the baking concrete
Our names we’d always write
We shared bikes and we shared footballs
Used our sweaters as the goal
And when the bitter winter came
We’d fill buckets up with coal
Every single chimney
Cast a plume into the sky
As we huddled by the fire
With a meat and tatty pie
Bath night was always Sunday
And the tub we had to share
A frozen dash from the bathroom
With vosene suds in your hair
Scratch your name on the frosty pane
Before the curtains shut
Tucked under a heap of blankets
No choice but to stay put
We never took a holiday
Certainly not abroad
A day out to sunny Blackpool
Was all we could afford
We’d paddle in the Irish Sea
And sit down in the foam
Ride a donkey up the beach
And wish we could take it home
Our kitchen was always full of steam
From the endless pans of spuds
And we volunteered for washing up
To play games with the suds
We made toast on the open fire
I can taste it to this day
Dripping in salted butter
It seems half a world away
Every Christmas there were presents
Underneath our tinsel tree
And always we were overjoyed
Whatever they may be
Never really knowing
They had cost our mother dear
And she wouldn’t clear her catalogue
Until Christmas came next year
In and out of houses
Up and down the street
Borrowing cups of sugar
We helped each other make ends meet
The house phone had a lock on it
So we could’nt run the bill
And we only tasted lucozade
If we were gravely ill
The doctor saw you on your sofa
With his stethoscope and bag
A week off school was endless
If you managed with the blag
John craven brought you newsround
Quite against your will
You rarely paid attention
You were waiting for Grange Hill
Vinyl records in the sideboard
And a smoked glass record player
You listened to Madonna
And you hated Leo Sayer
And when you went to bed at night
That then was mother’s time
You’d hear her downstairs singing
To Johnny Cash or Patsy Cline
Life back then was infinite
You never could grow old
There was nothing to be frightened of
With your mother’s hand to hold
Death was never mentioned
Too young to understand
It’s seems that life would just work out
The way you had it planned
But the years passed in minutes
There was no time to spare
Overnight it seems..... the silver threads
Adorned your mother’s hair
Your endless days were over
As time raced away at pace
And the happy days of innocence
Disappeared ... without trace
Don’t waste a single minute
Of this life with which you’re blessed
Things change in just a heartbeat
The ride can come to rest
Good times become just memories
Faces fade and smiles are lost
Don’t wish away a second
Hang on... at any cost
When I was just a little boy
We didn’t have a lot
But one day... all of that nothing
Will be the greatest gift I’ve got .
Picked this up from a friend on facebook and thoug... (show quote)


Speaking of the larder. My parents were both children of the depression. As they discussed what their priorities would be as the looked ahead to a life together, the decided that, due to the hardship they had undergone as they grew up, that one of their first priorities would be to make sure that there was always plenty of food in the house. I must say that I benefitted from that decision....that and the fact that my Mom was a fantastic cook....and probably the best baker of pies in the world!!

Reply
Apr 25, 2019 19:17:02   #
Hal81 Loc: Bucks County, Pa.
 
Old age is not for the faint of heart. Ill be 89 next month and all my pallbearers have died off. I guess they will have to wheel me to the grave site.

Reply
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